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gamesetattach · 3 months ago

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Reps and Races

Jannik Sinner x F1 Academy Driver!Reader Gym crushes are the best crushes, especially when it's Jannik Sinner. Reader is his, too... on the low—he keeps up with her more than she might see... And it's somehow Oscar Piastri's loss In honor of the beginning of the 2025 Formula Season!!! Tried to make this non-F1 fan friendly as well, btw, so sorry if I over explained simple stuff or skimmed over niche things!

Your new, private gym in Monaco was exclusive, it came with this particular kind of hush, a haven for elite athletes and socialites who preferred to train away from prying eyes. No blaring music, no overcrowded machines—just the quiet hum of effort, the rhythmic clatter of weights meeting the floor, the occasional murmur of conversation between clients. A state of the art facility, it was designed to accommodate those who trained at the highest level—Formula 1 drivers, footballers, tennis players, the likes, even the occasional celebrity looking for discretion. It was where you had been coming every morning for weeks now, getting ready for your first F1 Academy race after transitioning away from rallying. Your routine at the tail-end of your off-season was precise, structured, and entirely focused—an essential discipline that came from years of preparing for the rough, unpredictable nature of rally stages.

You had been training here for weeks now, preparing for your first F1 Academy race after years spent wrangling cars through unpredictable terrain. The transition demanded flexibility, precision, an entirely different kind of endurance. Your mornings were spent sharpening your reflexes, reinforcing your core, strengthening the muscles that would keep you steady through high-speed corners. It was just you and your trainer, day in day out, pushing a familiar routine, the constant burn in your muscles.

And then, one morning, he was there.

Jannik Sinner walked in with his trainer, Marco, his presence quiet but unmistakable. He was taller than you expected, lean and coiled with the kind of strength you couldn’t quite see, but could feel in that stalky way he would walk. You knew who he was immediately—of course you did—but you reminded yourself that you were too professional to stare. He wasn’t the only high-profile athlete to train here, and you weren’t about to gawk like some wide-eyed spectator.

He didn’t seem to notice you, not at first. He moved through his drills with the same focus you had seen on the court, that quiet intensity. In between his sets though, somewhere between reps and exhaustion, you’d catch a boyish smile or a carefree laugh he’d exchange with his trainer.

For a while, you existed in parallel, your sessions overlapping but never intersecting. You caught glimpses—him adjusting his grip on a resistance band, the sharp exhale as he pushed through a set, the way he raked his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair between reps. And every so often, you felt his gaze flicker over to you, just for a second, just long enough to make your skin prickle with awareness.

The first time you really felt his eyes on you came when you were braced to carry out your neck exercises—not your most flattering state. You had looped the resistance band around your head, pressing against the strain of the taut elastic held by your trainer, the familiar burn settling into your muscles. It was a critical part of your training, one that separated racing drivers from other athletes. The forces your body endured inside a car were unique, relentless. Without this work, your neck would collapse under the sheer weight of the G-forces pressing you into the seat.

Sinner, taking a quick water break, wiped sweat from his brow as he watched you from afar. He gently waved for the attention of his trainer, tipping his chin toward you.

"È una pilota?” he murmured to Marco, keeping his voice low. A driver?

Marco followed his gaze, nodding slightly. "Eh, direi di sì. Con quegli esercizi al collo." Must be. With those neck exercises.

Sinner hummed in thought, his attention lingering just a fraction longer before he returned to his set. The moment passed quickly, but the curiosity was left to settle.

---

The next time you saw him at the gym, it had to have been the fifth day in a row and, yet, it was the first time you actually spoke.

You were mid-set, muscles burning through the last reps of an exercise when Marco and your own trainer strayed near one another. Marco caught his eye, gave a slight nod of acknowledgment before striking up casual conversation, trainer to trainer—glady exchanging trade secrets, built on years of shared spaces and common understanding. They talked recovery plans, upcoming schedules, the way their athletes were adjusting to routine.

They conversed around you and above you as you finished up the exercise. You were still tied to your set, bound to the mat, committed to finishing the last controlled movements when Sinner, finishing his own set first, made his way over. You faltered a little as he came close. He wiped his face with his towel, slung it around his neck, and drifted closer, slipping into the conversation of your trainers with a natural ease.

“You’re training for a professional sport, yeah?” Marco asked, nodding his head toward you as he spoke to your trainer.

Your trainer nodded, casting a quick glance in your direction. “Yeah. She’s a racing driver.”

“That’s cool,” Sinner said, his voice more open now, engaged. “We had a feeling—saw you making the neck exercises.”

You exhaled through the last rep before finally sitting up to join the conversation, flexing your fingers slightly before glancing toward him. His gaze was neutral, not probing, and even a little… interested.

“You know your stuff then,” you said, gesturing to your neck. “It’s a necessary evil... Are you a Formula fan?”

“Of course.” Marco cut in. “We are Italian.”

Jannik huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s true, I grew up watching Ferrari.” Then, a pause. “What series do you drive for?”

“F1 Academy,” you said, wiping the sweat from your palms. “Just made the switch from rallying, actually.”

That piqued his interest. “Rally?” His brows lifted slightly. “That’s a bit different, no?”

You shrugged, adjusting the wrap on your wrist. “Yeah, but racing is racing. Seemed like the right time to make a change.”

Your trainer nudged Sinner slightly. “She’s being modest,” they noted to him. “She’s had a great run in rally—Formula è dove girano i soldi.” Formula is where the money is.

Sinner’s gaze flickered back to you, you caught amusement and intrigue twinkling in his eyes. “I get that,” he said. “Still, that’s exciting for sure.”

You gave a small smile. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. Just have to train extra hard.” Then, getting up to stand, you extended a hand. “I’m [Your Name], by the way.”

His grip was firm, steady. “Jannik,” he said, though there was clearly no need to introduce himself.

You smirked slightly, dropping his hand. “No, I know.” Then, with a small nod, you admitted, “I don’t follow tennis so much, but I’d have to be living under a rock not to know who you are.”

Jannik smiled at that, easy and genuine.

The conversation carried on from there, shifting naturally between topics—training schedules, travel routines, the way Monaco had an uncanny way of crossing the paths of athletes from every odd discipline and feild. Marco and your trainer chimed in now and then, but they stuck to their own bubble; leaving you and Jannik to exchange necessary small talk, breaking the ice with the customary explanation of your careers and your lifestyles.

Then, a gym staff member approached and broke the conversation that had narrowed to just the two of you, all smiles and hopeful energy. “Hi, sorry to interrupt—would you two mind taking a quick photo for the gym’s socials? Just a quick one.”

You hesitated and glanced at Jannik, letting him call the shots. He met your gaze, before shrugging. “Sure, why not?”

The camera clicked. A blink-and-you-miss-it moment, one that would live online long after you both moved on. You nodded to him and returned to your workout after that, taking the photo as a catalyst to break you away from your extended introductions. He did the same.

But when he left a little while later, bag slung over his shoulder, he hesitated just before the door. Just enough to glance back. You think he even waited for a second so that he could catch his eyes, lifting a hand in a casual wave.

---

It didn’t take long for the photo to spread.

Apparently, that casual snapshot posted on the gym’s official Instagram was just the beginning. It was nothing overly produced or posed, you and Jannik standing side by side, post-workout, both a little flushed from exertion, him with a towel still draped around his neck and leaning down a bit in your direction, you with your arms relaxed at your sides. There was even a significant gap between you two—nothing awkward, just an appropriate distance for two, newly acquainted people. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking, just a blip in athletes' routine.

But the internet saw anything but.

They took it and ran.

First, it was just tennis and motorsport fans recognizing two known athletes in the same frame. Then, it came the speculation—what were you talking about? Did you know each other? Were you training together? Supporting him through his ban? Him through your off-season?

And then, somewhere along the way, the internet collectively decided something else: that you and Jannik Sinner—in this totally unassuming, nonchalant gym photo—looked incredibly good together.

It didn’t help that the lighting was oddly flattering, that your post-exercise glow read more like a happy flush than the result of hours of physical strain. Or that Jannik, with his usual mix of sharp angles and an effortlessly tousled look, had that kind of reserved presence that made the smallest of expressions—like the barely-there smirk he was wearing in the photo—feel more deliberate than they actually were.

The quote tweets were relentless:

okay but why is this kinda a sports power couple?? i don’t even care about tennis or f1 but i CARE about this Formula for the fastest kid alive: they have compatible energies. athletes in their prime, locked in, looking like they’d make an unfairly attractive athletic dynasty.

It was amusing at first. You weren’t oblivious to the way social media latched onto things, how narratives formed out of nothing but a well-timed post. You’d seen it happen with other athletes, random friendships turned into sagas, the media deciding truths before the actual people involved even had a chance to weigh in. Still, you weren’t expecting this level of fixation.

The first time you scrolled through the posts, you snorted, shaking your head as you locked your phone and tossed it onto your bed. Ridiculous. It wasn’t like the two of you had even had a proper conversation beyond the introductions and a bit of light small talk. A photo wasn’t anything more than a photo.

And yet…

You opened Instagram again later, only to find that you had now been tagged in dozens of edits. A few of them were standard—gym recaps, Mclaren social media content, highlight reels. Others, though, leaned full tilt into the narrative people were spinning.

Side-by-side comparisons of your best race shots and his championship moments. Clips of your training overlaid with his on-court movement, the parallels drawn with surgical precision. Some even went as far as to slow zoom on the way he had turned toward you in the photo, like there was some hidden meaning in it, some undeniable chemistry.

Even mainstream sports pages had picked up on it. One account with millions of followers captioned it:

“Two generational athletes, one frame. Tennis x Motorsport crossover we didn’t know we needed.”

Another read:

“Rally on Rally Crime”

You stared at your screen, exhaling slowly, fingers hovering over your phone. There was something surreal about seeing yourself plastered across social media like this, turned into a narrative you had no hand in shaping. It wasn’t overwhelming, not yet, but it was definitely… something. You were new to the attention, the fresh face of Mclaren’s F1 Academy seat—rally races had never amassed as much coverage as it deserved.

You flicked back to the original post, on the gym’s official account, scrolling through the comments again, rolling your eyes at some, laughing at others. It would pass, you told yourself. The internet was fickle. It would move on. But a part of you relished the commotion… that it was a connection to him.

So when you noticed something new, as you refreshed the post, you sat up a little straighter.

“Jannik liked!!”

Jannik had liked the post. He’d seen it.

You locked your phone immediately, setting it face-down on your nightstand. Don’t read into it. Don’t read into it, be chill.

You had no reason to believe he’d devolved into all the discussion and attention on the two of you like you had. He’d only interacted with the original post, and of course he had.

… Of course he had.

---

The gym felt the same as it always did—cool air humming from overhead vents, the scent of rubber mats and faint traces of sweat lingering in the quiet. No flashing cameras, no murmurs of speculation, no sign that the internet had turned one candid gym photo into an international talking point. It was just another training day.

At least, that’s what you had to tell yourself. But you couldn’t deny you had an easier time making it to the gym than usual, hopeful to have another run in…

You spotted Jannik almost immediately. He was mid-session, focused, his movements precise as he worked through a set. You caught the briefest flicker of recognition when he glanced up, a nod exchanged without hesitation before he refocused on his workout. His trainer gave you a wave as well. Completely normal. Casual. Just another morning at the gym.

Your own trainer, however, had other ideas.

As you passed by Jannik and Marco on your way to warm up, your trainer chuckled to themself before leaning in, voice just low enough for only you to hear. "Shouldn’t you kiss hello."

You shot them a glare before they could get any further. "Not a word."

They laughed but relented, though you could still feel their amusement in the way they shook their head as you both moved past. It should’ve been easy to shake off, you had media training for this. A stupid internet thing, a momentary obsession that would pass like everything else.

And yet, for the rest of your session, you couldn’t help but be even more aware of him than you had been before.

It wasn’t that you were watching him. Not exactly. But every time you caught sight of him in the mirror, your eyes lingered longer than necessary. The way his shirt clung to his back as he moved through a set, the way his fingers flexed between reps, the sharp lines of concentration in his face before the effort melted into something looser, more at ease. The way he’d lift his shirt to dab at sweat collecting on his nose, revealing the his torso for the briefest of seconds. It wasn’t just that he was attractive—you weren’t that easily distracted, you weren’t gawking—but there was something engaging about watching someone that dedicated, that in control of every motion… that’s how you rationalized it, at least.

And apparently, your "non-appraisal" wasn’t the most discreet.

“Eyes on your form. If you want to watch a tennis player, go to a match.” Your trainer quipped when you zoned out a beat too long before starting your next set.

You rolled your eyes, gripping the dumbbells tighter, determined to redirect your focus. It was nothing. Just heightened awareness. You were an athlete—you respected talent, recognized discipline when you saw it. That was all.

Jannik, on his end, wasn’t exactly faring much better. He wasn’t watching you—at least, not intentionally. But in the way athletes naturally kept tabs on their surroundings, his gaze found you more often than it should have. The way you braced before each set, the push of your muscles under strain, the quiet control in your movements. A few times, when he caught himself watching too long, he forced his focus back to his own workout, but it kept happening. And then, the mirror—

Your eyes met.

Brief, fleeting. Obvious.

You dropped your gaze first, pressing your lips together, exhaling lightly through your nose as you curled the dumbell. He played it off just as smooth, refocusing on his medicine ball. But the next time you risked a look, you thought you caught a smirk growing on his lips.

By the time Jannik finished his session, you were still deep in your workout, beads of sweat dotting your skin as you powered through another set. He and Marco passed by on their way out, both offering another easy wave goodbye.

“See you later,” Jannik said, voice light and natural, and you nodded back in response.

But just as they passed, you caught Marco’s voice directed at Jannik, low and teasing. "Allora, quando la sposi?" So, when’s the wedding?

Jannik’s laugh was quiet, but unmistakable. As they stepped outside, just before the door swung shut behind them, he glanced back once more. Through the glass, his gaze flicked toward you before he replied, “Ah, dicono che sia già successo.” They say it's already happened.

You barely caught his remark through the muffle of the closing door, but his expression seemed to happily humor whatever offhand comment Marco had made. And you had your suspicions about what it may have been about—or you had your hopes, at least.

You turned to your trainer, who had lived in Monaco long enough to know some Italian. “Did you catch that? Please tell me you did.”

“If I tell you, you have to promise to push the next set until failure. For real, this time.”

“Last time was for real.” You threw a nearby foam roller at them. “Just tell me.”

“Something about marriage.”

“Okay… I knew it! I think I caught that—sposi.”

“Why ask then, if you know everything.” Your trainer retorted, smirking as they turned their back on you.

“For the love of—just finish. What’d he say back?” You grab their shoulders to spin them back toward you.

“He said…”

“I’ll kill you, I will.”

With another roll of their eyes, your trainer finally indulged you. “Something about how an alleged wedding has already happened.”

“...Meaning he must have seen the tweets?”

“And the posts and the edits… Yeah, I think it’s safe to say he knows of it.” They sent you an amused look as they handed you a kettle bell the next weight up.

