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skitskatdacat63 · 6 months

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Fernando Alonso & His Relationship With Cards

I'm sure we're all familar with the cards on the back of Fernando's Vegas GP helmet by now, but did you know his relationship with cards goes a lot deeper?

I. Magic Tricks

You've probably seen or heard someone at least mention Fernando's propensity for card tricks. As far as I can tell he was doing them(publically) as far back as 2003 all the way to as recently as 2018. Even once performing a card trick, with a condom and a teddy bear(!??!?!??!!), in front of Valentino Rossi who said "How was that possible?"(x)

But how did this start? According to James Allen, "Fernando admits to having been heavily influenced by his grandfather, a mercurial figure, who taught him magic and card tricks, still one of his passions away from the race track."(x) And I'm not sure the validity of this one, because I couldn't find an actual source, but apparently he once said: "My parents are responsible for the two things I like doing most - driving and magic tricks. They bought me my first go-kart and a magician's kit."

In several interviews he described it as his hobby off track, and that he loved learning new tricks and surprising others in the garage with them! So clearly cards are pretty important to him both as a hobby but also to who he is as a person since they've been with him just as long as racing has.

II. Card Symbolism in His Helmets

This is the reason I originally made this post, but I thought I should also explain the origins of his card fascination first. As I said, we probably all remember the cards on the back of his helmet in Vegas, but did you know that wasn't the first time he had cards on the back of his helmet?

From 2008-2013, he used to have a pair of cards on the back of his helmets. The symbolisms of the cards themselves as well as the evolution of their design is really fascinating to me! Even more so with the recent development of the card choice in 2023.

Fernando said he wanted to reference his two titles in some way on the back of his helmet and after his friend sent him several ideas, he decided on having two cards(an ace of clubs and an ace of hearts, sometimes pictured with 05 and 06 on them as well), saying: "I picked the cloverleaf [the ace of clubs - Ed] to give me luck, but the only pity is that it doesn't have four leaves!"(X)

2008.

Here's the very first appearance of the cards! They're displayed flat, with the 05 and 06 clearly visible

2009.

Very similar to 2008, but with a slightly different design, and they're maybe a bit more straight with less shadow?

2010.

This is the first major change! I was sad they didn't have the years on them anymore, but then I realized they're sparkly to match with his signature lightning bolts on the top of the helmet!!

2011.

Honestly I'm still somewhat unsure if this is the actual 2011 helmet? It's pretty difficult to find clear photos of the back of helmets from older seasons. It's easiest to find them on replica sites or auction sites so I'm not 100%? But anyways, I like that this has the championship years on the underside of the cards

2012.

This is when I started getting weirdly emotional about the helmets. Do you see how they've progressed from being a centerpoint to being curled up and sad at the bottom of the helmet? Not listing the year anymore??

2013.

Same thoughts as 2012. And after this season, they cease to exist (just like his ferrari chair in the garage, WOAH CALLBACK), until cards make a reeappearance in his Vegas helmet, albeit in a different form

2013 Monaco(Honorable Mention):

For some reason 2013 helmets were easier to find proper pictures of, so I happened to witness this absolute beauty. The creativity of this helmet genuinely blows me away??? Wanting to keep the card motif, but making sure to incorporate it into the rest of the puzzle piece design?? Mwah! There was another special 2013 helmet but they didn't change the cards at all so I really applaud this one

2023 Las Vegas(The Return of The King):

The magnificent return! But look! The cards are different cards! Instead of being two aces, it's now an ace of hearts, a four of hearts(his driver number of course!) and, the, now iconic, representation of himself as a Joker. I literally could not believe my eyes when this helmet was released and I saw the Joker card, what a fucking silly old man....I really wonder if he felt nostalgic having cards on his helmet again or if he didn't think about it all and was just like, "ah cards because Vegas!!!"

III. Why Does This Matter?

*The rest of the post was factual, this is moreso my personal thoughts on the symbolism of the cards/designs

This post spawned from me recently watching the 2010 Bahrain gp and noticing "hey wait a minute...are those CARDS ON THE BACK OF HIS HELMET!?" It's a really tiny detail that's unfortunately covered up by the HANS device pretty much whenever he's wearing the helmet, so it's really difficult to spot! But I became fascinated with the fact that he had cards on his helmet before that recent helmet, and now here we are!

There's something to me about how the design of the cards evolves over the course of six seasons from the cards being front and center to being smaller, more folded up and closer to the bottom of the helmet. As I said, the 2012-2013 ones genuinely made me depressed because it feels, symbolically, like his hopes for getting another Ace are becoming more and more unlikely and falling away until they eventually fall falt and fade away entirely after 2013 and disappear for basically a decade.

But when they return? They're not the same cards! Instead of representing Fernando's championships, they now represent him as a person, displaying his driver number and his persona of being a Joker!! Though I do think it's interesting he happened to keep the Ace of Hearts, even though he talked more about the Ace of Clubs before. I'm not sure it's actually this deep in reality, but I like to think that it's him not letting his championships(and the lack thereof) define him, but rather letting who he is as a person shine and be the centerpoint instead! But on a sadder note, as @suzuki-ecstar said to me, maybe the Aces aren't there anymore because he's lost all hope for a chance at a third Ace entirely :(

