#if someone writes it tho let me know

[freyalis]

An idea of a soulmate au I had at three in the morning:

Something something, when one bleeds they bleed the others blood

Angst potential: if they are both human they have the same colour blood, which means they don't know they are bleeding blood of another person, => the person really losing blood would be dying while the other wouldn't even know until one day they stop bleeding

Angst potential #2: one of them is bleeding intentionally

Angst potential #3: both are in the same room and it's a hostage situation, one gets threatened with drawing blood which would hurt their soulmate

Funny potential: menstruations wouldn't be fun for both of the partners in a straight pair

✨Feel free to use✨

[satoruluvies]

i have a draft wherein reader is the reincarnation of sukuna's lover in the past but is now associated with gojo in the current lifetime and sukuna's pining for his used to be s/o through yuji's body being unable to do anything while gojo's dealing with his commitment issues.

[croissantk]

Season 5 prediction(?)

[youssefguedira]

K or N for Joe and/or Nicky

K. On the edge of consciousness.

Yusuf wakes slowly, so slowly that he can’t see and isn’t even sure he can open his eyes, only half-sure he still has eyes, and that’s how he knows there’s something very, very wrong. He can’t move, can’t hear, can’t even smell anything. He doesn’t remember exactly what happened to him, but every part of him is burning, and he’s fairly sure the weird aching sensation in his head is his skull knitting itself back together, which. He really, really didn’t need to know what that feels like. 

There’s a scraping in his chest when he breathes in, but at least he’s breathing. 

Where is he? He could be anywhere. He could be in the middle of the street, could have been dragged away from the fighting from someone who had seen him breathing through a wound that should have killed him immediately. When he wakes, what will he find? Will they have taken his weapon? How long has he been dead? 

Will Nicolò be able to find him, if they are separated? Will he even try?

Slowly but steadily, he starts to hear something: a high pitched whistling that sounds like it’s coming from deep inside his own head. The darkness begins to lift, leaving flickering amber lights across his vision, and a shadow in front of him. 

There’s a voice, too, one that sharpens into words as Yusuf’s hearing begins to return. He doesn’t understand their meaning, but the cadence of them and the voice itself is familiar. 

“Are you awake?” Nicolò asks softly, switching to Arabic. 

Yusuf tries to make a sound in response. Whether it’s audible he doesn’t know, because the only noise he can really make is a rasping exhale, but Nicolò hushes him anyway.

“Do not… you can be slow,” Nicolò says. He’s more comfortable with the sounds of the language now, but still doesn’t always string sentences together well. “We are safe. I am here.”

He’s made aware of where his hand is by the feeling of Nicolò reaching for it. Yusuf manages to make an actual sound this time, but still can’t form words. Nicolò squeezes his hand gently. 

“I am here,” he says again. 

Eventually, Yusuf’s skull seems to piece itself back together fully, and his vision sharpens, letting him see that they’re backed into the corner of the two remaining intact walls of a house ravaged by fire, Nicolò crouched in front of him with his sword in hand. There’s a trail of blood leading to where Yusuf is lying now, and a section of the room that has collapsed. He can piece together enough. Nicolò would have had to drag him over here.

This time, he manages to make a sound, even if he can’t quite form words. Nicolò looks down at him over his shoulder, and there is blood on his face and in his hair, and only then does Yusuf notice the bodies in the room. 

“Okay?” Nicolò asks. 

Yusuf manages to nod, and it sends a spike of pain along his spine. Nicolò turns slightly to look at him properly. 

“You are almost done, I think,” he says. “You did not… you were asleep for a long time. I did not know if…”

“Nicolò,” Yusuf finally manages, hoarse.

“Rest,” Nicolò says. “I am here.”

(letter asks)

[melverie]

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh today I've been constantly experiencing the urge to un-private today-in-the-devildom & start writing for it again

[bookworm-2692]

Time for another Limited Life graph and data table! This time, I took the data from my previous graphs, which effectively had time stamps for every time someone changed colour, and added together the total time everyone was at a particular colour, and then graphed it. 

This data above shows everyone in order of most to least time total, and below the cut I also have this data as percentages, as well as ordered most to least time for each colour.

First, the data as percentages:

It’s fascinating that Skizz was the only person to spend a full 8 hours as a single colour - both times he dropped a colour was naturally and without death, and while he was yellow he only died once (falling down the elevator Impulse hadn’t finished making), and killed twice (Bdubs during the duel, and Tango as the final green sacrifice), which means they exactly evened out. This means he’s also the only person to have over 50% of his time in a single colour, and he is only one of two people to spend the greatest percentage of time in yellow rather than green.