“And he didn’t seem mad about it…”

“That, he did not—not at all.”

And, even while completing your final and most rigorous exercise of the day, you couldn’t stop the grin that slowly grew on your face.

---

The F1 season was on the cusp of beginning, and the next time you made your way to the gym would be the last for many months. Pre-season testing had wrapped, final preparations were being made. You were back in Monaco for a brief period before the first race of the F1 calendar would take place, just a handful of days away. Everything felt sharper, more electric—like the all things around you were bracing for competition.

Much to your luck, Jannik happened to be their during you last visit as well. He approached you during a short break in your workout, a casual but deliberate kind walk up to you. You’d caught him looking over quite a few times since you’d arrived, as if he’d thought about coming up for a while.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice as easy as ever. “I wanted to wish good luck before you leave.”

“Oh—thanks.” You looked up, slightly surprised but not displeased. “Feels like everything’s kind of kicking off all at once.”

He nodded, resting a hand on his towel-draped shoulder. “Melbourne’s always exciting. You can feel it even here in Monaco, the first race weekend energy is always something else.”

“Yeah, it’s chaos honestly. Fans everywhere, nerves, media running at full speed.” You huffed a small laugh, stretching out your arms. “You’re pretty familiar with Melbourne, aren’t you?

“Yes, yeah,” he smiled, a knowing glint in his eye at your allusion to his win streak there. “It’s a special place—it’s also the first major of the season. So Australia is the beginning for us tennis players, too.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” You considered that, then gave a slight tilt of your head. “F1 Academy's start actually isn’t in Melbourne, though.”

It was a common misconception, many long-time F1 fans like Jannik weren’t familiar with the sporadic F1 Academy schedule that went in tandem with F1 itself, but he was quick to respond. Matter-of-fact and faultless, he quickly clarified for himself. “Aah, yes. It’s in Shanghai, no? The week after?”

“...Yes, actually.” His informed answer stopped you for a second, leaving you pleasantly surprised, your brows raising. “That’s exactly right.”

He shrugged, casual as ever. “I assume you will be traveling soon either way so I wanted to wish you luck before.”

“Well, thank you,” You hummed, smirking to yourself as you picked up your water bottle. “... Seems like someone’s been looking into the F1 Academy schedule.”

Jannik didn’t skip a beat at the teasing. If anything, his reply was entirely diplomatic, if not a little sheepish. “No, I mean—honestly, I did not know much before,” he admitted. “But I’d like to.”

You shot him a look, playful and curious. “Yeah? Big F1 Academy fan now?”

“Trying to be,” he said, smiling. “I like all racing.”

“Good answer.”

You chatted a little more—about training, about how brutal long-haul flights could be when in-season travel ramped up, about the chaos of Melbourne when the events rolled into town. The conversation was easy, no need for overthinking. Just two people talking about their respective worlds, swapping stories of airports, media days, and all the ways professional sports altered the warped any sense of time zones.

And then, as you were about to part ways, he hesitated for just a second before speaking. “Hey,” he said, shifting slightly on his feet. “Mind if I get your number?”

You blinked once, processing. Athletes exchanged numbers all the time. Networking, staying in touch, all that. It wasn’t necessarily a move. It’s not a move.

Still, something about it caught you off guard, just for a second. You didn’t let it show. You nodded, and he was already unlocking your phone to hand to you. It’s not not a move.

You took his phone, fingers moving quickly to type in your number into the recipient part of a new message tab before hesitating for just a second over the text. Just your first? Full name? Something stupid and teasing? You settled on just his name, clean and simple—like you did this all the time, like you needed a reminder of who’s number it was this time—before passing it back.

But when you got back home and opened your phone to the text—Jannik Sinner—you had to check yourself before you jumped up and down in your apartment. Settling on only loving the message, the message you had sent from his phone, you bit back a smile as you saved his number to your contacts.

---

The Melbourne Grand Prix weekend buzzing with energy, you could even tell through the screen—fast cars, packed grandstands, and coverage in every direction. You had the pre-race media on in the background, half paying attention as you stretched out on your hotel room couch, scrolling through your phone between interviews and team meetings.

When the interviewer made their way to Oscar Piastri, you let your attention drift back to the screen and your long-time friend.

It was a casual pre-race chat about his off-season, his expectations, and how he spent his time away from the paddock; fielding predictable questions about his off-season and the new announcement of his multi-year contract.

“Spent a lot of time here in Australia—Watched a lot of cricket, some tennis. Just had time with my family and my girlfriend, but I’m happy to be back.” He finished the concise summary with his characteristic polite nod, lips pressed into a straight line of a smile.

"We all saw you at the Australian Open—I believe Mark Webber was also there."

"Yup,” Oscar nodded once more. “Mark was there, I was there with my girlfriend Lily. We got to watch Jannik Sinner play in the semi-finals, which was quite cool. He had a great run."

You exhaled a short laugh to yourself. It was no surprise that Oscar mentioned Jannik in his off-season recap, you were surprised he had to be prompted to at all—even you knew of his online fixation on the tennis player. Not that you could claim to be much better.

The interviewer continued. "Speaking of Sinner—Did you see your fellow McLaren F1 Academy driver was spotted training at the same gym as him.”

You blinked, now fully alert. They were bringing that up?

Oscar smiled a little at that. “Yes, I did see this.”

Your eyes narrowed at the screen. Of course he did.

"How do you feel about that? That she’s potentially getting more face time with one of your favorite athletes than you are." The interviewer asked playfully.

"Hm, might have to switch gyms now." He deadpanned.

“For Sinner or for [Your Name]?”

"No, I already see enough of her—I mean, we're old friends.” Oscar made a face before huffing out a little laugh. Then, he glanced straight into the camera with a grimace, as if he was addressing you directly. "No offense."

Your jaw dropped slightly, amidst your smile, before a laugh bubbled up. The broadcast had even thrown up that gym photo in the corner of the screen, the very same one that had set the internet off not even a couple of weeks ago.

Grinning, you snapped a picture of the moment on your screen. Behind, the interview carried on as you scrolled through your text inbox to hover over his name. Jannik Sinner. This could be the perfect olive branch, the most organic opportunity you’d get to break the ice and to use his number.

You glance back up at the broadcast. If Oscar mentions Jannik once more, then I have to send it.

“Well, your new contract states that you can visit any sports event or game on McLaren’s dime.” The interviewer had seamlessly segwayed to the topic of Oscar’s newest career development.

Oh, god. You knew what was coming. You asked for this.

“Yes, I’m very grateful. I can catch all the cricket matches I want now…”

Here it comes—

Oscar continued, “Hopefully, I can catch a couple more games of Sinner's as well. Tennis tournaments overlap with race travel, but it’s definitely in my mind.”

And there it is. You should’ve known. You stared at Oscar’s face through the screen, not knowing whether to curse him or to thank him.

“Well, there’s one way you can get ahead of [Your Name].” The interviewer joked again, dropping your name once more. “Can’t have her winning Sinner over before you can.”

Great. Not only did you hang your source of encouragement to text on the actions of your biased friend on live TV hundreds of miles away, but you were also apparently in direct competition with him as well. According to the media, at least—and they were always right…

You quickly typed out a message to go with the image before you could second guess it again.

You Just so you know, you’ve officially stolen my long-time friend You I guess Oscar chose you over me

It took less than a few minutes after sending for your phone to buzz. You jumped to read it.

Jannik Sinner Ha just saw that

So he was watching. You hoped he didn’t cringe too hard at the interviewer’s antics, or at Oscar’s.

Another text came in.

Jannik Sinner His loss

You immediately shut the phone at that, pressing lips together as you fought back a smile. Take that Piastri.

---

Over the past week, you and Jannik had been consistently texting after your initial message. More often than you’d ever expected. It wasn’t anything too committed—just a kind of easy back-and-forth you got to when you could, and it made the monotony of travel days and training schedules feel a little lighter. Normally, you were awful at keeping up with messages. You’d leave people on read for days, sometimes even weeks, as a consequence of your busy schedule once the season picked up. But with him, you found yourself checking your phone more than usual, feeling a little thrill whenever his name popped up on the screen. It was just something new and exciting to keep your attention—that's what you reminded yourself.

As the first race weekend approached, even your text responses to him became fewer and farther between. It wasn’t intentional—you just had too much going on. Track walks, meetings, media, final car setup adjustments.

And then, after all the commotion and against all odds, you won your first F1 Academy race—as a rookie. Any hope you did have to catch up on your unread texts was wiped as you were surely bombarded with a flux of congratulatory messages, not that you didn’t have many other things to get out of the way first.

The Shanghai International Circuit had been as unforgiving as they say—fast, technical, and full of overtaking opportunities for those who dared. The race started under a clouded sky, humid air thick with the weight of expectations. You had lined up in third, gripping the wheel tightly as you lined up at your box.

The moment the lights went out, the roar of the engines swallowed everything else. The run down to the first turn was chaos—eighteen cars funnelling into a long, tightening right-hander, each driver hunting for space but wary of disaster. You’d held your ground, forcing the car ahead to the outside while defending from the driver behind. The grip felt solid, but you could already tell the track was evolving under the afternoon heat.

By turn six—the heavy braking zone at the end of a sweeping acceleration stretch—you had spotted an opportunity. The driver ahead hesitated, their rear tires twitching just slightly under braking. You took the chance, diving up the inside and committing fully to the move. Your car hugged the apex, and as you powered out, you saw your front wing edge ahead. And then the position was yours.

But that was just when the real fight began.

Shanghai’s layout demanded patience and precision. The long straights gave just enough tow for cars behind to keep pressure on, while the complex middle sector tested every inch of a driver’s technical ability. The car beneath you was strong but jumpy on the exit of Turn 11, forcing you to manage throttle input carefully as you prepared for the long arc of Turn 13 leading into the back straight. You could feel the tires slowly losing grip, the rear stepping out just slightly under acceleration. You’d adjusted, keeping the balance in check, knowing that every micro-movement could mean the difference between holding position and losing it.

With ten laps to go, you had one car left to pass. The race leader was smooth, disciplined, placing their car exactly where they needed to, making sure you never had an easy run. But you’d studied them—watched their tendencies, how they hesitated slightly under braking into Turn 14. It took more than a few laps of preparation, testing different lines, seeing where you could unsettle them. And then, with just a handful of laps left, you’d made your move.

Late braking into Turn 14. Just a fraction later than before. The front tires locked for a millisecond, but you had already committed, already slotted your car alongside theirs. Side by side on exit, wheel to wheel, throttle pinned. You’d kept your foot in it, knowing the next few corners would decide everything. The grip held. Your car edged ahead.

The final laps were pure adrenaline—every braking zone, every corner exit, every defensive maneuver was a test of nerve. But when the checkered flag waved, it was your car that crossed the line first.

Your first race victory.

The radio erupted with cheers from your team, their voices overlapping, a mess of excitement and disbelief. You barely had time to process it as you pulled into the pitlane, hands shaking slightly as you unclipped the wheel.

Then came the podium. The rush of stepping onto the top step, trophy in hand, the national anthem playing. Champagne sprayed across your suit as you laughed, blinking through the sting. Cameras flashing, faces blurred by the lights. It all felt distant, like a dream happening to someone else.

Only when you sat in an icebath, in the quiet at the back of McLaren’s garage, did it really start to hit.

A flood of congratulations came from everywhere, wherever you went—team strategists, social media admin, engineers, chefs, mechanics, rival drivers, and that onslaught of messages pinging your phone from people back home who had been watching. You’d tried to skim them, but still didn’t have a moment reply. You’d get to them later.

You still had to head to McLaren's motorhome for a post-race debrief. As soon as you stepped in, Lando Norris was already grinning up at you. "Look, here comes the race winner. Only took you one try."

"Yeah, mate, took the both of us at least a season." Oscar reached up to firmly clasp your hand and nodded in agreement, his voice warm by his standards. “Congratulations.”

You nodded, smiling at the gesture. "Well… some of us learn faster than others."

Lando clapped you on the back as you sat down. "Seriously, though—hell of a drive. That last overtake was insane."

Oscar leaned forward. "Yeah, we were watching from the garage, and even I flinched when you went for it."

“He jumped, [Your Name], he jumped.” Lando said, comically widening his eyes when you met his gaze.

You laughed at that. "Wow, I can’t even imagine. I broke Oscar Piastri’s mask."

The banter eventually settled, and then the debrief began. The purpose was clear, there wasn’t much time until the F1 race now—you had to provide all relevant insights for Lando, Oscar, and the engineers. The track conditions, tire performance, and any major takeaways they could apply to their own races.

The strategists pulled up detailed telemetry, analyzing how the track surface had evolved throughout the weekend. Shanghai’s long straights meant lower downforce setups were favored, and the heavy braking zones into Turn 6 and Turn 14 made front tire management crucial. You all discussed track temperature fluctuations and rubber buildup, and how the track evolution was steady but tight.

The strategists noted that teams who pitted early had struggled with graining, while those who extended stints found better traction toward the end.

"Your exits in Sector 2 were really strong," one of the strategists noted, highlighting how you had found better traction out of Turn 11 than most of the grid. "That’s probably what set you up so well for the final overtake."

Lando, with focus that always surprised you, leaned in. "Shanghai's such a weird track for braking. One lap it's fine, the next you're sliding through Turn 14 like it's a drift comp. Was the wind messing with you guys today?"

"Well see here? I lost a couple of tenths through Turn 9 in the earlier laps—could be setup-related, or an adjustment thing, but it felt like wind at the time."

Oscar hummed. "From the garage, it looked like a few people were getting caught out. Back straight was catching people late on the brakes—looked like one of those days where you think you’ve nailed it, and then suddenly, nope."

You nodded. "It wasn’t too bad early on, but by mid-race, it felt like the front end was getting lighter. I was imagining it at first, but it got trickier through the long corners. Something to keep in mind, for sure."

The discussion continued, touching on how the cooler temps had made the rears a bit sketchy toward the end and how some teams were struggling to keep heat in them. The strategists flagged possible drizzle in the afternoon, debating whether it would be light enough to just make the track greasy or if it might actually justify a switch to inters. And then the engineers gave final notes before wrapping up.

As everyone started filtering out, Oscar reached for the phone on the table—only to pause. He squinted at the screen, turning it over in his hand.

“This isn’t mine.”

You frowned, glancing at your own empty hands and patting at your pockers.

“Oh, it's mine,” you said, reaching for it.

Just as you did, the screen lit up with a new message.

From Jannik Sinner

Oscar raised his eyebrows, glancing between you and the phone before tilting it just out of reach. "What’s this?"

You huffed, narrowing your eyes. "Give it back."

But Oscar wasn’t done. He gave you a look after skimming the notification, and then deadpanned, "So, what kind of gym is this exactly?"

You rolled your eyes, making another grab for it, but he sidestepped easily. "Oscar—"

"Maybe I should look into it." He turned to Lando for support. "I’m seriously considering."

You finally snatched the phone from his grip, shaking your head as you unlocked it. "Sounds like someone’s jealous."