#yes its finals week and im up to my eyes in coursework but instead decided to spend like 5 hours researching and writing this post #nah bcs i actually genuinely put more work into this then I think I have all semester dsfjdskjg #that thing about him using a condom and teddy bear in a magic trick genuinely had me crying with laugher. actual tears rolling down my face #<- HOW!?!? WHAT WAS THE TRICK?? its literally inconceivable to me what he did. oh if only there were pics UGH #anyways!! this post was a lot of fun to make!! i really really love the symbolism and design of helmets so this was a rly fun project #and i also went down a lot of rabbitholes while make this and saw many very weird articles from yore #i feel like i make an equal amnt of deranged posts abt seb and nando but i dont know why nando is gifted w all my well researched projects #<- i.e. chair post. that was the same level of research as this one but at least this one i could find actual sources about....#idk theres smth about the extremely long history of nando's history that evokes research posts like this KLAJSLSKDJ #theres just so much that i dont think I ever really see people discussing! so i must create.#haha what was that joke tag i wanted to make abt my researched posts? I think:#normal posts that catie normally makes in a normal fashion #<- one day ill go back and actually tag posts w that. bcs the amtn of research compared to my actual schoolwork is so unwell #fernando alonso #fa14 #f1 #formula 1 #catie.rambling.txt #we do a little bit of f1

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lotus-pear · 7 months

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HI UHM HELLO… [taps mic] is this thing on….?? ………ok! [leans in] writer mutuals! i’m in dire need of assistance rn. how do you write a story. i have to write a plot for english and it’s due next thursday and i’m not sure where to start. are there any rules i should be following. plot points that are crucial outside of the basic exposition/rising action/climax/falling action/resolution??? how to format your individual chapters?? how to develop the story and where to get inspo??? how do some of you get inspo??? PLS HELP ME

#THINK OF IT LIKE I NEED TO WRITE A RLY GOOD FANFIC FOR MY LIT TEACHER #NOW BASED ON THAT.. WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE A PERSON STARTING A FIC FOR THE FIRST TIME #for reference it needs to be connected to pre wwii and the actual war itself so like the 1935-1945 time period #bro i’m so bad at writing fiction forget HISTORICAL fiction #this is going to be sm fun if i get this right it it could explode in my face and i’ll never be allowed in the classroom again if i fail #drop thoughts below what should the plotline be i will take anything #we can craft a story together :]

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becauseplot · 7 months

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i feel i should preface this with saying that this relationship analysis "takes place" before qcellbit's emotional exhaustion and motivation crash---

---but i have been having SUCH crazy thoughts abt the archivists (qcellbit n qphilza). guy who needs evidence of Everything 🤝 guy who takes pictures of and hoards Everything. two-cars-passing-each-other meme whenever cellbit (practically nocturnal at this point) makes a late-night run to the Ordo to grab some notes he left there and bumps into phil (trouble sleeping ever since the birdhouse incident) who's sitting in one of the evidence rooms organizing a new backpack of photos to hand over to cellbit.

"oh. hey phil." "hi mate."

their conversations and interactions center mostly around cellbit's investigations---the ones cellbit lets the public know about, anyway---and whatever new info phil managed to scoop up since the last time they saw each other. theories are exchanged, and photos are passed between them as easily as pleasantries. "how're you doing?" "oh, doin' alright, doin' alright. you?" "eh. busy, you know?"

they don't talk about much else.

see, they both understand secrets. intimately. things you did you would much rather leave behind you, if you can, or thoughts, worries, doubts you would much rather keep to yourself for fear of speaking them into existence. sealed lips; a tight lid. they look at each other and know they're only seeing what the other wants them to see, but that's okay. they get it. sometimes, it's just easier to focus on what is directly in front of you. what you can see, what you can touch; what you know is true, what you know is real.

what you can do.

so cellbit generates and bounces his theories off of phil, and phil is more than happy to be a sounding board. phil fills up a backpack with photographs, and cellbit is more than happy to take it off his hands. they focus on The Work, on the spiderweb of red string and loose ends and grainy pictures and scrawled notes pinned to the wall, madness-incarnate sprawled out before them. they trust each other's judgement, and they trust each other's skills, and they trust each other, and neither asks too many questions. they both appreciate it.

#like seriously most of their conversations thus far have been about everything and everyone BESIDES themselves.#and that!! makes for such an interesting relationship!! bc they trust each other despite it!!#btw i rly tried to format this so that the concepts/ideas touched on this relationship study usually came in pairs-#-the first of each pair being mostly and cellbit and the second being mostly about phil-#-with the exception of the bolded sentence which is supposed to have different meanings depending on whose perspective-#-you read it from. idk i had a lot of fun formatting this. me when parallels me when mirror images <33 #dont mind me im just rambling #qsmp philza #qsmp cellbit #q!philza #q!cellbit #also phil acting as cellbit's rubber duck is so important to me actually.#shout out to every friend of mine who has put up with my wall of texts abt an au or writing idea or incoherent mess of disjointed thoughts.#shout out to every friend of mine who's been there hanging out or on call with me as i lose my mind on a problem im whiteboarding.#u keep me sane and u help me more than u know. ily.#archivists #archivist duo

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padfootastic · 8 months

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hello! i am back with yet another…thing. thank u for the tag @lovelymasks <3 (i realised, upon second reading, that this was supposed to be a sunday snippet but i’m an idiot n therefore this is now a saturday snippet mwuah)

I think you should go to a Healer, Sirius.

Why, he’d asked, flippant. What was there to do with a Healer when you were a convict on the run? Besides, Sirius was wrong in a way that couldn’t be made right. He was past the point of return. Healers would’ve barely known what to do with him before Azkaban, let alone in the condition he was in now.

Because you look like a stiff wind will blow you over, Harry’d answered, though the answering flippancy didn’t quite land the way he intended because what Sirius heard was ‘Because I don't want to lose anyone else.’