The data in order of time spent green:

The data in order of time spent yellow:

The data in order of time spent red:

It’s fascinating that Martyn spent so long in red, though it makes sense - he was the third to fall red, and then won the whole thing. Impulse and Scott were the last to fall red (and indeed both accidentally became yellow again after everyone else was long red), so even though they survived as long as Martyn, they didn’t have nearly as much time on that final colour. 

Scar is also the only person in the top 7 (top half) of time spent red, who didn’t also make it to the top 7 of total time, which I also find interesting. Equally, this makes Scott the only top 7 total time person in the bottom 7 red time list... though he’s only red for ten fewer minutes than Impulse (lowest of the top 7 red time), so it’s less striking than Scar’s inclusion where he is.

There’s so much interesting to extract from this data, but I’ll leave this here for your perusal. If there’s anything else anyone would like to see graphed from my data, let me know!

[popponn]

in general, sometimes i really wonder what sort of impression i make on this place

[paimonial-rage]

I have a character analysis ask! :) (Although, it's not from the list you shared.) What would it take for Albedo to get really angry? Like a huge outburst? I have some ideas but I'm curious about your insights. - @mimi-cee-genshin

[Character Analysis Ask Meme]

This is a really interesting ask and I’ve been thinking about it ever since you sent it. There are three answers I have for you, but two are copouts and the last doesn’t satisfy the requirements.

The first two scenarios deal with the same thing: you scare him in some way. This can be achieved two different ways: Klee facing imminent danger that he can’t immediately mitigate and, if he cares about you, doing the same to yourself. Nothing scares a calculated person more than a sudden situation they have no control over. What this accomplishes is putting him into a state of panic. And, should everything be alright in the end, you can rightfully expect him to snap in fury before pulling you in for a hug.

However, the reason why I consider this a copout is that I think this kind of scenario would get most people to react in this way. And while he would be angry and have an outburst, I don’t really consider this scenario “anger.” It’s more panic, you know?

So that being said, I don’t really think it’s exactly possible to get Albedo angry to the point of having an outburst, at least in the typical sense. Albedo is not a burning fury kind of person. He is cold fury. When he gets truly mad, his emotions shut down and he turns into a heartless machine. Think of Scar killing Mufasa, except without the smile and glee. He’d look down at you with ice-cold eyes as he ever so casually pushes you back to lose your grip.

To get him into this state, though, I think it would take work. One possible scenario would be betraying him and then having everything go wrong. Not a cold calculated betrayal (he’d sense your untrustworthiness), but maybe one from fear? For example, he treated you as a friend, but upon getting threatened by the Abyss, you betray Mondstadt in fear of your life, and then whoops, people get hurt and/or killed. In that case, you both betrayed his kindness and ultimately disappointed him. He was wrong about you. You are no better than the dirt beneath his feet.

[teufelme]

You ever just want to talk about Bertl,

[effervescentdragon]

akira, my most beloved, can I ask for some schuclerc, I dont care how or what jus them. we need more. we deserve more.

hi kyle i love you for this 😘 @princemick

"I need to see Mick's," Charles says and blushes instantly, and hopes that whoever edits this video is going to cut it immediately, before the internet gets ideas and develops theories and whatnot.

He doesn't think he'll be that lucky.

*

It's not - it's nothing special. Not really. It's just this - it's just a thing Charles and Mick have been doing for - well, for some years, ever since they were both in FDA and Prema. Not that there is that much difference between the two, he thinks a bit unkindly, and makes himself concentrate on his drawing.

The fact is, years ago, Charles and Mick were sat next to each other at some function. They were both very young, and they were racing in different series, and they didn't have much in common, except that they did.

Charles was the one who stepped in for someone who didn't have the chance to show what he's made of, and Mick was a Schumacher. Everyone knew who they were. (Everyone knew who they weren't.) Mick was painfully shy, and Charles was too, but they weren't afforded the privilege of being who they were. Endless people, endless handshakes, endless smiling at endless faces which blurred together in the end, all in the hopes of one day acquiring enough clout to race with the best of the best.

Their dream was always the same, and that is what mattered the most.