"Oh, I'm devastated," he said sarcastically, still smiling when he tried to look over your shoulder. "What’d he say?"

When you glanced down at the message, all your indignation melted into something a bit more bashful.

Jannik Sinner I’m sure you are busy Jannik Sinner But wanted to wish you a congratulations on the win Jannik Sinner First of many

Your lips pressed together, but you couldn’t fight the way your ears warmed slightly.

"That’s a face.” Oscar watched you for about half a second, exchanging a look with Lando who still hovered nearby. “So what did he say?"

You exhaled through your nose, still smiling as you read it over again. "Just… 'Congratulations, first of many.’ That kind of thing.”

“Isn’t he in Monaco?” Lando made a thoughtful noise, then glanced at the time. "Because your race was at like… 3:30 in the morning there."

You blinked, looking up at him before looking back at Oscar. "He probably watched it later."

Oscar gave you a look, “Even if he only finished watching now… it’s still 6 AM there."

A wide grin settled on your face in realization, but you tried not to look too smug when you replied “... Well, he did say he was trying to get into it.”

Oscar folded his arms, rolling his eyes and patting your back as he walked away. "I think I might be further behind in this race for Sinner than I thought."

---

HOW did I get so carried away. You don't even want to know how much I wrote that I deleted... Sooo much unnecessary, technical stuff. Uh but here it is... Way later than I said, whoops

Also again with the texts and the tweets and the, you know. Still figuring out the best way to format that. Because it is an inevitable part of a modern romance, and so I must learn how to include it properly. And, if you think about it, the gym crush to number exchange to the fun texting arc is honestly a fucking rom com by todays standards... Most unrealistic part is that he triple texted to say congratulations after getting temporarily ghosted... So

Also I'm a rally-truther. It's objectively way more entertaining than F1, but we're not ready for that convo Also there aren't as many divas in rally, well there are but not itn the same way

Okay, anyways. It's here, it's out, it's proud. Happy, first race weekend!! Enjoy xx

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gilbirda · 1 year ago

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Ghost Princess!Jazz design

So, since I'm posting chapter 24 of Friendly Neighborhood Vigilante, finally these will see the light of day!!!

Designs and drawing by the amazing @herbatahleb!!! I commissioned him these drawings so I could visualize the suit in my head better; and also so peeps could see what I'm talking about!

Thank you so much Hleb!

Alt version that was scrapped during the design process and me rambling about design ideas under the cut

So the Idea was that in this AU Jazz was trained by Pandora and the dead Amazon warriors in the greek afterlife.

Jazz doesn't use guns, not because of morality or anything, but because she sucks ass at shooting and is like the moment she hits the trigger it doesn't matter where she was aiming, she will cause an accident/hurt someone. (Weapons she doesn't have to actually aim are kinda okay, but you have to be ready for her blowing up something)

So she compensates and uses a lot of long range weapons, with her mom's staff being the one she uses the most. The staff has 2 settings: spear, which she uses for a more aggressive approach (think Okoye and the Dora Milaje from Black Panther)

and War Mode, with the War Mode is the one that is in the final design. I sent Hleb a bunch of reference pictures and the lance is based on Ares' lance in Destripando la Historia (a spanish youtube series)

My general idea is that Jazz is inspired by the war god because she herself had to become one for Danny. She's one of their best strategist but she is also vicious in battle and the best at hand to hand combat and most versatile weapons-wise.

Her suit is also red because it stands out in the Infinite Realms. She makes herself a target so she can attract her enemies to her, since she can't fly or doesn't have a means of quick transportation during battle.

Armor is made for speed and agility, and it's charmed so it enhances her natural ghostly abilities and physique. Her arm pieces can project an ecto shield for defense.

For the crown I had a few references, but mainly Wanda's headpiece in MCU

But also I wanted to include some kind of high fantasy crowns for her, because that's her crown as a princess. While Danny has the black metal one that's constantly on fire, Jazz would have this armor headpiece and only the "tips" would be on fire and then the actual crown appears out of thin air as a fire circle over her head.

For me this detail was important because it showed: first, how for Jazz her crown IS part of her armor and how deeply entwined being a princess is with being a warrior while Danny can be the king without the warrior; and second, to represent how "fake" as a ghost princess she is, since she's not actually dead-dead, because only 2 singular points are actually metal but the rest comes and goes and doesn't anchor to anything.

We also used a bunch of references of Kassandra from Assasins Creed Odyssey

For the boots and other details I really just sent Hleb a bunch of pictures from the Wonder Woman movie Amazonian armor design

Anyway that's all my rant. I'm very happy with the final design and Hleb was very kind to sit with me and let me be specific about what I wanted. Love you, darling!

#gil talks #neighbors au #friendly neighborhood vigilante #danny phantom #jazz fenton #ghost princess!Jazz #tbh if someone wants to take this and run be my guest #i want more badass warrior princess jazz #is that too much to ask #also if someone has a question ill be happy to ramble about blorbo

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followthebluebell · 8 months ago

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Thank you so much for all your tips! We retired the slicker because it kept losing teeth so I’ll try to get a new one asap. He’s a fussy little ragdoll, I can only seem to brush him when he’s eating a meal. For the cornstarch, do you just rub it on the mat and brush it out? And is a human shaver okay for cats?Thank you!!! This made me realize I have to do tons more research; he was a surprise and I’ve been shamefully negligent. I thought regular brushing with just one brush was enough. Thank you

You're welcome! Ragdolls tend to have very soft and cottony coats, so I absolutely recommend getting a new slicker. The corn starch is indeed just kinda rubbed into the mat and then brushed out--- although it won't harm the cat if he happens to lick a little off. That's another REALLY nice thing about corn starch.

I caution heavily against clipping your cat yourself because cat skin is VERY thin and it tears open pretty easily. A very small nick can easily become quite a large one. Cat skin also tends to form folds that are held together by mats, and these folds get caught in clipper teeth if you aren't cautious. The best way to prevent this is to flatten out the skin and make sure you see the skin BEFORE letting the clippers get anywhere near the cat.

however, I know some people are going to try clipping their cat anyway. So I'll talk about the tools I use.

I personally use Andis 2 speeds for the bulk of my clipping with a 10 blade for most trims, occasionally a 7. Very rarely, I'll have to use a 15 or, even more rarely a 30. Blade sizes work in reverse: the higher the number, the closer the trim. So a 10 is closer to the skin than a 7, a 15 is closer than a 10. 30 is as close as I can get. 40 is downright surgical and makes me too nervous to use.

There's a lot less length control when using human clippers, because you can't switch out the blades. This is also a concern because blades get HOT (for reference, I usually keep three 10 blades on hand so I can easily switch them out). Humans don't really have to take this into consideration because we don't spend that much time shaving. Human clippers also aren't designed for the much softer fur cats have, so they get jammed WAY easier and that can cause skin tears. We also have thicker skin compared to cats.

I will use a manscaper lawn mower for clean-up on cats who are really matted around their uro-genital area or an injured area that should be exposed. For a really close trim, you can't beat it. Again, I don't really recommend this for at home use. I just think it's funny.

But let's say budget is an issue and you're looking for something small, light, and cordless. Something that's a bit more similar to human clippers and is friendlier to the budget than a full on corded clipper. You could look at 5-in-1 clippers. I don't remember the one I use at work--- it's a new one that my boss literally just got, so it's not my model, but I've been pretty pleased with it so far.

It's pretty similar to a Codos Pet trimmer, which are very budget friendly. It CAN hypothetically be used all over a cat, but keep the heat in mind! You can't switch out the blades on a 5-in-1, so you need to keep a careful eye on that heat!

Finally, let's talk about blade disinfectant. I just use Cool Care. It also works as a blade coolant; it doesn't cool them off instantly or anything, but it's quicker. You want to disinfect blades between uses because nasty stuff can grow on them.

I hope this helps. Don't feel bad for not knowing this. We don't talk enough about pet grooming in general. We don't see a wide array of these products in stores (at least, I don't; my stores don't really stock any of this stuff. I have to order it special, but maybe that's regional?).

#cat grooming

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alexandraisyes · 4 months ago

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Hiiiii mootieeeeee

Do you have any character design tips perchance 👉👈

So personally for me the first thing I think about is the story. What vibes do I want this character to have? What's their goal, their aesthetic? What's their personality. And then I build them off of that.

For example, my AU designs. Especially TCAU.

KC is the one that I think about the most for this example (I even did a doodle of him for this :D )

You can immediately tell what his "vibes" are supposed to be. His personality isn't immediately apparent, but it does leave a first impression. He is scary, or meant to be scary. He's tall, lanky, monsterous. He immediately makes you start assuming things about him and what he's like. His lifestyle is reflected in his design.

We can even put shape theory to the test here! They all have the same sort of body type but they way they hold themselves and their silhouettes are important.

Triangles → Sharp, dangerous, dynamic Squares → Strong, stable, reliable Circles → Friendly, soft, innocent

Then you want to think of proportions! Different proportions can reflect aspects of a character’s personality, role, and background:

Larger or smaller proportions can instantly communicate personality traits at a glance.

Tall & lanky → Graceful, mysterious, or eerie

Short & stout → Sturdy, strong-willed, or comedic

Large upper body, small legs → Brute strength, less agility

Small torso, long limbs → Fast, agile, unpredictable

Proportions & Power Dynamics

The larger a character is compared to others, the more dominant or powerful they feel.

The smaller a character is, the more they might feel vulnerable, underestimated, or agile.

A character’s proportions can also reflect the world they come from:

Harsh Environments → Characters might have sturdier, survival-ready builds (e.g., thick limbs, broad shoulders for heavy labor).

Urban, Fast-Paced Settings → Sleek, agile designs might emphasize speed and efficiency.

Magical Beings → Exaggerated proportions (e.g., elongated arms, huge eyes) can make them feel inhuman.

Proportions naturally shift as characters age:

Young characters → Larger heads, bigger eyes, smaller bodies (e.g., chibi, Disney style).

Teen/Young Adult characters → More balanced proportions but still slightly exaggerated (lean or athletic).

Older characters → Broadening or shrinking in ways that emphasize age, wisdom, or frailty.

Different cultures within a world can influence how characters are built.

A nomadic desert tribe might be slimmer for endurance, while a mountain warrior society might be thicker and more muscular.

Social status can also reflect in proportions:

Elites/Nobles → Tall, regal postures, well-fed, symmetrical features.

Laborers/Farmers → Stocky, calloused, built for work.

Scholars/Wizards → Lean, refined, more delicate hands.

And of course my favorite. Color theory. I try to match colors to the characters "skin tones", so that things mesh together well. I always start with skin colors to figure out everything else. Find a color palette online! Find a picture of a feeling you want to go for (sunsets, calm, chaotic, etc) and color-pick it! Have fun with it! If you feel like things are off you can make it grey scale to see if it's unbalanced.

This is by no means a comprehensive guide, it's just the things I think about when I do character design. I put a lot of thought into world building and visual story telling when I design characters. What is their purpose? What's their personality? How do they flow with their setting? And build from there!

#answered ask #alex answers #thanks for the ask!#design tips

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hummingjay · 6 months ago

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Check it out on Wattpad too. I'll also be posting it on AO3 if my account gets approved! Note: Rabengeiers belong to @sosadraws. Check her post out, it's real good.

Chapter 1

Magazin adjusted her hair, looking into the mirror. She kept it in a ponytail, which was hard at first, seeing as she has rather short hair, but eventually she asked a Eule to teach her how to put it up. The other starlings in the cadre teased her a bit, but she didn’t mind all too much. It was only friendly teasing, and her hair might as well be the only form of individuality she could get. All starlings had the same face, same body, and until a fair bit of time passed, the same personality, with few exceptions. It was rather pretty face, she had to admit, so she found it hard to complain, but still, it was nice to have something other than her designation to define her.

She washed her face, trying to wake up a bit more. She slept in this morning, so going to the cafeteria for coffee would hardly be possible with what time she had. Instead, she used the coldest water the sink would spout and thoroughly rinsed her face, hoping the cold fluid would help awaken her. Truth be told, refreshing as it was, she didn’t feel much better.

Magazin sighed and walked out the bathroom door, striding back into the STAR dorm for her gear. Most of the other starlings were already out and about, some at the cafeteria finishing breakfast, some already on patrol. She nodded at another tired looking starling, Clip, her name was, as she walked in. She just finished the night shift, and looked it too. Clip threw off her armor, tossing it to the side of her bunk, grunting a greeting. “Morning, Magz.”

“Long night?” Magazin asked.

“Every night.”

Clip flopped onto her bunk, tossing her blanket over her tall frame. Magazin knew she meant well, and was always tired in the morning. She’d be much more chipper in the evening, having slept.

Magazin picked up Clip’s discarded armor and hung it on its respective rack. The last thing she needed was another memo from their Adler or some other authority figure about the “near-hazardous living space of the Protektor force.”, as amusing as it was to see the resident Adler scrunch his face in disgust at the sight of empty cans and unmade beds, she’d rather not upset him. Besides, he was rather easy get along with. Though Magazin couldn’t remember his name for the life of her, she did remember a lengthy conversation about fountain pens, and he was much nicer than the other units make him sound.

She donned her own armor, picking her pistol from the safe. She loaded it, making sure the safety was on before she cocked and holstered it. It was protocol to fully unload the gun before putting it in the safe for curfew. Any incidents were severely punished, and rightly so. Getting accidentally shot by a friendly gun was never in anyone’s to-do list, not that getting shot at all was a great idea. After making sure her cap was on right, she headed out the door.

The familiar bustle of the Kitezh Supply and Communications facility, more officially called M-01 Möbius, was an odd yet present comfort. Armed gestalt soldiers quickly strolled through the halls, some wounded, others carrying large crates, presumably food supplies or ammunition. Storches passed the gestalts easily, their speed attributed to their natural longer strides. Every now and then she’d pass a fellow starling, either standing guard or walking to whatever job was tasked onto them. She wasn’t the most popular in the cadre but she certainly wasn’t unpopular either, so she gets nods and even a tip of a hat or two as she walks by.

Magazin eventually reaches her guard post, nodding at the tired-looking starling already standing guard. She gives Magazin a pat on the shoulder, walking towards the dorms.

Magazin stands guard, watching the corridor. It’s the same experience every day, soldiers and Eules and gestalt janitors and repair workers passing by. She didn’t mind, usually. The Eules always brought with them a sort of air of joy, always smiling, sometimes even laughing as they pass by. The gestalts tended to steer clear of her, which ultimately made sense. It was her job to keep them in line, and as a protektor who towered over them, she was intimidating and she knew it. Then of course there were the rabengeiers. Black Vultures. These replikas dealt with potentionally hazardous biowaste, and that meant bodies. And at M-01 Möbius, there were lots of bodies. Acting as one of the main relay points on the frontline, between imperial raids and being the point where bodies are kept before being shipped to whatever their home world is- or was, corpses were common at the facility. Rabengeiers were nice enough, but seeing someone cart a tarp-covered corpse while covered in their white and blue hazmat suits, red eye receptors glinting behind their goggles, it was hard not to be intimidated. On a good day they carted around an intact body under a tarp. On a bad one it was hard to tell the difference between a normal trash bag and whatever mess of limbs was inside the body bag. At least it would be if not for the blood that leaked into the pristine white table. Security was rough but Magazin did not envy them.