What Harry didn't say, and Sirius didn’t want to hear, was ‘Because I can’t lose another parent.’

He quietly acquiesced after that. The trembling, hopeful smile growing on his godson’s face was enough to wipe away all apprehensions after that.

Until now, when Harry was at Hogwarts, and he was second guessing this whole business.

Did he really need a Healer, like, really?

One look at the mirror in front of him gave him a solid, sturdy answer.

He was dressed in his old rags and it was a testament to the conditions of Azkaban that clothes from when he was younger, before hitting his final growth spurts, were barely just fitting him now. Sirius’ back was almost constantly bent these days--all days spent curled up in a ball seemed to have reshaped his skeletal structure, who knew--each vertebrae gaining a distinct notch in the column of his skin. His stomach was a fascinating blend of too small and too bloated. He couldn’t keep anything down, but he wasn’t able to eat much either. A mystery for the ages.

Less said about his face, the better. Sirius wasn’t vain, never had any reason to be, but there was a certain…pride he’d maintained, a level of outward appearance that was considered bare minimum for a Black, a conditioning he’d never managed to shake off.

It was that conditioning itching at him now, turning him away from any reflective surface before he could see his distorted features, grotesque and inhuman, staring back at him.

And ultimately, it was that, he realised with a shameful sort of guilt, that pushed him to see a Healer. Not his godson’s pleading look, not concern for his wellbeing--but leftovers from an upbringing that he hated, his mother’s words he couldn’t stop hearing, his father’s sharp commands.

Ultimately, it was his blood that made him give in, as it always did.

further tagging @jmagnabo92 @soopsiedaisies @groundzero-v 💜

#sirius black #harry potter #mwuahahahahaha #i am feeling. on top of the world #bc ive written like. 3k for FoD in the past couple days #and writing has been so hard recently!!!#but i had a therapy sesh the other day that actually literally rewired my neural pathways #so i guess here i am. turned a new leaf or wtv #anyway! this is from FoD ofc. from way down so it probably wont be posted for a bit #but i rly like it #and im trying to keep from posting the entirety of the nasty molly-sirius fight i just wrapped up #(ive already bothered the pf server w way too many snippets hehehe)#so this is what we're left wih #im so excited for the next chapter (even tho i sort of have to figure out what'll be in it--the fight or the trial or sumn else)#but just. yeah. its very fun.#pen’s writing #fic: foundations of decay

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zushimart · 1 year

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kabukimono? scara x gn!reader hurt & comfort kind of? (the licking ur wounds kind of angst). reincarnation au (U!! are the reincarnated one). 868 words. ib an ask mar baby sent to me. @zhvonqli...

it’s a warm day, but the mob around the market stalls makes it warmer. with not a raincloud in the sky to be found, the streets were lively with the chatter of the crowd, occasional shouts of a shopkeeper, and the screaming laughs of children weaving through the mass of bodies. despite the noise, the wanderer’s concentrated on a bundle of dangling red harra fruit hanging from the awning of an unfamiliar stall.

he doesn’t want to bother the shopkeep, so he hovers just a few feet off the ground to inspect the fruit. it catches him off guard when a voice clears its throat and cuts through his thoughts, “just fifty mora a pop.” when he looks in your direction, eyes meeting yours, his control over anemo dissipates like water falling through cupped hands. he drops to his feet with gracelessness.

he’s entered a pocket dimension, he thinks. the crowd’s become muffled and colors have become muted. maybe to you, leaning against a stack of crates, he’s just another customer. to him, you’re a ghost. the pause stretches for far too long before he finds himself stuttering, “u-um, fifty?” he wants to scrub at his eyes and run up the steps of the academia back to nahida’s sanctuary. she could take a look inside his mind to see if the trauma finally left some cracks. of course it isn’t you. it’s someone who looks like you. you died. you’ve been dead.

a part of you wonders if maybe you’d caught him stealing from the way he rifles through his pouch of mora. he keeps taking measured glances at your face –– far from subtle, with wide eyes that find the sandy floor every time they meet your gaze.

in your customer’s nervousness, he drops the pouch and coins fly under the counter. profanities dirty his mouth as you lean down to help him. “is it too much?” you ask. he shakes his head, opening his hand to let you place the stray money in his palm. “are you new around here?”

“a little,” he says, “but i’ve got a… friend… showing me around,” he says, the word foreign on his tongue. “can i ask, what’s your name?” he's finally handing you the mora.

“um," you pause, "y/n." you pocket the money before turning around to grab a stepstool behind the counter. he bites his tongue, hard.

“from here?” he asks.

“born and raised,” you answer, reaching up to grab three harra fruit. “why do you ask?” and it’s in the way that you turn to look at him, the gentle tilt of your head, the open curiosity in your eyes, or maybe the cadence of your voice –– carrying worry for a stranger you’ve never met… and a suspicious one, at that. could it really be you?

“you just remind me of someone,” he says softly, “someone i used to know.”

“oh,” you say. “i hope that’s a good thing.”

“a very good thing,” he says before he can stop himself. you flash a big smile and butterflies erupt in his stomach. deja vu makes home in his heart with katsuragi’s voice echoing in his mind. 'this is y/n! they’ll be helping me help you.' you washed his clothes and gave him your bed that night. your smile was big then, too.

“i can be someone you do know, if you want.”

his eyes widen ever so slightly. “i would like that,” he says, taking the bag of harra fruit you’ve prepared, but it slips out of his hands, unprepared to hold the weight of the sheer amount he accidentally purchased.

but you catch it like nothing, “seems like you need the help."

he's red in the face, docile like a kitten. “i do,” he admits. far flung centuries ago, the same hands brushed his as they handed him a bag of freshly picked lavender melons. the same hands taught him to hold a comb and braid his hair. the same hands held his face to pull him in for his first kiss.

