#pick strategies that speak to/work for you

[pollenallergie]

“do the hardest task first”

no. just… no.

hot take: this doesn’t work for people with adhd (in my experience/from what i’ve heard from other people with adhd in my life). i recommend doing the easy/moderately difficult stuff first, that way you can convince yourself that it’s all going to be this easy and undemanding. then hyper-focus will kick in because your brain is like, “yeah, we can do this, we’ve got this.” then, before you know it, you’ve completed both the easy tasks and the hard tasks while hyperfocusing.

like, on a serious note, it’s always been easier for me to convince myself to get the most difficult tasks done when i’m already working/in the working frame of mind, not when i’m laying in bed or sitting on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through stuff on my phone, and struggling to start at all.

if the choice comes down to you not starting at all or starting with the easiest task first (which, for me, it often does), always, always pick starting with the easiest task first. sometimes you need a small victory, a little bit of an accomplishment, to give you the courage to take on bigger challenges.

[gil-estel]

wow I wonder what could have happened around 2013 to cause this

[tallaennatargaryen]

Wife Speak

Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: You asked Bucky to install the security camera a month ago, and he still hasn’t done it. You take matters into your own hands, to his vexation.

Warnings: Bucky's been too busy to do what you asked, you put yourself in slight peril, worried!Bucky, gentle manhandling, protective!Bucky, mention of previous injury, my own lack of construction know-how so I apologize for any inaccuracies, no use of Y/N

This is my first time writing in second person so hopefully I did okay! This was inspired by this short I saw on YouTube.

You were good at a lot of things. The team’s go-to “girl in the chair,” there was no one better at intel, strategy, quick escape plans, and getting into just about any system you were presented with. You’d had the Avengers’ lives in your hands countless times, and never led them to put a foot wrong. Somehow, you, a girl with just a bachelor’s degree, a–perhaps excessive–perfectionist streak, and a mini fridge full of energy drinks to help you stay sharp on overnight missions, had become indispensable to the Earth’s mightiest heroes.

But you couldn’t install a security camera above your front door.

As smart as you were, you were probably equally as uncoordinated. All the bruises in odd places told the tale of your frequent misfortune. Walking by itself often presented a perilous challenge, so standing on a ladder, balancing precariously with expensive equipment and sharp objects in your hands seemed like a perfect recipe for a trip to the ER and a costly bill for tech replacements.

Which was why you’d asked your husband, a super soldier with a metal arm and a keen eye for home repairs, to do it.

A month ago.

And three weeks ago.

And two weeks ago.

And last week.

You were tired of waiting. Bucky, of course, was busy, and often away on missions, but you only ever asked him to do it when he had a moment to spare. He’d said he would, every time you’d asked, but there was still no camera above your front door. On top of it all, the camera had been Bucky’s idea, a little extra security for when he was away on missions; it was one of Stark’s smart cameras, which could differentiate between a mailman dropping off a package and a criminal about to break into the house. Bucky didn’t exactly know how all of that worked, but he was good with the installation, and you both knew better than to assign the job to you. But the camera had sat there for a month, collecting dust on the dining room table, and despite all his promises, you knew it was time to take matters into your own hands.

And maybe get a little payback while you were at it.

It was a warm spring day, and the front door was open to let the breeze in but the screen door was in place to keep the bugs out. Bucky was in the kitchen, making lunch, so he’d be able to hear everything easily, between his proximity, the open door, and his enhanced hearing. Smirking to yourself, you set up the ladder as quietly as possible, knowing that that alone would tip Bucky off and make him come rushing out before you were ready. If this was going to get done today, you needed to execute the full plan.

Picking up the electric drill and the mount for the camera, you put one foot up on the ladder, and held down the trigger of the drill for a few seconds, causing a loud whirring sound to tear through the quiet midday air. Just as you took another step up and held down the trigger again, Bucky’s voice carried out from the kitchen.

“Doll?” he questioned, and it took everything in you not to laugh. You gave no answer, instead only whirring the drill once more as you climbed to the top of the ladder. “What are you doing?”

You might have felt bad about the panic and concern in his voice, but if he’d done this a month ago when you’d asked, you wouldn’t have to go to such lengths to have it be done. Natasha had called it wife speak, when women use their sly little tricks to get their husbands to do what they need to. She used it with Banner, Pepper used it with Tony, Wanda used it with Vision; it was a universal language amongst women when requests and orders just weren’t cutting it.

Holding the mount up against the wall, you furrowed your brow in concentration as you tried to figure out how to hold the mount, place the screw, and drill it in all at the same time with only two hands. Judging by the purposeful footsteps pounding towards the front door, you knew you wouldn’t have to keep trying to figure it out for long. Still, you kept up the ruse, because he needed to think you were serious about doing it yourself if he was going to get it done right this minute.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Bucky asked, voice raising with alarm as he found you balancing precariously on top of the small ladder. Paying him no mind, you decided to just wing it and put the drill into the head of the screw, pulling the trigger to send the screw spinning into the wall. For extra effect, you added a little wobble, just enough to make Bucky worry more but not so much that your uncoordinated self would actually fall. “Honey! Stop! What are you doing?”

“What?” you responded innocently, still not turning around. “I’m putting up the camera.”

“Why?” His hands grasped at your waist, but you pushed him away as you continued your ruse and placed the next screw.

“Because it needs to go up?” you said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, because it was, hello, and you’d asked him to do it so many times. Once more, you placed the drill into the screw head and let it rip, watching it spin into place. Maybe you could do it yourself. Maybe impatience was all it took to overcome your incoordination. 

“Baby. Baby, baby, baby.” Bucky’s hands were on your waist again, this time with a firmer grip so you couldn’t brush him off so easily. “Come off the ladder.”

“It needs to go up, Bucky,” you insisted, milking your moment of acting for all it was worth.

“I know, so I’ll do it, okay? Just please, come off the ladder.”

“I’ve asked you a million times over the last month to do it and you still haven’t, so I’m gonna do it and then I’ll know it's done.”

The drill was slightly stuck in the screw head once it was screwed all the way in. You gave it a tug, and the force of it combined with the resistance of the drill to come loose caused you to tip backwards slightly; for a moment, you thought you might fall, but you regained your balance after a second or two. Still, it was a second or two too long for Bucky, who’d had enough of asking nicely and being patient. 

“Alright, that’s it,” he declared, using his strength and his grip on your waist to lift you off the ladder and set you on the wooden boards of the porch like you were little more than a doll. You almost grinned at the move, as being on the receiving end of his enhanced strength and fierce protectiveness always made your stomach do somersaults. By the time he spun you around to face him though, you had regained your self-control and regarded him with a displeased scowl. “What are you doing, huh, doll? You know I don’t like you up on that thing.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huffed, “Well, someone has to put the camera up, since you’ve proven yourself incapable.” You turned to step back onto the ladder, but Bucky grasped your arm gently and pulled you to him, maneuvering at the same time to take the drill and the remaining screws from you. You resisted, but even when he was diluting his strength, you couldn’t hope to best him, so instead you started to complain, “Bucky-”

“I know, doll, I know,” he said, voice soft as he pried the drill and screws out of your hands. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and then your nose for extra contrition. “I’m sorry. I should’ve done it when you asked me to, but I’ll do it right now, okay? Just…please stay off the ladder?”

“Why? ‘Cause I’m a girl?”

Bucky chuckled in amusement, his free hand rising to cup your cheek and pull you closer so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips. You melted against him instantly, as you always did, because Bucky always kissed you like he was trying to transfer his heart from his body to yours, deeply and wholly and with every ounce of love that he had. After a moment, he pulled away, though he kept his nose touching yours as his twinkling eyes gazed at you adoringly. “It’s not because you’re a girl, it’s because it’s you, doll. The last time I trusted you with a drill and screws, you drilled your sleeve into the wall and broke your finger trying to pull it free.”

Nose scrunching and lips pouting, you did your best to fight off a smile, trying to lay it on just a little thicker to make sure you would get what you wanted. “Promise you’ll do it right now?”

“Pinky promise.” Bucky held up his pinky finger between you, and you locked yours around it. “You can stay and watch if you want, just to be sure. I think you’ll like the view.”

Rolling your eyes, you gave him another quick peck before stepping back and nodding for him to climb up the ladder. Once his back was turned and he was on the top step, your mischievous smirk returned in full force, not only because of your triumph, but because you really did like the view.

[yougavememyopia]

Continuation of this. A bit suggestive at the end.

Loser yandere was on his knees, begging for forgiveness. He got ahead of himself. Sucking your fingers like a perverted freak. He looked up at you with glassy eyes, pouting just slightly. He didn't mind your pity. In fact, he wanted it. The worst he made himself look, the more you let things pass.

You sighed, ultimately having no choice but to forgive him. He looked so sad, so lonely. Like a stray puppy begging for attention. Why wouldn't you spare his feelings? He had no real friends. It made sense that he didn't know how to act properly.

Except he did. He was just manipulating you, saying the right things to make you cave and hang out with him. He would speak with a certain depressed tone that would melt your heart, and when you agreed, he would become extremely happy. Cheering and overreacting. A great excuse to excitedly hug you. Throw his arms around your shoulders and get lost in your scent.

He was strangely smart. Using both negative and positive reinforcement. Getting you to say yes to avoid making him sad, and making you feel content by his contagious smile. All part of his plan that'll eventually end with you two happily engaged.

Even if that strategy didn't work, he'd just whine and beg. He knew you couldn't take it. You would glare at him, and he'd feel a strange sensation through his body. Sometimes, he wondered how being hit by you would feel like. Or maybe with your hand wrapped around his throat.

Given how much he bothered you, it was a miracle you were still friends with him. It wasn't all that bad. You somehow had fun hanging around with him, laughing at his silly jokes. He'd take you to so many places. Always making sure you were enjoying your time so you'd come back for more!

When you weren't in public, he'd get clingy. It was obvious he was touch-starved and a big attention seeker. He wanted to have you touch him, get close to him, and pay attention to him. Only him.

"I can't get this stupid button undone... Can you help me take this shirt off? Come onnn, it's way too hot in this room..."

"Look how good I smell. Come on, sniff my neck. It's a new thing I bought. It smells like your favorite!"

"I'm so hungry, and my hands are all tired. Ughh.. Can you feed me a snack? I'll open my mouth wide for you. Aaah~"

He'd still bug you about the kiss. Not ever talking about the incident afterwards. Those few months of reinforcement should've made you softer to him. He should've been able to get you to agree. But you stayed determined to deny him.

"I want a kiss already... Why can't you, my bestest friend, show me how it feels~? All of these movies have one. I'm being reminded of how much of a loser I am every single day." He grumpily said to himself as you both watched a weird horror movie. The scared couple on the screen made out to relieve their stress... or something. It was a strange movie he (purposely) picked.

"Can't you fucking understand?! It'll change this whole relationship. I told you that a million times." You crossed your arms, darting your gaze from the movie to him.

He sighed. You sighed. Then you exchanged a look. "Alright. Fine. You're not gonna stop asking, are you? Just promise me you won't act all awkward after it."