Above her, Magazin could hear noises in the ceiling. Not just footsteps from the upper floors, either. It was likely an Ara unit, maybe two, clambering from one end of the vent to the other. The clambering stopped not far from Magazins spot, while more noise furthered on. The vent creaked open, and an Ara unit popped out, upside down, grinning and using one hand to hold her hat to her head, even though she could have buckled it properly.

“Good morning, Magzie”

The Ara unit was at eye level, hanging from the vent. Magazin didn’t even have to look up.

“Kupfer.” She said, greeting her. “What’s today’s haul?”

Kupfer reached into her bag, which she kept firmly clipped onto her belt, pulling out a candy bar.

“Caramel this time.”

For reasons Magazin never did understand, Kupfer had taken a liking to her. An oddity, considering Aras are unsociable most times, and talking to them at all is rare since they’re in the vents the vast majority of the day.

Kupfer passed the bar over, the wrapper crinkling under her fingers. Kupfer was dating one of the kitchen Eules, a rather sweet one named Nelke who worked in the kitchens. She kept Kupfer well stocked with whatever leftovers were there.

Magazin unwrapped the bar, taking a bite. Caramel oozed from the inside of the bar and into her mouth.

“How’d you get your hands on this one?” Magazin asked, covering her mouth with one hand. “The caramels always get sold out so fast.”

“Nelke saved them for me.” Kupfer pulled out her own candy bar and took a bite. How she was comfortable eating upside down was a mystery to her. Kupfer finished the bar in two bites, wiping her mouth with her hand. She managed to wipe away a chocolate crumb and smudge the soot covering her face. For some reason the Ara unit always had soot or some other mechanical excrete on her face. Sometimes oil, sometimes even sawdust, though Aras aren’t even meant to work with wood. Try as Magazin might, Nelke was the only one who could get Kupfer to clean her face off.

“She told me to bring one for you too.”

“That’s really nice of her. I didn’t know she knew about me.”

“Oh, I told her all about you.”

“Really now?”

“Sure.” Kupfer tossed the crumpled wrapper into a trash bin. Admittedly a good throw. “All good things. You’re the only protektkor that actually talks to me.”

“Well, so long as you make me sound cool.”

“Not as cool as me, but pretty close.” Kupfer twisted around, falling from the vent and hanging on with both hands as Magazin finished her bar and pocketed the wrapper. Hanging from the ceiling, the shorter unit was still just about eye level.

“Wanna know what a little birdie told me?” She grinned at Magazin, who raised an eyebrow.

“Sure.”

“You’ve got a mission.”

“Yeah, right. Which birdie told you that?”

“Oh, you know. Little chirps here and there.”The Ara units may be gossips at times but they do have an odd moral of never putting a name to the action. Kupfer wasn’t going to say which bird, though it was probably a Storch.

“It’s true though.” Kupfer continued. “You’re gonna go with two other Starlings, I think. Maybe a Eule and an Ara. Probably gestalts too. Something about communications or whatever.”

“Huh. That’ll be interesting then.”

“For you. I’m going to be bored without you for the next few cycles.”

“Aww, you’re really gonna miss me? You’re a sweet one, Kupfer.”

“Don’t push it, Magz. Nelke already calls me sweet anyway.”

“What else does she call you? Sweetie pie? Pookums? Maybe even Snuggle cub?”

“Nope, nope, and nope! She calls me princess.” Kupfer gave Magazin a grin, before blushing. “Sometimes she does call me Sweetie.”

A beep came from Kupfer’s belt.

“Ugh. I gotta go.” She said as she twisted back into the vent. She poked her head out.

“Hey, don’t die, yeah? It would be a shame to have you shipped back here by the rabengeiers in a plastic bag.”

“I hereby promise to do my best. Now get out of here before you get in trouble for being late.”

Kupfer shot Magazin a grin before shutting the vent with a click.

With Kupfer gone again, guard duty went back to boring. With but a few passing greetings from Eules rushing by, all she could do was stand at attention, looking for disturbances she hoped she’d never see.

Fortunately, guard duty was uneventful as always. She watched as the next guard walked across the hall to take over. Auslösen, everybody called her. She was an odd starling, showing sweetness that could rival a Eule, but the social straightforwardness of an Ara. Auslösen pointed at Magazin’s face.

“You’ve got chocolate on your lip.”

Magazin wiped her face with the back of her hand. The starling shook her head.

“Still there.”

Magazin wiped again. Auslösen pulled a napkin from her pouch.

“Hold still, Magz.”, she said, reaching over. She steadied Magazin’s head with her hand and wiped the leftover candy with the other.

“You still have the wrapper?”

Magazin pulled the plastic from her pocket, which Auslösen swiftly grabbed.

“I’ll throw it out.” She said.

“Thanks, Aus.”

“Don’t worry about it. Hey, go eat something.” Auslösen adjusted Magazin’s hat. “You haven’t eaten anything other than that, candy, have you?”

“I have not, no.”

“You should grab a bite then. Kommandantin told me to let you know you’re on call.”

So Kupfer was right. There is a mission.

“Thanks. You rock, Aus.”

“Of course I do. Now move it to the cafeteria before the Eules close up.”

Magazin saluted and walked off, catching a glimpse of Auslösen tossing the napkin and wrapper into the trash bin. She turned a corner, checking her internal time module. There’s still time left. And-

She walked straight into a Eule. Papers scattered and the poor owl crashed to the floor, while Magazin staggered.

“Shit! Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you hurt?”

The Eule picked herself up and started gathering her papers.

“No, I’m okay.” She replied. “I wasn’t looking either. Oof, I’m gonna be late. I can’t keep Kommandantin waiting.”

Magazin picked up the papers as well, stacking them neatly and extending a hand to help the Eule up. She could see her marking: EULR-M0156. A medical pack was slung across her shoulder.

“Thank you.” The smaller unit said, getting up. Magazin handed her the paper stack.

“Of course. Sorry again for barging into you like that.”

The Eule smiled. “It’s okay. Just try not to trip over the Kolibris, mm-kay?” Her tone was akin to a song, little lilts in her accent. Magazin smiled back at her.

“I’ll make sure to be more careful.”

The Eule nodded at her and carried on, waking a bit faster.

Magazin watched her walk away, feeling slightly bad. It wasn’t her fault, it was hard at best to see around the corners and Eules are a foot shorter than her. Still, can’t be fun getting hit in the face by someone in rock-hard armor. Magazin purged the thought from her mind and kept walking. She was hungry and she might not get to eat later.

The cafeteria by now was mostly empty. Just a few workers finishing coffee or some other small snack. Magazin herself got a large cup of the caffeinated drink and a ration pack. The coffee was too bitter and the ration was tasteless but food was food and she needed to eat.

The loudspeaker sounded out a ping.

“STAR-M0124, STAR-M0112, STAR-M0102, please report to Hanger 4.”

STAR-M0124. That’s her. As the order repeated Magazin tossed her empty ration pack and cup at the trash and missed entirely. She picked it up and threw the waste again, this time with success.

It only took 3 minutes to reach Hanger 4, it’s not far from the cafeteria. She could already see one of the other Starlings, STAR-M0112, Bolzen. She looked at Magazin, standing straight and arms behind her back, looking more like a general than a security technician. As Magazin got closer, she spotted a Kolibri and a Eule, the Eule obviously a nurse unit with her green medical bag, and the Kolibri…well, she looked like any other Kolibri, Magazin didn’t know her name.

Magazin strolled over, shaking Bolzen’s hand and nodding at the Eule, before saluting the Kolibri. Another Starling walked into the hanger. This one Magazin didn’t know. Judging by the numerous scars where her shell plates were welded back together, she was one of the older starlings. She extended her hand.

“Zwiete.” She said, introducing herself.

“Magazin.” Magazin said. “This is Bolzen.”

The Kolibri nodded.

“KLBR-M0105. This is Tulpe.” She gestured to the Eule. Magazin recognized her now, she was the same Eule she ran into, this time without her papers; she must have dropped them off while Magazin was in the cafeteria. Magazin smiled sheepishly. The Eule smiled right back in full earnest. It made her feel a bit better. The Kolibri continued.

“We’re still waiting on one other. And-“

She was cut off by the slam of a vent opening, then an Ara unit crawled out. Magazin was always shocked by how fluidly they moved, especially in such small spaces. If she was being well and truly honest it was rather creepy, like watching a spider crawl.

“Sorry I’m late. Gas leak took longer than I thought.” The Ara said, pulling off a gas mask. She left her goggles on, her all-familiar Ara hat was still on her head, and unlike Kupfer’s it was strapped onto her chin properly.

The Kolibri nodded, turning towards a small plane at the end of the hangar, gesturing to follow. A Storch unit stood next to the vehicle, arms crossed. Behind her were two gestlalts, pilots by the look of their uniforms. An older man with white hair and large mustache leaning on the frame, smoking a comically large pipe, and a young woman with a snake tattoo on her neck, sitting on a crate.

The Storch looked at them. “Apologies for the sudden assignment. Today’s mission was only deemed important this morning and time is short.” She said. She seemed bitter, as if she wanted the mission accounted for sooner. “You will fly out east, to deliver a message to the 56th attack platoon. We lost communications two days ago but recon shows they’re alive. However, the enemy is setting up artillery and the we have roughly three days before our soldiers die. You are to deliver them news and information on the artillery and the orders of retreat. We believe their vehicles are still functional. Provide any support needed until the platoon arrives back here. Any questions so far?”

Silence.

“Excellent. Likelihood of enemy anti-air is low. Tank presence is possible. If you do go down the mission is not aborted. You have 10 minutes to gather your weapons and board the plane. KLBR-M0105 will lead the assignment. Dismissed.”

The Storch unit saluted and walked away, leaving them. The Kolibri nodded.

“Weapon case is over there. Board the plane when you’re ready." she said, turning to board. The Ara and Tulpe followed her. Magazin and the other starlings turned towards the case put out for them. She was already armed with her pistol, of course. But it would be foolish to not take a more aggressive firearm, especially since it’s rare to be privileged with such firepower. She picked up an assault rifle. The StG-940, chambered in 5.56 caliber rounds. This one had a red dot scope attached and a vertical grip. She picked up extra magazines and tucked them onto her belt.

Magazin looked over. Bolzen had already chosen a large DMR and Zwiete was still inspecting a shorter shotgun. Magazin walked to the plane, nodding at the two pilots as she boarded and sat down. Luckily, the seats were against the wall and facing to the inside of the plane, giving her ample leg room. The Kolibri was still standing, and Tulpe was already sitting down, reading a book she likely borrowed from a Kolibri. The Ara unit was also sitting, her bag between her legs instead of up in the storage bins above the seats.

It was only a minute before Zwiete boarded, followed by the gestalts. The younger one sat in the pilot’s seat while the older man went for the copilot’s. The pilot tapped the microphone.

“This is your captain speaking. I’m Hana and this is Bernhard. Please buckle up and hold tight.” The engines roared to life and the plane began moving. “This is gonna be a smooth ride with clear skies and sand. Like every other day here. Try not to throw up during takeoff and landing. Or at all.”

The plane took off. Such a small plane didn’t have retractable landing gear, and the hum of the engine was loud through the armored walls. Not long after takeoff Bernhard stood up from his seat, walking steadily on what could only be called an unstable floor.

“We’re looking at an hour’s ride, so get comfortable.” He said. He looked at Tulpe, immersed in her book. “Smart lass, she is.” He turned to the Ara unit. “You can take the plant out. Keeping it in a bag can’t be good for it.”

She looked confused, before embarrassedly unzipping her bag and pulling out a potted flower, moving aside her tools, and placing it on the seat next to her. Magazin could see Zweite raise an eyebrow, but she didn’t say anything. The Kolibri, for her part, seemed unbothered. She glanced up, grinned, and went back to poring over the map of the area. She probably knew of the contraband from the start. Bernhard smiled and went back to the copilots seat. The Ara unit seemed more happy than anything else now that she could keep her plant out. Magazin stood up, hand on the ceiling to steady herself, walking over to Bernhard.

“How’d you know she had a plant?” She asked.

Bernhard grinned as he flicked a switch.

“I work with Ara units in the hanger a lot. They don’t go far from them, and nobody ever gets them in trouble for bringing ‘em.”

“They always have plants on them?”

“I’ve been in these seats for 40 years and only one Ara left her plant behind. Never did any of the higher-ups mind it either.”

“Huh. Well, I-“

A loud sound interrupted her. She could hear Zwiete shout.

“We’re hit!”

Magazin scrambled over, looking out the window. The wing had a hole in it, a worryingly big one.

“I thought there wasn’t anti-air!” The Kolibri shouted.

“There isn’t!” Hana screamed back. “They have fucking tanks! Buckle the fuck up!”

Magazin went for her seat, but the plane tilted violently and she fell over. She heard Tulpe scream.

Firm hands grabbed her and hauled her into her seat. Zwiete pushed her down as Magazin grappled the buckle shut. A tank round tore through the floor, hitting the ceiling and falling in front of Zwiete. More shots. Metal shards of the plane flew across the space. At this point the plane was shuddering and creaking a hideous cacophony of metal bending as it tried to hold together. What was louder, the metal of the plane screaming as it cracked, the thunder of the tank cannons or the engine trying to function, Magazin couldn’t tell.

Another explosion, louder. The engine on the right side of the plane burst into flame, spitting shards of metal cross the sky and into the plane. Tulpe screamed louder and the Ara’s face was contorted in pain, a piece of the engine imbedded in her arm, blood spurting onto the floor.

Screams. Who was screaming? Zwiete was silent, eyes shut tight. Bolzen? Tulpe? Hana was screaming. The cockpit was on fire. Magazin was screaming too, she realized. The plane wasn’t flying anymore, it was falling. How could she tell? She couldn’t look out the window and her thoughts were a mess. But she knew they were falling now, fast.

More screams, the plane, her, Tulpe, Hana, then more screams still. Then-

Nothing.

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zot3-flopped · 3 months ago

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sbreak.com/the-standard-2033851/3852891971290-louis-tomlinson-on-class-talent-and-the-price-of-fame-i-am-a-chav-i-don-t-think-it-s-a-bad-word

LMAO. His team is just useless to set up an interview like this and Louis himself is completely brain dead. “Wearing a fair bit of concealer” is just the tip of the iceberg in this gem, with Louis drinking and smoking in the basement like the loser he is.

Louis can’t say why he stays living in London, can’t say where else he would go even though he wants to, can’t say absolutely anything of interest other than to confirm he’s “a chav” and proud of it.

I can’t believe he has a single fan left at this point. Anyone who would think that Harry would even want to have a two second conversation with this guy is just nuts. I also knew that he had to have blacklisted any talk about Liam.

