#there is just so many possibilities for it

[bogleech]

Scanning electron microscopy is awesome and I personally think the images it produces are gorgeous but objectively speaking I feel like it doesn't do any favors at all for the "scary" cultural image of insects, because I mean, here's a closeup of a carpet beetle in its true colors:

And here's an SEM image that comes up for carpet beetles on google:

And the thing about SEM images is that they aren't "photographs;" they are computer scans. They're 3-d digital models generated by scanning an object at the molecular level. Color is not preserved by this process, and if it were all the specimens would look like metal anyway (I'll explain this is in a moment), so images like this had to be colored artificially. This isn't done to recreate the true colors, but to make different body parts more visible as study material, resulting in scientific images of wacky blueberry fleas:

The subtly varying transparency levels of living tissues are completely lost as well, which is why the fine hairs of insects stand out more like cactus thorns in SEM imagery, and tardigrades look like opaque leathery things with no eyes:

...Even though a tardigrade actually has eyes, they're just under the surface of a crystal clear exoskeleton:

Another thing that probably contributes to the uncanniness of SEM images is also the fact that they can only show us embalmed corpses encased in liquid metal.

It's not possible to do this fine level of scanning "instantaneously" enough for it to work on anything that's still moving, so even when you see scanning electron images of animals in various lifelike poses, it's because they're preserved specimens that were carefully positioned, or they were live specimens basically "flash frozen" by a sudden dehydration process, mummified so fast they never knew it. Many specimens are then "sputter coated," meaning they're sprayed with a thin (like microns thin) layer of liquid gold, platinum or other fine metal in order for the electrons to perfectly bounce off of every subatomic detail and produce that perfect scan. So this is a live fruit fly:

And this is a fruit fly mummy with probably some sort of chrome plating:

[zoe-oneesama]

In your AU, the Peackock Miraculous is broken and sent Chloe to the hospital. But I have to ask, here in your story, how much did it take for Emilie to go to that magical coma? Like how many times did she had to use it to fall into the state she did?

I'm definitely going with the Old Headcanon that Emilie just used it For Fun and to be a hero one generation ago. I can also buy that she might've broke the Peacock herself - she got comfortable using it when it was healthy, had an accident and broke it (Plagg does mention in "Rogercop" when his head is stuck that if Adrien transformed while the bracelet is still attached to him that it would damage his powers, so it's possible), and she was overconfident and kept using it.

It probably took a while, since she is an adult, but I'd say about the same amount of time it took for Nathalie to get sick.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

foolish spring winds, blow my way ; satoru gojo

summary; a snippet of the spring you share with a certain satoru gojo — who seems intent on making your high school life as difficult as possible.

word count; 5.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, enemies to friends (..but the ’enemy’ part is kinda one-sided), fluffy n sweet overall, satoru doesn’t know how to make friends + thinks lighthearted bullying constitutes as a bonding activity, he’s a little shit but he means well, switching povs, lots of gojo slander (but reader sees the light eventually), big shoujo vibes, they’re both tsunderes <33

a/n; i ended up scrapping the series i wrote this fic for originally, so i thought i’d rewrite it and repost it on its own!! teentoru is such a grumpy little kitten i need to squish his paws

satoru gojo is annoying.

it might seem blunt, but after many weeks of careful thinking, you’ve decided no description could possibly fit him better. 

when you first met him, on that first day of school, you had no idea what to think. no real expressions or tonal shifts to clue you in on who he was, how he felt — nothing but the slightest peek of a terrifying blue to set your nerves on edge. 

in hindsight, you’re almost certain it was intentional. he wanted to appear unreadable. purposefully hiding his personality and mannerisms, to gain the upper hand — observing you, dissecting you inside his mind, while revealing nothing about himself apart from his surname. 

it’s a kind of power; a safety measure.

… but evidently, holding back isn’t exactly gojo’s forte. the very next morning, he was already beginning to loosen up, after getting more accustomed to the new environment and classmates. showing you his true colours; just a little hint of cerulean, a single dip of paint on the blank canvas of his soul.

and with the revelation of his genuine personality — your unease around him festered even more.

where could you even begin to describe him? for one, he’s childish. and cocky. and loud. arrogant, selfish and flamboyant — just generally an asshole? you could go on and on. none of the traits are particularly flattering, and you know he couldn’t care less.

gojo is annoying, plain and simple. almost constantly up to something, eager to push someone’s buttons, to get attention. like a bratty toddler. uninterested in manners, or even common courtesy; he says what he feels, regardless of how other people take it. 

to put it simply, he has no regard for the people around him. his self-interest is limitless. 

as if that wasn’t annoying enough — you have no choice but to admit that he does have a certain presence to him. a kind of charisma, or what you think could become charisma, if he’d just get off that high horse already. he won’t, though. you know he won’t. he revels in it, in looking down on everything and everyone, annoyingly boisterous and irritatingly tall. freaky, long limbs. like a noodle and an alien had a baby.

but, more than anything — above all else — what frustrates you most is the fact that his unbridled confidence isn’t exactly unwarranted.

as much as it pains you to say it… gojo is maybe just a little bit incredible. a natural-born genius. he’s intelligent, and observant, and awfully pretty, with those baby blues eyes and those snowy locks of hair. and he has no issue getting what he wants. 

absolutely zero. 

there’s something admirable about it, in a twisted way. like he doesn’t even need to try. he’s good at anything, if he just gives it a single chance. you can only assume he’s never given much thought to the prospect of being a decent guy, because that’s the only thing he sucks at.

effortlessly perfect, in the most imperfect of ways. that’s probably how you’d describe him.

… annoying is still the most fitting word, though. or maybe obnoxious. he’s got this spoiled rich kid vibe that irks you, gets under your skin. you doubt he’s ever had to empathize with anyone, in his entire life. 

and, yes — maybe you’re being a little harsh to him. but why should you bother being jovial when he won’t return the favour?

gojo is annoying; and when you say that, you mean annoying to basically everyone. as a basis for existing. always teasing and taunting, looking down from that high horse of his. you’re no exception to this rule, of course. but you’re almost certain that he has it out for you specifically.

you know he looks down on you, from behind those tacky sunglasses. you’re sure of it.

compared to geto or shoko, you aren’t very self-assured — and you think he must have sensed it the moment he laid eyes on you. sensed that you’re a little meek, a bit of a doormat, easy to push around and get a rise out of. maybe he also noticed your apprehension towards him, your apparent unease. 

you’re easy prey, to put it simply.

evidently, he’s developed a fondness for getting under your skin. it started as soon as introductions were over, and it still hasn’t gotten better. he loves catching you off guard, throwing you an unneeded comment or two, just to see what reaction you’ll give him next. almost like he’s solving an equation — said equation being you, the limit of your patience. and you keep giving him what he wants; a scoff, a roll of your eyes, an earnest fuck right off. you can never seem to successfully ignore him. he’s just far, far too good at being insufferable.

… and, more than anything, he’s far too out of reach. even when you try to get along with him, it backfires. you don’t have a single thing in common. you don’t understand him at all. 

(and that suits you just fine.)

a heavy sigh slips from your parted lips, as you examine your blurry reflection in the surface of the mirror. fatigue clings to your skin like a layer of sweat, your mind muddled, stuffed with anxious thoughts and discomforting feelings.

you’re exhausted. completely and utterly spent, even though the day’s barely begun — running on three pitiful hours of sleep, all broken up and jumbled by nightmares that wouldn’t stop spooking you. not a single wink of proper rest. 

and it’s painfully obvious. in your face, your posture, the dark crescents beneath your eyes; in the way you can’t help but drag your legs as you walk, your hair disheveled, little sighs and grumbles slipping from your lips for every step you take. all you can do is sluggishly blink the exhaustion away.

you just feel so tired.

it could be worse, though. you don’t have any classes today, no real reason to get out of your comfy bed, leave the safety of your cozy little dorm room. but you need breakfast, right now, or else you’ll literally explode — so you still get up on shaky legs and try to mimic the appearance of someone… even moderately well-rested.

it doesn’t work, but that’s besides the point. 

so you make your way to the dormitory’s shared kitchen. walking idly — clumsily — enjoying the sight of fleeting, fluttering cherry blossoms through the windows you pass. little pink butterflies.

once you’ve crossed the threshold, you’re relieved to find the open space entirely devoid of people. no shoko, no geto, not even a mischievous gojo. running into the first two wouldn’t be the end of the world — but it still wouldn’t be ideal. you don’t want anyone seeing you like this, tired and meek, a little vulnerable.

(least of all gojo. you shiver at the bare thought.)

with laboured, groggy movements, you waltz around the kitchen, getting cups and plates and turning on the coffee machine. enjoying the soothing melody of the pan sizzling, singing along to the purring of espresso being made. it’s nice and pleasant to your sensitive ears, as you blink under the rays of sunlight shining in, throwing together a lazy breakfast. 

you waste no time in taking a seat by one of the tables once you’re finished. eager to soak in the peace and quiet, wolf down a sandwich and copious amounts of caffeine.

but, as always — the world seems to have it out for you specifically.

”oh? well, look who it is. and here i thought you had left too.”

you stiffen. ever so slightly, barely noticeable, but still enough that you physically feel the dread envelop every single cell of your body. the voice that echoes out across the open air is a chipper one, a familiar one. a voice you were desperately hoping not to hear today. 

all you can do is continue to sip from your cup of coffee, inwardly wincing, silently going through all five stages of grief simultaneously — before accepting your unfortunate predicament. 

(that’s just your luck, isn’t it?)

finally, you raise your weary head, knowing exactly what sight you’ll be met with once you do. 

and, lo and behold — there he is.

gojo looks the same as always. grinning brightly, a little woflish, wearing those ugly sunglasses and making his way across the room like he owns it. a trait you can’t help but admire, envy, hate and worship at the same time. he plops down next to you like it’s nothing, a little too close for comfort, unconcerned about your concept of personal space.

”whatcha up to?” he chirps, in that sugar sweet tone, layered over with a boyish kind of excitement. there’s a teasing tilt to it, too — the one that always accompanies his voice when he’s speaking to you.

under normal circumstances, you’d flip him off. maybe even just glare at him, silently, or raise a brow in challenge.

but you’re far, far too tired to. too anxious. too in need of sleep, in need of a peaceful breakfast that he oh so cruelly ripped from you. all you can muster is the energy to glance his way.

for just a second, your eyes meet. not like you can actually see them, from behind his glasses — but you know they’re there. menacing and uncanny, bright and excited. too much to handle, right now.

”… morning.”

as soon as the mutter has left your lips, you take a tentative bite of your sandwich. gaze trailing sluggishly back to your plate.

gojo blinks.

he immediately notes that your voice sounds meek. even more so than usual. he expected you to give him a scoff, or even just a timid huff — but no such luck. 

you’re just sitting there, quiet, curling into yourself.

after a moment’s consideration, gojo opts to look at you. to really look at you, study your face, the way those twitchy fingers move to curl around the ceramic handle of the cup you’re drinking out of. the way your eyes shift from place to place, unfocused, your eyelids flicking shut every couple seconds. slow.

he’s always been observant — but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re tired. 

gojo is silent, for no more than a mere moment; contemplating his next course of action. he’s never seen you like this, before. did something happen?

…

(— well, it doesn’t matter. not his problem.)

”you look like a zombie,” he grins, a little teasing, showing off the white of his teeth. even though you look out of it, he can’t help himself — despite his own intuition telling him to let you be. 

you’re just too fun to tease. suguru and shoko only ever raise their eyebrows at him, or stare him down like a misbehaving dog, but you always have a good reaction to give. something to entertain him when he’s bored, distract him when his mind is too full of noise. 

so he can’t help but tease you, a little. hoping it’ll soothe the restlessness inside his chest.

but for once, what gojo expects isn’t what he gets. 

what he expects is for you to glare at him. tell him to leave you alone, or even just sigh in exasperation — either one would be fine. it’s just mindless enjoyment, to him, a little fun to lighten up his day. 

especially now, when suguru is away on some day trip he wasn’t privy to. that traitor. shoko is nowhere to be seen, either, probably off smoking in some random alleyway. or hanging out with one of the kyoto losers.

… the whole dorm is so eerily quiet.

(gojo would never admit it, not in a thousand years… but maybe he’d feel just a little bit lonely without any of you around.)

for a while after waking up, he assumed he’d have to spend the whole day alone. no one to talk to, no one to look at. he was practically dying of boredom. but then he entered the kitchen — and saw his saving grace. his dear little irritable classmate. 

he was so relieved. content in the knowledge that he’d get to push your buttons to his heart’s desire, bask in your playful banter and cold, joking little looks until suguru finally comes home.

only this time — you don’t react at all. 

you don’t give him what he expects, don’t indulge his little antics, in the way he’s grown so accustomed to. you just keep eating your breakfast, and drinking your coffee, in total silence. 

gojo waits, just a couple moments more. hoping for a delayed reaction, a witty counter, a snarky comment. anything. 

but it never comes.

finally, he starts to sulk. slumping against the leather seat behind him, quieting down with a low huff. furrowing his brows, as his glossy, cherry-tasting lips curl down into a little pout.

honestly, he’s kind of annoyed. just what is your problem? what is with you, today? 

… it’s no fun if you’re not playing along. 

gojo can’t help but grumble, a little, under his breath. you’re usually so responsive, so easy to rile up. so what’s wrong? why are you just sitting there?

…

whatever. so what if you’re not talking to him? so what if you won’t even spare him a glance? gojo has better things to do, bigger fish to fry. he wasn’t even that excited, when he saw you. the thought of bantering with you didn’t lift his spirits, even in the slightest. 

not even a little bit.

…

but, really — would it take so much effort for you to just say something? to just respond to his friendly little quip? you can’t possibly be that tired. 

or, what — did you get insecure, or something? because he called you a zombie? no way. you’re not that sensitive… are you? or is that it? 

what a hassle.

you know he’s just messing with you. he knows you know. so why are you acting so…. 

(sad, gojo wants to think, but he buries the thought before it can reach his frontal cortex. he doesn’t want to empathize with you, not right now — doesn’t want to feel that discomforting pang in his chest.)

a strange sensation bubbles up in his chest. something frustrated, a little unnerved; at your lack of a reaction, the weak glint in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand why — and that frustrates him even more. 

why can’t you just bite back, like always?

(… it’s fun when you do.)

the silence lingers on, stretches out across the room, festers and grows as you gulp down your breakfast. all while gojo keeps on sulking, still sitting beside you, waiting for something to happen. he briefly considers getting up and leaving, or saying something annoying to hopefully spur you on —

but you stand up before he can convince himself to go through with either option.

having finished your breakfast, your legs carry you to the sink. finally, you can head back to your room. gojo’s being weirdly quiet, but you pay no mind to it; methodically washing your dishes in silence. 

you don’t bother saying goodbye to him, either. still sitting there, seemingly deep in thought, grumbling something under his breath. 

he watches as you leave, gaze trailing after you, until you’re completely out of sight. 

then he lays down, flat on his back, with a frustrated huff. trying desperately to brush away the memory of your dim eyes, the slight frown on your lips. the dark circles under your eyes, that he tried so hard not to notice because they made him feel so weirdly uncomfortable. the meek, meek look you gave him.

gojo sighs.