He lit up, nodding eagerly. "Really?! Oh, wow! Thank you. Thankyouthankyouthankyou! You're the best! Seriously. A life saver~"

"Shut it." You groaned, watching the last bits of the movie with the characters escaping.

"Yes, ma'am. You got it." He climbed on your lap. That made you stiff a bit, looking at him with a confused look. He set his legs on your sides, his arms wrapping around your neck. "How is this gonna work? Can you please do it very slowly?"

"Eh...? Okay. Whenever you're ready." You wrapped your arm around his waist, not knowing what else to do with them. He hummed happily. His face came closer to you, and somehow, you felt nervous. You shrugged it off, letting him kiss you at his own pace.

"Here I go..." he whispered, his nose rubbing against yours.

He pressed a small peck on your lips as if to test out how it feels. Before you could correct him, he kissed you again. This time longer and harder. You squeaked at the suddenness, forced to lean back against the couch as he began to lick your lips, asking for entry.

You reluctantly opened your mouth, and he wasted no time. Pushing his tongue inside your mouth. Lapping at anything he could find. Your tongue brushed against each other, eliciting a moan from him. His hand held the back of your head to keep you from pulling away. Shifting a bit on your lap, whimpering against your lips.

He kept licking your tongue, sucking on it. He moaned again when you finally returned the kiss. His movements were clumsy, making it easier for you to take control. After a minute, he pulled away, panting as he buried his face into your neck. He seemed embarrassed, and so you hugged his waist tighter.

He moaned against your neck. "Ah.. that felt so nice. Mmh, shit..."

"Yeah... you got a little ahead of yourself, y'know. It was supposed to be a simple kiss. I never said tongue was allowed." You pointed out. Rolling your eyes, because you knew he didn't care.

"You never said it wasn't." He sat up to look you, tilting his head innocently. "I would've listened to you if you said it."

"No, you wouldn't have." You mumbled.

"You also didn't say I can't go for another one~!" He leaned in again and captured your lips in another kiss. You protested, hands gripping his shoulders now to push him away. He whined, sucking your lips as if that would change your mind. "But, please, just one more. I still haven't learned the proper technique yet."

You were beginning to understand that he had a different reason for overstepping boundaries. The way he kissed you, the way he tried to savor your taste, the way his pressed his body against yourself. It was like he was trying to devour you. Trying to be one with you.

He moaned loudly when he pulled away. His body was shaking a bit, his eyes dilating. Something pressed against your stomach. You didn't need to look down to see what it was. "Um... Oops?"

[bitchy-craft]

PICK A CARD: compliments given behind your back

Hello and welcome to this reading! Here I will tell you some compliments people give behind your back. I hope you enjoy this reading!

Masterpost > Paid Readings > Patreon Masterlist

The extended version of this reading can be found on my patreon, the link of which is here

Pile 1:

"You always see the bigger picture, even when others get lost in the details."

"Your ability to stay calm and find solutions makes you a true problem-solving genius."

"You never just hope for the best—you make the best happen."

"You have a way of making people feel safe, even in the middle of chaos."

"Your mind is like a chessboard, always thinking a few steps ahead."

"You inspire confidence in others because you always have a plan."

"Your balance of logic and kindness makes you a rare and valuable person."

"No matter how difficult the situation, you always find a way to make it work."

"You give the best advice—practical, honest, and actually helpful."

"You're proof that optimism isn’t just wishful thinking, but a powerful strategy."

extended reading

Pile 2:

"You make life feel like an adventure, even on the most ordinary days."

"Your energy is contagious in the best way possible."

"You always know how to bring a little magic into everyday moments."

"Your ability to find joy in the smallest things is truly inspiring."

"You have a heart that sees and understands people in a way that words can’t explain."

"Being around you feels like stepping into a world where anything is possible."

"Your creativity knows no limits—every idea you have is bursting with originality."

"You remind people that it’s okay to be imperfect and to enjoy life as it comes."

"Your laughter is like sunlight—it brightens everything around you."

"You don’t just live life; you feel it, and that makes you unforgettable."

extended reading

Pile 3:

"You walk into a room, and people just feel your presence—in the best way."

"Your confidence isn’t loud or forced—it’s effortless and inspiring."

"You have a way of making people believe in themselves just by being around you."

"Your passion is like fire—it burns bright and lights up everything you do."

"You always speak your mind, and somehow, it’s always exactly what needs to be said."

"You don’t just talk about things—you make things happen."

"People trust you because you always back up your words with actions."

"You don’t settle for mediocrity—you push yourself and others to be the best they can be."

"Your strength isn’t just in your confidence but in your kindness and fairness."

"You prove that being bold and being kind are not opposites—they’re powerful together."

extended reading

[no-144444]

a little better - c.leclerc

꩜ summary: charles puts a bit more effort in and it seems your bond is becoming stronger.

꩜ pairing: husband! charles leclerc x fem! pregnant! wife! reader

꩜ a/n: would yall want more parts of this? pray tell :0

part one (this can be read on it's own tho but this just gives more context)

“My love!” he called out as he came in the door. While Bahrain hadn’t been great, he still wanted to come home before the triple header ended. He’d been around the house so much during the break that not seeing you had become weird. In the past few weeks, he’d really noticed how different your lives had become now. Long gone were the late-night phone calls that used to define your relationship. Replaced only by text updates on things that concerned you both. He tried asking how your day was, but you just turned it straight back on him and started discussing strategy and asking how he was feeling. Long gone were the small flirty or sweet texts throughout the day. It seemed you were allergic to your phone before 9pm at night, or maybe you just knew his routines so well and didn’t think he’d want to hear from you before that. Which broke his heart. 

Apparently everyone else had noticed it too. Carlos had thought he was in the process of a divorce when he went to him about it. All of Ferrari assumed you two were separated and trying to figure out how to co-parent. It made him sick. Mostly, because he knew it was all his fault. Where was the Charles that used to speak about you everyday? Where was the Charles that defended you to the press so fiercely when you first entered his life? Where was the Charles who wasn’t a complacent, selfish asshole, who cared about his family and work for them, not himself? That Charles was gone. Or just hidden, somewhere, deep inside of him. He just had to… bring him back from the dead. 

“Charles?” you questioned, getting up from the couch and scrambling to hide something. He stopped in his tracks as you turned to face him. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to see you,” he admitted, trying to see what you were hiding. He snapped his attention back to you. “I got you these,” he smiled, handing over your favourite flowers. You looked dumb-struck. 

“Oh,” you said, blatantly surprised. “Well, thank you,” you smiled back at him. “How was your weekend?”

“You know how my weekend was, mi amour,” he shook his head. “How was your weekend?”

Again, dumb-struck. If this was the standard he’d actually set for his love life, he was pathetic. “Oh, well… It was good. I watched the race, watched Arthur’s race. Umm…” you thought for a moment. “I went to Maria’s baby shower. Looked around for Montessori's. Called my parents. Went for lunch with your mom,” you shrugged. “Pretty simple.” 

He nodded, the smile on his face never leaving. “That’s good. Seems relaxed.” 

“It was,” you shrugged. There was a silence. An awkward silence. He would have punched his past self in the face. How were things awkward with his own wife? “Have you eaten?” 

He shook his head. “N-no, not yet. Just… got a flight straight here.” 

You nodded, seemingly shocked by his being there. 

“What were you working on, there?” he pointed to the couch and whatever object you were trying to hide. You looked down. 

“It’s stupid,” you shook your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I care,” he assured you, taking your hand. “I want to see.”

You took a deep breath and picked up a half-finished quilt, the crochet needles still in. It was all of the cars on the grid, but the Ferrari had his number on it. “Just… like having something to do with my hands when I watch tv. It’s stupid, I know-”

“It’s wonderful,” he whispered, emotion catching in his throat. How could he neglect you for so long? His wonderful, creative, caring, loving, intelligent wife. “I think it’s wonderful.” 

“You do?” you questioned, your voice small. He nodded, his eyes clouding with tears. 

“I do,” he nodded, wiping his eyes. There was a silence and he wrapped an arm around you (as much as he could, the bump was in the way). “We’re going to be parents,” he whispered out. 

You nodded, a small smile on your face. “We are,” you were in quiet contemplation for a moment. “Do you want to see what I’ve done to the nursery so far?”

Another promise he’d broken, but alas, this was progress. You were here, you were talking, and you were close to him. He’d take whatever he could get from you. 

“I’d love to,” he smiled and took your hand as you led him to the nursery. You opened the door and inside was a sanctuary. Playmats, toys, a diaper changing table, etc. It was yellow, and overlooked Monaco bay, the wonderful sight it was now as the sun set. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the mini helmets of his on the windowsill. The little pockets of Ferrari merch. Odes to him. He could’ve cried. “I’m sorry,” he whispered out and your face fell. “I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked. 

You turned back to him.“Charles, what–”

“You never call me Charles,” he whispered, wiping his eyes. “It’s always Char, or Charlie, or love, or something else, but it’s never Charles. It’s too impersonal, remember?” He placed a hand on your cheek. He was referencing a night many years ago, when you said you’d only call him Char from then on. You were only friends then, yet he knew he was in love with you from that moment on. The way you smiled when you said it, the view of Mt. Fuji behind you, couldn’t compare. He just stared at you all night long. 

“I don’t have to call you Charles-” you offered and he let out a teary cough. 

He took a deep breath, gathering himself again. “It’s not that I don’t want you to,” he sniffled. “I want you to not want to. I want you to feel close to me again,” he admitted. “And I know that has everything to do with me, and nothing to do with you, but please baby, I can’t lose you.” 

“You haven’t-” you stressed, but he cut you off again. 

“When was the last time we went on a date that wasn’t a public event?” he asked. You were quiet. 

“When was the last time I did something nice for you before today?” 

You were quiet. 

“When was the last time we had sex?”

“I'm pregnant-” “So your libido should be heightened,” he sighed and you looked down at the floor again. “When was the last time you felt loved by me? Cared for by me?”

“Tonight,” you shrugged. “You liked the blanket. You didn’t think it was stupid.” 

“I don’t think anything you do is stupid,” he shook his head, his eyes focused on you. “But before then? When?” 

“Maybe Monaco last year? When you ran up to me at the barrier and kissed me in front of everyone,” you shrugged, acting like that hadn’t been the memory holding you together for the past 8 months. “When you said you won it for me and your dad and Jules.”

He sniffled again and nodded, though his heart was aching. “I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

You didn’t speak. You just leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Let’s get some food, yeah?” 

That didn’t leave much room for questioning. He followed you to the kitchen where you already had food cooking. Soup. Something comfortable and diet-approved as always. Catering everything to him. You sat across from each other and ate. 

“How has the pregnancy been for you?” he asked. 

`”We don’t have to get into that now-”

“I want to,” he pushed. “If you want to.” 