Just pathetically funny that this is the best he can do as far as interest in his clothing line.

Oh wow, this interview really does showcase how empty headed and limited Louis Tomlinson is! He can't name a single place he likes to visit in London - not even a pub or a restaurant! Proof that he stays in getting drunk year round.

He doesn't have a clue about fashion and just says that his clothing line is 'for chavs', and he's a chav and proud of it!

He's also DRUNK during the interview and you can tell the Evening Standard journalist is surprised by how 'erratic' and incoherent he is.

Louis Tomlinson still cannot shake the One Direction mob.

It’s the first, big realisation I have as the growing horde of girls barely into their teens — many of whom have been waiting for 10 hours, others who have flown in from Italy, and some that are accompanied by their doting fathers — alert me to the location of the Soho party he will be throwing for his fashion label, 28, later this evening.

Inside, as a cocktail bar, make-shift band set-up and rails of clothes made in China are being frantically erected, the security is flustered and tweens outside squawk and slam on the windows. I find Tomlinson, 33, hiding in the basement alongside a crate of warm Peroni beers, two bottles of Grey Goose vodka and a basket filled with Skittles and crisps. Hardly the red carpet treatment.

"Do you mind if I smoke," he says, as he sits forwards in a black leather chair, wearing a cream, button-up knit short sleeve shirt with a bouquet of roses embroidered on one chest — of his own design — with loose fitting, blue jeans. Next to his box-fresh, white Adidas Stan Smiths stands a water glass which he is using as a make-shift ashtray. I do not.

He lights a cigarette, before cracking open a beer using his lighter with the speed and smoothness of a seasoned pro. He is wearing a fair bit of concealer — his make-up artist stands, at the ready, in the corner of the room — and his long, eyebrow-length fringe is tousled.

"I must have the easiest f***ing rider of all time," he says. "As long as I’ve got my vodka Red Bulls and a pack of ciggies, I’m alright."

While Tomlinson appears somewhat erratic, his hand constantly gripped to one of the green bottles, he is effusively energetic with a singing Northern twang, keen smile and friendly nature. At 5ft 7in he is not overbearing in stature, and kindly repeats his vodka is for sharing.

The atmosphere is hectic upstairs, however. After five years in the most famous band in the world, which finally split in 2015, I suggest he must be used to the fans. “No, no,” he corrects me. “It’s a funny relationship ’cause I feel like I get on really well with them. It’s really, really nice to see them,” he says, in the most genuine tone he can muster. “It’s not something I’ve ever really stared in the face of, though. The longer you think about shit like that, it just doesn’t make any sense anyway."

It has been a horrific few months for Tomlinson, by any standard. His band-member Liam Payne died after falling from the third-floor balcony of a hotel in Buenos Aires in October, and media scrutiny around the four surviving One Direction members — himself, Harry Styles, Zayn Malik and Niall Horan — has massively intensified.

I am told sternly before we sit down to, please, forgo any questions on the topic. “The Sun has been running a story that the boys are going to reunite at the Brits for Liam,” a PR manager tells me. “Louis just despairs. He could never get up there and sing as part of the band after what has happened.” One Direction did not perform during the awards, which took place the night after our interview.

Eager not to be sidetracked, he launches, with fervour, into discussion about his fourth 28 collection, named so after his favourite number, which is also tattooed on his left-hand fingers. “It’s been really fun for me to apply the creative side of my brain somewhere else. When you’re songwriting — and at the moment I’m writing a new record — it is all encompassing. It’s nice to have a break from those kinds of creative ideas,” he says.

He founded the brand in August 2023 when he realised the clothes he loved growing up in Doncaster had become trendy. “Forty per cent of my wardrobe is sports-inspired somehow. I was doing that for years as a chavvy, tucking my socks in when I was a young lad before it was cool, and now you see everyone in the sports garb,” he says. “There’s a very, very chavvy aesthetic in Doncaster, at least when I was growing up. That’s exactly who I am and the kind of stuff that I like.”

Doesn’t he mind the term chavvy? “I’ve always embraced it,” he says. “Look, I am a f***ing chav, so I have to embrace it. I have to try and make it cool in my own head.”

Really? “I don’t think it’s a bad word, not to me. To me it’s about culture. It might mean other things to other people. It’s also very much how you grow up in a place like Doncaster. You can’t escape the chav in Donny, so you’ve got to become it.”

Tomlinson doesn’t overthink the creative process. “It’s not something that I’m spending 12 hours a day thinking about, I’m led by feel,” he explains. “That’s the way I treat my songwriting, too. You know, I’m not some musical genius.”

He professes to love being on tour, which sets him apart from some of his contemporaries who deem it a gruelling, yet lucrative, part of the job. Why? “It’s a far cry from the real world.” He doesn’t bother trying to pull off the harrowing line as a joke.

“It’s like you might have speculated as a 16-year-old lad of what it is to tour — exciting, different places every day,” he continues. “You’re surrounded by so many different cultures, conversations with different people. As a creative — if I can call myself that — it’s really good to see the world.”

Trips back home to Doncaster are scheduled as often as he can, “realistically two or three times a year, but always for about three weeks over Christmas.” He is otherwise based in a grand, four-storey, six-bed Victorian mansion in Barnet, north London, which he bought in 2012.

"London is so vast, it just feels like a melting pot. There’s so many different creative ideas flying around,” he says.

When I push him on his favourite places to hang out here, however, he freezes. “To be honest, the irony of that is that I was thinking about moving recently. I’ve got no idea where to move to. I like London, but I wouldn’t say I’d be able to put my finger on what: I really love it here, I really love it there — I don’t really know.”

No other boroughs in the capital have caught his eye. “The place that I live now I’ve lived in for ages, ever since I was in the band. I haven’t really got any true perspective of London. But there’s time for that.”

#louis tomlinson #louis dumblinson #louis tomlinson drink problem

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deadgirlsnoring · 2 years ago

Text

THE ONLY ONE FOR ME | DR. SPENCER REID

Summary; When Spencer ‘accidentally’ flirted with another girl, you weren’t exactly thrilled.

Contents; P in V, humiliation, no protection used, begging, slight crying, black reader, reader has female anatomy, little bit mean reader, sub!spence, reader uses she/her pronouns, tiny blood kink, overstimulation.

“I didn’t even know! I- I was just talking back. You know, making conversation?” She crossed her arms, annoyance laced in her face.

“No, Spencer. I don’t know.” He pouted, staring up at her. The boy was sitting down on the edge of their shared bed, while Y/n stood over him.

“Do you really not know what she was doing? She rubbed your arm Spence! Why would she do that in a friendly matter?”

He tried to make words come out but it really was no use, her mind was already set.

“You want her don’t you? I saw the way your cheeks blushed, the way your eyes lit up. Leave.” Pointing towards the door.

“No! No.” He stood up quickly but shortly sat down due to the stare Y/n give him.

Spencer was a good boy. He waited til she was done talking to let his words through, even though he really wanted to interrupt her. Knowing it made her upset, also made him upset and he really wanted to prevent that.

“70% of people associated feelings of embarrassment or discomfort with receiving a compliment. S-So I couldn’t help but blush, you know I always get flustered, I’m not used to compliments Y/n.” She huffed, that she knew.

He kept on rambling, following her around the room with his eyes while she walked in circles. Y/n was removing her clothing, well; except her heels.

They were white Saint LAURENT Opyum heels. She liked designer, and if she could afford it, what’s the issue?

Spencer liked when she kept her heels on, and even though he was still taller than her, Y/n made him feel small.

“Wha- What are you doing?” Clicking her tongue, she shook her head, “I don’t know, you’re the profiler. You tell me Doctor Spencer Reid.”

The way she said his name made him shiver. “Stop. Please?” He sounded so cute, made her heart beat 10 times faster.

She got off her two piece, left in her white bra, along with the matching panties. A shaky breath left his mouth, he liked white. Y/n was teasing him, it’s like she planned for him to be flustered by a random girl.

Just to get him where they are now.

“I like when you beg, but how can I stop when I haven’t even touched you?”

Her hands fell on either side of his thighs, their noses almost touching. She could hear his heartbeat, made her giggle.

“What’s f-funny?” She licked her lips, “Oh nothing, just how hard you are under those jeans. You wanna feel some relief, yeah?”

Nodding his head frantically, he bit down on his lip, hard enough she knows it’ll leave a mark.

“But you just told me to stop.” Faking sadness with a pout, she brushed her nose against the tip of his. A whine slipped from his lips, so she connected their lips.

They moved together in sync, until she massaged her freshly manicured nails against his bulge. Y/n was going too slow, and even though his hips rutted against her hands, it just wasn’t enough.

“Please.” He mumbled against her lips. Hoping that since she smiled into the kiss, she would go easy on him.

So she waited, and waited. Until he realized that she wasn’t gonna go easy on him at all.

Slowly removing his left hand from the bed, he held the hand that was against his bulge and controlled her speed. Y/n was shocked, Reid wasn’t into being control at all, he really was needy for release.

Pulling away for air, she giggled loudly when he tried to chase her lips. “Slow your roll little guy, why are you in a rush?”

Y/n pulled her hand away a little as a tease, her brows raising when he kept her hand in place, applying slight pleasure to his covered cock.

“Please don’t go.” Tilting her head to the side she tangled her fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp. When he moaned quietly, she stopped. A pout left plastered on his face.

“If you want something, I want you to say it straight up. No shortcuts Spence.” The man unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down so they flooded around his feet.

He looked up at her hoping it was enough, it’s like he couldn’t say stuff like that. Came out too nerdy and scientific.

Bending down into a squat, she brought both her hands up to massage his thighs, nowhere near where he wanted. “You want me to make you cum?” She cooed, looking up at him with her big brown eyes.

“Yes! Mhm, please?” Y/n nodded, tugging his boxers down, he helped too. Lifting up his hips so it was easier.

So needy, he was.

When his dick hit his pale chest and was met with the cold air, he felt a shiver go through his whole body.

Neck hairs stood up in anticipation, she always made him guess what she was gonna do next. Always turning out to be better than what he imagined.

She licked a long stripe from the base of his cock towards the tip, bringing it into her mouth for a long suck.

“Mmf- I’m sorry, so s-sorry.” She let go out of it with a pop sound, licking her lips, “Sorry for what pumpkin?”

“Tal- Talking to her; responding, actually.” Y/n held the base with her right hand, clicking her tongue.

“Why you bringing her up, you want her do to this for you or something?” He shook his head fast, making her smile softly.

“Not at all, I- I want you only. You’re the only one for me Y/n, I won’t do it again. I’ll be good for you, promise.” Even during intimate times he always has to get it across to her that’s she’s the only one.

“I know baby, your dicks standing tall. Just for me, right?” Squeezing her hand, he thrusted up into it, a bright blush coating his face.

“Mhm momma, please just make it better. I’ll do anything.” Her brow rose, he didn’t know what he got himself into.

While her hand was squeezed around his base, the other was moving up and down. Almost too fast for Spencer.

He wasn’t gonna last that was for sure. He was always able to cum whenever unless told otherwise, and Y/n didn’t say anything.

She knew exactly when he was getting close, his chest grew heavier, and the boy would start to mumble words nobody could decipher.

So when that familiar knot in his stomach grew until it was about to unfold, he was gonna let loose. That was until she took her hands away.

“P- Please? Can I cum? Can you let me? I’ll be so good.” Standing up, she ordered him to get up higher on the bed, and that he did.

The look on his face was almost pornographic, the boy looked a mess. Messed up hair, flushed cheeks, and pink bruised lips.

“You want some help with that Doctor?” She touched his tip with her pointer finger, playing with his pre cum.

He couldn’t help but bite on his tongue, nodding so hard you would think his head would fall off.

“No please? Don’t be pathetic now. Where are your manners?” He shook his head, taking him outside his daze. His hair falling in front of his face.

“Please, can you help me? Need you so bad. I could cum right now.” Frowning, she sighed deeply, “I didn’t say you could though. You don’t listen to rules either?”

“I-I’ll listen to you! Wont cum, just.. please momma?”

Smirking, she seductively took off her panties, only added to the need he had to cum. Crawling up in between his legs like a man eater, she straddled him, ignoring his whines of annoyance.

Her wet folds went back and forth over his member, eliciting a shaky breath from Y/n. As she lifted up, his eyes fell down to the slick she left on him.

Y/n’s hands were on his shoulders, as the girl above him teased his tip. She would take him in, a choked moan escaping him, only to turn into a whimper when she lifted herself back up.

She wanted to build his tolerance, he was known for coming too quick.

Needed to train her boy.

“Oh please, am I not good? I deserve this, you. It hurts when you do that Y/n.” Holding his chin up with her right hand, “Why do you think that concerns me Spence, now shh. Can you do that?”

The grip on his chin was too harsh, he couldn’t talk. So he went for nodding instead. While he sunk down on his length, she leaned in for a kiss. His lips were plump, soft.

She bit down on his bottom lip, not letting go even when he whined and whimpered.

Not letting go until she tasted it, that tiniest bit of blood. Not only did Y/n taste that, she felt him. Felt him twitch inside her. The boy was so worried about the pain he didn’t even realize she bottomed out.

Pulling away with his blood on her lips she slowly licked them off, waiting for his reaction. His eyes were closed and when he opened them, they were glazed over.

“Pumpkin?” He hummed, his puppy eyes trailing up to hers.

“Whatcha think, yes or no?” Spencer smiled softly, his hands trailing to either side of her hips before nodding.

“Can you d-do it again?”

“Hmm, where?”

One of his hands lifted to point to his neck, before going back to its original place.

So she listened, slowly moving herself up and down on him while kissing and sucking on his neck. She didn’t wanna bite him again just yet.

Tangling her hands in this hair she lifted his head up to look at her, “You wanna cum?” He mumbled a yes, licking over where Y/n bit.

“M’close, so close. Please?” She smiled when she saw a tear, the way his voice sounded like he was holding back a buttload of tears.

“Doctor Reid wants to let loose huh? Bet it hurts so bad don’t it?” Pulling harshly on his hair he let out a sob, accompanied by a bunch of soft pleads.

“Hurts so bad momma, gonn—I’m begging you, can I? Please?” She made herself look like she was thinking about it, then clenched around him, throwing her head back.

“Close, I’m t-there. P-Please?” Shaking her head, a bright smile on her face, “Don’t you wanna be good for me?”

His eyes lit up, nodding. He was about to say something until she cut him off, “Then no cumming, shh.”

Her left hand scratched his pale chest, a line of red following. Y/n started nipping on his neck, before looking down at him.

“Cum whenever pumpkin.” Her teeth sinking into his skin. The boys eyes rolled back, his mouth wide open but no sound coming out.

He’d never waited this long for a nut, but the way it made him feel, he could wait longer next time.

She let his neck go, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, placing wet kisses along his jaw and chest.

When Spencer finished and came back to, Y/n was laid next to him. Her cunt filled with his mess.