(he feels just a tiny, tiny bit bad.)

when you wake up from your slumber, you immediately note that your body feels lighter.

this time, no nightmares came to haunt you. having practically collapsed once your head hit the pillow, your body finally decided to give you some peace of mind, some well needed rest. thankfully.

with a groan, you lazily stretch out your limbs — enjoying the feeling of your veins waking up, gaze falling on the clock on your wall. you’ve only been asleep for about two hours, or so, but it’s more than enough to give you the little jolt of energy that you need.

what to do, what to do. you still have the whole day ahead of you. another nap wouldn’t hurt, but you don’t want to waste your precious free time just rotting in bed — maybe you could take a walk around the schoolyard instead? the cherry blossoms have started to unfurl, and the grounds of the school are just littered with them.

even just the mental image is enough to have you changing into some light and comfortable clothes, reaching a hand out to push your door open. excitement stirring in your veins.

as you do so, something is knocked over.

all you hear is a soft little thud, accompanied by the sensation of something colliding with the door. a low curiosity overtakes you — eagerly peeking around for a look at the mysterious something.

your gaze falls on something pink.

it’s tiny, awfully out of place, just laying unassumingly on the dusty floorboards. as you crouch down to get a better look, you recognize it instantly; a small carton of strawberry milk. a plastic straw plastered on its side, and an evil looking cow mascot staring at you from the front. one of the items sold in the schoolyard’s vending machines — your personal favorite. you drink it every time you need a tiny pick-me-up, the sweet taste always managing to soothe your spirits.

and it was sitting right outside your door.

you stare at it, silently, in deep contemplation. holding it in your hand as the gears turn inside your head. could someone have dropped it? no, that’s dumb — who’d drop it right outside your door and then not pick it up?

… did someone leave it for you, then? because they know you like it? that could be it, maybe, but who would —

…

your mind stills. 

(no way.)

when you think about it — that’s the only explanation that makes sense. shoko and geto aren’t there, and you barely know any of your senior students. yaga-sensei would never give you strawberry milk without a lecture on the dangers of cavities, either.

that just leaves one possible culprit.

but you can’t wrap your head around it. why would he do something like that? he doesn’t like you — you know that much. so it couldn’t possibly be him.

… then again, you have seen him drink it. both of you like it, contrary to your other classmates; shoko doesn’t like sweet things in general, and geto wouldn’t go for strawberry milk if he could choose something else. it might as well be the only thing you and gojo have in common — the one thing that binds you two together. 

a single carton of strawberry milk. 

it’s almost comical.

(if it’s really true — if he really did do it… then you wonder why. maybe he noticed that you were feeling under the weather, and figured it’d make you happy. 

you wonder if it’d be foolish of you, to believe that it’s true — if only because you kinda like the idea.)

your feet move on their own, before your mind has a chance to question the decision. 

where could he be? in the kitchen, still? in his dorm?

just as you begin to wonder, a flash of white dances in the corners of your vision. when you glance out the window, you see it; white, soft hair, like a fluffy cloud, in the midst of all the pink petals fluttering about. 

you stop.

then you start walking again. with more decision, this time. hurrying to the exit.

gojo is sitting right outside the dormitory, on a wooden bench, legs swinging idly as he gazes at the sky. his hair sways slightly with the breeze, soft strands moving and caressing his skin. pink petals dance all around him, gracefully descending down to the ground, together with a trail of bubbles. gojo is blowing them, haphazardly, following their movement with his keen eyes. they glimmer in the sunlight, reflecting all shades of the rainbow.

the sight is just a little bit breathtaking. 

the ground crunches beneath your feet, when you take a step forward — and gojo turns towards you. you stiffen like a deer in headlights, instantly regretting your decision. blinking nervously. you walked here almost entirely on impulse, but now that you’re face to face…

(it’s a little scary.)

… still, it’s far too late to back out now. you can’t do much except join him, so that’s exactly what you do — albeit a little hesitantly.

trying to ignore his continuous stare, burning into the side of your head, you plop down beside him. feeling the steady bench beneath you, breathing in the scent of sweet-smelling cherries and soap.

an uncomfortable silence lingers in the air around you both, as he waits for you to say something. 

it’s a little tough. mustering up the courage to say anything, even just to face him. the decisiveness you felt just a moment ago has faded, now only the ghost of a sensation — you’re too nervous to verbalize anything.

but eventually, after a deep breath or two, you force yourself to speak. hoping you won’t come to regret it.

”… hey, gojo?” 

it’s almost a whisper. soft and fragile, mumbled beneath your breath as you stare at the cherry trees in front of you. you know his eyes are on you, though. you can feel them, almost feel their weight in the palm of your hand. like marbles.

weakly, you raise up the carton of strawberry milk. glancing over at him, not quite managing a smile, but trying your best to look somewhat appreciative. 

”thanks.”

a confused blink. gojo looks down the strawberry milk, and then back up at you. eyelashes fluttering.

a moment passes. 

then he turns his head away, swiftly, his hair tousled by the movement — a couple pink petals stuck between the soft strands. you can’t see his face anymore.

”i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he huffs, with a voice you’ve never heard him speak through.

when you look a little closer — you think the tips of his ears may be just slightly red. it makes your lips curl up into a small smile, but you barely feel it.

(like this, he’s actually kind of cute.)

cherry blossoms flutter in the wind, dancing joyously, without a care in the world. a spring breeze ruffles gojo’s hair, as he sits beside you, having begun to blow his bubbles again. not saying a word, and looking straight ahead. but you can’t help but stare, as sneakily as you can muster.

you find yourself thinking that he looks right at home, among the petals. fleeting, hard to get a grasp on. so pretty, and so out of reach, despite being so close. 

if you wanted to, you could reach over and touch him. you could reach for his sunglasses, lift them off his face, and finally see those eyes he’s so intent on hiding. you could see him, see straight into his soul — and find out who he really is.

you won’t, though. some boundaries aren’t meant to be so callously crossed.

instead, you puncture the pink carton in your hand with the plastic straw, and take a tentative sip. the sweet taste soothes you, straight away, blooming on your tongue. you can’t help but sigh, softly, relaxing even further — it’s absolutely perfect, for this kind of weather. the sight before you, cherry petals and shining bubbles, a boy you don’t like, but definitely don’t hate. 

you both look up, following the bubbles with your eyes, as they float up into the sky; as they get smaller and smaller, farther and farther out of reach. neither of you say a word, but the silence is comforting. light. 

gojo is the first one to break it — in a voice so small you barely hear it.

”… you don’t look like a zombie.”

a second passes. you’re left blinking in confusion, trying to decipher the sudden statement. you can’t get a good read on his expression, with those eyes of his conveniently hidden; he must have regained his composure, then.

it takes a couple seconds for his words to sink in — but once they do, all pieces seem to fall into place. 

and you burst into laughter.

gojo blinks at you, caught off guard, his eyelashes flapping like a little dove scrambling to get off the ground — staring at you like you just grew a second head. that makes you laugh harder, a bout of giggles spilling past your lips — you just can’t help it. 

”did —” you wheeze, softly, thoroughly amused. trying and failing to bite back the laughter. ”did you think i was bothered by that, or something?”

gojo looks at you. a little stunned, for a moment. the sight only makes your smile bloom further, eyes crinkled as you meet his gaze. from the angle you’re viewing him through, leaning back against the bench, you catch a glimmer of his eyes. they’re awfully pretty — blue and bright, full of life. when you look closer, you can see tiny, tiny splotches of white. 

they look like the blue sky. 

you called them menacing, before, but now you aren’t so sure. they seem soft, in the sunlight, especially when seen like this — right after catching him off guard. it’s a rare moment, terribly precious. something to savour.

gojo doesn’t let it linger, though. 

after a moment of two, he scoffs — turning away yet again. a soft, soft pout on his lips.

”obviously not,” he huffs, sounding nothing but irritated, resting his jaw on the heel of his palm. ”but with how sensitive you are, i wouldn’t be surprised.”

usually, a comment like that would irk you. now it just makes you giggle, lightheartedly — the tips of his ears turning redder at the sound. 

(he really isn’t so bad, after all.)

for a while, you don’t say anything else. afraid of ruining the tender atmosphere. you feel closer to gojo than ever before — and you wonder if maybe this is the gojo that geto sees. childish, but well meaning. arrogant and cocky, but oddly innocent. selfish — but not really. you’re starting to think that you may have been slightly off, with that one.

the strawberry milk on your tongue tastes sweet. a little sweeter than usual, though you choose not to dwell on it.

”hey,” you break the silence, surprising even yourself. the words fall from your lips like soft little breaths, rolling off your tongue like marbles pouring out of a glass bottle. ”i don’t dislike you, you know?”

it’s an impulsive admission. saying it out loud doesn’t feel wrong, though. maybe a little humiliating, sure, but not wrong. not dishonest.

you suspect that gojo may be looking at you, out of the corner of his eye, but you aren’t sure. after all, you’re vehemently avoiding his gaze — a little embarrassed by your own sincerity. 

he doesn’t know how to respond. you’re being strangely unpredictable, today, and it makes him feel unsure of himself. your tone is soft, almost friendly. he only ever hears it when you’re talking to shoko or geto.

not learning his lesson, gojo opts to tease you again. as always. afraid to let the silence linger for too long. it’s a halfhearted attempt, though, more of a vaguely amused huff than anything. 

”what, got a crush on me or somethin’?”

this time, you don’t scoff, or roll your eyes, or give him an earnest fuck right off. you only chuckle, in a way that almost borders on fond. you’re not one to tease, contrary to the boy on your left, but your words are teasing even still. ”i have better taste than that.” 

gojo should be irked, should grumble and bite back, but you don’t give him the chance to. 

”i just… you know,” you taste the words on your tongue. ”i still think you’re annoying. and childish.” gojo huffs, and your lips curl up. ”but i really don’t dislike you.”

you take a sip of the strawberry milk, before continuing, hoping it’ll make the words easier to say. ”… and it’s not like i know you, anyway. so i’m sorry for making a bunch of assumptions.” 

a pause. for a split second, you quiet down, a little flustered. gnawing on your bottom lip.

”… that’s all i wanted to say,” you exhale, gaze glued to your lap. feeling a heat on your nape.

as always, you can’t tell what gojo’s thinking. out of the corner of your eye, you try to catch a glimpse of his face, but you have a nagging suspicion that it wouldn’t tell you anything anyway. his eyes are hidden by those sunglasses, after all, acting as a wall between him and the rest of the world. so you don’t know if the words reach him, if they mean anything at all. 

but you hope they do. even as you brush cherry petals and non-existent dust off your lap, and get up to leave.

gojo just sits there, for a second, deep in contemplation. 

he tries to bury a certain thought, before it has a chance to reach his frontal cortex — before he has to accept that it exists. only this time, he doesn’t succeed. the words die before they reach his tongue, but he hears them, in his head. he hears them loud and clear.

and he flushes under the light of the sun.

(i don’t really dislike you, either.) 

what actually ends up leaving his throat is merely a scoff, so faint he doubts you even hear it. 

”whatever,” he mutters, hoping it’ll come across as cool and unbothered. it doesn’t.

one last smile reaches your face, before you head back inside. gojo stays behind, on the bench, lost in thought.

tossing the now-empty carton into a trash can, you try to calm yourself down. feeling oddly excited, as if you’ve reached something, the start of an eventual conclusion. something worth cherishing.

you still don’t understand satoru gojo. but you get the impression that you just grew a little bit closer to him. there are layers to him, more than what meets the eye, hidden behind those sunglasses of his. you can only imagine what the world might look like, from his perspective. what you look like, reflected in his eyes, a blur of colours and facial features, sparks and dots.

you wonder if the whole world looks like a painting, to him. 

you feel a little ashamed, for thinking you had him all figured out. a spoiled, self-centered rich kid, with no functional empathic abilities. it might be partially true, but you’ll have to reevaluate the statement. to see how well it holds up. you still don’t think his emotional intelligence is anything to gawk at, but you may have been underestimating it. it’s there, despite everything — in those eyes, in that single carton of strawberry milk.

you think there’s a certain maturity, there, in spite of his childishness. or perhaps the latter is no more than a product of the former, a way for damaged children to dress their wounds. the way he carries himself and the way he speaks both seem a bit forced. like he’s used to performing, used to moving in a way that demands attention. all eyes on him, at all times. 

you think that sounds just a little exhausting. 

even as you return to the safety of your dorm room, you still can’t help but wonder. there’s still so much you don’t know. despite the moment you shared, and the connection you think may be growing between you, he’s still so out of reach. almost lonely, in a way. you wonder what he looks like, when he’s alone, when there’s no one around to perform for. 

(what is an actor without their audience?)

and, despite everything, after all is said and done — you really, really don’t understand satoru gojo. not at all, not in the slightest. not one bit.

but you think you’d maybe like to.

[mariasont]

What if I put an insane little idea in your head and let it bounce around? Mid seasons (7/8 ish?) Spencer with a kinnda sorta fangirl? She just started at the BAU and it’s not that she’s weird about him but she does have like 3 of his papers memorized down to the letter and she “possibly quoted him on her college application essay” (it’s the literal conclusion).

Like she’s just this little ball of excitement and he has no clue what to do when the team is like “ask her out for the love of god and stop making heart eyes when she lets you nerd out”

Sorry if this makes no sense it’s 2:30 in the morning

FANGIRL - S.R

a/n: AHHHHH BECAUSE WHAT IF I JUST SMOOCHED YOU

loved, loved, LOVED this idea and writing it! you are amazing <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: reader being a fangirl for reid because WHO WOULDNT BE UGH

wc: 1.2k

"Dr. Reid, hi, it's such an honor. I'm the new agent."

You give him your name, hand extended out to him, bouncing off the balls of your feet. There was a badge pinned to your shirt, the clip attached to it gleaming in the fluorescent light, which despite its usual severity, seemed to soften around you.

Spencer comes to a standstill, his coffee suspended mid-sip, documents wrinkled in his hands as he assesses you. You are pretty. exceedingly so, but he's having trouble processing it, his mind still shrouded in the remnants of sleep. 

He blinks away his surprise. "Nice to meet you. Hotch must've briefed you about the team, I assume?"

He adjusted the heap of papers to under his arm, freeing his hand to meet yours. The softness he encountered prompted a momentary pause, awakening a sudden urge to not let go. However, he promptly set aside the thought, releasing your hand with a concealed hesitation. 