“and what’s your name?” you ask him, taking a few steps back to lean against the same pile of crates. it has to be you.

“k-kabukimono,” it comes falling from his lips before he could think. a hollow part of him wishes your eyes would ignite with recognition, but they don’t.

“what’s it mean?” you ask, “sounds inazuman.”

“i’m from inazuma,” he says, “it’s an insult.”

“oh. and you’re okay with that?”

“it’s the first name they... i mean, some other people i used to know... gave me. i liked it,” he says, fiddling with the bag in his hands.

“hmn, is it not your name anymore?”

“i don’t think so," he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“you’re a little peculiar,” you say with a laugh and the sound sends him back to tatarasuna. he recalls the same image… your head cast back, body shaking with laughter from one of the first jokes he’d ever managed to tell. he promised himself he’d remember the moment forever.

he wonders, staring at you in front of him in the now before looking down at a body dressed in black and blue instead of pure white silk, if this was a dream. a gift from nahida that he’d wake up from... sad, but happy to have spoken with you even if just once more.

“kabukimono?” you ask, “are you okay?”

“i’m okay,” he blurts, but he knows why you’re asking.

he’s crying.

#HES CRYING !!!#scaramouche x reader #not my usual kind of thing hmn but it was rly fun to write #interesting and hard to write actually i should say #wanderer x reader #did i tag the wrong one btw mar shld i tag the zhongli one #im hungry

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revasserium · 11 months

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*runs in* ISAWYOURAUPOSTNAJSJSJSJJS Omg hiii

I really like your blog! It's like yummy food for my tired brain, so I got really excited to see you're making aus!

Can I ask for roommate au with Jamil? I'm down bad for him;;;

for my 31 days of au challenge @bakedgrape

a story in reverse

jamil; 3,571 words; fluff and slightly suggestive themes though it's never actually nsfw; college roommates!au + implied fwb...; you can read the story top the bottom or bottom to top ;)

day 273.

on the last day of term, you say goodbye for the very first time — and it stings like an unsuspecting papercut found by a thoughtless dollop of hand sanitizer, sharp and bitter with the pang of betrayal.

“ah… i guess this is it, huh?” jamil’s voice is lighter than it usually is, and just as forced.

“you say that like we’re not coming back next year…” you say, though there’s a twist in your stomach that makes your throat seize at the thought, even if it is just a thought.

“s-sorry! i just meant —“ he clears his throat and tries again, “i meant that i’ll see you soon, hm?”

for a second, you don’t know what to say — you can feel a torrent of unsaid words pushing up against the back of your throat like an insistent tide, crashing against the shore of your tongue. but then, jamil is reaching out to tip your chin back, brushing his lips to yours.

“soon. i promise,” he whispers, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them, gray and bright as the breaking dawn.

“yeah — i’ll see you soon, jamil.”

you pull your lips into a smile and watch as he jogs towards the curb, kalim already waiting there for him with their family car (rich boys, ugh), a dark-suited man in shades dipping his head in your general direction before slipping into the driver’s seat. you wave as jamil and kalim both turn towards you, raising their hands.

“see you next year!” jamil calls even as you nod.

“yeah, see you!”

and then they’re pulling away from the curb, leaving you standing there amidst your three rather large, well-scuffed suitcases. you let out a long sigh, plopping down on the largest one, the shell painted red and gold, though the colors barely peak out now from beneath the countless travel stickers to places that you’ve never been to (but jamil had promised he’d take you to all of them, didn’t he?)

well. there’s always next year.

day 212.

“are you gonna dorm again next year?”

“hm? i’m not sure… kalim says that we should just get a place together, so that’s what i might do.”

“oh.”

you pause over your half-eaten tub of haagen-daz, licking your lips of the mint-chocolate flavor. jamil glances over, reaching out to dig his spoon into the melting icecream.

“don’t worry though, wherever you’re staying, i’m sure we’ll be able to find a place nearby,” jamil says, flashing you a smile and a wink even as you duck, your cheeks flooding with color.

“that’s not what i was thinking about!”

“no? hm… i could’ve sworn that’s what you were looking so upset over but… well, if i’m wrong…” you can hear the mock-seriousness in jamil’s voice as he shrugs and heaves a melodramatic sigh.

“you’re the worst…” but you can’t keep from grinning as he cocks a challenging eyebrow in your direction before pouncing on you, pinning you beneath him on the sofa, the springs squeaking beneath you as the nearly drop the nearly empty pint of icecream.

“j-jamil! the ac’s still out —“

“mm… but isn’t that why we got icecream?”

his lips chase fire over the plains of your skin and despite everything, you find yourself shivering.

“y-yeah but —“

but your words die on your lips as he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, tearing a gasp from your throat as your head tips back.

day 196.

he’s always running high after his dance competitions, and this time it’s not different. so when he comes home, his eyes limned in glitter and khol, you’re not surprised to feel yourself being hauled out of your chair and into his lap, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you purse your lips, card your fingers through his hair and hold his face steady with a teasing grin.

“i’m guessing that you guys won?”

“course we did,” he says, his breath still coming in short enough pants, his irises blown nearly black as he leans up to nip at your jawline, “we swept.”

“mm — i mean, you guys are pretty damn good.”

“how would you know? you never come to our competitions, even when i ask.”

you pull back with a dainty smack of your lips, pressing a finger to his frown.