The boy knew she didn’t cum, and he wanted to make it up to her; for what happened and the party.

Even though he was tired, he was never tired enough to eat her out. So he crawled towards her cunt, his hair messy and pink gloss kisses all over his face and body.

It was like he was in a dream, the way he snuggled in between her thighs, spreading them open just a little bit for more access.

Moaning at the taste of both of them combined, he whined into her when Y/n’s hands tangled Into his hair, tugging softly.

“You’re such a good boy.”

xoxo, liah

#spencer reid #black!fem!reader #dom reader #dom!reader #sub character #pain kink #blood kink #humiliation kink #dacryphilia #sub!spence #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #sub spencer reid #blackfem!reader #baby spence #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader

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cemerplayground · 23 days ago

Text

Playgrounds are essential spaces where children can have fun, socialize, and develop physical skills. However, safety is a top priority when designing playground structures for parks. In this guide, we’ll explore the best safe playground equipment, materials, and design tips to ensure a child-friendly and secure play environment.

Why Safe Playground Structures Matter

A well-designed playground minimizes injury risks while maximizing fun. Key factors include:

Durable, non-toxic materials

Impact-absorbing surfaces (rubber, sand, or wood chips)

Age-appropriate designs (separate areas for toddlers and older kids)

Compliance with safety standards (ASTM, EN 1176)

Top Safe Playground Equipment for Parks

1. Swings with Soft Seats and Safety Harnesses

Toddler swings with bucket seats

High-back swings for added support

Rubber-coated chains to prevent pinching

2. Climbing Structures with Fall Protection

Low-height climbing walls with textured grips

Rope nets with secure anchor points

Platforms with guardrails

3. Slides with Safe Landing Zones

Enclosed slides for younger children

Gentle slopes to prevent high-speed falls

Heat-resistant materials to avoid burns

4. Spring Riders and Interactive Play Panels

Sturdy base to prevent tipping

Sensory panels for cognitive development

Rounded edges to avoid injuries

5. Sandboxes with Covers

Shaded designs to protect from sun exposure

Easy-to-clean, non-toxic sand

Covers to keep animals out

Best Materials for Safe Playgrounds

Powder-coated steel (rust-resistant and durable)

Recycled plastic (lightweight and splinter-free)

Natural wood (chemical-free treated for longevity)

Rubber mulch or poured-in-place rubber (excellent shock absorption)

Playground Safety Tips for Parents and Park Planners

✅ Inspect equipment regularly for wear and tear. ✅ Ensure proper surfacing beneath play structures. ✅ Supervise children during playtime. ✅ Follow age guidelines for each play area.

Which Certifications Should Safe Playground Equipment Have?

Playground safety certifications ensure equipment meets international standards for durability, materials, and injury prevention. Look for these key certifications:

1. ASTM F1487 (Standard Consumer Safety Performance for Playground Equipment)

Covers structural integrity & fall protection

Required for public parks in the U.S.

Tests sharp edges, entrapment risks, and load capacity

2. EN 1176 (European Playground Equipment Standard)

Mandatory for EU countries

Includes:

Part 1: General safety requirements

Part 6: Swing safety

Part 10: Fully enclosed play structures

2. EN 1176 (European Playground Equipment Standard)

4. TÜV & CE Marking

CE = Meets EU health/safety standards

TÜV = Additional German safety testing

Conclusion: Building a Safe and Fun Playground

By choosing high-quality, safe playground structures, parks can provide children with a secure and enjoyable play experience. Whether you're a parent, park planner, or community leader, prioritizing safety ensures that kids can explore, learn, and have fun without unnecessary risks.

Looking for durable and safe playground equipment? Explore our range of certified play structures designed for maximum safety and fun!

#art #design

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afanaticrabbit · 1 year ago

Text

Allez!

Second dates always involve swords and (consensual, friendly) fighting, right?

A commissioned RWBY piece featuring Weiss and Ruby!

Ruby loved fighting.

Okay, maybe that’s not precisely correct. It would be fairer to say that Ruby loved weapons, from the complex, mechanical marvels of the modern era to old, simple relics from years long gone. She learned as much as she could about how they were used, the fighting styles that accompanied them, and the masters that crafted both.

It meant she loved a chance to show off her own style, a blend of her uncle’s skills and her own flavour to fit her size and semblance. She’d watched Yang grow into her own style, similar to their father’s but more raw and aggressive.

Her love of hunter techniques and styles made her adore the idea of Weiss taking the time to teach her about her skills one-on-one. A fantastic idea for a second date.

Their first had been good, but it was a little cliché.

A personal lesson, with Ruby’s crush acting as a teacher and a sparring partner? That was much more Ruby’s speed.

Ruby turned the sword over in her hand, examining it closely. Long and thin, with a rectangular body, Weiss called it a foil. It didn’t hold an edge, and the tip was rounded off with a bulbous little cap. It might hurt someone without an aura, but Ruby suspected the most they’d have to worry about would be a mild bruise.

“This looks flimsy. And you fight with these?”

She looked up at Weiss standing before her, clad in a blue tank top and matching form-fitting pants. There wasn’t much of a chance Ruby could hide the blush on her pale cheeks.

Fortunately, they were well hidden underneath a metal mesh mask, the only piece of armour the both of them wore.

They stood at either end of a mat laid across the classroom floor, white lines splitting it into segments Ruby didn’t know the purpose of. If she spread her legs a little wider than her shoulders, she could probably cross over the breadth of it with ease. The classroom had been set aside expressly for them under the pretence of a study session.

That wasn’t incorrect.

“That’s rather the point,” Weiss said. Her voice was mildly muffled by the mask, but Ruby still heard her crystal clear. “They’ll bend when we hit each other, so they shouldn’t cause any damage.”

Ruby split her hands between the base and the tip of the foil, then pushed both hands inward, just a little. The metal flexed with minimal effort, then flicked back to its original shape when she released the end, rigid.

“It’s like a wobbly version of your sword,” Ruby muttered.

“Again, kind of the point.” Weiss giggled, a little femininity and softness floating out of a relatively androgynous, intimidating form. It was weird not to see Weiss’ side ponytail, having been tied into a tight bun and stuffed somewhere under the mask’s hood. “You wanted to know how I fight, and I thought this would be an excellent demonstration. There’s a reason I designed Myrtenaster the way it is.”

Both hands settled on her hips, the foil loosely pointing away from Ruby. “Now, there’s a few ground rules we need to go over before we begin.” With her free hand, Weiss flicked up her mask, then held the sword close to her belly, the tip passing up in front of her face. “Normally, we’d start each bout with a salute. As it is just you and me, you just need to salute me.”

Ruby blinked. “Really? I’m not sure I’ve really seen you do that, and grimm don’t really care about you being polite.”

Rolling her eyes, Weiss let her head tilt a little. “I acknowledge that grimm or street thugs aren’t really in the interest of waiting for me. But this is important, and I do do this.” Weiss shut her eyes, and for a second, the hair on Ruby’s neck tingled.

A spinning glyph appeared under Weiss’ feet, slow and steady. Prepared, but not cast. “This is also a ready stance for me to use my semblance.” The glyph then vanished, and the energy in the room wound back down. “It’s not my fault that you’re too focused on cutting up Nevermores to actually see it,” Weiss added with a smirk.

Ruby let out a short but amiable laugh. “I guess,” she said, then copied Weiss, flicking up her mask to expose her face. She held the foil up, mimicking Weiss’ stance as best she could.

“Hmph. Close enough.” Weiss looked Ruby up and down like she was examining some statue that she’d need to refine. The tool she used to direct the changes, raised up and pointing Ruby’s way, was a little longer and… stabbier. “You need to widen your stance a little, one foot forward, with the weight on your back leg.”

Ruby tilted her head and looked down at her feet. She’d taken the opportunity to dress similarly to Weiss, save for her boots, and she’d put on a loose-fitting t-shirt instead. She found it a little challenging to keep her front foot flat on the ground, but Weiss called for her to push it out further and further until it made sense for Ruby to point her toe down.

“Perfect!” Weiss let her sword drop down to hang at her side. “A delicate yet strong pose practised a hundred times gives me a good base to work from when casting glyphs.”

“Okay…” Ruby shifted on the spot. It didn’t feel natural to retain the pose. “I can’t really cast glyphs though.”

“No, but now you have an understanding of how my semblance works.”

Ruby thought for a few moments, her analytical brain kicking into gear. “You need… flat ground and a few moments. How long?”

“Usually only a second or two,” Weiss answered. “And I don’t always need somewhere flat, but it most certainly helps.”

A smile spread across Ruby’s face, lifting her gaze to Weiss again. “Anything else?”

“For the salute? No. Just remember to also salute the referee and judges if you decide to fence with anyone else.” With a quick nod, Weiss flicked the mask down over her face, then lifted the sword up in front of her.

That was a stance Ruby recognised. It didn’t take a genius to see when someone was ready to fight, their stance lowering to give them more power behind their strikes to move quickly.

Ruby tried to copy Weiss’ posture. It felt unnatural for Ruby to even think about holding a weapon in one hand, but it only took a second of wrapping her hands around each other to figure that she didn’t have a lot of hilt space. It could probably work if she finagled her fingers just right, but she was there to learn how Weiss fought.

“When I call en garde, this is the position we want to take. Stand in behind this line—“Weiss dipped her blade down, gesturing to one of the trio of middle lines nearest her “—and wait for me to call prêtes.”

“Pray?” Ruby snorted. “I don’t think you’re going to kick my butt that easily.”

“What—? “Weiss’s stance faltered, rising just a little. “No, not pray, prêtes. It means, ‘Are you ready?’” Ruby opened her mouth, but Weiss flicked up her sword again. “I know, I know, grimm and thugs don’t wait for you to be ready. That’s not what we’re practising, though. Even if they don’t want to give you the time, you always go through these steps. Understood?”

With a sigh, Ruby nodded. “Alright, I get it. Do I just answer that I’m ready then?”

“Correct. Then I call allez, and that’s when we fight.”

Ruby had been taught several new words. “Why do we need all the fancy words to say all that? Can’t you just say it normally? It’s a whole lot of effort for something that won’t matter in the real world.”

Weiss grunted somewhere under her mask. “I’m trying to teach you how I learned! I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Whining, Ruby shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just a lot of effort.”

Sighing, Weiss straightened up again. “How… How did you learn how to fight? With a scythe, no less. That must have required months of practice, getting all the fundamentals drilled into you, learning the theory.”

“Not really.” Ruby giggled, then whipped the foil in front of her, cutting a few arcs with a swishing sound each time. “He just handed me a dull scythe and told me to,—“she lowered her voice to a grunt, an unconvincing masculinity “—‘Have at it, kid.’ When I did something wrong, he just showed me how to do it right.”

Weiss’ stare sent a shiver down Ruby’s spine. Somewhere behind that mask, those icy blue eyes bore into her, and Ruby felt the judgement of an entire legacy stabbing deep. She was forced to endure the disdain that Weiss must have meant for both her and her uncle in tandem.

Unfortunately for Ruby, Qrow wasn’t present.

“You just… Swung a scythe around and just figured it out?”

Ruby rolled her shoulders, her right hand reaching over to her left elbow to hold it. “Well… Yeah. More or less.”

“This is going to be interesting,” Weiss muttered. “We won’t be having any of that here. No swinging wildly. We’re going to do this the right way, even if it’s abbreviated. Understood?”

Ruby wanted to argue back, but the thought of that steely glare intensifying drove her to simply nod in response.

“Good. I’ll summarise everything else.” Weiss stepped forward, her sword swishing up between them and raising the tip of Ruby’s with a metallic hiss. “Only the tip matters. You don’t score with the side of the blade. That means we’ll mostly be thrusting. When you hit my torso, arms, or legs, you score, the bout ends, and we reset.”

Weiss quickly dipped her point down toward the ground. “If you step off the mat, I score, the bout ends, and we reset.”

The mesh guard hid most of Weiss�� features, but that close, Ruby could make out the corners of her mouth rising up, the pleasure sparkling in Weiss’ eyes. She enjoyed barking orders, giving a lecture, and feeling above her captive audience.

It made Ruby’s heart flutter.

“Understood, ma’am!” Ruby’s voice squeaked, and she scrambled to pull her mask back over her face before her blush returned in full force.

“Good. Now…” Weiss took a few slow and deliberate steps over the middle of the mat, back to her side, and then resumed her ready stance. It always struck Ruby as being a little tall, as if Weiss were putting on a display more than she was fighting. “En garde!”

Ruby shuffled to her line, then held her sword out. The reach of their swords allowed their tips to briefly clatter against one another. Weiss gave Ruby’s sword a little flick. It was playful, just a tiny bump, but it reminded Ruby to hold the foil a little tighter, to keep it between her and Weiss.

“Prêtes?” Weiss asked.

Ruby was so going to lose. She felt it in her gut.

She nodded to Weiss.

“Allez!”

Weiss moved like a gunshot. It was as if she’d borrowed Ruby’s semblance and was suddenly a foot forward, her foil rushing straight at Ruby’s shoulder.

With a shout, Ruby flicked her foil up, their blades sliding across one another until the baskets around the hilts clanged. It sent both their hands aside, which in turn drove both their sword points wide, away from their targets.

It bought Ruby a hair of a second to adjust herself, to bring her foil back in front of her.

Weiss, however, was faster, and her hand was between them.

The Schnee’s foil bent and Ruby felt a pressure in the middle of her chest. For some reason, she thought it would have hurt more, but then she realised her aura likely took the brunt of the force, so all she was left with was a simple touch.

“No fair,” Ruby whined, and Weiss giggled. “This is meant to be a date, not ‘kick my butt’ day.”

“Oh, shush.” Weiss stepped back. “If you want to learn by doing, the best thing I can do is show you exactly how fast and accurate I can be. I’m sure our great leader’s mind can keep up with just one opponent.”

Ruby puffed out her cheeks.

Another smug giggle. “I can hear you pouting.”

“Shut up and say an guard already.”

“It’s en garde, Ruby…” Weiss backed up behind her line again. “En garde!”

Ruby lifted the foil again, then took a few moments to examine Weiss’ stance more closely. She figured her own posture might be a little too wide. Weiss’ sword arm wasn’t as extended, so Ruby brought her hand a little closer to her body. Weiss’ legs were a little closer, so Ruby pulled hers in, heel to toe.

“Prêtes?”

Ruby nodded.

“Allez!”

Once more, Weiss lunged forward, but Ruby was ready for her. Instead of a last-second flail trying to shove Weiss’ hand away, Ruby managed to intercept her attack, pushing it aside with the body of her blade. The pressure in Ruby’s palm made the whole thing feel like shoving two needles against one another and only mildly less awkward.

Weiss tried the same flick-dive trick, but Ruby was prepared for it. Instead of the tip of Weiss’ sword prodding Ruby in the chest, it flung over her shoulder, whooshing past her head as Ruby ducked and leaned to the side.

That, to Ruby’s mild surprise, gave her the upper hand. Her point lingered between them. All she had to do was turn her arm around, thrust forward—

Weiss’ hand came back, and she half twisted right as Ruby’s frantic thrust carried through. It dove past her back, missing Weiss entirely.