You fiddled with your earlobe, you shot him a sheepish smile. "Yeah, Hotch did, but I already knew a bit about you. I've always been a fan of your work. I mean, not like a fan per se, because that would be weird, right? But I've read all your papers, and they're just... they're brilliant, honestly."

Spencer was clearly caught off guard, his brows leaping upwards as he surveyed you. You weren't lying--that much was clear to him. He could see it in the way you met his eyes with an enthusiasm so bright it was nearly blinding.

"My work? You're actually familiar with it?"

A soft giggle bubbled from you, a sweet sound that seemed to momentarily leave him winded. He placed his coffee on the desk, leaning back slightly. 

"Oh, definitely. Your research on chemical composition analysis in narcotics? I've read it so many times I could probably recite it in my sleep."

He considered the possibility of you exaggerating. He took great pride in his work and (without sounding too cocky) he was well aware of its significance and contribution to his field. However, there's a difference between knowing your work is recognized and encountering someone who has internalized it to such a degree--especially someone like you. He suddenly felt a touch of self-consciousness.

"I'm sorry, that was too much, right? I promised I'd play it cool, and then I saw you and... well, it's all just really surreal," you said before gesturing vaguely towards the bullpen. "Anyway, I'm going to go, uh, find my desk."

You hurried away before he could refute your words, head bowed. He felt like an ass.

The day threw him off balance. His contributions to the team lacked their usual insight, his mental gears turning more slowly. And for some inexplicable reason, he found himself preoccupied with thoughts of you. He attempted to rationalize it as a reaction to your interest in his work, a level of admiration that was a rare find. Unlike the formal niceties from others, your excitement about his work, about him, stood out.

He tried to latch onto Hotch's deductions about the unsub, willing his intellect to snap to attention and offer up a decent theory. However, a glance in your direction derailed his efforts. You were bent over the desk, your hands animatedly navigating through the papers. He was happy to see your enthusiasm was there despite his lack thereof earlier.

"Based on the geographic profiling and the choice of victims, it looks like the unsub has a background in urban planning."

Emily nods, "Good theory. What led you to that?"

He watches the anxious flicker in your eyes, glancing towards him, hands clasped together as you incline your head his way.

"Actually, I read about a similar case in Dr. Reid's paper on The Spatial Patterns of Serial Offenses." It strikes him then--he hasn't yet invited you to use his first name, adding another tick to the ever-growing list of ways he feels he's been inadvertently discourteous. "The clustering of crime scenes near arterial routes suggests the offender leverages the urban grid to facilitate escape and avoid detection. Embarrassingly enough, that was the topic of my college application essay."

Spencer was momentarily speechless (not something that happened often), his mind racing through the physiological response to shock--catecholamine release, vagal tone alterations, even transient arrhythmias--mirroring the way his heart seemed to skip a beat. You really did have his work memorized.

"That's, uh, right," he said, his voice gaining momentum. "By leveraging the urban grid, the offender not only evades capture but also creates a psychological terrain of control."

Hotch nodded in agreement, turning your attention to a series of photographs.

Before Spencer even looked her way, he could sense Garcia's stare, and as he turned, she prodded him with her elbow, smirking. "Seems like she's quite the match for you, doesn't she?"

"Huh? What? No, I mean--she's my coworker, and besides, she's much younger." Spencer was quite sure he sounded anything but convincing.

Garcia raises an eyebrow, shaking her head. "I meant in terms of smarts, but oookay, Spencer."

She walked out with a bounce in that definitely hadn't been there earlier, and Spencer was left with a red face.

He had every intention of pulling you aside, to apologize for earlier, to reassure that he didn't find you odd or weird, and to admit that he was genuinely flattered. But it appeared that every time he had a chance to make it to your desk, you had vanished, or were in deep conversation with JJ, or inside Hotch's office.

It was a relentless cycle that persisted until the end of the day, when everyone began to leave--except for you, who remained still firmly planted at your desk, fervently jotting notes into your notebook.

Absorbed in your work, you didn't notice his approach until he cleared his throat.

"Hey," he said softly.

Startled, you flinched, prompting him to immediately feel like shit. Strike three. You laughed off the shock when you realized it was him, moving your notebook aside, offering him your undivided attention.

"Sorry, Dr. Reid, hi! How's it going? Is there something I can do for you?"

"I thought I'd see if you needed help with anything, and you can call me Spencer, if you want." He glanced at his watch. "Are you still working?"

You pushed a piece of hair from your face and nodded towards the formidable pile of forms. 

"Spencer, okay," you said, like you were testing it out, "and just sorting through a mountain of onboarding paperwork."

He nodded, hesitating slightly before speaking. "Listen, I need to apologize for earlier."

You tilted your head. "What for?"

"I think I wasn't as welcoming as I intended to be."

"That's okay, I know I was a bit intense."

He shook his head. "No, you weren't. It's just... It's rare that my work gets much attention. I'm happy you appreciated it. If there's a specific topic that you're more interested in, maybe I could explain more about it sometime?"

You glanced down at your hands, trying to hide the smile that was blooming there. You weren't successful. When you looked back up, Spencer felt a little bit awestruck by your eyes, the flecks of color that he could now see clearly.

"I'd love that. Maybe over coffee?" you suggested.

"Yeah, sure." He could feel the heat rushing up his neck. 

He reluctantly parted ways, leaving you to your paperwork, and as he approached the elevator, Penelope was there.

"You know, sugar, maybe I did mean quite the match in a romantic way. So, are you going to ask her out, or shall I play Cupid?"

He blushed. "I think she might have just beat me to it."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles

join my taglist here!

[inuyashaluver]

if you do start doing player x r x player you could do one with leah and alessia 👀

slice of life - alessia russo, leah williamson

alessia russo x leah williamson x reader

description: in which you and your two girlfriends enjoy life together

warnings: i am not shipping these girls together THIS IS FICTION, LOVES, polyamory, i dont really think there's many warnings?

a/n: another fic for my lovelies and its a THROUPLE?! this was actually so fun to write but it’s SOOO RANDOMMMM, i hope you guys enjoy this because i know its not everyone's cup of tea! enjoy, enjoy, enjoy, and thank you so much for the request!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if someone were to tell you in the past that you would be dating two of your teammates, who also happen to be your best friends, you would laugh in their face. 

you didn’t think it would be possible, basically growing up with the two girls and then suddenly finding yourself in a relationship with both of them. 

it was exciting and just worked, it was a mutual understanding between the three of you. there was just something so simple about being with each other, in the beginning it was confusing but it slowly grew to be more comfortable. 

you all played together in the lionesses, as well as arsenal, so the progression of the relationship came naturally.

you originally were dating leah, when you were 23 and her 25. and as the two of you grew closer, so did another certain blonde unexpectedly. 

you and leah weren’t really sure how it happened, but alessia added herself into the equation, and now the three of you have been together for essentially 3 years and you all couldn’t be happier. 

you had your own lives, the relationship not a secret rather private, and that’s how you all liked it. 

—

“baby, i cant find my boots anywhere!” alessia whines from the living room, you could hear the pout laced in her words, alessia was always one to misplace something and come crying to you for help.

“clumsy lessi” leah chuckles from the ensuite bathroom, watching you trudge out the bedroom to help your girlfriend. 

“lessi baby” you laugh, watching her throw the living room apart for her shoes. “yeah?” her head pops up from behind the couch, you’re unable to stop yourself from smiling at her slightly dishevelled appearance, to which she amusingly rolled her eyes. 

“babe, they’re right there” you snicker, pointing to the two neon yellow cleats by the door. her head snaps in the direction of your finger, immediately groaning once she saw her boots in the place she swore she double checked. her head falls back as she lays flat on the floor, you laugh brightly at the curses falling from alessia’s lips. 

“what’s all the giggles in here for then?” leah’s voice fills the space of your giggles, the older girl coming behind you with her arms wrapped around your middle. your head swivels slightly to face your other girlfriend, the blonde quickly closing the gap and placing a kiss on your lips. 

“lessi’s funny” you mumble against leah’s lips, making her chuckle against yours. 

and of course, alessia’s whines pick up again at feeling slightly left out. leah chuckles when she spots alessia scrambling to stand up, she lets go of you for a moment, spinning you gently into the arms of an awaiting alessia. 

alessia without a second thought cradles your cheek, kissing you sweetly. “i get no fun around here, always sharing” leah mocks watching you too, making alessia outstretch her hand to leah, pulling her into an impromptu group hug. 

you were sandwiched in the middle of the two, the girls now sharing a kiss above you before both of them attack your cheeks with kisses, all three of you giggling cheekily. 

“alessia lost her boots and they’re right over there” you chuckle, leaning back into leah when alessia moves past the both of you to get changed, always finding herself running a little late. 

leah laughs with you as you explained the situation, alessia’s groans only making the moment funnier. “don’t be mean to her, she’ll sulk all day” leah whispers in your ear.

you turn to her with a mock look of offence, “she will not” you whisper loudly back, leah mocks your voice with a smile, running away from you as you chased her back into the bedroom. 

—

“(y/n) was so mean to me today, you know? i asked her for help in a life or death situation and she just laughed at me” alessia explained to a laughing vic and kyra, making you stop rolling out your quads in the gym with leah, “i told you” leah says under her breath but you heard it. 

“russo! it was not life or death, it was just your boots!” you exclaim, making alessia snap her head toward you, “who do you think you’re talking to? who is russo?” she scoffs, clutching her heart at hearing her last name fall from your mouth instead of your usual pet names. 

“i’m talking to you” you grumble, feeling leah place her hand on your bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze. “baby, that hurt!” alessia chuckles, playfully winking at your unamused expression. 

you turn to look at leah, looking at her for back up. 

“lovey, she’s mucking around, go kiss and make up” leah pleads with a smirk, clearly teasing you. you give her a slightly shocked expression, the older girl usually backing you up in situations like this. 

“lee-” you pout, leah places a quick kiss on your lips, squeezing your cheeks together to form a pout. “no, darling, go make up with less, i’m not dealing with the bickering all the way home” she says firmly, always the most level headed in your relationship. 

she gives you a hand up before giving you an encouraging squeeze to your hips, pushing you over to alessia sitting on a bench. you huff but sit on the blonde’s lap, her hand immediately placed on your thigh as you sat down. 

“hello, gorgeous” alessia swoons, kissing your cheek affectionately despite your blank stare. “say i wasn’t mean to you” you say simply as alessia tries to kiss your lips before you dodge it. 

“baby, i was joking” alessia smirks, bumping her nose on your cheek. “alessia” you whine, the blonde giggling as she placed more apologetic kisses to your cheek, making a little giggle escape your lips occasionally. 

“you weren’t being mean, baby, i’m sorry,” alessia says earnestly, making you smile down at her cheekily before giving her that kiss she wanted, later talking with her and the other girls back and forth before you made your way back to leah. the younger blonde giving your behind a playful slap. 

“thin ice!” you remind her, walking into leah’s outstretched arms. “good girl” leah croons, giving you a tight squeeze and sending alessia a wink. 

—

“what if she forgot something?” you say to leah anxiously, the blonde watching you pace in front of her with an amused smile on her face. 

“two weeks ago, you were fighting about boots” leah chuckles, you send her a glare and she stops, “she didn’t forget anything, love, you packed her bag” leah reminds you, 

“i know, but i’m worried about her” you say anxiously, thinking about your girlfriend who was currently travelling to australia for a friendly match against the A-league all stars team. both you and leah weren’t selected in the team this time. 

“my girl,” leah coos, “alessia will be okay, baby, i know you miss her” you pout and flop on the couch,  “you’ve got me though, sunshine” leah teases, smoothing the furrow between your eyebrows with the pad of her thumb.

“i know, lee, i love you” you send her a small smile "i love you more", you couldn’t help but miss alessia, the three of you were so used to each other’s company now. when one was away from the trio, it made the other’s a little sad, even if they didn't want to admit it.

leah could tell alessia’s absence was hitting a little harder than normal, she missed the other blonde too but didn’t want to dampen the mood. leah knew, the only thing that you were thinking about was that message from alessia that she had arrived at the hotel.

“how about we watch an episode of our show? i promise i won’t tell less” leah attempts, clearly working by the ways your eyes lit up at her words.

leah immediately grabbed snacks and made the couch more comfortable, cuddling up next to you and pressing play on the tv.

you kept anxiously checking the time, waiting for alessia’s message that she had landed safely. cuddling with leah on the couch, the two of you chatted. 

you felt bad about your mind being preoccupied about your girlfriend when your other one was basically melted on top of you but you knew leah understood your worries about the youngest out of the three.

it was until leah’s phone began to vibrate that you both sat up, seeing the name ‘lessi bear’ on leah’s home screen with a silly photo of the two of you under it.

leah chuckled at the sound of your gasp, shaking her head amusingly before passing you her phone, you answered immediately. "pause the tv" you hiss before pressing the green button.

“8 seconds, williamson, that’s appalling” alessia grumbled, hating when leah was slow with answering the phone, “oh, you're not williamson, hello, baby girl!” alessia says brightly, you smile back at her through the facetime call, ignoring the scoff that came from leah’s mouth.

“i can’t believe you called leah first and not me!” you tease, watching alessia laugh brightly, dressed in one of your hoodies, her hair lightly framing her face with the hood on top of her head. she looked so comfy and cozy, you were really missing her at this point.

“leah told me to call her first” alessia clarifies, smiling at you with pink cheeks, “traitor” leah mumbles, “what was that?” you smile at leah, clearly smitten at hearing the voice of alessia.

“nothing, darling” she smiles, kissing your temple affectionately before reaching out to hold the phone for the both of you to be in the frame.

“how was your flight?” you ask her, weirdly shy for some reason, something alessia caught onto quickly, she chuckles, rustling in the bed slightly adjusting herself to be more comfortable.

“it was good, love, except i dropped my phone during the beginning of it” leah laughs at alessia through the phone, you couldn't help but chuckle as well before your other girlfriend began whining about how you both didn’t love her.

after a room tour and chatter between the three of you, you couldn't help but grow a little drowsy, the time difference proving to be a little difficult for you.

“as soon as she hears your voice, she’s out” leah grins at a dozing you on her chest, alessia chuckles affectionately, “i miss you both” she breathes out, taking a few screenshots of the cute scene playing out in front of her.

“she's been worried about you, less, she keeps thinking you forgot something” leah says quietly, her hand rubbing up and down your back in an attempt to keep you asleep.

“don't tell her, i forgot my phone charger” alessia says sheepishly, leah bites back a laugh, body shaking a little but some miracle keeping you asleep. "the one thing she told you to pack yourself" leah teases, alessia rolling her eyes "shut up, babe"

“i knew it” she whispers, chatting back and forth with alessia, making sure to go captain mode and tell her some tactics. 