You breathed out. “It’s… difficult. I’m in pain quite a lot, but I’m really excited to meet her,” you smiled softly. “I’m pretty scared about doing the delivery on my own, but my mom and your mom said they could be there, so that’s nice. My parents are going to come and help out the week I’m due and stay with your mom for two weeks, so that should be good. They’ll come over to help me out during the day and any nights I can’t do it on my own, since you’ll be racing,” you listed it all off, as if it wasn’t his biggest failing that he couldn’t be there. “So yeah. Scared but excited. What about you?” 

He cleared his throat. “I’m excited too,” his voice was somber. “And I think I’d want to be with you in the delivery room… if you’d let me.”

“You don’t have to miss a race for me. I understand Charle- Char,” another knife in his heart. “I was just being dramatic and hormonal that day. Your career is important. You’re ambitious. It’s one of the things I love about you.” 

He shook his head. “I want to be there. I really want to be there.”

“I don’t think Ferrari would let you-”

“Fuck ferrari,” he scoffed. “You’re my wife! If they can’t understand me wanting to be there for the birth of my child then I think I might be on the wrong team. Bon sang, je ne suis pas un robot de course.” (fuck’s sake, I’m not a racing robot). 

You let out a small chuckle at how pressed he was getting. He stared back at you. 

“What?” he questioned, a smirk creeping onto his lips. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head, that small smile on your lips as you turned your attention back to your food. He shook his head and chuckled. “I missed you,” you admitted, the candle between you two lighting your face with a wonderful warm glow. 

“I missed you too,” he reached across the table, taking your hand. “And I’ll be there for you, I promise.” 

“Get it approved by Ferrari first,” ever the logical one. “Then we’ll talk about it,” you answered. “And this,” you signalled around you, and he knew you meant the whole night. Him caring. “Has to not just be a once-off, alright?” 

He nodded. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I promise.” 

Something about the way he said it made you believe him. You didn’t know if it terrified or exhilarated you. Either way, you had a long road to walk, but he would actually be there now, not just a figure in the distance. 

And that felt a little better than before.

navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

taglist:

@awritingtree @boherahpsody @janeh22 @dustie-faerie @anayaverse @buckybarnessweetheart @scriptedinkbyxim @ferrarisstrategy

[reidsworld]

Unveiled Secrets

Summary: The BAU team has a sneaking suspicion that their stoic leader, Aaron Hotchner, is in a relationship, but they don't know the extent of it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Jack and Haley do not exist in this, kissing, cuddling, allusions to sex, light teasing, use of Y/N, pet names (my love, baby), that’s it I think, lmk if I missed any! Oh and pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.8k

Mars speaks… hi my loves, I was motivated to write so I am using this to figure out my writing style a bit and how I want to format my works! I’ve been going through a bit of a Hotch phase lately so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Masterlist

The BAU office was slowly quieting down as the day turned to dusk, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the desks. Aaron Hotchner, head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, stood in his office, the soft light of his desk lamp highlighting the stress lines that had deepened over the years. He checked his watch—almost time to go home. A rare, soft smile touched his lips, a sight reserved for only one person.

He closed the case file on his desk, slipping it neatly into his briefcase before reaching for his jacket. His phone buzzed just as he picked it up, and he glanced at the screen to see a text from you, Can’t wait to see you. Should I pick up dinner?

That smile of his deepened as he quickly typed a reply, I’ll pick it up on my way home. See you soon, my love.

He hadn’t planned on keeping his relationship with you a secret, nor did he have any grand strategy for revealing it. He assumed that given time, his team would figure it out on their own. After all, they were profilers—eventually, they would notice the subtle shifts in his behaviour, the unexplained absences, the slightly more relaxed demeanour after particularly stressful cases. He hadn’t intended to hide it forever, just until they pieced it together.

As he opened the door to his office, however, he nearly collided with Spencer Reid, who was walking by, engrossed in a file. Reid looked up, startled, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Sorry, Hotch! I didn’t see you there."

"It’s alright, Reid," Hotch replied, a calmness in his voice that belied the momentary flicker of surprise in his eyes. He wasn’t often caught off-guard, especially not in the safety of his own office.

Reid, however, had a habit of noticing things others missed. His eyes flickered to the phone still in Hotch’s hand, the screen just dimming from inactivity. Before Hotch could slip it into his pocket, Reid’s sharp eyes caught your name on the screen. His brow furrowed in confusion as he processed the information.

“Y/N, as in the academy’s Y/N?” Reid asked, the question out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Hotch froze for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Reid’s sharp mind to pick up on the anomaly. Reid’s brain worked at lightning speed, connecting dots that others might have missed. He knew Hotch was fiercely private, but this reaction was new.

“Goodnight Reid” Aaron replied, quickly, shutting down any further questioning that may have come from the young genius.

Reid blinked, taken aback, but his curiosity was now piqued. However, years of working with Hotch had taught him when to push and when to back off. “Have a good evening, Hotch.”

As Reid walked away, Hotch let out a slow breath. This wasn’t how he wanted the team to find out, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. He had always assumed it would be Reid who would notice first; the young profiler missed nothing. Still, he had hoped for a bit more time. But the cat was out of the bag now, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the team found out.

The next morning, the BAU office was abuzz with more than the usual activity. Reid’s brief encounter with Hotch had set off a flurry of curiosity and speculation among the team. They were profilers, after all, and even the smallest clues could ignite their imaginations.

“I’m telling you, something’s definitely going on with Hotch,” Reid said as the team gathered in the bullpen before their morning briefing. He couldn't shake the image of your name on Hotch's phone from his mind.

JJ, trying to keep things under control, said, “Come on, guys, it could just be a friend. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin on his face. “Reid’s onto something. Hotch has been acting a bit differently lately. He’s not staying late like he used to.”

“And he’s been smiling more often,” Garcia added, her excitement barely contained. “The man’s practically glowing sometimes.”

Rossi, with a teasing tone, suggested, “Maybe he’s just getting better sleep. But I have to admit, there’s definitely something different.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Don’t you want to know? If Hotch is seeing someone, that’s huge!”

Rossi shrugged, still smirking. “Of course, I’m curious. But let’s give him some space. If he wants us to know, he’ll tell us. And if we’re lucky, we might even get to meet her.”

Prentiss grinned, "Do you think it’s serious? Like, she’s ‘the one’?”

“I think,” Rossi said thoughtfully, “if Aaron is keeping this under wraps, it’s because it’s important to him. He wouldn’t be so secretive if it wasn’t serious.”

Just then, Hotch entered the bullpen, and the conversation quickly shifted to a quieter, more focused buzz. The team members turned to their desks, but the air was charged with unspoken questions and speculative glances. Hotch, sensing the change in atmosphere, gave a brief nod before heading to his office.

As the day dragged on with paperwork and case briefings, the undercurrent of curiosity remained. The team exchanged looks, clearly eager to discuss Hotch’s secret, but they were careful to avoid bringing it up directly. The excitement about Hotch’s personal life was palpable, and everyone was waiting for the right moment to address the topic.

Later that evening, Aaron finally headed home after a long day. As he walked through the front door, he found you curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, and a glass of wine in your hand. You looked up from the book you were reading, a smile spreading across your face when you saw him.

“Hi, baby, how was your day?” you asked, setting the book aside as he walked over to you.

“Tiring,” he admitted, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “And eventful. Reid saw a text from you last night.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no. What did he say?”

“He asked if it was from you,” Aaron said, sitting down beside you. “I shut him down, but I think I gave myself away. The team’s been acting strange all day.”

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “So, they’re onto us?”

He nodded, slipping an arm around you and pulling you closer. “It was bound to happen eventually. I just didn’t expect it to be now.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner,” you said, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “They are profilers, after all.”

He smiled down at you, his expression softening. “I never planned on keeping it a secret forever. I just figured they’d figure it out on their own time.”

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked with a playful grin.

He sighed, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder. “I suppose it’s time to tell them. They’re already curious, and I’d rather they hear it from me than through rumours.”

“You know they’ll be happy for you,” you said, squeezing his hand. “For us.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But there’s a part of me that’s nervous. I’ve always kept my personal life separate from work, but with you… it’s different.”

You leaned up and kissed him softly, the warmth of the moment lingering between you. “We’ll do it together, then. When you’re ready.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, but a playful glint sparkled in his eyes as he pulled you closer. “Right now, I want to do anything but think about the team,” his voice dropped to a low murmur.

You felt the heat of his words and smiled, leaning in closer. “Sounds perfect,” you whispered, as he nuzzled against you, his lips brushing yours with a grin.

A few days later, Rossi had decided to host a dinner party for the team. The team was eager to catch up and enjoy the evening. Aaron knew it was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the team as his girlfriend. 

As the doorbell rang, Rossi answered the door to find Hotch standing beside you. As you both entered the living room, the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as Hotch introduced you with a genuine smile.

“I’d like you to meet Y/N, my girlfriend,” Hotch said, his voice steady but warm. 

The room fell into a stunned silence before erupting into excitement. Garcia’s face lit up with recognition and delight. “Oh my God! It’s Y/N! I knew it was someone! This is incredible!”

Morgan’s grin widened as he approached. “So, this is the elusive woman behind Hotch’s new smile! You’ve been keeping us in the dark for too long, Hotch.”

JJ smiled warmly as she extended her hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Y/N, we’re really happy for both of you.”

Reid, ever the profiler, couldn’t resist asking, “How long have you two been together?”

Hotch laughed softly, putting an arm around you and smiling fondly. “Almost five months now. Y/N works as the unit chief for the BSU in the academy. I met her when she invited me to guest lecture.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I knew it! You two have that perfect power couple vibe. We have to plan another get-together so we can hang out more!”

Rossi, enjoying the moment, gave Hotch a friendly pat on the back. “Well, I guess this means you won’t be around for poker nights as often.”

Hotch chuckled. “I’ll still make time for poker nights, don’t worry.”

As the evening continued, the team enjoyed getting to know you better. The atmosphere was filled with laughter, light-hearted teasing, and genuine happiness for Hotch and you.

“So, when do we get to do this again?” Garcia asked eagerly.

Hotch smiled, feeling content. “Soon. We’ve been talking about having you all over for dinner. Now seems like the perfect time.”

As the team chatted and enjoyed the evening, Aaron felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Introducing you to his team had been a significant step, but their warmth and support made it all worthwhile. The thought of merging his work family with his personal life filled him with quiet joy.

As the party wound down and the team began to leave, Morgan gave Hotch a sly grin. “You know, Hotch, we’re happy for you, but don’t think we won’t give you a hard time about keeping this a secret for so long.”

Hotch chuckled, appreciating the camaraderie. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

With that, the team said their goodbyes and headed home, their spirits high. Hotch followed them, feeling grateful for the support of his team and looking forward to the future with you.