Weiss’ fancy footwork and Ruby’s momentum put the two side by side, and Weiss quickly shuffled back while giving Ruby a little push with the palm of her right hand.

“Good work,” said Weiss. “Sloppy, but good.”

The proud lilt in her voice was unmistakable, and Ruby slid back a step. “I’ll show you sloppy.” She giggled and leapt forward, bringing both hands onto the hilt of her sword. Weiss smacked it in the side, but Ruby had the advantage of leverage to keep her blade on the straight and narrow. All Weiss did was alter its trajectory a tiny amount.

The sword bent as it struck Weiss in the thigh. They stood still, heads bowed down to process the moment.

Ruby got past Weiss’ defences. It was only a single round, but she managed to beat Weiss at her own game, her own style.

She leapt back and bounced on the spot, holding her sword high as she cheered and shouted. “Yeah! Go, team Ruby!”

Weiss stood there, almost passive, with a slight bob to her head as she watched Ruby hop with excitement like a hyperactive spring.

Her voice cut through Ruby’s excitement. “Don’t rub it in, missy.”

“Sorry,” Ruby squeaked with a giggle. It took a few bounces for Ruby to calm herself, and despite her apology, she felt no less elated and joyful. “That makes us even-stevens, though!”

“Yes, I suppose it does.” Weiss sighed. “Normally, you’re meant to only use these with one hand, but I never actually said that to you, so I’ll let you have that round. Going forward, though…” Weiss lifted her sword up, perpendicular to the mat and to Ruby. “One hand only.”

Ruby grunted. “Why can’t I use two? It takes two hands to use Crescent Rose!”

She imagined Weiss blinking incredulously. “Because it’s just not how it’s done. Not with foils, anyway. If you can find some rubber scythes to swing at each other, I’d be more than happy to play at your game.”

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, Ruby made her way back to her starting position. “Fine, fine…” She then put her right hand behind her back while her left held the sword out forward. She held herself straight, with her shoulders pulled back, her feet closer together. “Un-gawd?”

“It’s not—“A groan came out of Weiss like she’d been shoved in the chest before silently taking her place, posing ready before Ruby.

“Pra—play—“Ruby shook her head. “Ready?”

Weiss nodded.

Ruby crouched down a fraction of an inch. “Go!”

That time, Ruby tried to push the offensive from the get-go. She kept her right hand clenched in the small of her back as if it was forcing her to crouch down and extend herself forward like a bent board or a bow under tension.

Her sword didn’t meet Weiss’ leg, or any of her for that matter. Instead, their swords became entangled, with Weiss’ blade spinning around Ruby’s. The motion was so fast the blades appeared to curve around each other.

It made it difficult for Ruby to anticipate which direction Weiss’ sword was to jut out to, at least, not with any certainty. All she could do was guess and hope that she was correct.

Ruby flicked her sword across her body, and Weiss’ blade flung out wide to her side. Again, the point came at Ruby, and again, it flew over her shoulder.

Lucky guess, but it kept Ruby in the fight.

As Ruby brought her sword point forward again, it clashed with the centre of Weiss’ blade. The opposing weapon had moved so quickly that it seemingly teleported to its new position. If it weren’t for the faint ring or the mild pain of her sword hand being redirected, Ruby might have assumed that’s what had actually happened.

It gave her little time to respond with her blade, so Ruby had to use her body instead.

When Weiss’ next jab came at Ruby, she leapt backwards, ducking down so the point missed her belly. She was all stretched out, one leg too far back while her sword arm lagged behind, reaching out for Weiss. It forced Ruby to consciously pull them both in.

She wasn’t given enough time to reset her posture as Weiss threw another thrust at Ruby, then another. Each one missed, at first only fractionally, but Ruby’s altered senses ramped up to meet Weiss’ newfound speed.

Weiss had been going easy on her, slowing herself down. All Ruby had to go on from that point were the subtlest of twitches as Weiss pulled herself back to a neutral guarding position.

Another thrust slapped away, another dodged with a hop-slide or switching front and back legs. It felt all the world like Weiss had turned into a gale of wind, and Ruby’s role was to be the leaf that she shoved back.

Eventually, a booted foot landed on hard wood. Ruby prepared herself for another flurry of blows, but Weiss simply stood back, standing tall with her sword held defensively in front of her and nothing more.

“And now you’re out of bounds,” said Weiss. Schnee smugness oozed out of a hidden smirk. “One point to me.”

Ruby blinked, then looked down at her feet. While one rested on the blue mat, the other was flat on the hardwood classroom floor.

“Hey, no fair!” Ruby’s mask flung up, and she scowled at Weiss. At least as much as Ruby could. She knew her angry face just got baby-talk thrown back at her most of the time. “You never said anything about staying on the mat.”

Weiss chuckled. “No? I thought I did. Besides, what else did you think the mat was for? It’s not like the professors take any care when we do demonstrations against captive grimm.”

A puppy dog growl buzzed in Ruby’s throat. “Ugh. You’re sucking the fun out of this.”

There, Weiss’ shoulders slackened a little. Her prim and proper composure vanished, and she leaned forward a tiny bit while she flicked up her mask and delicately extended her sword.

There was some genuine annoyance on her face, and Ruby worried it was directed at her. Had she said something wrong? Did she want to make that a proper lesson?

Weiss’ cheeks had a mild puffiness to them, the sort of thing Ruby infrequently saw when Weiss was deep in contemplation. It was oddly cute, a little immaturity contained within the heiress borne not from being coddled by family or wealth but instead by just… being her.

Ruby wanted to learn more expressions like that. She wanted to read Weiss more clearly.

Something cold bumped Ruby’s chin. Her eyes dipped down to see Weiss’ sword running almost to her throat, the rounded tip putting a little pressure onto the bottom of Ruby’s jaw, urging her to lift her head.

Ruby did so by just an inch.

As she looked back at Weiss, the puff-cheeked thinking girl was gone, replaced with the confident, knowing smirk of a young woman with ideas.

Ruby swallowed.

“You’re right,” Weiss said. She lowered her shoulders, coming a little closer to Ruby’s face. The blade stayed still, just as non-lethal as before, but Weiss’ proximity made Ruby feel increasingly vulnerable. “Let’s make this more interesting.”

Ruby could have stood to bat the sword away.

But Ruby didn’t want to be anywhere else at that moment. She wanted to see what Weiss was about to say and do.

“We do one more bout. Double or nothing. Semblances allowed, but all the other rules are the same. Whoever wins gets to choose what we do on our next date.”

Next date. The words bounced around in Ruby’s skull like a DVD screensaver in the middle of a sugar high, and she practically jumped to her feet.

“Oh, you’re on, sister.” Ruby beamed, her mind suddenly racing with thoughts.

None of them were actually about what to do next. All of them were focused on the mere fact she would be doing them with Weiss.

With semblances allowed, that opened up a dearth of possible approaches for Ruby. The simplest solution would be to rush Weiss and let her semblance carry her in close or behind her. Of course, Weiss would probably expect either option and prepare something to counter them, so Ruby might have to consider a different approach.

Come in from above? Sweep her feet?

Guh, there were too many approaches. It’d probably be easier to just think on her feet in the moment. Let herself rely on her instincts and let her semblance buy her the time to think in the moment.

Weiss backed up, giving Ruby space to resume her place on her side of the mat. There, Ruby took up her pose, only she was lower down with her legs further apart. If they were eschewing the no-semblances rule, she was doing away with the silly pose.

Ruby knew her strengths. Among them were her shortness a lower centre of gravity. She was quick and agile, and years of using a weapon half her body weight made her shockingly strong and fast.

“En garde.” Weiss’ voice was considerably softer. Ruby loosened her grip with her blade, letting it hang slightly.

Weiss took up a different pose, her salute. It may telegraph what she was about to do, but it also could have been a bluff.

Ruby blinked, the thoughts clear. She refused to read into it.

“Prêtes?”

What sort of date would Ruby take Weiss on next? Movies? Games? Oh, they could do a haunted house tour! It was getting close to that time of year.

She nodded to Weiss, and she felt goosebumps ripple across her skin again.

Weiss dipped her sword forward, and they remained still for only a second longer.

“Allez!”

Like a gust of wind, Ruby blew past Weiss. Tapping into her semblance was always a thrill, like moving in a freefall that Ruby controlled. Her gut did loop-de-loops, and her inner ear silently screamed that the world had disappeared under her, but Ruby knew where she wanted to be, precisely and exactly.

At first, she was around Weiss, hoping the cloud of petals would confuse her. It also let Ruby get close to Weiss for a hair of a moment, taking the opportunity to embrace even if it wasn’t with her physical body.

Ruby materialised behind Weiss not even a second later, her sword flying through the air, but instead of poking Weiss in a shoulder blade, it bounced off a rapidly spinning glyph like Ruby stabbed a wall.

It sent her off balance, and Ruby kicked her back leg out and into the air to keep her from toppling off the mat while she windmilled her arms.

Glancing over her shoulder, Weiss pirouetted on the spot, turning without moving an inch, then attempted to thread the needle Ruby’s way. It came for the middle of her torso, a sure shot while Ruby struggled to balance.

Weiss cut through nothing, though, unlike Ruby, Weiss managed to retain her balance just enough to pause and seemingly stare at where Ruby had just been.

All that remained there was a faint trail of petals. Ruby had fallen, letting that momentum and her semblance work together while she guided herself back to her side of the mat. Desperate reflexes and intuition unfortunately put Ruby’s back to Weiss.

She flipped the sword around, then extended her arm out and behind her.

With a kick to the mat, Ruby twirled around and lifted her weapon in time to catch another of Weiss’ thrusts. Their swords sang, the vibrating metal buzzing up through Ruby’s forearm. The parry had pointed Weiss’ sword skyward, but it put Ruby’s point precisely where it needed to be. Inches from Weiss’ shoulder.

Ruby quickly arced her arm down in a stabbing motion, but an icy gale came between them. It pushed against Ruby with enough force that she slid across the mat, and her inertia brought her to her knees with her hands to catch her.

Weiss remained more composed, leaning into the wind like it was a breeze. A glance up confirmed that a glyph hovered above where they stood, winking out as quickly as it came.

The length of the mat stretched between them, crossing half the classroom. In a fight, it may as well be miles, with myriad possibilities as either foe took one chance or another if they re-approached.

Ruby felt the closest to Weiss she had ever been.

Bringing herself up, Ruby kept her head and shoulders low. She stared ahead at Weiss, her body rising and falling with deep breaths, building up enough oxygen for the next gasp, the next phrase of singing swords. At the distance they were at, the mesh made it somewhat challenging to make out more than Weiss’ outline, but it was clear she was doing much the same. Breathing. Contemplating. Waiting.

“You have some nerve holding any sword like that,” Weiss barked across the room. Laughter filled her voice.

Ruby flipped the sword back and forth a few times, pointing it toward Weiss, then away. “It just kinda just feels more natural.” Ruby rolled her shoulders, both shrugging and loosening them up.

Even across the room, she could make out the heel of Weiss’ back foot rising. A little upward sweep of her sword summoned a glyph behind her.

That was a trick Ruby recognised, and just as Weiss launched forward, gliding across the battlefield like a dart, Ruby fluttered into a red mist again.

They passed each other in the middle, and Ruby once more materialised behind Weiss.

Once more, she twirled, trying to catch Weiss’ weapon and poke her in the belly.

She hadn’t expected Weiss to come back at her, fully horizontal, with her foil plunging down into her side. She struck, then spun overhead, upside down. Ruby didn’t see her land.

She’d instead tumbled onto the floor, and her all-or-nothing spin turned chaotic. Ruby didn’t travel far, landing face down right where she started, her arms and legs reaching across the mat so that her hands and feet touched the floor.

Eyes shut, Ruby groaned into the ground before rolling onto her back. A sudden flash in her side forced another grunt up Ruby’s throat, and she grasped at the source. Falling to the floor must have twisted her mask, as even with open eyes, she couldn’t see much more than a hint of light to her side.

“Ruby!”

Hurried footsteps rushed up to her side, and then the mask was ripped from her face. She stared up through squinted eyes into Weiss’ icy blues.

Funny that the first thing Ruby noticed was how the sweat from the mask pooled around Weiss’ soft cheeks and chin. It also stuck some of her hair to her forehead and temples, and the tight bun she’d weaved frayed, threatening to come undone and cover Ruby’s head with an avalanche of platinum.

Their eyes separated as Weiss looked down. Cold hands touched Ruby’s side, pulling up her top to expose her waist.

“You’re bruised!” Weiss stammered as she shook her hands in front of her. “How—I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry!”

Shifting her elbows under her to prop up her shoulders, Ruby’s gaze followed Weiss’ arms to the bruise. It was there, but it was only a tiny point of slightly purpled flesh. Her aura must have been working quickly if she was bruised mere seconds later.

It was also impressive that Weiss had bruised her at all. With weapons meant to avoid injury and their auras, they shouldn’t have been able to so much as scratch one another.

“I’ll be fine,” Ruby said, waving her hand. “I’ve done worse to myself. You should’ve seen my knees when I was five. They were redder than my cape!”

Weiss didn’t look happy with Ruby’s dismissiveness. “I still hurt you.” She shut her eyes and huffed.

Chuckling, Ruby reached up and gave Weiss’ shoulder a little shove. “Hey, it just means you win, and you get to pick what we do next. You can rub that in for a little while.”

Blue eyes opened again, looking up at the ceiling with a shake of her head. “That’s the last thing I want to do. And this is the last thing I want to end a date on. No date should end with one of us injuring the other.”

“Weiss…” With a deep breath and a great sigh, Ruby shook her head, too. “It was an accident. I can manage an accident fine, and I know you didn’t mean it.” She then smirked, tucking her head down into her collar a little. “And… We don’t have to end it on that. Maybe we just stop here and pack up and… go get something cold to drink? I’m hungry, too.”

For a second, Weiss stared at Ruby. She looked a little surprised, eyebrows raised.

Ruby started to pick herself up when that expression hardened, and Weiss’ hands slid underneath Ruby’s shoulders and knees. She hauled Ruby up off the floor with a grunt. “Shower first. Then you’re resting while I get you something nice and sweet.”

Giggling, Ruby kicked her legs a little and slung both her arms around Weiss’ neck to stabilise herself. It brought their faces close together, with Ruby seeing the growing tint of pink in Weiss’ cheeks spread in real-time. “Fine, fine. You can treat me like a princess for a little bit.”

“I can still drop you.”

Weiss didn’t mean it. Ruby could tell. She grinned as she’d made the threat, and her hands tightened around Ruby’s legs and ribs.

“Okay… You can buy me an ice cream sandwich instead. Apology ice cream is some of the best.”

“It’s a deal.” Weiss smiled and nodded.

Just a slight clench of Ruby’s arms was all she needed to bring her close enough to kiss Weiss’ cheek.