“say goodnight to her for me?” alessia pleads, leah nods instantly, kissing the crown of your head before whispering “lessi says goodnight, bubba”.

they exchange a loving goodbye and a kiss to the camera before getting some sleep. you and leah waking up extra early to watch the match.

—

leah sits at the kitchen island of your shared apartment absolutely glued to her computer, the older girl insisting she must be the one to book all your flights for the off-season, not wanting anything to go wrong at all.

alessia was on the way home from her australia trip, having already landed and getting a lift with steph, her house close to yours. you were currently making some dinner, alessia’s favourite that she had been begging you to make for her when she came back home.

leah was extremely focused on her task at hand, offering you simple, ‘mhm’, ‘yeah’ and ‘okay, baby’ when she could. 

you were bored waiting for alessia, only needing to do the finishing touches when the blonde walked through the front door. you wanted to cure your boredom with your other girlfriend but she simply was preoccupied and you couldn’t have that.

“i'm thinking of going to get a new outfit tomorrow” you attempt, “that’s nice” leah offers mutely, barely giving you anything. you frown at the lack of response from the england captain.

“i can’t wait to see alessia” you smile, “mhm, me too” she mumbles, you scoff at her response, you know she’s doing something important but you were just so bored, and alessia was due to come home at any minute. the rapid typing of leah’s keyboard was beginning to get on your nerves.

“you know, alessia is definately my favourite player” you say proudly, hearing the complete silence now filling the room. leah looks up at you with an icy glare, suddenly all her attention devoted to you.

“do you want to say that again?” leah grits out before being interrupted by alessia trudging through the door.

“lessi!” you say happily, rushing over to alessia and pulling her into a tight hug, alessia drops her bag to catch you just in time, chuckling affectionately as you clung onto her. “aw, my love” alessia grins as you peck her cheeks repeatedly.

she places you down with your arms interlocked, “don't look so happy to see me, lee baby” alessia laughs, both of you now looking at a frowning leah, her arms crossed firmly over her chest as she watched you two in your loved up bubble.

“what’s her problem?” alessia whispers to you, you just shake your head and smile up at her brightly, “doesn't matter” you assure, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

“i’ve got a bone to pick with you, russo!” leah complains.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily tooney

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 44,232 others

alessia: my favourite girls in the world!

view all comments

yourname: one more than the other, though, right?

↳ alessia: cheeky baby

↳ leahwilliamsonn: you’re not denying anything?

↳ yourname: oooooo you’re in troubleeeeee

↳ alessia: sigh

↳ leahwilliamsonn: both of you are in time out.

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

The Dragon and the Dragon-less

Pairing: Aemond x Strong niece reader

Summary: The night Aemond had lost his eye, his sweet niece was the only one to provide him any sense of comfort. Many years later, when she returns to Kings Landing with her family, what should become of the two? ;)

Warnings: bad ship terminology (idk boats y'all sorry), Rhaenyra being kind of a bad mom (love her tho), Targcest/incest, softer Aemond, smut in the dragon pits, this one is kind of long haha

AN: Hey y'all! Since my first fic seemed to be received so well (thanks so much to everyone for that:) I decided to write another one! I'm staying on the Aemond train since I've never left it since day one haha. Let me know tho if there are any requests!

PS: I haven't gone through and totally edited this so don't mind the spelling or grammar issues if there are any!!

It had been awful, you remembered hearing the screaming and shouting from your chambers. The screeching having woken you up from a rather pleasant dream about eating cake–

In nothing but your night clothes, and a quilt draped around your shoulders, you padded down the chilly hallways of Dragonstone. 

“ – it was my sons who were attacked!” You hear your mother yell. Concerned you took a few more steps forward, finally able to make out the scene before you. Your mother and your brothers to one side, while Alicent and her boys on the other, the fire raging in the hearth between them. 

Your wide lilac eyes meet those of your stepfather, Prince Daemon, he reaches a hand out towards you as if to say “Come here”. Your feet did not move, rooted to the spot, eyes glancing around the room once more. You see something you hadn’t noticed before, Aemond, in the corner of the room, surrounded by maesters. A hand over his eye, thick, sticky fluid oozing from between his small fingers. Gasping, your own hands fly to cover your lips, perhaps to muffle the noise, or maybe to tame the scream building in your throat. Aemond’s healthy eye meets yours, pain, sadness but most of all fury over taking his features. 

Just then your mother turns to meet you, her gaze worried and frantic, “My sweet girl! You should return to your chambers this is no sight for you dearest,” her hand, also bloody you notice, rests above her heart.

“Mother, w-what has happened? Aemond, h-he, is he alright–” You begin to question, Daemon takes a step towards you and you take one forward into the room. Your concerned gaze flits over to Aemond once more. Despite the fire in the hearth, the chill of the room has set into your bones, causing you to pull the quilt tighter around your shoulders. 

“Come now byka zaldrīzes (little dragon) let us return you to your quarters. Aemond will be fine,” Your father attempts to comfort you. Maybe you are too tired to argue, or too shocked, your mind still attempting to comprehend what has happened. But you let your father guide you back to your chambers, the quilt trailing behind you like a cloak. 

With a lullaby and a pat on the head, Daemon bids you good night once more. Closing the door softly behind him, his heavy footsteps receding off into the distance, presumably back to your mother and brothers. It feels like hours as you stare at the ceiling, listening, straining your ears for even just a morsel of information. But the halls beyond your door remain as silent as the grave. The chill in your bones is stubborn, making you shiver. Sitting up and swinging your feet over the side of the bed, you wrap the quilt around your shoulders once again. As silently as possible, you open the door, the hall is empty save for the torches lining the walls. You’re bathed in the fiery orange glow as you step fully into the hall. 

You’re not quite sure where your feet carry you until you turn the corner and are met with Ser Criston Cole. His tall stature taking up the door frame of the young prince's room, his gold cloak behind him like an inverse shadow. It’s not until you come to stand in front of him that he addresses you. 

“Princess, you should not be here. You should return to your chambers,” He looks down his nose at you. Your knuckles turn white from the tight grip you have on the quilt.

“Please, Ser, I must see the Prince. What has happened to him? I must know if he is alright–” 

“Your brothers have maimed him. Who’s to say you aren’t here to do the same? Perhaps your whore of a –” The door behind him creaks a bit, one of the maesters appears in its place. Bloodied rags and a needle are held in his hands. He sighs “The prince says she may pass Ser Cole,”

With one last look of annoyance and a warning mumbled under his breath, the knight lets you pass. The room is dark, lit only by a few candles on the bedside table. Aemond’s hunched form lays on the bed, the blankets up to his chin. As you make your way closer you can see the true horror of what has happened this evening. Where his eye once was, now lays only marred flesh, red and angry, the stitches pull at the swollen skin. You gasp, shocked, a sick feeling settling into the pit of your stomach.

“Ugly isn’t it?” Aemond asks you, bitterness lacing his voice. As he speaks you make your way to his side, sitting lightly on the bed, next to his hip. Your small hand searching for his under the covers, to comfort him, or maybe to warm your own. 

“H-how did this happen? Who could possibly have–”

“Your brothers. Lucerys stole my eye. But an eye for a dragon is a fair price to pay is it not niece?” A proud, sad smile graces his features. While your brothers had dragons since they were but babes, you were not as lucky. Syrax had not laid a full nest, and your mother had decided it was best to give your brothers the two eggs. All the while you have remained dragonless. 

“Vhagar is now mine, and on the morrow, we shall leave this wretched place. And I will fly on dragon back to the Red Keep.” His singular lilac eye meets yours. “I promise you, sweet niece, one day I shall take you for a ride on dragon back. Show you the freedom that comes with it,” His previously bloodied fingers intertwined with yours. 

“I would like that very much uncle,” Looking down at your joined hands, a small smile of your own matching his. 

— — — — — — —

The waters of the sea lap against the side of the ship, the slap against the wood echoing around you. Overpowered only by the screeching of your family's dragons above you. Alone, you ride on this ship, well alone save for the ship hands and captain assigned by your father. Still, at the age of nine and ten, you remain dragonless, made to travel to the Red Keep by boat.

Your brothers claim to Driftmark had come into question, prompting the visit back to your old home. You hadn’t been back here since–

Your mother and father had determined it best to keep the family at Dragonstone after Aemond lost his eye. Although you had always suspected part of the reasoning for that was your mothers fear of retribution from Alicent for what your brother had done. Perhaps it was a long time coming though, your brothers as well as Aegon had picked on Aemond ruthlessly for years prior to that night. You had been spared only by the simple facts that you were a little girl, and just weren’t in there presence as much. Despite your pleas to join in the yard for training you had been denied, and turned towards the library instead to study “things more befit for your station” as your mother had put it.

“We shall dock shortly Princess,” the ship captain’s voice drifted to you from behind the wheel. You stood on the platform with him, looking beyond the masthead, you see Syrax and Caraxes land in the dragon pits. You sigh, it looks like you’ll arrive alone at the Red Keep, not expecting your mother to wait for you. Her and Daemon needed to prepare for the events of tomorrow. 

Arriving at the Keep felt haunting, the lack of a welcome only contributing to that fact. Once docked, you were met by a singular carriage and it’s driver. The captain had assured you that your belongings were to be delivered to your chambers shortly. For all your fathers faults he did have good trust and faith in those he employed. The ship’s captain had been with your families since you were a girl. He and yourself not unfamiliar with these lonesome journeys. 

The gates of the Red Keep came into view as you rolled over the bumpy roads of Kings Landing. Gold Cloaks lined the gate’s walls, closing the massive gate doors behind you, shutting you in, locking you within the castle grounds. The carriage comes to a jumpy halt, the driver offering you his hand as you disembark your ride. Your fingers slip into his as your boots squelch in the mud below you, the clanging of swords and metal meet your ears. 

“Nephews, have you come to train?” A voice says, one you could not recognize. From across the yard you see your brothers, you wave to them, hoping to catch their eye. Luke turns his head towards you, a small smile playing at his lips. Noticing this, the source of the voice follows his gaze, a singular lilac eye meeting yours.

“Niece, how you have grown–” Aemond’s lone eye takes in your figure. My how you’ve grown indeed. Last time he had seen you you barely came up to his chin, your silver locks a messs contained in small braids. The flush that never seemed to leave your cheeks remained however. You had grown taller, still standing shorter than himself, which he finds excites him a bit. More than it should perhaps. You had grown into yourself in a way that was very pleasing to his eye, your face fuller and lovely. Your curves soft and plush, inviting him to touch and caress them. 

“Uncle,” you offer him a small curtsey. You can hear Jace scoff, as if annoyed by the action. Wanting yo say more, but not knowing what, you continue to look at one another. Your own eyes take in your uncle, he had grown taller, much taller. His muscles lean and corded beneath his tunic. His silver hair almost as long as yours, is pulled back slightly in a braid. Some hanging free, escaping their confines during his sparring. His eye was now covered in an eyepatch, made of black leather, the tops and bottoms of the scar still visible even with it on. 

The arrival of another carriage turns your gaze to the left, where you yourself had arrived only moments ago. Vaemond Valaryon steps out of the carriage and into the yard, sparing a glance at the Prince and your brothers. A look of disgust crosses his face as he lays his eyes on Luke. 

— — — — — — —

The meeting to question Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark is long and dull, at least in the beginning. Mustering his limited remaining strength your grandsire had sat the thrown. Disputing Otto and Alicent in their claims. He looks horrible you think. His skin looks to be gray and sloughing off of his bones. The Stranger would be coming for him soon. It is not until Vaemond brings into question your brother’s parentage once again, that the apprehensive peace shatters. 

“And she is a–”

“Say it,” your father’s hand that rests on the hilt of Dark Sister tightens, knuckles whitening. 

“ – a WHORE!” In one swift blow, Daemon sends Vaemond’s head rolling across the floor of the throne room. Blood trailed behind the appendage like a snail’s trail. The room is filled with gasps and short screams. Your own eyes widened looking at the head on the stone floor before you. By no means are you unfamiliar with your father's violent nature, and nor should the rest of the court. 

“Let him keep his tongue,” Daemon wipes the blood off of his blade, stepping back, sheathing the sword once more. 

As if some kind of magic pulls you, you lift your eyes from Vaemonds severed head and meet those of your uncle. A smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, he looks to be well entertained by the violent display. Caught in your staring, Aemond’s gaze rises to meet your own, his smirk widening into a more sadistic smile. 

“Now, for the final order of business. A more pleasant way to end this affair,” the king says, his mellow voice carrying across the stone-lined room. “I am blessed by the Gods to have such a large family, but it appears that the Gods hope to bless us some more,” It was becoming increasingly more clear that Alicent’s love for The Seven has bled not just into the castle but its people as well.  You think maybe it gives the king something comforting in his final days. 

“My son, Aemond, a fine warrior and scholar,” Aemond stands rigid and straight, uncomfortable with the new attention from his father. “And my granddaughter, if your mother had not already claimed the title of Realms Delight then it would be most certainly passed to you.” Your cheeks flush a bright pink, warmth rising to the tips of your ears. 

“This family has been divided for quite some time, I tend to rectify that. Aemond, my son, and my granddaughter the princess, shall be married,” The reactions around the room are mixed, some people applaud, some cover their shock with their hands. Wide, prying eyes jump between you and Aemond. You dare a look in his direction, he is still staring, the smile gone from his face now. Confusion, shock, anger? You cannot tell but it is not sweet, and it is not kind.

A wave of confidence washes over you as you step forward, “What is the meaning of this? Why have I not had any indication of this until now?!” You feel your mother’s hand grasp your elbow, urging you to stand beside her, silently. “It is the wish of your grandsire, byka zaldrīzes (little dragon). He is dying, do not fight him,” Your head whips aside, meeting her eyes, eyes filled with sadness. Did she know of this? Did she approve of this? Your father would not meet your eyes, nor your brothers, Jace toeing at an invisible stone on the floor. Did they all know, except for you? 

You tear your elbow from your mother’s grasp, she opens her mouth to speak once more, but your back is already turned. Your feet lead you towards the grand door. You had to leave, you needed to be anywhere else but here. Your chest tightens, your breathing ragged. Not with sadness or grief, no, but with anger and fury. You feel as though you could breathe fire as the dragons do. An angered scream tears past your lips, reverberating off of the stone walls of the Red Keep. 

— — — — — — —

You had decided it best to skip the family feast. And a good thing too, unbeknownst to you it had gone horribly. Lucerys mocking Aemond over the roasted pig, Aemond's “final tribute” to his Strong nephews. No, instead you had taken your dinner in the library, back amongst your beloved books. The sun had set an hour or two ago now, the torches along the halls lit. You didn’t know how late it was, you had been much too absorbed in your novel Lady Coryanne Wylde, A Cautionary Tale for Young Girls. 