"What are you doing," Mick whispered to him, leaning closer. His English was less accented than Charles' was, and Charles wished he'd spoken in Italian, so that he wouldn't feel so off-kilter and incompetent. Then again, Mick's Italian was probably also better than Charles'.

He looked down at the napkin on the table. Someone was speaking on the stage, and he'd doodled a sketch of the person, not a really good one in all honesty, but close enough to the likeness to be recognizable.

"Oh, I-I do that sometimes." He scrambled to cover the napkin. "I'm not very good."

Mick's hand covered his, with the pen and the napkin between them, all scrunched up. Charles could feel his cheeks heat, because Mick's eyes were very close, and very, very blue.

"Better than me," Mick said, and smiled, and Charles swallowed around the lump in his throat that manifested suddenly, and then someone interrupted them and they had to go on stage, and Charles had forgotten all about the doodle. (He didn't forget about the heat of Mick's hand on his.)

So he'd forgotten all about it, until he got a text message from Mick some weeks later with a picture attachment. It was the first and only message in their text thread. (It won't be the last; not at all.)

The message was a picture of a crumpled napkin paper in a gloved hand, and Charles recognized the drawing he made at the gala. The text underneath just said 'Won the race in Italy with this in my pocket. I think it may be my lucky charm :)', and Charles felt his cheeks heat up. Mick must've saved the drawing, taking it in the confusion of the gala. Charles didn't know why he did it, and he didn't dare fantasize about, well. Never mind, really. So he just sent his congratulations and some smileys.

The issue was, he couldn't forget it. So the next time he knew he was going to see Mick, he took a piece of paper with him, folded six times, and when they were left alone, he thrust it into Mick's hand despite the fire in his cheeks and stammered "For more wins". Mick took the paper with a quiet Thank you which sounded both rehearsed and surprised, but didn't have time to look at it until later that night, when Charles got another picture message.

It was a selfie of Mick, grin wide as he held the drawing next to his face, the caricature of Mick on the top step of the podium clearly visible. The caption read 'This is amazing, thank you so much!! 🤞i'll try to repay the luck :)', and Charles took a deep breath and sent a blushing emoji, and then they just - never stopped talking?

The next time Charles won, Mick texted him congratulations and a drawing of a cheering stick figure with a badly drawn helmet with the Monegasque flag on it, and Charles sent '😻 I want it!!!', and then Mick gave the upgraded version of that drawing to him the next time they were in Prema together, and his cheeks were as red as his hat, and Charles smiled, and Mick smiled back, and then it went on, through all the years in Prema and FDA and F3 and F2 and Sauber and Ferrari and Haas, the texting and the drawings, which both got more elaborate through the years.

(Charles' favorite drawing he got from Mick was the bouquet of white lillies on a black background from 2019 which he put into a glass case and kept out of sight, because it was beautiful and thoughtful and it hurt. Charles' favourite drawing which he never gave to Mick was also from 2019, and of the two of them, both in bright red with a black-and-yellow horse emblem on their race suits, hugging before a sign that said LEC 1-2 MSC, because he was never going to be that magnanimous. He thinks Mick would understand.)

*

He does the drawing for Grill the Grid and forgets about it, until the video airs months later and his Instagram algorithm decides to show him an edit of Mick drawing a dragon which is followed by an interview Mick did with Seb last year, where Seb says how he'd choose a dragon for Mick's tattoo. He stares at the edit, which plays over and over, and he doesn't - he isn't - he takes a deep breath, but his chest still hurts. It's illogical, and stupid, and he isn't sure what the actual issue is, but the drawing was - it was theirs. His and Mick's. Except, apparently, it wasn't.

Charles throws his phone away, then scrambles back to get it. He opens the video again. He watches it three more times. His chest still feels tight. He doesn't know what to do. He should do nothing.

He sends the video to Mick, then closes his eyes and swears out loud in French.

It takes Mick a minute to respond with '?? I thought it was a good drawing :)'. Charles feels so silly, and so stupid, so he just. Doesn't reply. He makes himself close the message window, and when he sees Mick is typing, he panics and mutes the chat.

His chest feels heavy, but it's fine. It's not like it was something - it was nothing. It is nothing. It's alright. It's all alright.

(He checks the app before he goes to sleep. There are eight new messages from Mick. He doesn't open the chat.)

*

Seb texts him a couple of days later.