Mars speaks... (again) Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Also, would anyone be interested if I wrote for other fandoms such as F1 and Marvel? Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

[dubiousculturalartifact]

reading The Protector of the Small quartet again for the ????th time (could be as many as the twentieth or more tbh, they're sorta my top comfort reads) and my brain keeps being stuck on Wyldon's character this time around. like he's just FASCINATING. I've rarely read a character who is presented as such a complete fucking asshole who does such a 180 in my estimation in a way that's nuanced and COMPLETELY EARNED, while still staying the same fundamental person at the core, and still being allowed to be flawed. (because oh boy he is flawed) I rank him with Zuko in Top Fantasy Character Redemptions of All Time. I hate him. I love him. some thoughts from this read-through: -he's autistic. like he's just SO very autistic it almost hurts, and half of the reason Kel and him end up eventually understanding and respecting each other so well is exactly for this reason. he's so This Is the Way Things Should Be Done Because The Rules Say So and he is SO rigid and specific but also he EVOLVES and that's a fascinating dichotomy -this is also the SAME reason that Neal and him get along like oil on water, because they are both autistic but Opposite, it's like the personality equivalent of trying to get two hedgehogs to hug -that being said Lord Wyldon RESPECTS Neal in a really bizarre way, or at least understands him? He'd never admit that but that one moment in Lady Knight when he's explaining to Kel about why he picked her for Haven's commander, and he says that he CONSIDERED Neal FOR THE JOB? but said that he thought Neal was 'too fair' and essentially that he would simultaneously care too much and be too irreverent with the refugees, not be objective like Kel would be? again. fascinating. -Owen being Wyldon's squire is such a wild combination of personalities that ALSO should not work at all, because Owen is pure !!!! and Wyldon is like :/, but then my brain was like: oh. Owen is basically a over-excited puppy and Wyldon loves dogs -when Kel rescues Lalasa at the end of Page & passes out, then wakes up to Wyldon and her mum in the room and her mum is arguing with Wyldon about Kel's schedule and stuff. I somehow never really registered before that she FIRST NAMES HIM. She calls him Wyldon, not Lord Wyldon, and is comfortable enough to berate him. do they fucking KNOW EACH OTHER from when they were younger? WHAT IS THE STORY THERE? now I'm remembering when Wyldon got all surprised to hear the story of Illane fighting off the Scanran bandits and saving the sacred swords of the Yamani Islands. hm. interesting. much to consider.

-the bit where Wyldon is like OH SHIT the pages nearly got killed because tradition dictates I don't teach them actual battle strategy and tactics. and I fucking love tradition but I also love pages not being dead, so I guess I better get my shit together on that one.

-or when he QUITS as training master because he's like 'damn toxic masculinity fucked these kids up and I'm kinda partially to blame for that. I gotta get my shit together', and he's like the best thing that came out of being training master was having you as a page. and acknowledges he nearly fucked that up too? -while we're on the subject of 'what went through Wyldon's head' WHEN KEL RAN OFF TO SCANRA AND THEN CAME BACK HAVING BASICALLY WON THE WAR FOR THEM? AND HE WAS SO DISCOMBOBULATED HE ACCIDENTALLY AGREED WITH NEAL? -speaking of the end of Page earlier, i wanna read or possibly write a fic about what went through Wyldon's head when Kel didn't show up to the big examinations, because I think that's SUCH a turning point for his character. Like yes he respected Kel and let her stay before that, but the way he's so clearly kicking himself in the aftermath, going to far as to rope in Duke Turomot, and INVOKE THE GODDESS IN HIS PRAYER FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER.... what happened when he had to give the command to start the examinations without her? Like it really struck me that he must have thought 'oh. she gave up after all' and I think part of him might have been disappointed, and part of him *relieved* because he was still clinging to those old attitudes despite everything. And to find out he was wrong? That she hadn't given up, but had sacrificed everything she had worked for in the finest single demonstration of true chivalry and courage he had probably ever witnessed from a page? like damn. Lord Wyldon of Cavall you funky, fucked up man, I want to study you like a bug

[cosmicschmidt]

UNTIL I FOUND YOU

PART 2, PART 3

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,4K

Warnings: Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was two days ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Coriolanus Snow did not mean for this to happen.

He did not intend to have this weird tingly feeling in his chest every time he caught a glimpse of her.

He did not mean to fall for his tribute from District 12.

As he patiently sat in his seat with his heart hammering in his chest due to not knowing if he´d receive the scholarship, adrenaline and excitement ran through his veins.

Yet, that was taken from him the moment Sejanus Plinth whispered to him that that certain day he looked forward to would not turn out as he hoped.

The Plinth Prize was won by the best mentor.

Each of them has to mentor a tribute and create the best version of them, create strategies and work on their behavior in the arena.

As all the tributes are presented, their names called alongside their mentors, Coriolanus´ hands start to sweat the longer he is not told who he has to work with.

The faces of his fellow students show different emotions, some cheer in happiness at their tributes state, others are laced with worry if their tribute even manages to walk straight.

"And last but not least, the girl from District 12, Coriolanus Snow."

His eyes shoot back to the small screen, his gaze falls to the name written underneath the short clip, Y/N L/N.

"I volunteer as tribute."

The screen shows a screaming girl, around the age of 11 as she trashes in the hold of someone else´s arms, desperately trying to escape their grasp to reach the other girl.

The other girl's face is slightly blurred due to the wide angle of the camera that is following her figure, but as the picture clears up, Coriolanus can´t help but suck in a breath.

A weird feeling boils in his chest that causes his heartbeat to pick up behind his ribcage, just as he thought it couldn´t get worse a few butterflies form in his stomach causing his white tunic to suddenly feel tighter. His hands go to the collar pulling a little on the fabric to calm his heartbeat.

The tribute from 12, stepped in for the younger girl and took her fate as her own. The girl, now known as Y/N doesn´t look back at the screaming girl, she takes small steps to the stage and steps on it the moment she reaches it.

Although her hands tremble beside her body, her eyes are stern and show no emotion, successfully keeping herself from spilling the dread that formed in her chest the moment her little sister's name was called.

"What a twist! Our first ever volunteer of 12, what an honor." the 12´s mayor speaks, yet no reaction falls from the crowd at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suppose that was your sister? Sweet little thing just turned 12, but luckily she has you as her big sister." Mayor Lipp tries to create small talk, but Y/N doesn´t seem to take interest in that, her eyes boring into the camera that is fixated on her face.

Everyone that surrounds Coriolanus watches intensely and waits for her next words.

Y/N´s jaw clenches a little as her gaze wanders over her district's citizens, some laugh at her situation, while others, alongside her family have tears in their eyes and hold a hand in front of their mouths to contain a sob from spilling past their lips.

Instead of words leaving her mouth, she does a mocking and overly dramatic bend forward with her arms stretched out on each side of her body.

Just as two Peacekeepers grab a hold of her arms and pull her off the stage she yells out,

"YOU CAN ALL SUCK I-" but her words muffle due to her being pulled away.

Meanwhile, everyone around Coriolanus starts to whisper.

Some voice behind him, "Who does she think she is?"

"Imagine having to work with that, guess who won´t win the Plinth Prize.." followed by laughing.

And more to his left, "The audacity, I´m telling you she´s the first to bleed out." followed by more remarks and chuckles.

Though Coriolanus can’t feel bothered by their remarks, as he watches her being dragged away from the stage with a stern look on her face.

The blonde watches with bewilderment yet with respect for her volunteering for someone else, a small smirk forming on his face as the side of his mouth pull up a little.

* ˚ ✦

Coriolanus´ gaze is fixated on the white rose in his palms, his eyes trail over each and every flaw he can spot.

Is it pretty enough?

Or is this gesture not normal in the relationship between a mentor and their tribute?

He wonders how you might react to this act of politeness, yet before he can keep up with his thoughts he´s pulled out of it when he hears the train near the train station.

There it is, it glides against the train racks before it comes to a harsh stop with a small screech, the blonde´s eyes trail over the different train carts, wondering where the certain girl from 12 is being kept.

At least a dozen armed Peacekeepers emerge from around the station, and the first cart´s handle is grabbed forcefully and shoved open, a small girl hesitantly jumps down to the ground, before she erupts into a few coughs as if she has to catch her breath from taking a run.

She´s followed by a tall boy who wears a expression he can´t read, although his brows are furrowed and a small line forms between them. The tall male´s eyes immediately find Coriolanus due to his bloody red outfit.

The male doesn´t seem to be the only one, almost everyone that already emerged from their part of the train has their eyes on him.

He fidgets with the rose again, a shiver running down his spine and all the way to his feet and then his toes.

As some tributes are escorted to the transporter outside, Coriolanus finally spots the male tribute from District 12, he remembers his name, Jessup. With a sigh of relief, he takes a few steps to him, and finally, his eyes spot the girl he so desperately tried to find the entire time.

Jessup´s hands are securely wrapped around her waist as he picks her up and helps her out of the train so she can steady herself. She smiles up at Jessup whispers a small ´thanks´ and pats him on his upper arm before she starts to take in all her surroundings.

Although their conversation is muffled, "Are you sure your neck is fine? The bite looks painful..."

Coriolanus´ breathing stops for a second, just now he notices that no camera ever will be able to take in all her beauty, his lips part a little and he can feel his mouth running dry.

Now that Y/N dusted her clothes off and had taken a look around the train station, her eyes move to her right and are met with piercing blue orbs. Although she acknowledged him, he couldn´t help but keep staring at her, the white rose in his left hand long forgotten as it rested next to his body. Confusion dawned on her face as she looked over to Jessup who offered the same expression.

The two of them share a look with a shrug before she turns her back to Coriolanus and starts to take a few steps away from him.

The blonde seems to snap out of it and with a small shake of his head and with two steps he keeps up with her smaller ones.

"Uhm- Welcome to the Capitol." he offers her a smile and holds the rose up for her to see.

Her mouth set in a hard line while her cheeks glowed a tad bit redder than before, "You don´t look like you should be here…?" she asked unsure, her eyes still trained up at his face before they fell on the flower in his hand - which slightly started to tremble -

"Uhm, I shouldn´t, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and I´m your mentor," he adds, the smile still coating his lips as he offers her the rose again.

"Mentor?" she laughs out in disbelief after she finally takes the flower out of his trembling hand and looks at it. Jessup is standing behind her, and his face still shows the same confusion it did earlier.

"Yeah, it´s my job to help you survive the arena," Coriolanus replies, the moment she took the rose out of his grasp his hand went limp and fell back to his side.

"And how exactly-" Y/N doesn´t get the opportunity to reply to his words before someone roughly pulls on her arm and drags her forcefully to the exit of the train station.

Peacekeepers decided to cut their conversation short, they pulled her with them like she weighed nothing, "I can walk by myself perfectly fine." she said loudly before she slapped the hand that was wrapped around her biceps off.

"Wait! I´m her Mentor!" Coriolanus speaks up, yet the distance between mentor and tribute is growing with each second, and the blonde picks up his steps in order to keep up with them.

A few shouts and orders are ringing through the air, the atmosphere filled with dread and an uncomfortable tension. Outside awaits a transporter for the tributes, and like pigs they are thrown and shoved into it, ready to be taken to the slaughterhouse.

The district 12 girl's eyes are trailing behind her trying to catch a glimpse of the red that coats her so-called ´mentor´, she can´t seem to see him but his shouts still reach her ringing ears.