“you guys could try to have competitions that aren’t either overseas or during exam weeks — then i might actually be able to go.”

jamil rolls his eyes, readjusting your in his lap even as he lets his head fall back against the sofa cushions.

“stupid exams…”

“just because some people are geniuses doesn’t mean we all are —“

your breath hitches as he narrows his eyes, a quicksilver glint flashing behind them as he hoists you up into a bridal carry and makes a beeline for the bedroom door.

“but since some other people finished their most stressful exam today… don’t you think they deserve to be… rewarded?”

a delicious shiver races down the length of your spine as you allow yourself to be plopped down on your too-narrow bed. jamil grins like the devil as he tugs off his sweat shirt and you can’t help the way your stomach clenches at the sight of him — so lithe and muscular, his skin smooth and perfectly sun-kissed. you’d never get tired of looking at his body, not in a million years, you think.

“i… i suppose one night off wouldn’t hurt…”

“mm, that’s what i like to hear.”

day 120.

“dance practice again tonight?”

“yeah. every monday, wednesday, and thursday —“

“— and sometimes fridays and sundays —“ you grin as you watch him shove a towel into his sports bag.

“here,” you say, holding out his water bottle, “i — uhm — you said you wanted to try liquid iv’s the other day so i put a packet in for you — i don’t know if you’d like the flavor but…”

jamil blinks as he pauses over his half-tied shoes.

“thanks.” he reaches out to take the bottle from you, giving it an experimental shake, “i — uh — i’m sure it’ll taste just fine. that was… really thoughtful of you.”

you hate the heat creeping up your cheeks as you turn back to your studies.

“it’s nothing. they had them at the farmer’s market i passed by this morning so…”

“uhm… will you be… up… when i get back?”

your head snaps up as you turn to look at him, eyes wide. fire courses through you, followed quickly by the sobering cool of uncertainty but still. you gulp and lick your suddenly very chapped lips.

“i — i don’t know… may… maybe?” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, casting your eyes back at your half-written notes, your mind already spinning over the calculations of how long it’d take for you to finish them properly.

memories from the past few weeks flood through your mind and you can’t help the twisting coil of tension thrumming at the base of your belly.

“well… i’ll text you later when i’m on my way back then,” jamil says, double-knotting his sneakers and flashing a grin your way. he gives you a two-fingered salute before he’s off and out the door, leaving you very nearly squirming in your seat at the mere thought of ‘later’.

day 101.

the third time it happens, neither of you can blame the alcohol. there was no party this time, no crush of ill-dressed bodies, no too-loud music and too-cheap beer. this time, there was just you and him and a shared bowl of under-salted popcorn, the lights off, a rerun of some movie both of you have watched at some indefinite point in time.

you don’t quite remember who made the first move — maybe it was you, when you’d coiled your legs under you, pressing your knee to the outside of his thigh and leaving it there. maybe it was him, when he’d rested his arm along the back of the sofa and let his fingers tangle absently in your hair.

maybe it was the moment of breath between one scene and the next, when the screen had gone miraculously dark and left nothing but the imprint of light behind both your eyes and before either of you could blink it away, your lips had found each other.

there’s nothing to blame this time but yourselves and each other, no questions to ask but the ones you’d already answered — right here, right now, because it feels good, because it feels right.

you fall asleep tangled in each other’s limbs, half beneath the silken covers of jamil’s brand new sheets.

and when you both wake up this time, it’s to the warmth of each other’s arms, the steady of one another’s breaths. jamil doesn’t pull away and you don’t try to think of something casual to say. instead, you both just look at each other and jamil grins.

“so… breakfast?”

you laugh, letting your head thump back onto his uber-plush pillows.

“yeah. that sounds fantastic.”

day 75.

the second time it happens, you blame the alcohol. you blame the crush of ill-dressed bodies, the too-loud music and the too-cheap beer. who’s idea was it to host a house party in your dorm room of all places anyway? and why is jamil’s entire dance crew suddenly here? hooting and hollering and grinning knowingly in your direction, a few of them even tossing you obvious winks.

as if they knew.

do they know?

you curl into yourself, press your body against the cool of the wall and toss back your drink, grimacing at the taste. whatever jamil had put in the punch bowl originally, there’s no question that it’s since been spiked with maybe a dozen different alcohols. and the mixture is fowl as it burns through your chest into your stomach.

the room spins, and eventually, you find yourself being pressed up against the back of your bedroom door, the party still booming along outside.

“f-fuck —” you fist your fingers in jamil’s long hair and tug; he lets out a hiss as his head jerks back, but even in your alcohol-induced haze, you can see the desire burning bright within him.

“sorry — did i —?”

“no — just f-feels good —” you bury your face in his shoulder, your body going soft and languid in his arms even as he slots a leg between your thighs to keep you still against the too-thin door. your hips ruck down against him and he lets out a thick groan at the way you shake against him.

“yeah? g-good… i like that —” he tugs you back with him and the pair of you topple onto your bed, all desperate fingers and dirty hands, sloppy lips, taking what you can, each from the other as if your bodies were endless things. and like this, with his hand pinning your wrists above your head, his gasping breaths bursting by your ear, you think they just might be.

the next morning, you wake up to an empty bed and cold pancakes on the kitchen counter.

day 47.

“why don’t you just talk to her about it?” kalim asks.

jamil frowns, running through his cooldown stretches, his eyes focused on his own form in the mirror even as kalim glances over at him.

“because — what’s there to talk about? i mean — it was just… one of those things.”

kalim shrugs, turning back to the mirror as well.