The wax on the candles had burned low, and your wine had turned cold. It was time to retire. Taking the book with you, you began to make your way toward your chambers, your old chambers. The last time you had slept there you had been but a girl. As you turn the corner you are met with a hard wall of warm, corded muscle. Your book tumbling to the ground. A pair of strong hands plant themselves on your shoulders, to steady you. 

“Careful niece, someone might think you are up to no good, wandering the corridors, at night–alone” The smile from earlier returns to his lips, and just then, he notices the book on the floor. His smile becoming impossibly wider, you don’t think you’ve ever really seen Aemond smile, not like this anyway. It’s nice, you think to yourself.

“What’s this dear niece,” he bends down to pick up the novel, his slim fingers sifting through the pages, his eyebrows lifting. “Well, well, who would have thought–”

“Give that back!” You reach to snatch it from him, like a child, but he just holds it higher over his head. “Tell you what, I made a promise to you. Do you remember?” Of course, you remembered, you still thought about it sometimes, but all hope of fulfilling it had left you.

“Yes–” it came out more hoarse than you had intended. Your hand frozen, outstretched, Aemond still held the book over his head. 

“Come with me to meet Vhagar, for a ride,” he leaned closer to you, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “Come taste the freedom of the skies with me niece.” He had tucked the book behind his back. Aemond wasn’t a man who typically waited for an answer, nor was he one who liked when people disagreed with him. He’d throw you over his shoulder if he must. Even though his hatred for your family ran deep, he could never seem to hate you. You had endeared yourself to him time and time again as children, but the night he lost his eye. The night you visited him, the only one not angry, the only one not repulsed by his face. He knew then that he could never hate you, no matter how hard he’d tried. 

Words had suddenly failed you, your tongue dry. You simply nodded instead. In response, Aemond straightened to his full, imposing height, and turning without a word, he began his stride down the hall, towards the dragon pits. You followed him, but neither of you spoke, the halls of the Red Keep filled with an odd sort of comfortable silence. His hair had grown longer, much longer, and he walked with a sense of confidence that hadn’t been there before. 

The night air was chill, a slight breeze blew through your hair, tousling the strands. You were glad you had worn a gown with longer sleeves, it must be chilly up in the clouds. Aemond was sporting his riding clothes, the leather over his tunic reaching his wrists. He looked good, really good, you thought to yourself. The flush from earlier returning to your cheeks, as well as the warmth in the tips of your ears. 

Aemond comes to a stop before the pits, waiting for you, the book still behind his back, taunting you. You suppose that was his insurance policy in case you had said no to joining him. You can only imagine your father's reaction to seeing you read such debauchery. You were his sweet little girl after all…

“Come now niece, no harm shall come to you while I am near,” He held his hand out to you, and you slipped your fingers between his. His hands are much smoother than the ship captains from earlier, you thought. His hand was warm, the blood of the dragon coursing through his veins. The sound of beating wings from up above drew you out of your daze. A dark shadow crossed over the pair of you, coming to land only several passes in front of you. Vhagar stood proud and strong, if not slightly tired. Her form was weathered by time and battle. It’s a blessing from the Gods that she can still take to the skies as she does. 

Aemond drew you nearer to her, your hand still held tightly in his, like all those years ago. “Give her a pat, she won’t bite, not unless I tell her to,” He chuckled a bit at his own joke, your eyes widening slightly, making him laugh all the more. “No need to be frightened, she’s quite gentle actually,” He guided your hand up to the beast's snout, his fingers had moved to circle your wrists, making the action easier. Your hand lay splayed out before you against Vhagar’s scales, her skin impossibly hot. The hand on your wrists moves to cover your own on the dragon. From behind you, Aemonds other hand rests on your waist lightly, like a whisper on the wind. Mayhaps this marriage won’t be too bad after all? Your anger from earlier was not directed at him you realize, but rather at the other members of your family. You were never pleased when things were kept from you when you were lied to. You like his hand there, you like it a lot, it provides you a sense of comfort and security as you stand before this large beast. You wonder how his calloused hands would feel elsewhere…

Aemond retracts his hand, yours following closely behind, you can still feel the heat of Vhagar’s scales on the skin of your palms. You begin to be tugged backward in the direction of Vhagar’s saddle. Aemond motions for you to begin climbing the ropes that lead to the mount, he follows behind you; prepared to catch you should the need arise. The saddle is less like a saddle and more like a small chariot on top of the dragon. It comfortably seats the two of you, and could even squeeze in a third. 

Aemond positions you in front of him, his legs caging yours, his arms reaching around the front of you to grasp onto the reigns. “Are you ready?” The question is whispered to you, his lips brushing your ear once more as he speaks. You rather like this position, the warmth radiating off of his body will surely keep you warm above the clouds. 

“Yes, yes I think I am,” Your own hands come up to rest atop his, surely just to steady yourself, and not at all because you were becoming increasingly more desperate to touch or be touched by the man behind you. 

“Sōvēs Vhagar!” Aemond pulls back and yells into the night air, sparring your delicate eardrums. The beast below you growls and jolts into action. She takes a few long strides before beginning to beat her wings, as she takes off into the crisp night air. 

Eyes glued shut you think you yell out a little yelp of initial fear and surprise. Aemond’s legs press tighter down on your own as if to reassure you that you are safe with him and his dragon. As Vhagar evens out her flying, coasting just above the clouds, you dare to open your eyes. Behind you, Aemond cannot stop the smile from spreading across his lips, he cannot see your face but he hopes it is a happy one. He’ll take you out flying every day that you are married if it will make you happy. He would burn the world down if it meant he could keep you safe and happy. To make you his. 

Truthfully he wasn’t all that surprised by his father’s announcement of your betrothal. As a boy, even before the incident, he had asked his mother and grandsire, Otto, what lords would court you, and if any would be good enough for a princess. It wasn’t until after he lost his eye that he first breached the subject of marriage to his mother. He’d told her he deserved it, that after all the pain he had gone through, it was only fair for him to spend his life beside someone whom he cared so deeply for. At the time his mother had just given him a kiss on the forehead saying “Perhaps one day, we shall see,” A sad smile had crossed her face then.

He’d given up on the hope of marrying for love after that. The ladies of court found him elusive and repulsive, opting to flirt with his brother, despite his marriage to Helaena. A few moons ago, Aegon had made a jest at Aemond’s expense, something about being tied to a Strong for all eternity. He had ignored it, deeming it nothing more than one of his brother's drunken comments. However, after the events of today, it seems he was not jesting after all.

Aemond is broken out of his thoughts by a lovely, bubbly sound. You’re laughing, your arms spread wide, fingers splayed out letting the wind rush through them. He immediately goes to grasp your waist, his legs still caged around yours, steading you, anchoring you to him and the saddle. 

“What the sweet Hells are you doing?! Put your hands back on the reigns!” He exclaims. You giggle some more, the wind drying your teeth as you smile. 

“I cannot uncle! You were right, this is marvelous! I feel as though I could rule the world from up here!” He had never seen anyone as dazzling as you were in this moment. Vhagar gave a slight jolt as she began to descend back downwards, causing you to jump forward a bit, hands grasping the reigns once more.

“I told you – “ He murmurs against your hair, placing a small kiss on your head. After another moment Aemond begins to guide Vhagar back towards the dragon pits. There’s a strain in his trousers he can ignore no longer. Years of pent-up desire and want boiling over. Ever the gentleman, he assists you in descending the beast. This time he goes first, his hand in yours as he helps you with the final jump down. 

“That was incredible, uncle that was truly –” Aemond uses his grip on your hand to tug you forward, clutching you to his chest, his lips meeting yours. You gasp into his mouth, surprised by the boldness of his actions. Before you are given the opportunity to reciprocate, he pulls away, a slight frown on his face.

“My apologies, I should not have–” 

“Yes, you should have actually. Why did you stop, I was quite enjoying myself,” You pull on the collar of his tunic, tugging his chapped lips back down to yours. Aemond uses his taller stature to guide you back up against a pillar within the pits. The two of you made only out of sight by half of a pillar, and Vhagar’s sleeping form. 

“And what if I were to take you, right here? Right now? Like a scene from your debaucherous novel,” He exclaims, his lips moving, forming a trail from your jaw down to your collarbone. Surely leaving marks, and love bites as he goes. Oh if only his brother could see him now, he thinks that perhaps Aegon would congratulate him on finally “getting it wet”. 

His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. He was everywhere, all of your senses were overwhelmed by him. The smell of the oils used to wash his hair filled your nostrils, the smokiness from Vhagar had made a home in the threads of his clothes. You’re nearly positive that you must smell similar, you’ll need to get your gown cleaned certainly. 

Your hands began to fumble with the belt of his trousers, your fingers making clumsy work of the buckle. Aemond pulls away only for a moment to assist you, then he begins to work on the strings of your corset. His movements were desperate and quick, neither of you having the patience to wait much longer. All the while his lips never left your skin. You feel him smile against your skin as Vhagar makes a slight noise of annoyance at your escapades. Somehow between your messy kisses, your skirts had been rucked up to your hips, Aemond’s deft fingers making contact with your small clothes. 

“You’re rather wet dear niece. Do I rile you up so huh? I wonder how wet you’ll be with my cock inside your sweet cunt,” He says that last bit almost more so to himself rather than you. In response, a small whimper escapes your lips. Aemond looks up to meet your eyes. A certain twinkle reflects at you from his. 

“Another night I shall spend hours ravishing you, but I need to be inside you, now.” He gives his cock a few strokes, preparing himself. Your eyes widen at the sight, his shaft long and thick, his head red and leaking arousal. It was, invigorating, knowing that you could illicit such a response from him. With a delicate kiss to your lips and one final look of permission, Aemond sheathes himself inside you. Your warm walls squeeze him perfectly, welcoming him in. Gods he could stay right here like this forever. 

“ – move. Aemond Gods move please,” You begged him, your walls had adjusted to him. Feeling wonderful and full. He began slow, his thrusts taking on a rhythmic flow. Aemond tucks his face into the crook of your neck, smelling your hair, his grunts and groans in your ear. You drag your nails down his clothed back, perhaps next time you’ll be able to fully leave your marks on his skin. Thank the Gods Vhagar had decided to remain put, it would ruin your honor should anyone find you like this; even though your virtue was promised to him already.

“Fuck– I don’t know if I’ll be able to last much longer ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved). You are just too perfect–” He cuts himself off with a grunt.

“Finish then, let go Aemond, let got for me please, I–” You beg him, you need it just as much as he does.

“Not before you ñuha jorrāeliarzy (my beloved).” Aemond moves down to circle your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. The pace of his thrusts picked up, your hands remained looped around his neck, anchoring yourself to him.

“Aemond, oh Aemond, Gods I’m gonna–” The words that left your mouth made hardly any sense. The words and phrases twist and turn into a bizarre hymn to your betrothed. 

“Cum, cum for me Jorrāelagon (love), give yourself over to me–” Aemond begged you. His lips biting and nipping at the flesh of your neck. On his command, a wave of pleasure washes over you, like the seas crashing into the shores of Driftmark. You remember drifting off to sleep as a girl to the lullaby of the sea. Aemond’s own release follows closely after your own. Still nestled inside of you, he rests his forehead against yours, sighing contentedly. 

“You know, when I was a boy, I had asked my mother to ask Rhaenyra for your hand. I had begged her actually,” He chuckles a bit at his anecdote.

“Did you?” You laugh along with him, less at the story and more so at the ridiculousness of your current situation. You feel him nod, his forehead brushing against yours as he does so. 

“Well,” you say in response, “ I had always wanted a dragon of my own. I had begged my mother actually”, you imitate Aemond’s words, giggling a bit as you do, “but now I need not ask any longer. For I have my very own dragon right here.” You place a kiss on his nose as you say this.

“Well my love, no longer shall you be dragonless, not as long as I am around anyways,” Aemond reassures you. He supposed he had two dragons now as well, with Vhagar he would burn the world down, but you gave him a reason to do so. With fire and blood he would protect you, love you, for that is the way of the dragon, that is the way of Prince Aemond Targaryen, your beloved betrothed. 

Tag List:

@ helaenaluvr  @ anukulee

[enwoso]

Alessia Russo + reporter!gf, where Alessia is nonstop flirting with Reader on national television when you're trying to interview her

LIVE TO ALL — alessia russo

masterlist

you were a sports journalist for itv, travelling up and down the country as well as across the world each week to cover matches as well as try and get some of the players thoughts and opinions on the game.

today was the england lionesses vs sweden at home, at a sold out wembley. the game being tense but the girls pulling out a win by one goal and of course it being scored by non other than the alessia russo who just happened to be on your radar to interview.

normally it would take some convincing from some players to get them to do a quick post match interview, most players after a win wanting to celebrate and after a loss was when it was even harder to get players to interview as they just generally weren’t in the mood, understandably.

however luckily you wouldn’t have to do much convincing to get england’s star girl for an interview as she just so happened to also be your girlfriend. so one little bat of the eyelashes and a flash of the smile and the blonde would be right over.

so as your team handed her a mic as she walked over from the pitch hugging you tight as you sent her a loving smile trying your best to remain professional but the girl just looked so gorgeous even after running around a pitch for ninety minutes, her hair slicked back a few flyaways had came loose above her as well as her cheeks being slightly flushed pink probably from the amount of running she’d done.

“so alessia another sold out wembley for the lionesses, does the feeling ever change walking out and seeing that many people in the stadium?” you began the interview as alessia nodded along with what you were saying, her bottom lip inbetween her teeth as you watched as her eyes roamed your face as she held her eye contact with you instead of the camera like she was supposed to.

there was a slight pause between your question and the blonde starting her answer, “oh um it definitely helps to keep us motivated whilst we are playing- as we love seeing our fans pack out stadiums and creating as much noise as possible!”

“speaking of motivation, what helps to keep you fired up especially when your playing top teams like sweden?” you asked as you seen alessia giggle to herself, you being thankful for the fact that the camera can’t see the look your throwing alessia right now.

“well away from football there’s definitely someone who does that for me-” the blonde making direct eye contact with you as a smirk crept onto her face. you knew exactly what she was insinuating on and while the your relationship wasn’t exactly out there it wasn’t a big secret either fans definitely had their suspicions and alessia right now was definitely adding fuel to that fire.

she carried on, you sending the blonde another stern look that told her to behave, “but the staff at england as well as the girls we all do our part to ensure that’s we can all play to the best of our ability to ensure we get the result that we want as a team and as a nation” she smile innocently as she finished awaiting your next question.

you began to explain the importance of the goal that alessia scored to start of the lionesses euro qualifying campaign while alessia well she was just scaring at you, totally zoned out as her she licked her lips. her eyes scanning your outfit as she imagined maybe what it would look like on the floor of your shared bedroom…

“and finally how does it feel to finally get your first goal at wembley especially the one that sealed the win for your guys” you finished with a quick smile, slightly kicking the blonde which wasn’t able to be seen by the camera which shook the blonde from her daydream.