A small hand wraps around her right hand startling the 17-year-old girl, but she quickly relaxes when she sees the small girl from District 8, Wovey. She seems scared by the loud noises, and Y/N offers her a small smile and squeeze of the hand in order to calm her down. Y/N spots a small seat at the back right corner and leads her over to it, there´s not enough space for the both of them, so she lets Wovey take it and stands beside her.

Coriolanus´ opportunity seems to flash in front of him for a split second as a tribute tries to make a run for it, the Peacekeepers running close behind, and with three steps the blonde leaps into the back of the transporter.

He runs all the way to the back of it, before he takes a few breaths trying to tame the adrenaline that shoots through his veins, his breathing calming down from the small thrill he felt.

He straightens down his clothes, and immediately spots Y/N, hand-in-hand with the little girl, her eyes holding awe, yet mostly confusion at why he just ran after her. "What are you doing here?" she whisper-yells, in order not to attract the Peacekeeper's attention.

He can´t help but draw his lower lip between his teeth, letting his actions sink in "Yeah who the hell are you?"

"Uhm-" he starts to speak up, as the other tributes´ eyes hold anger and confusion, most of them standing up and taking a few steps closer to him, cornering him a little. The red that radiates from his red clothes alerts the others.

"I suppose he´s my mentor." Y/N quickly speaks up, her voice cutting through the tension that started to build itself.

"What the hell is a mentor? And why did you get one but we didn´t?"

"Did she get one just because she was the first to volunteer?"

Y/N opens her mouth again to reply but Coriolanus beats her to it, "No, you all get a mentor, I promise the same chances are laid out for everyone." he says with a slightly raised voice so everyone hears his words.

A few unamused chuckles emerge from the ´crowd´ that formed around him, nevertheless a tall guy grabs him by the collar and slams Coriolanus back against the wall behind him pulling a gasp from his lips.

"Don´t shit talk us, what are you doing here?! Are you here to spy on us? What sick games did you plan?!" he yells in his face, although Coriolanus is taller than him, he raises his hands in surrender in order to calm the angry tribute.

Y/N sighs and softly drops Wolvey´s hand onto the girl's lap, she takes a step forward rests her hand on the tribute´s shoulder gently yet harshly, and pushes against him.

"You get your own mentor, now drop it," she says loudly, the tributes around them purse their lips and keep looking at Coriolanus like he´s some meal they can devour.

"A Capitol´s sweetheart could be helpful, why not kill him to send a fucking message." everyone around them agrees except for Y/N and a few in the back, them equally as terrified as Coriolanus.

Coriolanus laughs at their ´plan´ and breathes out a few pained breathes due to him being pressed against the wall, however, before anyone else gets the chance to speak up, the container they are kept in starts to shake a little and then does a jump that causes everyone to lose their balance. The tribute that held the blonde up against the wall let go of him, the everyone including Coriolanus hold onto the nearest thing they could find to steady themselves.

Y/N yelps at the sudden movement that throws her forward and grabs onto Coriolanus´ right arm, the boy in question sneaks his right arm around her waist to steady her and takes hold of a handle that sticks out of the metal wall.

With a rumble and another much harsher shake of the container, the doors suddenly swing open and the place they were kept in for the past 10 minutes moves upwards, changing the position from vertical to horizontal.

A few screams erupt from the group of tributes, and everyone starts to slide out like bags of flour. Y/N yelps again and tries to hold onto Coriolanus, he manages to hold both of their weights, but Y/N´s grip on him loosens when she wiggles in his grasp.

"Wait- Y/N hold on!" he hisses out, but Y/N moves in his grasp trying to get a hold of Wovey´s hand who´s close to sliding down as well.

"Grab my hand!" she yells, but Wovey slips away, and Y/N watches the little girl and Jessup move out of her view into the unknown.

Y/N removes herself from his grasp, just as Coriolanus can´t hold them up anymore due to the shaking wagon, and they all slide into whatever the Capitol planned for them.

I might consider writing a second part! I hope you enjoyed reading this <33

[ivy-elle]

Their Acts Of Love

Ft. Albedo, Ayato, Diluc, Kazuha, Kinich, Scaramouche, Xiao

Albedo

The alchemist is known for his pragmatic approach to life

It’s evident in the way he works, functions and goes about the world

Albedo discerns what certain matters require, how to refine them and how to adjust accordingly

So naturally, as you are an essential and irreplaceable part of his life, it was important to him from the very beginning to figure you out and understand your very own kernel as well

Albedo has made it his personal little goal to identify what you need, what could make your life easier, more comfortable in various ways

He doesn’t even wait to see you struggle with something first, there have already ideas bloomed in his mind, and he’s off to spend the next hours tinkering away

It starts with small adjustments – like modifying your coat in a more practical way to keep the cold at bay and adjust better to the temperatures for when you visit him on Dragon Spine

Or he creates special compasses for you, designed in a way that they guide you straight to whatever materials you’re currently searching for

Special flowers, that never seem to wither, placed onto your desk for you to fin

Whatever you could need, he has it already at hand

He truly loves you to the point of invention

Ayato

Ayato is a very sought-after and busy man with countless responsibilities and people to attend to

And while he tries to spend as much of his free time with you, those times don’t come as commonly and as long-lasting as he (and you) might wish for

Yet, every morning without fail, even before the sun rises, he wakes up to you sleeping soundly next him in bed

He drapes his arm around your waist and softly pulls you closer to him, holding you just a bit tighter

And each time, knowing that duties are calling for him from all corners, he makes room for at least ten of those special minutes, where he spends just this one more moment with you right next to him, before rising up

Sometimes you notice him and awake as well, and it has gradually become a sort of ritual for you to spend these early minutes with him

You seldom even speak a word, instead just let gentle touches linger, and fingers intertwine as you soak in each other’s presence, tanking energy for the day yet to come

Diluc

The high quality of the Angel’s Share’s wines, drinks and beverages in general is famous and renowned all over the corners of Teyvat

And Diluc takes a lot of pride in his creation, dedicating time and love to the craft

And in the same abundance he cherishes and takes pride in having you by his side at every step as well

Sometimes he likes to convey these feelings into his world as well

That means shortly said – patrons of his tavern might need to get used to order drinks that carry your very own name very soon

Perhaps, there are even slight variations, nicknames of sorts or nods to certain insiders only to be known by you and him alone

Then again, Diluc also entrusts you to naming a lot of his latest creations as well, proudly adding them to the menu card afterwards

The extra bonus of it all is of course, catching some guests’ reactions – especially Kaeya’s, who knows more of the ‘insiders’ than he wishes for

Kazuha

Kazuha is away on travels plenty of times.

Sometimes it could be even weeks in which you’re not seeing each other at all, and while not a day goes by without exchanging letters, no amounts of words could soothe the ache you feel in his absence

And Kazuha misses your presence by his side tremendously.

So, while he can’t show you the places that he visits per se, and only manages to convey his experiences in words, he came up with a lovelier strategy

In every place Kazuha visits he gathers a bunch of different flowers, he finds to be especially fitting and prevail the essence of the scenery

But because he’s aware of how quick flowers once picked wither away, he places them carefully in between the pages of a little notebook he always carries with him and presses the flower inside

Each page with flowers is captioned in his neat handwriting with the location, the date and a little haiku – for the practice – as he claims

So, whenever he returns back home to you, you’d have also a book full of memories pressed between sheets and a bit of Kazuha’s love accompanied alongside

(Perhaps one day he could get in contact with Albedo to ask for a way to prevent flowers from withering. But then again, to prevail them in a frozen state between life and death forever, may contain its very own certain art)

Kinich

Kinich is an adventurer through and through; he knows the woods, he knows the deserts, he knows the mountains and he knows you.

He adores both of these worlds, and he loves nothing more than to combine them whenever possible

He’d like you to see the world in its wonders and adventurer and possibilities just the way he does, and if he could, he would do anything to keep that look of wonder on your face for as long as possible

Kinich brings you to many of his favourite places, he follows you to any new view you want explore and some days the both of you spend hours just walking and strolling along through different paths and places

Anything you haven’t seen yet? Here we go.

Something you haven’t experiences, yet? Well, now you have.

You mean you’ve never been bungee jumping? Consider it done.

Afterall, his bests adventures happen to be the ones he shares with you – watch out, soon he’ll consider you his personal lucky charm

He is the best guide there is, at least for you specifically, because he knows the world and he knows your heart

Scaramouche

Scaramouche isn’t exactly a man of many words in that regard

Not explicably nice ones, that is

And certainly not from the romantic sort

And yet, he cares

He cares so deeply at times, it feels it’s going to gnaw him from the inside out and set fire to his bones

And while he’s not (yet) about to let these words slip past his lips, it is his actions that carry the volume

So, no, his words might only indirectly reflect his inner turmoil and this deeply rooted sentiment, but there is no denying he is a gentleman around you.

From opening doors (although he will insist, “you’re slacking off again”), to waiting for you so you can walk to a destination side by side (“I can’t trust your sense of direction on your own”) and carrying your stuff (“Lest you end up face-first on the ground”)

And if you’re the one to ask something, it’ll be done. Reluctantly and with some grumbling perhaps, but it will be done.

Xiao

Xiao is used to solitude – it’s easier, it’s safer, it’s all he’s ever known

You somehow, slowly, delicately managed to climb through the cracks of the walls that shelter his soul and heart

Nowadays, the spot beside him on the tree of Wangshu Inn is seldom empty anymore

No longer does he has to endure seemingly endless nights, buried in his own personal torture, for there’s nothing, he desires any more now than to lay down beside you at the end of each day

You’ve managed to find your way into his heart and make him feel as if, life has some worth aside from the burdens he is bound to carry

Xiao quite literally worships the ground you walk on

As a yaksha, he sees it as part of his duty, but it extended into his very own personal mission to assure your absolute safety at all time

Especially when you’re out on your own travels and journey

Rest assured, no treasure hoarders, no hilichurls, and certainly no ruin guards will ever cross your path or pose a threat to you, as long as he has a say in it

[kitxhenringcutter]

The thing is, Tommy’s worried about Evan coming over to his house for the first time. He’s seen Evan’s loft. It’s all clean lines, modern appliances and details. What little sentimental odds and ends he owns are tucked away or so subtle than Tommy didn’t spot them the first couple of times he came over.

Tommy’s house, by contrast, is filled with the detritus one accumulates when they’ve gone no contact with everyone related to them and they’re trying to create a homey, family atmosphere out of thrift stores and the Pottery Barn catalogue instead of friends and family.

He’s a knick-knacker, an antique furniture collector, a throw pillow and afghan fanatic.

He doesn’t have much in the way of books, but he has shelves and shelves of notebooks, some full, some half-used, some untouched. It’s a habit he picked up when his first ever therapist (after he left the 118) coaxed him into writing everything down to make a little sense of the mess of contradictions, phobias, old prejudices, prejudices still clinging on and traumas that made it feel impossible to figure out what to talk about first when he sat down in that office.