“if you say so but… it seems like you wanna talk to her about it.”

“it’s fine.”

“till it happens again.”

“it’s not gonna happen again.”

kalim slates him a look; jamil scowls even harder.

“if it does —” kalim’s voice is light as they both pack up their stuff and click off the lights to the dance studio.

“i said its not gonna happen again,” jamil snipes, readjusting his bag on his shoulder and digging out his phone. your message thread is pulled up and he’s halfway through the sentence — on my way back — before he catches himself and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

kalim grins, looking a bit too smug as jamil clears his throat and tries to play it off as if nothing’s happened.

“if it does… you should make her breakfast the morning after.”

“w-why the hell would i do that?”

kalim laughs, “because! then she’ll know that you might want to spend more time with her — time when you’re not —”

“okay! okay — ugh… but like… what do i even make her for breakfast anyway?”

kalim looks much, much too pleased with himself as he peers into jamil’s face.

“how about pancakes?”

day 31.

the first time it happens, it’s barely more than a month into your co-habitation. it’d been a not-quite-accident kind of accident. it’d been one of those rare nights when jamil doesn’t have dance practice and you’d finished all your work early.

“wanna play a game?”

jamil’s smile had been viper-sweet and just as dangerous.

“only if drinks are involved.”

you roll your eyes but agree.

“never have i ever.”

jamil shrugs, “sure. we drink if we’ve done the thing, right?”

you nod, pouring a row of malibu shots. jamil grimaces.

“why malibu?”

“cause — it’s sweet and it’s cheap and it’s the only thing we had in the cabinet.”

“fair. alright — you go first.” jamil pulls a glass towards him, his eyes fixed on you. he watches as you swirl your own shot glass with a contemplative look on your face, and he wonders if you know how terribly tantalizing you look.

so… he might’ve caught himself staring a few times right after you’d gotten out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel, your hair tracing water down the bare skin of your shoulders and back. and he might’ve lingered over your uncapped bottle of perfume, swallowing hard as he catches a whiff of the vaguely floral fragrance, the base warm and woody and dizzying.

“never have i ever… gone to three different countries in one month.” your smile, when he finally fixes his gaze on you again, is nothing short of wicked.

he narrows his eyes as he takes his shot, “that’s not fair — you know i have to travel for my dance crew’s international competitions.”

you roll your eyes, “yeah, and i’ve never been to half the places you’ve been so…”

“i’ll take you with me one day,” he says, the words out of his mouth before he can stop himself. you cock your head as you stare at him, and then you raise your already refilled shot glass.

“i’ll hold you to it then.”

jamil refills his own glass and downs the shot.

“never have i ever… been walked in on after taking a shower.”

“hey! and who’s fault is that?”

jamil smirks, shrugging nonchalantly as you take your shot, quick and vindictive.

“fine — never have i ever walked in on someone after they’d just taken a shower.”

jamil takes his own shot in stride, swallowing down the burn with a wide, satisfied smile.

so it goes on like this, the never-have-i-evers getting more and more ludicrous till you’re both drunk and laughing and more than a little hot beneath the collar.

“never… have i ever… hm…” you muses, your head lolling back as you cast your eyes up at the ceiling, as if an interesting thing not to have done might be written there.

“what’s something… super cliché?” jamil wonders aloud, letting his gaze flicker up as well.

you pause for a moment before dissolving into a pile of red-faced giggles.

“oh! never have i ever hooked up with a roommate! there — that’s a good one.” you smile wide and sure, looking proud of your own accomplishment in thinking up this thing that you’re certain he’s done.

jamil licks his lips and swallows, his eyes meeting your as he lets out a breath.

“i haven’t either.”

the air between the pair of you thickens as your eyes flash down towards your empty shot glass.

“oh.”

“but i guess it is kinda cliché, huh…” he says, setting down his glass and dragging a thumb along his bottom lip before popping into his mouth.

he hears rather than sees the way your breath hitches and he can’t help the pleased purr rumbling through him at the thought of being able to do this to you.

“y-yeah… i guess it is…” you lick your own lips, “makes you feel a little left out, doesn’t it?”

jamil hums in response, and it isn’t till you look up again that you realize he’s leaned over the graveyard of now-emptied shot glasses, his lips hovering inches from your own.

“but how about we change that, hm?”

day 15.

it only takes two weeks for one of you to walk in on the other in the bathroom, and all things considered, it was kind of a miracle that it hadn’t happened sooner. the bathroom door doesn’t really lock and jamil had been too preoccupied with scrolling through the music for their next showcase to see the tell-tale strip of light beneath the door that usually indicates that the bathroom is currently occupied.

when he pushes through, it’s to find you stepping out of the shower, the steam still rising from your skin in thick, white wisps, your hand reaching for the towel on the rack.

“wh —”

jamil stares, drop-jawed and dumbstruck as his eyes rake over your very, very naked body, the music still thumping from his large headphones as he blinks.

you scream.

he slams the door shut.

15 minutes later when you leave the bathroom, your cheeks flushed a deep shade of maroon, your hair still damp, but your body now covered in a long t-shirt and sweats, neither of you says a thing.

day 3.

three days in and you have to admit that it’s kind of nice, having a super rich trust fund boy as your roommate. if nothing else, all the furniture he’s brought along is gorgeous — from the thick persian rugs to the tasteful suede sofa, you very quickly find yourself living in a dorm that looks like it might have belonged in the pages of a crate & barrel magazine spread.

“but apparently, his cousin’s family is even better off —” one of your friends had informed you after you’d looked up jamil’s family online, very quickly finding the wiki page that links him to the al-asim family.