“oh- um, wait i- sorry what was the question?” alessia flushed red with embarrassment as you were the one now with a smirk, knowing by her face she hadn’t been listening and also having a suspicion of why she hadn’t been but nevertheless repeating the question again for her.

“yeah, it’s always a good feeling to score at wembley makes it that little bit special but anything to help the team out”

“well thank you alessia and well done for tonight!” you applauded with a smile as alessia nodded, “thank you babe” alessia said so causally, you quickly spinning around mouth wide open as you eyes widened.

the interview already been finished as your team off-mic you both. alessia with a smirk which was widening on her face, you knew she had done that on purpose.

“i love you?” she whispered, as she looked at your less than pleased look on your face.

“your on thin ice miss russo!” you warned narrowing your eyes at the blonde as she slung her arm around your shoulders guiding you both down the tunnel as you knew she was rolling her eyes at your stern tone.

“hey! it’s not my fault the person who was interviewing me happened to be my really sexy, beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend!”

[adrienneleclerc]

How Many Likes?

Pairing: Lando Norris x Latina/Hispanic! Reader

Summary: Y/N wants to test out a thing she saw on TikTok

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: this is my first Lando Norris fanfic, let me know if you’d like more

Y/N has been dating Lando Norris for a while and honestly, the relationship is going great for only being together a few months. So, like any girl, she wants to test how much her boyfriend loves her. She was seeing a trend on TikTok where girls ask their boyfriends how many likes on their new TikTok video does she need to get certain expensive item.

Y/N was scrolling on her phone, doing a little “window shopping” as she does when she came across a cute bag. Lando came out of his little workout room drinking water and wiping his face with a towel.

“How was your workout, Chico fresa?” Y/N asked. Lando sighed.

“My workout went well, sweet thing, but I regret letting you hang out with Pato. What even is ‘fresa’ in his country?” Lando asked, taking one of his premade meals from the fridge.

“According to Pato, it means diva, according to Checo, it means posh. I think Blair Waldorf from gossip girl is the most fresa out of the nonjudgmental breakfast club.” Y/N said and Lando laughed.

“I am not posh.” Lando said.

“Amor, you live in Monaco, you drive sports cars, even the way you dress SCREAMS posh. But I love you.” Y/N said, getting up from the couch to kiss Lando.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Lando said.

“Hey so I was looking for movie tickets because k really wanted to see Inside Out 2 and I came across this bag.” Y/N said, showing Lando the bag.

“So my question is, how many likes on TikTok do I need to get for you to buy me this bag?” Y/N asked.

“10 like.” Lando said.

“10?” Y/N asked.

“Yep, just 10, send me the link, would you, sweetheart?” Lando asked

“Sure.” Y/N sent Lando the link and Lando started to scroll, checking all the bags

“Love, so I got you the pink bag, a white galleria leather bag, and a saffiano mini bag.” Lando said and Y/N was shocked.

“Lando, mi Vida, that’s too much, I can’t possibly accept that.” Y/N said and Lando cupped her face.

“I believe my girlfriend deserves that and SO much more. This way you have options of which bag to take with you when we go out.” Lando said, kissing her nose, making her scrunch her nose.

“Thank you. Plus I needed a new work bag.” Y/N said.

“Well now you’re getting a new work bag and two other bags. Did you buy the tickets for the movie?” Lando asked.

“I saw the bag and I forgot.” Y/N said.

“I’ll buy the tickets, you want the open air cinema or the princess Grace theater?” Lando asked.

“Whichever works for you.” Y/N said

“Alright the princess grace theater it is, we could go mini golfing before, you up for that, sweet thing?” Lando asked.

“Yeah, sounds like fun.” Y/N said,

“Perfect.” Lando said, kissing Y/N before buying tickets and everything.

The End

Hope y’all liked it!

[lazywriters-blog]

Aventurine with an innocent darling who's very vulnerable to his schemes and doesn't understand his motives for gifting her a ring, necklaces, expensive perfumes, and dresses that match his preference, finds it hard to believe that he's doing all this for her without a reason.

Doesn't say anything whenever he puts his hand around her waist and drags her along with him anywhere and everywhere he goes, when he leans close she doesn't move back, in a way Aventurine would find her daring and bold, which he would like. A lot.

Seeing as she never declines or rejects him, his advances, his gifts, his messages, their intimacy, and his touch, he considers her his best friend.

Which in time would soften his heart, they would play games that were to her liking (because he would always have her lose to his bets and wagers) but if you look at it from a stranger's point of view, she's playing a dangerous game and she's falling right into his trap, wearing his gifts, following him around, it wouldn't end well.

So of course, someone would eventually warn her and tell her to stay as far away as possible from the IPC executive, which to Aventurine's dismay, works. She's playing distance with him and doesn't laugh or smile as much as she would have before everything she was told messed up her mind, runs home after he keeps insisting that she stay the night and they could have a sleepover, however, they keep drifting apart every time he gets too overbearing.

Everything she does hurts his feelings and drags him further down.

Losing someone who didn't have ulterior motives, who didn't want him to be their friend for his money, influence, his looks, his luck, makes him all the more clingy and desperate.

He wants her back, so the first thing he does is make sure everyone keeps their mouths shut and never thinks about influencing his best friend. Which works, at least for a while.

He's attached to her, he can't consider losing her after everything they've been through, so even if she doesn't realize it, the damage has been done, and she can never look at Aventurine the same. Surely, he will learn about it soon enough.

He could try manipulating her, but what's the use? They've lost their genuine friendship, and it drives him crazy, makes him bitter, and makes him want to do things to whoever dragged his darling away.

He might resort to desperate measures.

So now, he's doing everything he used to do but ten times worse, giving her endless rows of gifts, and spending an unimaginable amount of money on her in hopes they can rekindle their friendship.

But something is still holding her back.

"You should stay the night," he said in his usual light tone, taking a glance to gauge her response. She smiled nervously, and he knew she would decline.

"No, I gotta get home but next time surely," promising him her next time had gotten old, even though she had only stated it twice. He looked away for a moment, trying his best not to squeeze her shoulder.

"You know, you've promised me that twice already and it still hasn't come true."

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just... I don't want to bother you." she looked down.

"I wonder if it is because of those people. You can easily be manipulated, I've already told you that so many times, so why can't you try to form your own opinion?" he didn't say it in a belittling manner, nor was his tone heavy in malice but anyone could tell something was wrong.

Aventurine has never been passive-aggressive, at least not with her.

"That's... Kinda mean." she tried to pull his arm, trying to shrug off his touch but that didn't stop nor discourage him because he just laughed and pulled her back to him.

"I was just kidding! Surely you would have known that by now sweetheart." he also never called her 'sweetheart'.

She looked at him, his wide grin and beautiful eyes peering down at her had always consoled her but now it was telling her to run away.

But with how tight he was holding onto her, she feared it would be impossible to get away now.

[lancermylove]

Learning His Language (HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Leaders x gn!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: I saw the post about the requests being open but everything said it was closed. So if they are closed my apologies. May I request a Gn reader trying to learn the dorm leaders languages. Like how Idia is Greek or malleus being like Celtic?Again if I was wrong and requests are closed I apologize.

A/N: Requests were open. I had the open post queued and forgot to change closed to open in the other places. 😅

———————————————

Idia Shroud (Greek)

Not many have taken an interest in his culture, so when he hears you trying to speak Greek behind closed doors, he is shocked. He hears wedding bells.

Ortho tells him to let you learn on your own, but Idia can't possibly do that. So, he develops an app for you.

Not once does he laugh when you mispronounce something, and he is surprisingly patient with you.

With his help, you will be speaking Greek in no time. Then, the two of you can make fun of the other students without them knowing.

Malleus Draconia (Celtic)

The prince is pleasantly surprised with your attempts at learning one of the Celtic languages. It is a sign to him that you are taking your relationship seriously (if you are dating him), or it is a sign of respect.

He personally teaches you and asks Lilia to help. While Malleus takes a serious approach, Lilia takes a laid-back approach.

They often share ancient stories and traditions to give you context.

Malleus likes to tease you when you say something wrong, but he never pushes any limits; his words are more playful. The prince doesn't want to make you nervous or anxious to speak with him.

Leona Kingscholar (African)

When Leona hears you struggling to speak of the African languages (take your pick), he chuckles to himself.

Initially, the prince doesn't care, but he is surprised when he sees that you are making a genuine effort.

He personally teaches you, but once in a while, and makes things very easy for you. Let's just say he is a great teacher when he wants to be.

The prince admires your efforts and, shockingly, never makes fun of you for making mistakes; rather, he quickly corrects you and tells you why what you said was incorrect.

Once you are fluent, he likes to speak to you in his national language, especially while looking others in the eyes. Leona likes to make them feel uncomfortable by making them think he is talking about them.

Riddle Roseheart (British)

The moment he hears you trying to speak English, he becomes your teacher, even if you don't want him to be. He is determined to teach you.

Riddle is the best teacher you can ask for, but he can be very strict. Expect him to send you texts about grammar rules and give you short quizzes just to see your progress.

With him teaching you, you will be a pro at English in a few months.

Meanwhile, the students in Heartslabyul hear wedding bells and can't wait to attend your wedding in the future.

Azul Ashengrotto (Sea)

It takes a lot of convincing to get Jade to give you books so that you can learn the language of the sea creatures.

The first page of the book is enough to make your head spin, and when you go to Jade with tears in your eyes, he is already prepared to help you.

When Azul sees Jade teaching you their language, he is shocked. Why didn't you just come to him directly?

From then on, Azul personally teaches you, and he makes the lessons fun by involving movies, music, and easy-to-remember examples.

He wonders why you wanted to learn his language but hasn't gathered enough courage to ask you directly. Do you like him or something?

Vil Shoenheit (German)

He catches you trying to learn German while walking in the hallway of Ramshackle. Your pronunciations are so off that it makes him want to facepalm, but Vil understands that German pronunciations are difficult.

Like many others on this list, he becomes your personal tutor. But you are expected to follow his rules and be dedicated. No excuses.

Vil truly admires the effort you put in, even if you make mistakes. If you ever feel uncomfortable or frustrated, he motivates and encourages you.

Sometimes, when Vil is busy, Rook will come in his stead. You thought the hunter only knew French? No, he learned German for Vil.

Kalim Al-Asim (Arabic)

Kalim can't control his happiness when he hears you speaking broken and incorrect Arabic for the first time. He gives you a bone-crushing hug.

He tries to teach you, but you end up confused each time. Jamil can't take it anymore and volunteers to be your personal tutor alongside Kalim.

While the dorm leader shares the Arabic culture, movies, and music with you, Jamil teaches you the technical parts of the language.

When you start speaking somewhat fluently, Kalim throws a party in your honor. Then, he calls his siblings and tells them he is ready to bring their sister-in-law/brother-in-law home with him.

———————————————

➣ Twisted Wonderland [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

[bovineblogger]

im a vegan but your posts abt eating cows have actually made me realise that its Fine to eat animals lmao. ill try to explain it but basically. it made me think about how, like you said, humans provide a nice space for cows and take care of them and then eat them. and thats not a bad thing! if i dont think a carnivore is bad for eating meat why should i be mad at humans eating meat? humans have Always eaten meat, its not evil. i dont get mad at a bear when it kills a human either!

and this all made me realise that yes, i feel bad abt the concept of animals dying for me, but that doesnt mean Meat is evil yknow? like i said bears can eat humans so why should i be mad humans eat animals??? it made me realise that what im actually mad at is the industry. where i live there is a TON of industrial scale farming, and thats what makes me mad! the way theyre treating the animals, slaughtering them as soon as its legal, stuffing as many together as possible, the absurd impact on the climate that they really dont want to address bc it would hurt their profits. thats what im mad at! not the people who eat meat sometimes! i still think people shouldnt eat meat and animal products as much, but now that is mostly because of the climate impact.

anyways. sorry for this ramble, its just been that your posts have helped me realise what it Actually is im mad abt. im still a vegan because i just really dont want to contribute to that industry, but i can see myself eating animal products and maybe even meat again if its from an actual sustainable place where animals are treated well. so thanks for your posts, you seem like a really chill and cool person :)

here is a cow emoji 🐄 for the long ask

oh my gosh!!!! im so happy im so happy.. thank u so much for taking the time to consider my perspective im so glad i could help shed some light for you!!!!!

[strawchocoberry]

SHE WANNA KNOW HOW IT TASTES

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ featuring. suo hayato, kiryu mitsuki, sakura haruka, hiragi toma, umemiya hajime, kaji ren x fem reader

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ content warnings. smut, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, dacryphilia, praise kink, degradation kink

౨ৎ˚⋆˖ synopsis. choking on his dick — word count. 1.2k

SUO HAYATO.

✦ He may tell you that it doesn’t matter whether you give him a blowjob or not, but secretly he fantasises about your lips wrapping around his cock and sucking him off.

✦ He is super gentle and lets you do whatever you want, allowing you to explore him just like he has done so many times.

✦ He obviously doesn’t expect the effect you have on him, turning him on with few soft licks around his shaft.

✦ Suo has to force himself to sweetly smile at you when you look up at him with his tip in your mouth. Fucking hell, you’re just so cute and so hot at the same time, he can barely contain himself.

✦ HEAVY ON PRAISE!! With every inch you take in, he praises you harder to continue. He looks mostly composed while telling you what a good girl you are, even though inside his darkest desires want to break free.

✦ His resolve crumbles to nothing when tears spring from your eyes and you gag on his dick. He keeps your head in place and softly thrusts inside your mouth, few grunts escaping his lips when he cums.

“So perfect… You’re so perfect…”

KIRYU MITSUKI.

✦ He guides you through it all, telling you what to do and is super patient!! He will gently hold your cheeks and guide your movements at first, before leaving you to suck him off on your own.

✦ HEAVY ON PRAISE TOO!! He loves to see your flushed cheeks with his dick deep down your throat. If you let him, he will take photos and keep them for the lonely nights you’re not with him. He may even take a video to capture your cute yet lewd expression.

✦ When you lick the vein on the side of his cock, his abs tense and Kiryu lets out a slutty moan. The sound turns you on, so you decide to keep licking that vein. He knows you’re doing it on purpose, but he cannot resist your doe eyes looking back at him, so he lets you toy with him a little.

✦ But even he has his limit. And when he’s reached it, the dark lustful gleam in his eyes tells you all you need to know. You watch him gather your hair in a nice ponytail, before he thrusts deeper inside your mouth.

✦ He doesn’t care how messy it becomes. Your drool drips down the corner of your lips and few tears flow from your eyes each time he hits the back of your throat, then spills his seed and moans your name in the sluttiest way possible.