#rwby #weiss schnee #ruby rose #fanfiction #commission #romance #whiterose

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digitxlagency · 6 months ago

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How Can You Improve Conversion Rates in Digital Marketing?

In digital marketing, conversion rates are the ultimate measure of success. Whether you’re aiming to increase sales, generate leads, or drive downloads, improving conversion rates ensures that your marketing efforts yield tangible results. Knowing the ways to effectively increase your conversion rate is essential for achieving these goals and optimising your campaigns.

This blog explores actionable tips and strategies to improve conversion rates, helping you create a seamless user experience that encourages your audience to take action. By implementing these strategies, supported by experts like a CRO agency, you can transform website visitors into loyal customers.

What Is Conversion Rate and Why Does It Matter?

A conversion rate is the percentage of users who complete a desired action on your website, such as making a purchase, signing up for a newsletter, or filling out a contact form. High conversion rates indicate that your audience finds your website engaging and your offerings compelling. It’s a key metric for measuring the success of your digital marketing campaigns.

If you’re looking for tips to increase your conversion rate, start by analysing your user journey and identifying potential barriers. Conversion rate optimisation (CRO) focuses on enhancing the user experience and aligning it with your audience’s intent.

Ways to Effectively Increase Your Conversion Rate

Here are proven strategies to boost your conversion rates in digital marketing:

1. Simplify Your Website Design

A clutter-free, user-friendly website improves navigation and encourages visitors to stay longer. Ensure your site is visually appealing, easy to navigate, and mobile-friendly. Use clear call-to-action (CTA) buttons to guide users toward the desired actions.

2. Optimise Landing Pages

Landing pages play a crucial role in conversions. Focus on:

Crafting compelling headlines.

Using high-quality visuals.

Highlighting benefits with concise, persuasive copy.

Test different layouts and designs using A/B testing tools to identify what resonates best with your audience.

3. Leverage Social Proof

Showcasing reviews, testimonials, and case studies builds trust and reassures potential customers of your credibility. People are more likely to convert when they see others have had positive experiences.

4. Improve Page Load Speeds

Page load speed directly impacts user experience. Slow-loading pages can frustrate visitors, causing them to leave before taking action. Use tools like Google PageSpeed Insights to diagnose and improve performance.

5. Personalise User Experiences

Tailored experiences make users feel valued. Use tools to analyse user behaviour and deliver personalised recommendations, dynamic content, and targeted offers.

6. Streamline Forms

If your goal is lead generation, simplify your forms. Ask only for essential information to reduce friction and increase the likelihood of users completing the form.

7. Collaborate with Experts

Partnering with a conversion rate optimisation agency in Australia can help you implement advanced CRO techniques. Experts bring a wealth of experience, ensuring you maximise your marketing ROI.

Best Practices for Conversion Rate Optimisation

Test Regularly: Continuously test and tweak elements such as CTAs, images, and layouts.

Focus on Customer Pain Points: Address common objections or concerns within your content.

Analyse Data: Use analytics tools to track user behaviour and identify drop-off points.

Follow Up: Implement retargeting campaigns to engage users who didn’t convert initially.

Conclusion

Improving conversion rates in digital marketing requires a combination of user-centric design, data-driven insights, and effective strategies. By focusing on the ways to effectively increase your conversion rate, you can achieve better results and drive significant growth. For expert guidance, consider collaborating with CRO agencies or seasoned SEO marketing professionals who can help elevate your campaigns.

Frequently Asked Questions

How to increase conversion rate in digital marketing?

To improve conversion rates, optimise your website for user experience, create compelling CTAs, and use social proof like testimonials. Personalisation and faster page load speeds also make a significant difference.

Which three actions can improve your conversion rate?

Simplify your website design and navigation.

Leverage A/B testing for landing pages.

Highlight social proof to build trust.

How do you get a good conversion rate?

A good conversion rate comes from understanding your audience, delivering relevant content, and creating seamless user experiences. Regularly testing and refining your strategies is key.

What is the conversion rate for digital marketing?

Conversion rates vary by industry, but an average rate across industries is typically between 2% and 5%. With effective CRO strategies, it’s possible to exceed these benchmarks.

#conversion rate optimisation

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marketingpro1 · 6 months ago

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Top WordPress Plugins to Supercharge Your Website in 2024

Building and maintaining a WordPress site is both exciting and challenging. While the platform provides a robust foundation, the true power of WordPress lies in its plugins. From enhancing site functionality to improving user experience, WordPress plugins are indispensable tools for developers, businesses, and bloggers alike. In this blog, we’ll explore the best WordPress plugins that can transform your website into a highly functional, user-friendly, and SEO-optimized powerhouse.

What Are WordPress Plugins?

WordPress plugins are software add-ons designed to extend the functionality of your WordPress site. Whether you need to improve site speed, enhance SEO, secure your website, or add unique design features, there’s likely a plugin for that. Plugins allow both beginners and advanced users to customize their sites without coding expertise.

With over 60,000 plugins available on the WordPress Plugin Directory alone, the options can feel overwhelming. Choosing the right plugins for your website’s goals is critical for success. Below, we’ve rounded up some of the most essential WordPress plugins to consider.

Must-Have WordPress Plugins for Every Website

1. Yoast SEO

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Looking to build a visually stunning website without hiring a designer? Elementor is a drag-and-drop page builder that makes designing websites easy. Its intuitive interface and vast array of widgets allow you to create professional-looking pages in minutes.

3. WPForms

For websites that rely on user interaction, a contact form is a must-have feature. WPForms allows you to create customizable, mobile-responsive forms effortlessly. Whether it’s contact forms, surveys, or payment forms, this plugin has you covered.

4. WooCommerce

If you’re running an online store, WooCommerce is the go-to plugin. It transforms your WordPress site into a fully functional e-commerce platform, complete with features for product listings, payment gateways, and inventory management.

5. Akismet Anti-Spam

Spam comments can clutter your website and ruin user experience. Akismet Anti-Spam automatically filters out spam comments, keeping your site clean and professional.

6. Jetpack

Created by Automattic, the team behind WordPress, Jetpack is a multipurpose plugin offering features like performance optimization, security, site analytics, and social media integration.

7. Rank Math

Another excellent SEO plugin, Rank Math provides advanced features like schema integration, keyword tracking, and detailed analytics. It’s an excellent alternative to Yoast SEO for more advanced users.

8. UpdraftPlus

Backup and restoration are critical for any website. UpdraftPlus allows you to schedule automatic backups and store them securely on cloud services like Google Drive or Dropbox.

9. Smush

Site speed plays a major role in user experience and search engine rankings. Smush compresses images without compromising quality, helping your site load faster.

10. MonsterInsights

Understanding how visitors interact with your site is essential. MonsterInsights integrates Google Analytics directly into your WordPress dashboard, offering real-time insights into traffic, user behavior, and more.

11. W3 Total Cache

Slow-loading websites lose visitors and revenue. W3 Total Cache improves website performance by caching static files and optimizing server resources.

12. Sucuri Security

Cybersecurity is non-negotiable in today’s digital landscape. Sucuri Security offers malware scanning, firewall protection, and blacklist monitoring to keep your site secure.

13. Social Snap

Boost social media engagement with Social Snap, a powerful social sharing plugin. It offers customizable sharing buttons and in-depth analytics to track your social media performance.

14. Litespeed Cache

For websites hosted on LiteSpeed servers, LiteSpeed Cache is a high-performance optimization plugin that enhances speed and reduces server load.

15. TablePress

If your site needs to display complex data, TablePress is a lifesaver. It lets you create and manage tables without requiring any coding knowledge.

Why Use WordPress Plugins?

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Identify Your Needs: Start by determining what features your site requires.

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Final Thoughts

WordPress plugins are the backbone of a successful website. By selecting the right ones, you can enhance your site’s functionality, user experience, and performance. Whether you’re aiming to boost your SEO, secure your site, or create stunning designs, there’s a plugin tailored for your needs.

Experiment with the plugins mentioned above and watch your WordPress site thrive. Remember to regularly review your plugin list and update them to ensure optimal performance.

#WordPress #WordPressPlugins #WebsiteSecurity #WebHosting

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bomberqueen17 · 1 year ago

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Loftus Bralette Sewing Journal: cutting out

LOL so I have started the project but not made a ton of progress, but I thought, well, I'll write it up anyway.

First thing I did was watch the sewalong. It's not the slickest, shiniest sewalong-- there's no jaunty theme song, there's no animated intro, there's no flashy graphics-- it's very much Old Youtubey, where it's someone actually doing the steps and showing you as she goes, not really sped up, with minimal intercuts. As it happens, the demonstrating sewist is the owner of Porcelynne, which is a lingerie supply company and pattern maker, and she also helped design this pattern and the previous Cashmerette bra because she is not only a bra specialist but also is a very busty woman herself, and so completely on the same wavelength. She has incredible technical knowledge, has clearly sewn very many bras, produces a lovely end product, and shows you several places where she either made a mistake or has made many mistakes in the past and has developed this trick to avoid the mistakes. So it's a good solid sewalong... just not the most short-attention-span-friendly thing in the world.

So I will say I watched the sewalong with closed captions on and at 1.5x speed, just for my first runthrough.

(I can't watch a sewalong or tutorial while I'm trying to sew a thing. I do best if I watch it first, so I know what to expect. Hopefully it relates well enough to the instruction manual that I can piece the two together and figure out what I'm supposed to do as I go.)

And now I've started my own sew-through.

I bought a bunch of stuff from Porcelynne-- a nice kit for once I've made it, but basic stuff to muslin it. There are several places on the Cashmerette website and also in the instruction book for the pattern that lays out exactly what fabric you need and what notions. I also then made a list in Sharpie on a scrap of paper, inventorying how many pieces of each pattern piece I needed, and how many inches of each type of elastic I needed, so that I could enclose that inventory along with this iteration of the garment, so that I could refer to the checklist.

I also labeled the elastic-- N for neckline, U for underarm-- as I cut it, so I would know what was supposed to go where.

[img desc my hand holding several lengths of peach-colored elastic, one with a sharpie N and the other with a sharpie U which is sideways and looks like a C but I know what it means trust me. in the background is a baggie with other elastic in it including two pink straps I cut off an old bra to reuse the notions. This bra muslin is not going to be all one color or even going to match, that's just how it is.]

I forgot to order cup lining, it was in my cart but then the session refreshed and I didn't re-add it. So I'm making my muslin with two layers of the same fabric, which means I need to label which layers are the lining and which the outer. This is both easier and harder and I'll let you know whether I recommend this or not 😅.

I'm following Jen from Porcelynne's suggestion of marking the wrong side of the fabric with painter's tape, and i applied the tape immediately after cutting out each piece since there's not an obvious right or wrong side to this fabric, and I also used a felt-tipped marker to write on the painter's tape which 1) piece it was, which 2) layer it was, and 3) whether it was the pattern piece or the mirror image. (Given my specific brand of neurospicy I cannot reliably tell left from right so I'm just making One Half Of The Bra The Same Direction As The Paper Pattern And The Other Half Mirror-Imaged and I'll find out which is right and which is left once i put it on.)

I also immediately used a felt-tipped marker to trace the grainlines on the pattern pieces, then flipped them over and traced the marker line onto the other side, so that I could see how the grainline should be oriented while I had the pattern pieces in mirror-image mode, since the most accurate way to cut fabric is not to cut it while folded. And i know myself, I'd want to wiggle the odd-shaped pieces to fit best on the fabric, and I'd fuck up the grainlines, which are important especially as some of the pieces are cut from stretch fabric.

To add to the confusion, the lining is inside-out from the regular bra. So my first layer, everything mirror-imaged gets an A on the end. (Piece 1a, 2a, 3a on the painter's tape.) but for the lining, the A goes on everything NOT mirror imaged, because the lining and main pieces are cut from the same pattern piece. So the first half of my bra consists of pieces 1, 2, 3 in main fabric, and then mirror-imaged pices 1L, 2L, 3L, and 6L in the lining fabric, and then also 6 non-mirror-imaged in the lining fabric-- 6 is the center front bit and you cut both layers from your lining.

So then the opposite of that is the other half of my bra. Pieces 1A, 2A, 3A, and then lining 1LA, 2LA, 3LA, etc. And then there are two copies of pattern pieces 5 and 4 cut from the powermesh fabric-- the powerbar, and the back band.

L for lining appears in the written instructions, and that plus my own inability to distinguish left from right is why the bra is not labeled L for left or R for right. L for Lining would confuse me even if I just labeled the right half. So I did not, it is Side Unmarked and Side A.

I traced the paper pattern in felt-tipped marker directly unerasably onto the fabric because this is my muslin. And then after I cut it out (with a rotary cutter and mat) I took a pencil, laid the translucent fabric over the paper pattern piece, and traced on every notch, every marking, and the entirety of the sewing lines. For the mirror-imaged pieces, I did this and then flipped them over and darkened the sewing lines onto the now-right side of the fabric. Because this is my muslin and it is far more important to me to sew it perfectly accurately than it is to have the marks erase for later when I maybe wear it and maybe never do.

Yes, this took forever. I did not do this at my usual cutting table I did it on the kitchen table where I could sit comfortably, because I only needed about 24x24" of space to work, and I needed good light and a very steady surface and to be comfortable and not rushed while I worked.

[image description: all my cut out pieces spread across my kitchen table/counter, labeled in silver metallic sharpie on blue painter's tape, with the roll of painter's tape and the paper pattern pieces and my cup of water and scissors all strewn around.]

As soon as I was done I lay everything out, compared it to my checklist, compared the checklist back to the instruction book, made sure the painter's tape was on the correct side of each piece, and then put everything neatly away. I have all my elastics and notions in one little plastic baggie, and then all of the second half of the bra (so, mirror-imaged main pieces, and then non-mirror-imaged lining pieces) in another little plastic baggie, and then the first half of the bra is just in the main baggie that i put the other baggies into.

I brought the whole thing down into my sewing room, and what I did was get the lid of a rubbermaid tote to use as a tray, and lay out half the bra on that, triple-checking the orientation of the pieces, and I did find one where the masking tape was on the wrong side somehow argh. But I've started off by sewing the outer layer and lining layer of the first half together, and I got like one seam in before I was interrupted, but everything inactive is still in the baggies and everything active is on that rubbermaid tote lid in its correct orientation, so I could walk away from it and know where to resume when I come back.

I also have the paper pattern pieces easily to hand to check that notches are correctly marked, because I have no faith in myself to have done that right consistently. Normally I put the pattern away but I'm not doing that here, and I think it makes sense to just print the pattern out numerous times and put any corrections on every instance of it, and then have several copies of it so that any project in-progress can still have the pattern pieces with it until it is complete.

This is my note to myself to do that, keep the pattern pieces there and make adjustments as necessary and then when I finish the muslin, print out another copy with adjustments included.

I also would like to print out a mirror-imaged copy, and potentially have separate pattern pieces for the left and right, as I expect some asymmetry to be a factor.

#loftus bralette #sewalong #cashmerette patterns #bra sewing #diy sewing

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