From: Seb 🥰

[10:48] Hello Charles. I hope you had a nice break! I feel the need to tell you that for someone extraordinarily smart, you tend to overlook the forrest because of the trees. :-) see you in Spa!

He stares at the message for a long time, because Sebastian Vettel rarely texts, and when he does, he at least makes some sense. This message makes none.

To: Seb 🥰

[11:09] what?? did you hit your head?? did the retirement screw with your mind??

[11:09] i still hate you for that btw 😿

From: Seb 🥰

[11:11] It's 11:11. Make a wish, and it may even come true. :-)

Charles blinks twice, then closes the messaging app and goes back to his workout.

(Whether he makes a wish or not is between him and the universe.)

*

It's always raining in Spa.

Charles is waiting for his turn for the press conference, his mind firmly on the specs and the penalties for the weekend. Lewis is standing next to him, and they've talked a bit, but now they're both scrolling through their phones mindlessly.

"Hey, Kevin."

Charles raises his head instinctively, because he knows - he'd know Mick's voice anywhere. He could recognize it any time, and he looks at the way the team t-shirt fits around his broad shoulders, and the way his face looks tanned, and the way his smile is easy and nice and honest. He doesn't look at Charles, going straight to Kevin, and Charles takes a shaky breath and looks down at his phone.

(The last time he checked, he had seventeen unread messages from Mick.)

He scrolls and scrolls and scrolls, ignoring the world around him pointedly, until he hears Lewis say "Hey Mick, how's it going?" and Mick's reply "It's been better, but I'm not complaining. Hello, Charles."

He raises his head, because to do otherwise would be impolite, and there Mick is, standing before him, broad and tanned, his smile fixed but his eyes anxious.

"Hello," he manages to say. "How are - no, you said that already, sorry," he fumbles with his words, chuckling nervously. Mick ducks his head, biting his lip as he smiles, and Charles thinks Fuck, he is beautiful, fuck, fuck me, fuck.

He chances a look at Lewis, who is looking between them in confusion, before his eyes widen and his face shifts into a neutral expression in the blink of an eye.

Charles can still see the amused glint in his eye when he turns away, shifting so he can give them some privacy.

"Yeah, I'm good. How are, how are you?" Mick asks, and he's still biting his lip, and Charles can feel his palms start to sweat.

"Uh. Good? Okay. Uh, penalties, you know," he says like an idiot, and Mick shuffles. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, and then he takes a deep breath and raises his head, his face the one of absolute concentration, the one he has before he gets into the car, and he thrusts the paper at Charles.

"You. You dropped this," Mick says, and it's so obviously a lie. Charles reaches for the paper on automatic, and their fingers brush, and he knows they're both red in the face, and then someone yells that it's their turn for the press conference, and Mia is there, and Mick just nods and waves and says "See you later" as Charles is ushered away.

He clutches the paper in his hand tightly until Lewis nudges him gently and says "You may want to put that away, if you don't want to be asked about it".

Charles blushes and murmurs a "Thank you" and puts the paper in his pocket. It weighs on him throughout the whole obligation-packed day, as does Lewis' knowing gaze, and Mick's determined one.

*

He is finally alone in his room. He wastes no time - he pulls the paper from his pocket the moments the door close behind him. His hands only shake a little as he unfolds the meticuously folded paper, careful not to tear it.

It's a drawing. Charles knew it would be a drawing, he just didn't know - he didn't expect -

"Fuck," he says. "Fuck," he says, and then laughs, his heart beating fast.

It's a drawing of the two of them hugging done in black and white, which makes sense, since racing suit color would be a dead giveaway, and Mick was always much more cautious about these things than Charles ever was, or would be. They are stood in front of two cars which look to be the same, the number 47 in P1 and number 16 in P2. The board above the cars says MSC 1 - 2 LEC. They have their helmets on still, but their bodies are close, and they are obviously holding each other. In the lower right corner there is something written.

To Charles, from Mick, August 2022

Sometime soon, hopefully ♡

It's a lovely drawing. It's detailed, and well executed, and it makes Charles' heart skip a beat. He closes his eyes and leans his head against the door, willing himself to calm down. He can't. He pulls out his phone.

To: Seb 🥰

[22:06] i think i know what you were talking about

[22:06] does he really

[22:07] are you sure?

He stares at the drawing until Seb answers.

From: Seb 🥰

[22:13] Hello :-) text him back like an adult maybe, and you'll know.