✦ Pulling out, he wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb, smiling at you, before kissing you and tasting himself on your tongue.

“That’s my girl.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

✦ SUPER SHY!! Even though he has fantasised about it, he is too shy to ask for it. He gets super flustered when you offer to give him a blowjob and tries to put a strong front. “Hmph! Do whatever you want!”

✦ And that’s what you do. And it turns him in a puddle. The way your lips perfectly wrap around his cock, the way you swirl your tongue over his crown. Everything you do makes him melt under your touch.

✦ His fingers get tangled in your hair. And he gets so lost in the moment, he unconsciously forces you down on him, taking more of him in your mouth. You moan around him, the reverberations making him harder.

✦ Sakura cannot help the series of curses that leave his lips, using his free hand to cover his blushed face.

✦ When he feels his orgasm reaching, he tries to pull out, feeling too embarrassed to cum in your mouth. But you don’t let him. And he’s too weak to resist your pleading eyes looking up at him.

✦ If you ask him, he’ll say with a flustered face that it was an accident that he moaned your name when he cummed.

“…Please do that again sometime.”

HIRAGI TOMA.

✦ THE MAN ALMOST HAS A STOMACH ATTACK when you drop to your knees and unbuckle his belt, pulling his trousers and underwear down enough to free his aching cock.

✦ He’s too stunned to stop you from taking him in your mouth. He lets out a soft grunt and runs his hand through his hair, deciding to let you continue.

✦ The way you’re toying with him and the mischief in your eyes as you look at him is enough to make him want to remind you who really is in control.

✦ Grabbing your head with both hands, he keeps you steady as he thrusts inside your mouth quite harshly, enjoying the way you gag. He almost looks pitifully at you when tears well up in your eyes.

✦ MIX OF PRAISE AND DEGRADATION. Hiragi is secretly a sadist who loves seeing you at his mercy — or lack thereof.

✦ Expect to have a sore throat after he’s done with you.

“You look so cute, little minx.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

✦ He too has fantasised about it A LOT and he just can’t take it anymore. He will probably follow you around like a puppy and beg you for it till you agree.

✦ His fantasies fall short before reality. You’re even cuter with his dick buried deep in your mouth than he has ever imagined.

✦ He had promised himself he’d take his time. He lied. You’re too irresistible for him not to hold you down and rut his hips in your mouth.

✦ Umemiya’s drunk at the feeling of your mouth enveloping his cock. PRAISES THE LIVING HELL OUT OF YOU, even though he’s tearing your throat apart uwu.

✦ He begs you to let him cum in your mouth, although you cannot really resist the temptation.

✦ He will nag you for some quick throat-fucking at the rooftop whenever nobody’s around.

“Feels so good, baby.”

KAJI REN.

✦ You can see the slight rosy dust on his cheeks when he asks you to suck him. It doesn’t take long for his shyness to go away though.

✦ MIX OF PRAISE AND DEGRADATION!! He learnt from Hiragi, after all. And he can tell you love it, because you’re moaning on his cock like a bitch in heat.

✦ He loves choking your neck while you suck his dick. It makes him grunt your name in pleasure.

✦ Kaji wipes your tears away with his lips curled up in a smirk when you glide your tongue over the vein under his shaft. He knows you’re doing it on purpose and fuck him, because it’s working.

✦ When he starts thrusting harder and faster, you know he’s impatient because he’s so close to his orgasm.

✦ He waits till you’ve swallowed his cum, before he pulls out and devours your lips.

“You’re so adorable, kitten.”

© strawchocoberry — do not copy, repost, translate or reuse my work

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

I just want to know if Aspen has a schlongdong or not so that I can fantasize about them properly and have a genuine experience Like idc about your DNA babythey I just wanna know if you got tits

Let me just say, in a nice way, that this is one of the creepiest things anyone has every said to me about one of my stories. If you wanna imagine porn about fictional characters then that sounds like a matter between you, yourself, and possibly your AO3 account if you're so inclined. The author has no part in this.

Also what does DNA have to do with this? "Oh no, I'm not being weird, I only care really deeply about what someone's genitals look like, not their DNA." There are many irrelevant factors about characters that I don't know -- I don't know what Aspen's favourite pasta dish is. I don't know what their first word was. I don't know what their genitals look like. Details irrelevant to the story like this are an exercise for the reader.

[cripplecharacters]

Write more Deaf characters!

[Large Text: Write more Deaf characters!]

When answering questions about deaf and hard of hearing characters, I have noticed they are overwhelmingly about:

A character who is deaf in one ear or hard of hearing because of an accident

A character who was born deaf and knows sign language, but seems to have 0 connection to the broader Deaf community

This is not the experience of most d/Deaf people! So, here's your primer to Deaf community and culture, and writing a Deaf character, because they are sorely underrepresented.

(Disclaimer: this post was written using viewpoints I, a singular Deaf person in the United States, have encountered. I tried to make this as general as possible to encompass many Deaf views, but it is possible that I have misconstrued something. Do not take this guide as the be-all and end-all of your knowledge on Deaf culture. Keep reading and researching the Deaf community, and explore viewpoints from many different Deaf people of all backgrounds.)

Why do you write Deaf with capital D?

[Large Text: Why do you write Deaf with capital D?]

The term "deaf" with the lowercase d means not being able to hear. The term "Deaf" with an uppercase D refers to the cultural identity formed by deaf people. This identity is difficult to explain but it includes knowing sign language and engaging with other Deaf people.

There are varying opinions within the Deaf community on who is allowed to call themselves culturally Deaf. Some Deaf believe that only those who were born into the Deaf community (whose family is Deaf, who attended a Deaf school, and/or who have sign language as a first language) are allowed to consider themselves culturally Deaf. On the 'flip' side, some Deaf believe that anyone with hearing loss can claim the label. And of course, you can find someone Deaf with any opinion in between.

This is all intracommunity nuance. If your character is born deaf and learns sign language at a young age or as a first language, they are likely culturally Deaf.

Sign Language Use

[Large Text: Sign Language Use]

Sign languages are the language of Deaf communities. (Note that there are many sign languages in different regions, and they are not related in the same way spoken languages are!)

Most sign languages did not originate alongside spoken language, either, so they usually have different grammar than the spoken language in a region. This means that someone whose first language is sign may have difficulty learning even the written version of the spoken language due to the different grammar and translation. For native signers, the spoken language of their area is their second language.

Sign languages are fully developed languages, with grammar and structure. Sign language is not "less" than spoken language, and encouraging sign language does not discourage speech. (Even if it did, that's not a bad thing! Sign languages are still a valid and rich communication form!) Sign languages have slang and expressions/idioms too.

Sign languages typically have a "manual alphabet" otherwise known as "fingerspelling". This is a way to represent words that don't have a sign. Fluent signers very rarely fingerspell; normally fingerspelling is for proper nouns which don't have a name sign.

Name signs are the last big point I want to cover about sign language. A name sign is a way to refer to someone so you don't have to spell their name every time. It's usually related to someone's attributes, like dimples or a specific way of moving. Sign names can only be given by Deaf people who are fluent in sign language.

Deaf Education

[Large Text: Deaf Education]

For a long time, deaf people were considered unable to learn, just because they couldn't hear. And since 1880, for about 100 years and even still today, the prevailing tradition in deaf education was/is oralism--a teaching method based on speech that rejects sign language.

Historically speaking, if deaf children were to receive an education, they would be sent to a Deaf residential school. These still exist, although there are also many Deaf schools that are typical day schools, just for d/Deaf/hoh students.

Deaf children may also attend "mainstream" schools; they might have sign language interpreters and other accessibility accommodations, or they may be forced to rely on lipreading and context, or placed in special education where their needs often still are not met.

Oralism still has lasting effects today. Deaf people have received, and still do receive, worse education than hearing people.

One common problem is language deprivation. Many deaf children grow up without access to sign language. About 90% of deaf people are born to hearing parents; even if hearing parents do send their deaf kids to a Deaf school, they may not learn sign language themselves, so the child must rely on what they can gather of spoken language at home. Sign language is even discouraged by some audiologists and speech professionals, because it "might interfere with speech". But by depriving deaf children of sign language, more often than not, they are being deprived of all language.

People who are born deaf do not learn spoken language naturally, even when provided with aids like hearing aids and cochlear implants. Many deaf kids who learn speech learn it through extensive speech therapy, and often have a "deaf accent" from copying mouth shapes but not being able to hear or process what sounds they are making, which may also include having an atypically pitched voice (e.g., very high-pitched). Lip-reading is inaccurate and the best lip-readers can only follow about 30% of a conversation, and that's by intently watching with no breaks.

It is possible to learn a language at any age. But it is easiest to pick up a new language when one is young. Children who do not learn a first language by around age 5--the age at which they would start school--have more difficulty learning any language, and may have frequent outbursts or trouble expressing emotions as a result of communication difficulties.

Another problem, especially within the Deaf community, is literacy. Spoken languages are often unrelated to the signed language of the same region. Learning to read and write, as a Deaf child, is like learning a whole new separate language, with different grammar and structure than their native language. This is why captions are not a perfect accessibility tool--it is, for many Deaf people, being offered an alternative in their second language, if they have learned to read and write at all.

Deaf Culture Norms

[Large Text: Deaf Culture Norms]

To hearing people, Deaf conversation can seem very blunt and to the point. This isn't to say Deaf people are inexpressive--quite the opposite: sign languages often use facial expressions as part of the grammar, and there is a lot of expression that can be incorporated into a sign--but there isn't a lot of "talking around" things. You can see part of this culture in name signs, which are usually based off a trait of the person. It's not offensive--it's just how they're recognized!

Another conception is of Deaf people being over expressive, but again, that is just part of sign language grammar. Face and body movements take the place of tone of voice, as well as other grammatical clarifications.

Deaf people talk a lot! It's very hard to end a conversation, because there will always be something else to say or a new person to meet. Hugging and other physical touch are really common greetings.

Tapping people on the shoulder to get their attention is fine. Other ways include flicking the lights or rattling a surface (for vibrations). Eye contact while signing is also important to make known that you are listening. Groups of Deaf people will sit in a circle so everyone can see everyone else. It's rude to talk in a Deaf space. If you are lost in the conversation, you'd ask if you can write or type instead.

Deaf Space also refers to design concepts that are more accessible to deaf people. This includes good lighting, minimal signing-height visual obstacles (e.g., low waist-height shelves), visual indicators instead of bells, open spaces so people can sit in a circle to talk, and automatic doors and wide hallways/passages so it is easier to continue a conversation while walking.

It's also very rude to comment on a Deaf person's voice. Do not mention you're surprised they can speak. Do not call their accent "cute" or "weird" or anything like that. Do not ask them to speak. Do not say their voice sounds really good ("for a deaf person") or that you wouldn't be able to tell they are deaf.

Deaf Views on Deafness

[Large Text: Deaf Views on Deafness]

The Deaf community is incredibly proud of their Deafness. You'll often hear the phrases "hearing loss = deaf gain" or "failing a hearing test" as "passing the deaf test". Continuing the Deaf community and culture is highly valued, and learning sign language is encouraged for everyone.

Many people in the Deaf community dislike cochlear implants as their success is incredibly variable and they require invasive surgery and therapies from a young age. Another big argument against CI is that they are often presented as the only or the first option to hearing parents, who misunderstand CI as a "cure" and then do not give their child access to sign language.

Deaf people also reject any sort of cure for deafness, especially genetic therapies. Many Deaf people do not think of their Deafness as a disability.

(Deaf people will often point out the advantages of Deaf culture and sign language, such as being able to talk over long distances, through windows, and even underwater.)

Most hard of hearing and some deaf people have hearing aids, although it is really an individual choice whether or not to wear them. Many d/Deaf/hoh people are overwhelmed and startled very easily by noise (since they're not used to that much auditory input) and get tinnitus from auditory overstimulation. They may also struggle with auditory processing--locating sounds, interpreting sounds, recognizing and interpreting speech, and other issues.

The Deaf community doesn't have any general complaints about hearing aids, just many prefer not to wear them. Do know that they are an imperfect aid; they just amplify sound, which doesn't improve processing or understanding, and it doesn't make people hearing. Not everyone even benefits from hearing aids--their specific hearing levels may make hearing aids a bad choice of aid.

A big point you'll hear in Deaf spaces is Deaf Can (and Deaf Power). Hearing people have historically treated deafness as a sign of incapability, but Deaf people can do everything hearing people can--except hear.

Myth Busting

[Large Text: Myth Busting]

Myth #1: All Deaf people are completely deaf. This is very far from the truth! Most deaf people have some degree of residual hearing, although this may require very loud sounds and/or at very specific pitches. Plus, there are many culturally Deaf people who are not deaf/hoh at all--CODAs, hearing children born to Deaf parents, are part of the Deaf community.

Myth #2: (Non-speaking) Deaf people do not make noise. Also very far from the truth! First off, Deaf people laugh. Many Deaf people also vocalize without knowing or intending, especially when excited. We can get very loud!

Myth #3: (Speaking) Deaf people talk loudly. While this can be true, often d/Deaf people talk more quietly than expected. This is because with severe to profound levels of deafness, no speaking volume is really going to be audible, so they will often rely on feeling vibrations in their throat to know if they're making noise. Vibrations are detectable at lower volumes than hearing people like to listen to.

Myth #4: Deaf people can't drive. I actually have no idea where this one came from but it's false. Deaf people can absolutely drive, and tend to have a lower rate of accidents and violations than hearing drivers. There is a common trend of treating d/Deaf people like they can't do things unrelated to hearing, but deafness on its own only affects hearing.

Deaf Struggles in the Hearing World

[Large Text: Deaf Struggles in the Hearing World]

A huge problem is just basic accessibility. Many places do not have captions or visual indicators, or rely on hearing (like drive-throughs). Movie open caption screenings are often at awkward times, and caption glasses are hard to find or access and awkward to wear.

Deaf people are also at increased risk of police violence. Police often treat signing as aggression, rather than attempts to communicate. When they yell, talk quickly, or shine a flashlight in Deaf people's faces, it's even harder to understand what is going on. Deaf people are also not often provided with a qualified interpreter and may not understand what is going on or why they were arrested.

Deaf people, specifically those who are mainly kept in the hearing world, have higher rates of drug use and addiction.

Hearing people also treat Deaf people as incapable or lesser. Gallaudet University had only hearing presidents until 1988 after the Deaf President Now protests; then-chair of the board at GU said in a statement that received heavy backlash from the students, "deaf people cannot function in the hearing world".

When writing your Deaf character:

[Large Text: When writing your Deaf Character:]

Were they born to hearing parents or to Deaf parents? (90% of deaf children are born to hearing parents.) Is anyone else in the family d/Deaf?