“oh yeah? what do they even do?” you squint at the wikipedia page detailing the al-asim family legacy.

“i think something to do with… water filtration?” your friend peers over your shoulder as you scroll through the page before clicking back to google. she tugs your phone out of your hand and quickly types something into the search bar before making a gagging noise and turning the phone results back towards you.

“holy shit.”

“holy is right,” your friend had said.

“with a net worth like that… what the hell are they doing in school?” you ask, your eyes wide as you look back up.

your friend shrugs, a wicked grin twisting her lips as she leans over the library table and whispers in your ear —

“but y’know if you can bag jamil you’ll be set for life!”

you flush and shove her away, “shut up! we’re just roommates!”

your friend tuts, “plenty of people end up hooking up with their roommates — it’s a literal cliché at this point.”

you roll your eyes, “well not for us, it won’t — and e-even if we do… there’s a long way between ‘hooking up’ and bagging someone for life.”

your friend giggles, batting her lashes floridly at you, “never say never!”

day 1.

“o-oh! hi — sorry, you must be…”

jamil frowns, turning around at the sound of your voice.

“jamil viper…” he says as his eyes land on you for the very first time, taking in the three large suitcases gathered around your legs, and the light blush dusting your cheeks from what he assumes is the exertion of having wrangled them down the too-long hallway.

“yes — right…” you purse your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears.

“and you must be my new roommate, right?” jamil says, recovering from his momentary shock to offer you his hand.

pretty, is his first thought, smells like flowers, is his second.

you beam up at him, nodding.

“it’s lovely to finally meet you!”

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yume-fanfare · 1 month

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Mar I need to know how bad the hetalia hit you because it was BAD with me I tell you

one of those guys is competing with tori for character ive drawn the most in my entire life and i am not sure if tori wins

#my first actual fandom community experience..... on wattpad dot com #also on there at the tender age of 13 or so i met the first person i actually hated in my life #like never once had i been so annoyed at a person until then #it was an important formative experience without which i would not be here today n i got an important friendship out of it #but also i would not touch it again #i was mostly in my rarepair corner tho n everyone else was my age it was chill no actual discourse i met fun people #we had made up discourse for funsies though #like making fake hater accounts that would write callout posts on silly stuff it was fun #like yeah the people were actually great (except that one guy) but not rly the media #i was merely into the characters with 7 seconds of total screentime so i made up whatever i wanted n that was it <3 #starpros sunshine #preguntas

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traitorsinsalem · 9 months

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bg3 is crazy for being a massive $70 larian + wotc collab game whose accessibility menu features subtitles that are present for less than half of all idle character dialogue and almost zero battle dialogue

#succ speaks #not to be the 'paizo wouldn't let this happen' guy but god this is actually insane #like why even have an accessibility menu at that point? i'd rather watch a youtube video with automatic captions #same energy as devs complaining that everyone was making their pcs a white human guy in early access while they had no asian human options #like bro i just want to know what bestie karlach is saying but if u make her mumble with no captions even tho i have subtitles on #tf am i supposed to do.....🤨😡😭💀#baldur's gate 3 is fun but this is pissing me off. like i'm prob not gonna keep playing this solo & only play online with friends #it's fun but. not fun enough to mimic the actual wacky bullshit i do with charisma rogues and bards in dnd or pf #i think i'm also used to having real humans around for ttrpg antics and dynamic character interactions so bg3 feels bland in comparison lol #also because irl i can ask people to repeat what they just said 🙃🙃🙃#joining the mob by accident was admittedly funnier in bg3 than it was in dnd though considering i stumbled into the base out of nowhere #i guess it just falls under ny philosophy that dnd is most fun when wotc has zero actual say in what happens and what we can do 👍#however as much as pf > dnd...bg3 > kingmaker. i think pathfinder is just to true of a ttrpg to adapt into a video game super well #like. the writing in wotr was WAY better than bg3 but still sometimes bad enough to be infuriating ESPECIALLY in regards to iomedae #but the weird ass iomedae stuff is also true in the adventure path itself and plenty of other people have complained about it #but hey at least in wotr the subtitles told me what she was saying every time she spoke 👍#wotr was still rly fun tho no hate to the game in general this is a quick slam of being pissed at bg3 again 🙏🙏

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takami-takami · 4 months

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It means a lot to me when people give me thoughts on my drawings cuz like I really hope people like them 👉👈

#like i actually Do hope i am good at drawing. with writing its like im just having fun but drawing it's like i rly wanna get better at it!!#🐇 rambles

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shegoesbyjoy · 1 year

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the other side of oblivion

ya girl is back at it again with another DE fic ✌️ 4,528 words, pretty heavy angst (with an uplifting conclusion), and features a healthy sprinkling of some of my favourite quotes from the game.

this was written rather obsessively over the course of 2 days, most of which fell in the early hours of the morning because i apparently Do Not Know how to maintain a proper sleep schedule when i'm inspired to write. bit of a different format than the usual as well, which was fun to try it out!

as always, love to hear your thoughts if you read it (tysm for reading regardless 💖), share if you'd like, and hope you enjoy :)

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #disco elysium fanfiction #disco elysium fic #harrykim #kimharry #my fic #fun fact i'd written 75% of this in third person before going back and switching everything to second bc the narrative kept demanding it!!!#the entire fic shook itself out so much more smoothly after that lol #but that makes this the first time i'm writing second person AND harry's pov which is wild #a songfic (sorta)? in the year 2023? it's more likely than you think #this is one of my fave songs actually and it's kinda rly special that it inspired fic for my fave game :')#also i'm just trying to be creative with how i write and not worry too much about it yakno #just trying different shit to see what happens and idk #maybe it works maybe it doesn't but i'm having fun