Charles scrambles to get his notebook from his suitcase. In the back pocket of his notebook there is the drawing he's looking for - the almost same one as Mick drew him, except Charles is in P1, and it's done in colour. He's been bringing it with him ever since he drew it, but he never thiught he'd show it to Mick, except - he has to, now that he's seen this. He unfolds it and takes a picture. The date of the painting is clearly visible. March 22, 2019.

He opens the muted chat, ignoring the unread messages from before, and sends it before he can change his mind.

It only takes Mick a minute to answer. It's the longest minute in Charles' life.

From: Mick 💖

[22:18] you always did reach for the stars without fear :)

[22:18] can i have it?

To: Mick 💖

[22:19] it was a present for your bday

[22:20] im sorry i never gave it to you

[22:20] im sorry

From: Mick 💖

[22:21] it's okay. i know

[22:22] make a wish :)

Charles bites his lip, then mutters "You're not a coward, Leclerc, get it the fuck together" into the empty room.

To: Mick 💖

[22:23] wanna have coffee next week?

The reply comes instantly.

From: Mick 💖

[22:23] is that your wish? ;)

Charles laughs out loud, hearing relief in his own voice.

To: Mick 💖

[22:23] not exactly 🙈 it is close tho

From: Mick 💖

[22:24] it's a date :))

Charles looks at the two drawings next to each other on his bed. He thinks about Mick's smile, and his kindness, and about what Seb said, and about how his heart always beats faster whenever he hears Mick's voice, and about who they are, and who they aren't, and about who they just might be.

To: Mick 💖

[22:25] yes. yes it is. and i can't wait 😘

Mick's reply makes Charles' head spin, and his heart race as fast as F1-75, and his soul dare to hope.

From: Mick 💖

[22:26] i've waited years, but i don't mind. i'd wait however long it takes you to catch up :) ❤️

[waywardsalt]

uuuhhhhh wrote a segment of the ganonbeck thing on my phone (this whole thing isnt written on my phone i just have future scenes hashed out on phone) so i figured id share it for: giving a snippet of it bc why not, and to maybe get some feedback on writing ganondorf and the specific concept he talks about?

(this isnt indicatives of the whole fic just a scene delving into ganondorf’s personal conflicts and a little bit of worldbuilding or something. would appreciate some feedback or tips or whatever on this since im not sure if. i wrote this idea well. also hope its generally interesting/fun to read)

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

"yuri lowell is a manly heterosexual"

yuri lowell:

[thebest-medicine]

was trying to upload it but tumblr was being tumblr… anyway if you’re a fan of critical role

this is from the talks machina after dark from c2 episode 18

Liam and sam are asked at about 1:10:38 in this video which of them would win in a tickle fight though I’m having a hard time finding any copy of the video that isnt overlaid by commentary sadly

[homosexual-fast-dancer]

OMG wait a minute... inspired by what @wulfums said but...

{Strong Bad is drawing Trogdor before Coach Z comes in.}

Coach Z: What is that? Is that your fursano? That's cronge.

Strong Bad: YOURE CRINGE!!!!!

Coach Z: ,,,,,

{Cut to Coach Z ugly crying in front of a mirror.}

[mejomonster]

Anyone wanna fall in mutual love?

[thomine]

TELL ME 5 RANDOM THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF!

(Let's try and pass this thing on) And after you finish, tag five different people just to tell them how much you appreciate them for being with you on this platform! <3

thank you @sarcasticqueerblob for the tag! decided to make my own post because the original post is long & my contributions will make it worse, HAHA.

i tag @paimonial-rage @mimi-cee-genshin @andromeda-nova-writing @pen-observing @dustofthedailylife (just nice. i only know 5 people on his hellsite AHDJSJDJSJKD. no pressure btw)

i can only write chronologically. by that i mean in the order the fic will be read. i've tried writing the middle or end before the beginning, but it didn’t click with me.

most of my works were written while i’m travelling. i love being alone for long train/bus rides because it’s the perfect pause to retreat to my inner world.

i started reading fanfics on wattpad in 2013. i don’t remember how i found reader inserts, but it’s wattpad. so… :P

i draw! it’s not great, but it’s something. now i just got to dip my toes into music production (e.g. lo-fi, instrumentals) and then i can take the first step to be the triple threat younger me always wanted to be for storytelling.

i started a tumblr in… early 2010s? unfortunately, i deactivated that account, which would have been an amazing time capsule. i wasn’t thinking much when i let it go.