There’s a small, awkward section of wall in his kitchen created when a previous owner of the house decided to add a laundry room (embarrassingly, his favorite room in the house for it’s sheer utility) and that’s where Tommy hangs his collection of coffee mugs. Some of them are Goodwill finds, some souvenirs, some band merch or creations by local artists he picked up at some market or other.

There’s five different varieties of protein powder constantly cluttering his kitchen counter because he ran out of room in the small pantry. His pots and pans hang over the tiny, rolling kitchen island, which is itself nearly taken over by a serving tray that holds his water filter, a candle, a decorative planter filled with his cooking utensils, a plastic case of toothpicks.

He still has a dvd collection, for heaven’s sake, and it takes up most of his sagging entertainment center. He should replace it, but it’s the first piece of furniture he ever restored and he’s having trouble letting go. Speaking of letting go, there’s a dog bed in the corner for a dog that passed away nearly ten months ago. He probably will at least hide that in a closet before Evan gets here.

Because he is coming over. No matter how nervous Tommy is, he’s not gonna come up with another excuse for why they have to postpone or meet at Evan’s instead. He gets the feeling he’s already made Evan a little wary, and with Evan’s relationship history and his fear of being too much, not enough, just left, Tommy will eat his own foot before he purposely exacerbates Evan’s fears.

If Evan looks around and decides Tommy is a hoarder or a slob or a million other nasty epithets Tommy’s brain is offering up like some cruel, self-sabotaging buffet- Well, they’ll talk about it. They’ll learn and adjust. Evan has never, ever been cruel to Tommy and it’s quite frankly laughable that he would start now.

That’s what Tommy tells the rogue half of his brain trying to rain on their parade. Another thing he picked up from his therapist - name the part of you that spews negative self-talk and talk back to it. Predictably, Tommy named his Vince. Shut the fuck up, Vince.

Evan’s shift ended twenty minutes ago and Tommy has chili on the stove keeping warm. Between showering and the drive over, Evan should be due at his door in another twenty-five or so. Tommy hides the dog bed, lights the kitchen candle, tries to find things to do with his hands so he doesn't watch the time like a hawk. They’ve had conflicting shifts for almost two weeks with only stolen moments and half-asleep kisses in between. Tommy misses his boyfriend. But a watched clock never ticks, or whatever.

His strategy works, because Evan’s knock on the front door actually startles him a little from the stack of unopened mail he’s sorting through. So many flyers for what feels like every home decor and craft store in the state.

Evan’s eyes are gentle and joyful when Tommy answers the door. “Hey.” He leans in to squeeze Tommy’s bicep and press a kiss to the wing of his cheek. Tommy can feel Evan’s mouth stretch into a smile against his skin.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Tommy wiggles his fingers under the strap of Evan’s duffel to take it from him and steps aside to let him into the house. His heart thuds in his chest.

Evan surrenders his bag and steps into Tommy’s home for the first time. If he notices Tommy holding his breath, he doesn’t comment yet.

He takes a look around while Tommy tries to look anywhere but his face. He doesn’t want to let on that he’s being a complete lunatic about this, that he let his anxiety take over for the better part of the day.

When Evan turns around to face Tommy again and slides his hands over Tommy’s waist, presses his fingers into Tommy’s back, nudging them closer together, his smile has split into a full grin. Tommy can’t help reflexively smiling in return. He can feel his cheeks flooding with warmth. It should be embarrassing that Evan still makes Tommy blush at the drop of a hat even all these months later, but if it helps Evan know deep in his bones that Tommy is gone for him, Tommy wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“It looks like you.” Evan draws his hands up and down Tommy’s torso in gentle strokes. “Cozy. Warm. Like…” He trails off and bites his lip, drops his eyes to Tommy’s chest.

Tommy hooks his fingers under Buck’s chin and lifts his gaze back up until their eyes meet in a move that’s become so routine it’s pretty much an inside joke between them. “Like what? Don’t leave me hanging.”

It’s Evan turn to flush a deep pink. He takes an unsteady breath in. “L-like home.”

An immense weight lifts off Tommy’s chest so quickly it almost steals his breath, but Evan has tensed up just a fraction, so Tommy hums softly, spreads his big hands over Buck’s wide shoulders and digs his fingers in to massage the tension back out. He slides deeper into Evan’s space to take his mouth in a chaste, lingering kiss, and he murmurs against his lips. “Glad to hear it.”

[seahorsepencils]

I 100% believe that Nathan Fielder made a deliberate choice in focusing the episode around footage of him interacting with two autism "advocates" who are ultimately ableist and reductive in their understanding of autism. A congressman who doesn't even know what masking is, and an advocacy organization founder who uses outdated tests and won't acknowledge that not-autistic folks might benefit from rehearsing difficult social situations? That's not an accident.

If you look up Doreen Granpeesheh, you'll see that she is known for promoting the idea of autism "recovery," and that she has a history of publicly supporting the claim that there's a link between vaccines and autism. Her Wikipedia page makes very clear that she is a problematic figure whose work has been critiqued, and that she should not be taken seriously. Fielder, along with his writers and producers, would have known her reputation when booking her for the show.

A screenshot from Granpeesheh's website. Yes, it would appear she is actually proud of this headline.

And I think he's using the meeting with Cohen as a commentary on how autistic folks (and minoritized people in general, most likely) are treated by people in authority. Instead of masking and politely leaving the room, instead of picking up signals that Cohen is wrapping up the meeting without wanting to announce he's doing it on camera, Fielder purposely doesn't "take the hint" so that Cohen has to flounder and keep trying to wrap up the meeting in a way that is ultimately vague, dismissive, and rude. The longer the audience has to sit and watch that dynamic play out, the more likely we are to recognize Cohen as the bad guy in the situation rather than Fielder. It's brilliant.

And it's the exact same strategy he's using by spending the first half of the season ostensibly focusing on the first officer in those cockpit interactions, while deliberately giving screen time to guys like the "banned from every dating app" pilot to make it clear who is actually the source of the problem (and to hopefully trigger an FAA sexual harassment investigation in that one instance). In all three of these situations, he's showing us how a problematic person in power holds all the cards and is unwilling to budge.

I know there are differing opinions on what aspects of the show and his character are exaggerated or performed. As a very self-aware autistic comedy writer, this is my assessment: I think he's semi-deliberately not filling silences with masking behaviors, and asking questions he probably knows are uncomfortably direct, to create a space where others (often the neurotypical folks in these situations) have no choice to fill in the silence, which ultimately makes them say or do something relevant. I think he also acts like an unaware, unbiased observer in situations where he has a strong idea of what's going on. So whenever he says "I didn't know why" or "I didn't understand," he probably mostly does know and understand, but he knows that performing the role of an unbiased observer is a stronger strategic choice to get his message across.

He's basically playing the role of a journalist who knows that two of the most effective tools in his toolkit are a) silence when he wants a subject to reveal crucial information, and b) an "unbiased" narrative frame that makes the audience feel as if they're coming to a conclusion on their own, rather than being told what to think.

It's a nuanced approach but I think it's a smart one, especially considering that autistic-coded folks are very easily dismissed when speaking truth to power. And yeah, he's not gonna get his Congressional hearing. But pointing a camera at the problem and airing it for a massive audience, while saying "Me? I don't have an agenda; this data just presented itself in response to my neutral, unbiased question" is a pretty autistic—and often effective—approach to problem-solving.

[moesthoughts]

my aching bones | party time ( photo 03 )

chapter summary : After the win at nationals, everyone is stressed both about allie and the thought of packing. Despite your efforts not to board a plane, coach martinez insists, and you can’t say no to him. Lottie, hoping to alleviate the stress, decides to throw a victory party the night before the team departs.

warnings : alcohol, drug use, nat flirting and lowkey leaving you high and dry, mental health topics, suggestive themes

prev — next

The locker room was tense, everyone either looking at the floor or they have their head buried in their hands. You’re in the corner, pretending to mess with your camera so you don’t worry yourself to bits over the uneasiness settling in the room. Van is pacing back and forth, she is obviously stressed. You can’t blame her, losing a teammate right before you’re about to fly to nationals, that’s difficult. The silence was painful, you stop fidgeting with your camera due to how loud it was. You glance over at Nat, whose leg was bouncing rapidly, her hand over her mouth. Everyone is stressing, not being able to see how Allie is doing must be awful. You regret not getting to know her better, she’s too popular and annoying for your liking. Even then, she didn’t deserve to break her leg.

“I mean, It can’t be that bad right?”

Jackie is the one to break the silence, as usual. Of course, she’s the team captain. It’s one of her jobs to try to alleviate tension and build the team up. You notice her words don’t work, the girls stare at her in disbelief, some picking up their stuff and leaving. Jackie bites her lip and leans on the wall behind her, averting her eyes to the floor. Nat scoffs, and looks towards Taissa who has the face akin to a guilty dog. You wonder if her plan was what caused that to happen, “freezing her out”. You understand now what she meant. You feel indifferent, as much as Taissa is a good friend, what she did today was horrible. Somewhere inside of you knows she didn’t want it to end up with Allie being hurt, knowing her, she’ll keep her strategy a secret.

“You could see her fucking bone, Jackie.”

Nat retorts, shoving her clothes into her soccer bag aggressively. She’s obviously still angry from earlier, Taissa’s stubbornness and nobody backing her up, she’s mentioned she feels alone with the team. Jackie opens her mouth to argue back but second guesses herself, walking sheepishly over to Shauna, who seems as guilty as Tai. You think about speaking up, asking about the term “freezing out”, but you know it isn’t your place, especially not being apart of the team. You stand up and lean onto the lockers, giving Nat a gentle look when she glances your way. Her face softens when you both make eye contact, she feels bad that you have to experience everyone bickering in the locker room. You all jump when Lottie slams her locker, looking at everyone with an annoyed look.

“Are you all gonna keep arguing, or are you going to get ready for the party at my place tonight?”

She announces, picking up her back and storming out of the locker room, her steps echoing followed with her slamming the door. Everyone stays silent before moving to gather their things, Nat grabs your wrist and starts walking towards the exit of the locker room. She desperately wants to get wasted and forget the sight of Allie’s leg, and you do as well.

“Nice work Taissa.”

Nat makes sure to speak up before dragging you out of the room.

Just like before the game for nationals, Nat and you are cooped up in your room, getting ready for the party. You have three dresses on your bed to pick from, and you’re struggling quite a bit. Nat eyes you from her seat across the room, she’s already dressed and her makeup was done. She watches how your eyebrows pinch together while you’re deep in thought, shifting weight between your feet to help your brain juices flow. You’re a gorgeous sight, your hair already done with shiny jewelry complimenting your skin. She bites a smirk back as you pick up a dress, looking at her curiosity.

“Hey, Nat. Can you tell me which one looks the best?”

You ask, smiling as she nods right away. You start lifting up the dresses by their hangers, pressing them to your body. Nat hums while you continuously switch between them, she can’t tell what will look best without you trying them on. She knows you’d look amazing in anything you wear anyway, but she wants to pick the best option.