At what age was their deafness noticed? (It can be at birth, or it can take several years, even for children born deaf.) Is their hearing loss progressive? Is their hearing loss significantly different in each ear?

Were they eligible for cochlear implants? Did they get CI? Did they get hearing aids? (Consider cost as a factor: CI requires the surgery as well as intensive speech therapy; hearing aids are also expensive and can need replacement and refitting.) How well do the aids work for them? Do they have them in one or both ears?

What advice did their family receive from audiologists and speech therapists about sign language and communication, and did their family listen? Did they learn sign language? At what age? Did their parents and family learn sign language? Are they language-deprived? Did they go through speech therapy? What is their speech like? Do they like using their voice?

Did or do they attend Deaf school? Is it residential or day school? If it's residential, did they understand what was happening when they were dropped off? Does the school use sign language or rely on oralism? (Consider time period; most schools now use sign language, but from 1880-about 1980 the predominant method was oralism.)

If they don't attend a Deaf school, what accommodations are they receiving in mainstream setting? Are they in special education? Are they in a Deaf program at a mainstream school? Do they have an interpreter? How much do they understand what is going on in class?

How involved are they in Deaf community and culture? Are their friends and family involved and supportive of the Deaf community? Do they treat deafness like something to cure? Do their friends and family frequently ignore or "forget" that they are deaf?

In general, consider their scenario, what ableism they've faced, and what their Deaf identity is.

Happy writing, and please continue to send in your questions!

Mod Rock

[wosoamazing]

Alessia & Olympic Journey's

Alessia x R (Physio!R & Athletics!R) Warnings: semi panic attack?? one part is light sickfic vibes but idk let me know if there is something I should add

You and Alessia had known each other since college having both attended UNC and been a part of their sport program, however she was a Footballer and you were a Track Athlete. You had met on one of the sport wellbeing retreats. They had mixed up the sports groups for a week, which allowed you to become close to Alessia and spoke everyday, so when you both ended up in Manchester after college it was a nice surprise, and you became even closer, at the end of one of the seasons Alessia asked you to be her girlfriend and well that was it.

She was playing at United at the time and you were one of the Physios for the women’s team at City. Them having been the only club that really understood what you needed to allow you to be both a physio and a high level athlete, working around your schedule, allowing you days off. It worked well, honestly so well it felt like a dream some days. 

However she had recently moved to Arsenal and you had contemplated moving with her, well originally you weren’t, planning on moving but when some of the London based clubs heard about Alessia’s transfer they thought you might be looking to move as well, and considering your reputation they all jumped at the possibility and gave you offers. But none of them really even matched what you had with City, especially when City offered you extra benefits, not wanting to risk their best physio to a rival club. You had the ability to connect with the players at a level most didn’t, you were one of them in a way, and they appreciated that, someone treating them who understood exactly how frustrating a small niggle is, who understood the frustration of a bad game, to the girls you weren’t just a physio but someone to talk to, who was at the exact same level as them, not someone who had injured out, wasn’t good enough, or was now older and retired.

You stayed at City, but you didn’t take their new offer, how could you when what they were already giving you was so much better than the other clubs. However they insisted on giving you the added benefits, so you had every second weekend off getting to go up and see Alessia play.

_______

You and Alessia were spending the weekend together, which you currently didn’t know, even though she was sat up in the stands of the Manchester Regional Arena watching you train, you hadn’t noticed her, hadn’t unfocused for half an hour. It was something she admired about you, how much you poured your heart and soul into the sport you loved, how focused you were always, and how you never gave it anything but your all.

“I don’t get it,” Ella grumbled beside her.

“What?” Alessia asked, not moving from her position, she was leant forward slightly, chin resting on her hands, her elbows resting on her knees, eyes on you.

“Why does she like it? Why does anyone like it?” Ella asked.

“Why do you like football? Why does anyone like football?” Mary replied with a philosophical question to match Ella’s.

Alessia didn’t reply to Ella’s question, she was too focused on the way you had started to rub your temples between each run, and the way your eyes were now either squinted or closed now, she hadn’t seen them fully open in the past, however many minutes.

“Somethings wrong,” Alessia blurted out.

“Here we go again,” Ella rolled her eyes, as she did you sat down, legs bent up, before you slightly collapsed back to the ground, now lying down, hand covering your eyes, your coach bent down next to you, blocking Alessia’s view of your face, but she didn’t like the way your chest was heaving more than usual with your breaths. Ella let out a small “oh” at your actions regretting the way she teased Alessia just seconds ago

You stood up as your coach walked away, only just realising Alessia was there with Ella and Mary. You smiled slightly, gesturing for them to come down, which they did as you walked over to your bag.

“Hey baby,” Alessia said softly as she walked over to you, your arms immediately wrapping around her and your head dropping to her shoulder, hiding away in her neck, “you all good?” she asked, still concerned.

“Yeah, I just missed you,'' you told her as you released from the hug, only to be pulled into her side from her arm wrapping around your hips, letting your head fall to the side to rest on her shoulder once again.

“What are we doing tonight?” you asked the three girls, slightly hoping they hadn’t planned a crazy night.

“We are going to go o-owww” Ella started speaking, only to be interrupted by Mary stepping on her foot, the older woman noticing how there was definitely something off with you, also having grown slightly concerned.

“We are all going to go to our respective homes, Mary and Ella just came to support you at training,” Alessia informed you and the others of the new plan for the night, before kissing you on your temple.

-

“What do you want for dinner?” Alessia asked as you entered your home, hand in hand.

“I’m honestly not that hungry baby, I’m sure I’ll like whatever you pick” you admitted before dropping your bag at the door, and flicking your slides off “I’m just going to go have a quick shower,” you told her as you let go of her hand and walked in the direction of your bedroom. Alessia knew something was up, you never just left your training bag lying around, and usually when you had been separated for this long you would be asking Alessia to join you for a ‘steamy’ shower. She made quick work of unpacking your bag, before making some toast for you, plating it alongside two panadol and a glass of water, setting your room up exactly how you liked it, so you could just slip into bed once you finished your shower.

-

Alessia quietly knocked on the bathroom door before opening it, too much time had passed since the water was turned off for her liking and she was growing slightly concerned yet again. When the door opened she saw you standing leaning against the counter heavily as you gripped onto it for dear life, your towel now on the floor at your feet, having been wrapped around your body at one stage. 

“Baby,” she said softly as she walked into the room, “do you need some help?” you bit your bottom lip as you sunkenly nodded your head, Alessia quickly jumped into action, helping you get dressed before pulling you in for a tight hug, “you don’t feel well do you?” she asked, to which you just shook your head, she silently guided you to your side of the bed, watching as you climbed in before handing you the two panadol and the glass of water, before moving to the otherside of the bed, and climbing in, handing you the toast, which you took a few bites from before placing it back on the plate and shaking your head, “that’s okay, thank you for eating something, why don’t you try and sleep now,” you nodded slightly as you slid down the bed moving to lye down, you laid on your side as you looked at Alessia longingly and she knew what you wanted, so she moved to lying down next to you, facing you she opened her arms, allowing for you to snuggle into her, your head burying in her neck, as her hands started to softly run over your back, sending you to sleep quickly.

Alessia couldn’t help but be content, she wasn’t going to get to spend the weekend with you the way she wanted, but she still got to spend it with you, and if she was being honest there was probably nothing she loved more than hugging you.

_______

“We might see each other,” you told Alanna as you worked on her for the last time that season, having both been discussing your plans for the summer, and the upcoming olympics.

“Yeah but we won’t see Alex,” Alanna joked as she looked over to the British player who laid on the bed next to her’s.

“I don’t know, with the amount of tickets Alessia’s bought I might be seeing Y/N at least,” she replied, to which you rolled your eyes. Alessia had bought enough tickets for every member of her family, and even ‘some’ of your friends, but it might be more than just some friends if Alex had a ticket as well.

_______

“Why is there so much stuff, surely they don’t expect it all to fit in there,” you said as you flopped back on your bed, exhausted from trying to pack all day.

“Will you just let me do it now,” Lotte asked and you nodded not wanting to look at it all again, you and the three UNC girls were all in their shared apartment as you and Emily were packing for your next month, specifically the olympics training camps and the actual olympics, you had planned to spend your last day before you all went your separate ways together, kind of like old times.

-

“Baby, treat yourself, once slice wont hurt,” your girlfriend told you as the four of you sat on the couch watching a movie, the others having ordered pizza, which you refused to eat.

“No, it’s fine don’t worry,” “Bu-” “No Alessia, you don’t understand, one slice will hurt, you haven’t seen me eat even a square of chocolate for months and yet you thought ordering pizza the night before I fly out would be smart, let alone telling me to eat a slice, I get it you’re not going to the olympics, but I am, and I am not letting months of draining go down the drain by even eating one single bite of pizza,” you stormed off to your bedroom, needing a minute to breath, immediately regretting your words.

-

“She didn’t mean it, she is just nervous,” Lotte tried to reassure Alessia, as she saw tears starting to well in her friend's eyes. Emily had already grabbed her keys and gone somewhere.

“I just, I didn’t expect it, she has been fine all day,” Alessia said to Lotte who nodded, “but- I-I’m, I don’t know, why didn’t she say something about the pizza?”

“She did,” Lotte muttered under her breath, hoping Alessia didn’t hear her.

“When?” “When you asked if we wanted Pizza for dinner, she said she wanted-” “a chicken salad from that place down the road,” Emily interrupted Lotte as she walked through the door holding exactly that, which caused Alessia to burst into tears, both girls rushing to her side.

“She is my girlfriend and yet I didn’t even listen to her, I-I-” “Less, no it’s okay, you’re distracted, you don’t want her to go.” Lotte told her.

“Go. Go give her the salad, say it's from you, spend the night in your room with her, but please if the salad makes her that happy don’t be loud, I need some sleep before I get on the plane tomorrow.” Emily said.

“Oh don’t worry about that, we haven’t done it in weeks, it’s too risky, she might get injured. But thank you. I’m sorry,” Alessia told your friends before she wiped her eyes and took the salad from Emily before walking into your room.

-

“I’m sorry,” Alessia said as she walked into the dark room, walking to her side of the bed turning on the lamp only to find you asleep on her pillow, “baby, wake up,” she gently shook you, and watched as your eyes opened “I, well Emily got you a chicken salad. I’m really sorry, I didn’t hear you, but I should’ve been listening and not been so focused on what we wanted, I-” her sentence was interrupted as you pulled her in for a kiss which quickly got heated before she pulled away and held her hand up, and placed the chicken salad in your hands, you moved over on the bed and patted the space beside you, so she sat down and you quickly curled yourself into her side, enjoying the salad, whilst she turned on the TV, you both understanding what had happened, not needing to talk about it, you both knew you were nervous and not excited to be away from each other for so long and it all just kind of boiled over.

_______

Alessia’s phone started ringing as she sat in her seat, waiting for your second event to start, it was due to begin in 15 minutes, so when she pulled out her phone to see your number flash up on the screen, she felt a wave of panic surge through her. She didn’t even get the chance to say anything when she answered.

“Alessia, you need to come down here now,” It was your coach, Alessia bolted up in her seat and immediately started walking, following the directions of your coach, she found him quickly and a lanyard was thrown over her head before she quickly followed the man to you. You were sitting on the floor against a wall, breathing quickly, looking panicked.

“Baby, I need you to breath for me, okay, you can do that, with me, in, 2, 3, and out, 2, 3, that's it keep going,” after a few deep breaths you had calmed down enough for Alessia’s liking, “what’s going on?”

“What if I stuff up again, I can't do it, I don’t want to disappoint anyone, I-” “Baby, that wasn’t your fault, that was the Swedish girls fault, everyone agreed, even the France coach was yelling at the officials at one stage, it was not your fault and it was unfair that they didn’t call it, but this is your event, the one you love. I promise you, I am so incredibly proud of you already and that wont change whether you get gold in this race or come dead last, you have done incredible to get to the finals of the 400m baby, and you won't disappoint anyone. But I know someone who will be disappointed if you don’t go out and at least try,” “Who?” you asked slightly nervous for the answer, “You,” she told you adamantly, and you knew she was right.

[norrisleclercf1]

have a mark webber request 😘 could you write something where mark brings you and the kids to le mans and he’s just so happy that you’re there and he loves explaining things to the kids xx

A/N: Okay but him having a boy and girl? Yeah he's both a boy dad and girl dad, deal with it I need it for my peace of mind

"You know they won't even make it an hour into the night part right?" You whisper, as you watch your kids run around, staying in your sight as Mark sticks out in his pure white Porsche jacket.

Some people gawk as Mark walks by, others just clapping him on the back, but he rarely pays them any attention as he watches his babies like a hawk. "Daddy," Mark is quick to pick up his little girl, Maddy kissing her cheek. "Yes, baby?" Maddy looks around, hooking her little arms around her father's neck.

"Why are there so many people?" Mark chuckles, he knows she's used to the control chaos of F1, as she loved going to see Oscar race. "Well, each car has 3 different drivers, so there's a lot of people for that," Maddy nods, as you grab the back of your sons shirt.

"Jace, please what did I say about running," You glare, your 8 year old son glares up at you, but you glare right back, winning when he quickly looks away. "Dad, can we go see Uncle Jenson?" Mark chuckles and ruffles Jace's hair, leading him to the Jota car.

"Why is Uncle Jense driving? I thought he was tired, like you?" You snort at Maddy, knowing she meant retired, but at 5 she just thought he was tired. "Well, sometimes Uncle Jenson misses racing, so he can race this and with the team. He has fun, besides this is one of the legendary races." Maddy nods and looks around, waving at some of the people that wave their way.

"Hey, Dad?" Mark adjusts Maddy on his hip and walks closer to Jace, patting his head to let him know he was there and listening. "Can one driver, drive most of the 24 hours?" Mark thinks it over, wondering how he should explain. "No buddy, it's not really safe, driving these cars is really taxing and can make us super tired really quick, so it's best to have 3 drivers," Jace nods and then bolts and you go to yell but stop seeing who he's running too.

"Mini Webber!" Maddy squeals, wiggling in Mark's arms, as Jace collides into Jenson who groans, but happily takes on the other collision as Maddy giggles and hugs her Uncle. Janson stands, holding both as Mark smiles and talks to some of the mechanics.

"Uncle Jense, you don't explain as good as Daddy," Mark turns, wondering what Maddy could be possibly talking about, but snorts when he sees that Jenson was showing her the steering wheel. "I don't? Well, that's okay Dad has always been good at explaining things," Jenson nods, understanding and Maddy nods her head.

"Daddy, up," Mark happily takes his little girl smiling, as Jace comes and stands, leaning on Mark as he explains the rules to them. "God, they're mini hims, you push them out and they turn into him, so cruel," You laugh as you smack Jenson's chest, who chuckles softly. "Yeah, but I wouldn't have it any other way,"