“Can you try them on? It’s kinda hard to tell with you just holding them up.”

The lightbulb in your head finally turns on, you let out a small “ohh..” sound before picking up one of the dresses, a simple blue one, a floral pattern tracing the bottom of it. You turn to open your door, planning to head to the bathroom. Nat calls out your name, causing you to whip your head around. You don’t recognize the look she has on your face, but you notice how her cheeks are ever so slightly burning red. You press your back against the door, you want to know what’s going through her mind while looking at you like that. You feel nervous, small. Maybe in a good way, you’re not sure.

“Just change here, I can look away or— something.”

Nat croaks out, instantly avoiding your gaze. Your face lights up like the fourth of july, your mind wandering some place else. She didn’t mean it in an explicit way, but the way you look at her, your face beat red, maybe she did.

“Are.. you sure?”

“Very.”

Her reply was quick, making butterflies swarm in your stomach. You turn your back to her, holding your breath as you slip off your clothes slowly but surely, the thought of her eyes possibly being on you plaguing your mind. You face Nat again, smoothing over the blue dress. She instantly notices how it’s too short for you, it was from freshman year home coming. So you repeat the process over again for the other two dresses, your third one being a dark brown that compliments your body. She looks you up and down, her hand covering her mouth as she drinks in the sight.

“I like— That one’s good.”

Nat tries to be nonchalant, getting up and quickly grabbing your keys before you can. As she exits your room you finally breathe, oxygen has never felt so amazing. You can’t shake the image of her eyes checking you out, the small compliments she was uttering under her breath, thinking you couldn’t hear her. You quickly grab your jacket and head after her, your legs weak due to your nervousness.

The sound of people chatting floods your ears as you walk onto Lottie’s property, sticking close behind Nat. You’ve never been to a party before, mostly because you haven’t been invited to any, except for the party animals that constantly have an open crib. You reach out to grab Nat’s arm before noticing that she left your side to talk with her other friends, You recognize Kevyn right away, but you always forget the other one’s name. You sigh and scan for the other girls, luckily your eyes land on Shauna. She is propped up on someone’s truck, her eyes focusing on something in the distance. You make your way to her, leaning beside her on the vehicle. She doesn’t seem to notice you, her attention glued somewhere else.

“Have you ever yearned for something so much, it like.. hurts you?”

It startles you when she speaks, her tone laced with pain. You finally look over to where she’s staring, Jackie and her boyfriend Jeff, dancing and having fun. You assumed that Shauna and her have something together, but you didn’t know that it’s this bad. It causes you to glance over to Nat, laughing and talking with her friends, fidgeting with a baggie in her hands. You do know what it’s like to yearn, several hard months wanting Natalie fucking Scatorccio. It’s not as heart breaking as what Shauna is going through, you turn back to the other girl.

“Yeah, I do.”

A soft smile blooms on the other girl’s lips, she mutters something before stumbling off, she’s obviously drunk. Finally, Nat makes her way over to you, two cups of beer in hand. She seems more happy than usual, her pupils dilated with glassy eyes. You smile and take the extra cup as she hands it to you, gulping it down right away. It’s been a rough day, and you don’t want to think about it.

“Shit dude, slow down.”

Nat’s tone is sweet like honey, her hand resting on your back. You can’t tell if the alcohol was hitting you right away, or if Nat was always this bold. You snake your arms around her neck, trying to bite back the smile curving on your lips. As you try to lean in closer you hear yelling in the distance, much to the fake blonde’s dismay you turn your head. It’s Shauna and Taissa, bickering loudly. You slip away from Nat’s grasp before heading over to their direction, the other girl following after you.

“Just admit you did it on purpose.”

Shauna barks, trailing after Tai as she backs away slightly. The other girls have already gathered around the situation, looks being exchanged. Laura Lee looks like she’s about to butt in, but Lottie hooks her arm around hers, keeping her mouth shut. It is obvious what they’re arguing about, Allie’s broken leg. You’re surprised that Shauna is finally speaking up about it, her guilt was probably eating her up. They say drunk words are sober thoughts, and Shauna is letting all hers out.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you fucking sociopath.”

Van inserts herself into the argument quickly, placing a hand onto Shauna’s shoulder. Lottie mumbles a curse under her breath, looking away from the situation.

“Woah— calm down.”

“No, listen. We won’t need to deal with the ‘Allie problem’ anymore because Taissa fixed it for us.”

Taissa grumbles, shoving her hands into her pockets. She doesn’t make it obvious, but she’s worrying. Laura Lee questions the situation, looking towards Nat and you for answers. Nat has never looked so satisfied as she does now, a smirk curls onto her lips.

“She’s talking about Taissa’s little plan.”

“Oh, please. Since when did you give a shit? Don’t you have a bong to hit or.. a dick to suck?”

Your eyebrows furrow, previously you felt indifferent about Taissa. Though, she insulted your friend. You’re so angry, but confused, you don’t know if you should butt in or not. You open your mouth to speak—

“Don’t speak to her like that!”

Shauna takes the words from your mouth, and you return to keeping your peace, your foot tapping on the ground anxiously. Fights were never your thing, still aren’t. Yet here you are, about to throw that fear out the window for Nat. Your fingers curl into the fabric of your jacket, trying to do anything but glance at any of the girls fighting, afraid that you’ll get dragged into whatever this is.

“Oh, fuck off Shauna. I don’t need you to defend me, last I checked you were fine with the whole ‘freeze her out’ strategy.”

Nat’s response wasn’t expected, you look at her with confusion, everyone else following in suit. If this is your first experience at a yellow jackets hangout, you’re not sure you want to go out with them again. Though, throwing a party after a high tension practice, everyone is drunk and angry. You don’t blame them. After Laura Lee questions the situation again they all collectively yell at her, before starting to yell at each other. You inch away from the scene, rolling your eyes as Randy yells “Cat fight”. You can’t stop this, nor did you want to. You don’t need to play hero, especially for a team you photograph for. As you slowly make it out of the area, Jackie practically runs you over, storming towards the fight. You watch as she effortlessly makes them quiet down, signaling them to follow her. You head in the opposite direction to your car, not caring how drunk you are.

You take a drag of the cigarette you just lit, throwing your head back onto the headrest behind you. You’re slowly starting to regret ever coming to this party, you don’t fit in, you’re not social, and certainly not well equipped for an argument. You aren’t mad at them, it’s not your place to be frustrated. The only person who got on your nerves was Tai, who seems like such a nice girl. You wonder if it’s all just a facade for people to like her, fake people are everywhere after all. You don’t move from your position once you hear the door open and close. A reminder that you’re supposed to drive Nat back home, a heavy sigh emits from her lips. joining you in resting on the headrests.

“Im so fucking high.”

She breaks the silence, rubbing her temples. You start the car, not wanting her to endure a headache in a car you just hot boxed. You would kill a man to be high right now, that cup of beer not hitting the way it’s supposed to. You want to go back to that feeling when you were so close to pressing your lips against Nat’s, desperately wanting to kiss way all of her lip stick. Your bones ache with need, picturing all these fantasies that likely won’t happen. Your hand grips the steering wheel as you back out of Lottie’s driveway.

“So.. your house?”

synopsis ʚɞ your parents want you out of the house more, do something other than rot in your room while doing homework. You decide to use your photography talent for the school paper, taking pictures of the yellow jackets girl’s soccer team. Throughout your photoshoots of their various games, one girl piques your interest the most. Natalie Scatorccio.

a/n : HIII.. two updates in a week wow!! I got a sudden rush of motivation for Nat.. I’m hopelessly in love. ALSO THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 300 FOLLOWERS! It was literally the beginning of this month when I just hit 100.. so crazy 🤍

a/n : again, taglist is still open! lmk if you want on

taglist — @mlovesunicorns @t-wylia @bisexual-stalin @theoreticalfreak @flurpe @girlie955 @firefl1ghts @lilliesandrosiess @princessleprechaunnn @joaniscruzing @wtfisthisnoclueman @sleepyjackets @stupendousbananasharkcop @zindoriyo @moonyxstars @scatorcciosbabe @pacatica

[bedlam-barbie]

NSFW Alphabet: Hwang In-Ho (The Frontman)

Because I was not inspired to write for attention and decided to be disgusting about my man

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)Secretly excellent at it—but he’ll pretend he’s not. He’s the type to silently run a bath, leave warm towels, bring you tea without saying a word. You’ll wake up under expensive blankets, your favorite playlist quietly playing. His hands are gentle after the storm.He’ll hold you—wordlessly, tightly—like if he lets go, he might lose you. It’s not sweet, it’s possessive

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)On himself: His eyes. Intense, expressive, full of secrets. He knows they intimidate and seduce. On you: Your mouth. He watches every word, every whimper, every bite of your lip like it’s scripture. Also? Your thighs. He could worship them for hours.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)Controlled. Always. He holds back until he chooses. Finishes inside like it’s a claim, but only after eye contact that says “mine.” When he's angry or desperate, he might finish on your stomach, jaw clenched, breathing heavy like he regrets everything and nothing.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)He has a voicemail from you saved on his private burner phone.

You don’t even remember leaving it—drunk, laughing, calling late one night after a night out. You were rambling, teasing him, voice slurred and soft as you said: “I know you won’t pick up. You never do. But... I wish you would. I miss you. Even when I hate you.” You ended the message with a sigh and whispered “Goodnight, Hwang.”

He’s never responded. Never brought it up. But he listens to it when he’s alone, in the dark, sitting on his penthouse balcony with a glass of Yamazaki in hand. The sound of your voice—unfiltered, tired, and vulnerable—is the closest thing to love he allows himself to feel.And sometimes, after hearing it?

He fucks his own hand with your name on his lips and a silent apology burning in his chest.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)Extensive. Precise. Clinical. He’s not messy. He’s not experimental. He knows what works and how to break you open with a single thrust. Sex with him is strategy—pinned wrists, controlled breathing, building you up just to break you down. But when the emotions leak through? It’s unhinged. Animalistic. Unrepeatable.

F = Favorite Position Bent over his desk. Skirt up, panties pulled to the side. One hand around your neck, the other around your mouth. He fucks you like a decision—deliberate, final.

Alternatively: flat on your stomach, his full weight on top of you, whispering into your ear, “Take it. You wanted this.”Every stroke is meant to remind you who you belong to.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)Absolutely not. His humor is dry, scathing, and rare. Sex is sacred. If you try to make a joke mid-act, he’ll grip your jaw, force eye contact, and say something like:

“Open your mouth again, and I’ll make sure you can’t speak at all.”

...And then, he’ll do it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)Neatly groomed, though not obsessively so. He’s classic, subtle, and never sloppy. He doesn’t expect anything specific from you, but if you do wax or shave, he’ll notice and murmur something quiet and filthy against your skin.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)He is terrified of intimacy—but craves it more than air. If you touch him softly, cup his cheek? He’ll break a little. The most intense moments aren’t during sex—it’s afterward, when he lets you see how hollow he feels. Every kiss, a vow. When he holds your face and looks into your eyes while he's inside you, you’ll know: he wants to say “I love you.” He just can’t.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)Rare. If he needs release, he’ll find you. But when he does take matters into his own hands? It’s dark. Angry. Filled with shame. He bites his lip to stay silent, closes his eyes, and imagines your tears, your begging, the way you whisper please, sir when you're right on the edge. He always finishes fast—and hates himself for it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Control/ Edging: He tells you when to come. If you disobey, he punishes.

Breath play: He loves your gasps. The fluttering panic. The trust.

Praise: “Good girl.” Said low, like a gift.

Obedience training: He'll teach you to kneel, wait, earn every inch.

Possession: He wants you marked. Bruised. Filled. His.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)His office. His car. A private lounge above a gala full of VIPs. Somewhere dangerous, but with a locked door. He likes the thrill of control amidst chaos. Sex on the rooftop overlooking Seoul? One of his best memories.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)Emotion. Conflict. The moment you call him out, touch his wounds, or stand your ground—that’s when he snaps. Love and rage are entwined for him. When you show him you're not afraid, he needs to consume you.

N = No  (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)He won’t do sharing. He won’t let you top. And he won’t fake softness. He’ll never say “I love you” during sex—because when he does say it, it’ll destroy him. And you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)Devastatingly good at giving. Tongue slow, deliberate, reverent. He takes his time, looking up at you with heat and apology in his eyes. Receiving? Loves receiving—especially when you're on your knees, hands bound, mascara running. .

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)Controlled. Ruthless. He wants you to struggle to breathe. To cry. To plead. But he’s not reckless. He watches your reactions like a hawk. And when you’re right there? He’ll stop. Whisper in your ear: “You’ll come when I say.”

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)Only if he’s angry or desperate. If he’s pulling you into a dark hallway, lifting your dress, and fucking you with one hand over your mouth? You’ve really pissed him off—or someone else touched you. Either way? He finishes fast. Deep. And leaves you shaking.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)Calculated. Always. He won’t get caught. But he likes the illusion of danger. He’ll fuck you in the boardroom at midnight. In his car outside your apartment. Just to prove you’re his.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)Unmatched. One round? He’s just warming up. Three is typical. Four if he’s punishing you—or himself. He doesn’t stop until your legs won’t hold you. And even then, he’ll make you beg for more. “Use your mouth then, sweetheart.”

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Under lock and key. Velvet-lined drawer. Restraints, gags, blindfolds. Leather cuffs with your initials burned into them. He’ll never use a vibrator unless it’s to tease you to tears. He prefers his hands. His control.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)Master of denial. He’ll edge you for an hour, then pull out and say, “You haven’t earned it.” He wants you desperate. Crying. So broken that when you finally come, it's an exorcism. And he watches the whole thing unfold with a dark smile.

V = Volume  (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)Low. Hoarse. He doesn’t moan. He growls. He gives you commands in a quiet, dangerous voice. The only time he loses it? When you whisper, “Please, sir. I’m yours.” Then, you’ll hear a sound so raw it’ll haunt your dreams.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)He once fucked you in full uniform—black mask on, gloves on, over his desk while footage of the Games played in the background. He never took it off. He needed to disappear in that moment. And he needed you to know: even when he’s a monster, he still chooses you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)Lean. Muscled. All sharp lines and quiet power. His back is littered with old scars. His thighs are strong, his hands are huge. And yes—he’s big. Thick, veiny, and perfectly curved. When you first saw it, you paused. He laughed. Quiet. Dangerous. “Don’t worry. You’ll take it.” And you did.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)High. Painfully high. But buried under work, duty, guilt. He wants you all the time, thinks of you at meetings, dreams of you in silence—but he’ll never act unless he has to. When he does? It’s a damn storm.Z = Zzz  (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)He doesn't sleep. Not really. After sex, he watches you. Traces your skin like it’ll vanish. He memorizes your breathing, listens to your heartbeat. If he does fall asleep with you? It’s the only time he dreams peacefully.

[robin-evry]

Hii idk if you could take req but can you please do Arlecchino or Acheron!yuu? Pick whatever you like to seperate or maybe write both of them.. But idk cuz it's my first time requesting this 💔🥀

If you don't want to do one of them, that's alright but I hope you have an amazing day and please take care of yourself!!

-❄ anon

Hello ❄️anon, so I'll be doing Acheron yuu on a separate one because another also requested, so I'll be doing arlechinno one first and then upload Acheron yuu later maybe tomorrow

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎 𝐘𝐔𝐔 ����️❌

"The Knave," Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers. A poised, ruthless diplomat. To the children of the House of the Hearth, she is their feared yet dependable "Father."

art by stasyanart on twitter

A strict and disciplined student that many came to fear and respect, always efficient and poised to be around carrying an aura of power and discipline and whoever came across them would immediately act their best to try not to anger them.

Arlecchino!Yuu’s presence at Night Raven College shakes the school to its core. They are a cold, disciplined, and utterly unyielding force that commands respect through action, not words.

Unlike the other students, they do not waste time with games, social posturing, or vanity. Their focus is efficiency, control, and ensuring survival. Many find them terrifying, but no one can deny their competence and leadership.

Arlechinno!yuu is reserved, speaks with precision, and rarely wastes words. They don’t sugarcoat anything and expect others to handle criticism like adults. And if they cant handle the truth then they are immature

Whether it’s strategy, combat, or negotiation, Arlechinno Yuu is always ten steps ahead. Azul tries to outwit them? He fails. Leona challenges them? He has to actually put in effort.

Despite their strictness, they look out for those they deem worthy. They’d never say it outright, but Grim, Ace, Deuce, and others are under their watch.

Food, money, magic, effort—everything has value. NRC’s extravagant spending annoys them. They personally cook their own meals when they think the cafeteria food is too indulgent.

Will personally teach the first year's combat, to make sure they are able to protect themselves. Their training actually boosts the strength of them.

Many students would say to avoid staring straight into their eyes because you are gonna regret what your gonna see as if your staring back towards the abyss themselves.

Despite being cold and seemingly heartless, arlechinno!yuu cares and deeply hold closely towards who they see as family like grim.

Vil admirers arlechinno!yuu as well have you seen those shoes, vil sees him as an equal as them due to how both of them carry themselves but for arlechinno!yuu they don't look down at him but seeing his ambition towards beauty is simply wasteful why focus on looks when you could focus on efficiency.

Vil once tried to recruit arlechinno!yuu towards modeling but was rejected they said they hold no interest on being on stage they prefer being in the audience watching from afar.

Sees Riddle as too rigid and blindly obedient. Would have respected his intelligence if he weren’t so trapped by his own upbringing.

They detest liars and cowards like Crowley, who put themselves in a big position but in truth they are cowards always putting work on someone else rather than owning up towards his responsibilities.

During the opening ceremony they nearly killed Crowley, they woke up a burst out of the coffin with scythe in hand ready to decapitate him, and when riddle was interrupting them explaining how they disrupted the ceremony, arlechinno!yuu immediately look at him. The eye and he immediately shut up due to his guise having some similarities towards his mother.

During an over blot immediately cut down the monster in a single slash with ease as if it was nothing compared towards them.

Many students are curious about black markings on their arms but they usually told them it's better for them to not know how and where they got these markings.

They won't coddle grim or the first year but whoever tried to lay a hand on them would immediately regret their decision for laying hands on their family. Have a soft spot for ortho wondering why there's a child in nrc even tho it's for young adults.

Not to mention them being top students toppling over Azul and riddle in grades no matter how much they get arlechinno!yuu will always be ahead against them. Many faculty respect them as in professor trein who has been a long time meeting a student as strict as arlechinno!yuu.

They don't care for status or power they see other as equals like malleus only seeing him as a person not as a prince or a god. Both of them would discuss politics and professional matters. Lilia and arlechinno!yuu would have a little disagreement on how to raise a child tho. While Lilia took a laid back approach arlechinno!yuu take a strict approach, they see silver needing more discipline as well as sebek which lilia disagree saying he's perfect the way he is.

[thef1diary]

fluff list 1: “Making hearts with their hands when they catch your eyes and grinning widely” maybe when hes doing an interview ?? love ur writing 🫶🏼

Hearts & Kisses | D. Ricciardo

prompt: “making hearts with their hands when they catch your eyes and grinning widely.”

pairing: daniel x fem!reader

wc: 600

masterlist 3k celebration

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

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The paddock buzzes with energy, cameras flashing as drivers are spotted, reporters walking around with their cameramen following behind. You stand off to the side, a comfortable distance away, watching as Daniel laughs and jokes with the interviewer. His charm is magnetic, and you can't help but smile as you watch him in his element.

The interviewer, Natalie, a seasoned journalist with a keen eye, asks a question about Daniel's strategy for the upcoming race. Ever the professional, he begins to answer but his gaze starts to wander. His eyes scan the paddock, searching until he finds you. His face lights up as soon as his gaze connects with yours, and you feel a flutter in your chest.

With a playful glint in his eyes, Daniel raises his hands, forming a heart shape with his fingers. The gesture is simple, but it speaks volumes. It's his way of showing that he's thinking of you, even while he's supposed to be working.

You can't resist, returning the gesture, your hands coming together to form a heart as well before blowing him a kiss. The kiss sails through the air and you watch as he pretends to catch it, holding it over his heart with a dramatic flourish. His grin widens, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

The interviewer, noticing that Daniel is distracted, turns to see what he's looking at, with the cameraman panning towards you as well. "Ah, I see someone special has caught your eye," she comments with a knowing smile.

Daniel laughs, finally tearing his gaze away from you to face Natalie. "Always," he replies, his voice filled with warmth and love. "She's my lucky charm."

Watching Daniel glance and point at you while talking, you knew that he had mentioned you. A blush formed on your cheeks at the realization and you picked up your phone trying to distract yourself so you don't distract your lover from his media priorities.

The interviewer wraps up, thanking Daniel for his time. He nods politely, but as soon as the microphone is lowered, he makes a beeline for you. He's stopped for autographs and photos on the way, but soon enough, he's standing in front of you, pulling you into a quick warm hug.

"You know how to distract a guy," he teases, his breath warm against your ear.

You laugh and pull away just enough to make eye contact with him. "I was just standing here," you retorted.

"Yeah, just standing there being impossibly gorgeous," he replies with a playful wink.

You raise your eyebrows, nodding understandably. "Alright then, I'll go somewhere else before everyone blames me for distracting you."

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and familiar, "nope, not happening."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well in that case, I'll stay right here and keep being your distraction."

Daniel chuckles, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Deal. Just make sure you keep those kisses coming my way."

"As long as you keep making hearts with your hands for me," you stated, earning a nod from him.

He leans in, pressing a quick, sweet kiss to your lips, making your heart flutter. "I will. Stay close okay? I need my lucky charm nearby."

"Always," you echo, squeezing his hand before he heads off to wherever his next interview is scheduled.

He turns around once he's quite a few steps away, smiling brightly as he holds up his hands again, forming a heart. You respond by blowing a kiss in his direction, chuckling when he pretends to catch it again.

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