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anachronistic-falsehood · 11 months

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"if vash the stampede were from our modern universe would he be from the midwest usa or california or-" WRONG. THAT MAN IS FROM CANADA. HE IS QUEBECOIS. I DO NOT TAKE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM

#trigun #IT'S THE VIBES. ITS THE VIBES #THE TWINS ARE FROM QUEBEC THAT IS FINAL!!!!!#obligatory this is a joke idc what ur hcs are etc etc etc #man i rly need to work on my polygun roadtrip fic theyre all canadian bc i am canadian and i say so #they all have Backstory :3 which i desperately want to expand on but this is a silly fun crack fic so i might not get the chance #but just know. they all have backstories that mirror canon #i gotta start writing that again and actually post it at some point woowoo plushie can wait for a bit i think

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skitskatdacat63 · 1 month

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"To dream the impossible dream, that is my quest." - Prince Fernando of Asturias

+ Seb not getting what he ordered

+ the usual

Hello yes, look! It's baby Renault Fernando, isn't he so cute??? Who wouldn't want to force him into an arranged marriage, like cmon man be real. Here is the progress as usual, as well as his suit without the design, cause I'm pretty proud of it just blank even!

Okay so this is pure Fernando, innocent Fernando, before he had his apirations ripped way from him. Well not fully ripped away tbf, because that's the crux of his character: is it more humiliating to never succeed or to only succeed because someone handed it to you with concessions? I guess that's up for him to decide though ;;;

The thing I love about this drawing and young Fernando in general is how much easier it is to see his and Seb's similarities. Look how similar they look! Seb is just a bit more evil.

I think that's a big part as to why his feelings about Seb are so complicated. He both loves and hates how similar they are. From an egotistical point, he can appreciate and respect the familiar traits in Seb, the hunger, the exuberance, the pride, the ego. But also we hate seeing our own traits in other people, it's almost like turning a mirror on your worst traits and suddenly being able to see yourself from a new perspective. The biggest point here though is that Fernando turns that resentment onto Seb, as a way to clamp down on self hatred.

He becomes more bitter and resentful as he grows older, and loses a lot of his whimsy and joy. So it hurts him to see Seb, who in addition to getting everything he's ever wanted, also retain his whimsy. He, wrongly, just sees it as something that had to happen in order for him to grow up fully. It's more of a survival tactic, it started becoming unbefitting for him to have that level of unfounded confidence. That's the main reason he sees Seb as childish, immature and undeserving. He hasn't fully grown out of his capacity for whimsy and joy, and thus is below Fernando.

Well that was depressing oops! As the chibi art represents, this is probably a painting Seb got sent in the early days of planning their marriage. This is the Fernando who is still prideful, the Fernando who is still confident, the Fernando Seb vaguely remembers meeting his youth. Seeing this definitely pushes him even further towards the marriage(though tbf it's not like he even has a choice either.) Though when the time to actually start courting comes around, Fernando looks very uh different. This is both a joke about how different Fernando was in his first renault stint vs his second. But also I think he does show up very moody and disheveled, as a sort of last chance way to try and turn everyone on Seb's side, including Seb, off from the marriage. However, it's pretty much a done deal by that point.

Seb is uh, definitely confused, but I think he would be drawn to Fernando regardless. Actually, this might make Fernando even more appealing. Seb gets to push him all the time, try to break down his walls and get a glimpse at the real Fernando, if even just for a moment. Seb wishes he had more that just a blurry, vague recollection of Fernando at his peak confidence. Fernando definitely grows into something resembling his past self, after recovering from all the hurt, but there's just something about youthful exuberance that can't really be fully replicated.

Okay so about the quote. I went with Don Quixote this time instead of the typical Napoleon, because I thought it'd be funny. Fernando picks up the book at some point during his youth, and it inspires him a lot. He doesn't really see the satire in it, and comes to really admire Don Quixote's mentality, he's like "wow he never gives up! That's so admirable!" It definitely helps him through dark times to aspire to never give up no matter what. Though later Seb definitely rags on him for not knowing it was satire, and Fernando is like "wh-what do you mean satire?" But he's mentally strong enough atp for it to not cause his whole worldview collapse. About the quote specifically, there's definitely some part of him, even when young, that knows his aspirations are borderline impossible. I wonder if that part of him feels weirdly safe and comforted about the marriage. Yes, it's not ideal, but it's safe and secure. He gets what he wants, and there's no chance of anyone taking it away from him, no matter what.

I think his title would be Prince of Asturias? It was either that or duke, and I think prince fits him bettee(Machiavelli reference?) That title is currently the title for the heir to the Spanish throne. In this time period, it's also commonly used for the heir, but for Fernando it's a bit unsure. Like in real life, he's not directly the offspring, but he's still the most obvious choice for heir. But there's still enough room for Seb and his house to try to vie for the throne themselves, so it makes it all complicated.

#*btw that quote is from don quixote just so thats clear. creds to Cervantes lmfao. i explained in the read more why !#hahahaha all my lore and tags and everything got deleted so i had to rewrite this all. original post you will live on fondly in my memories #^ i was half asleep writing it the 2nd time so i hope its still good?#its always going to be inferior to me but ig it doesnt rly matter bcs im the only one who actually got to read it ha #anyways super happy with this ahhhh!!!#it was so much fun to draw. i got to focus more on the fashion and its great as well bcs renault's colors are fire #im also glad to draw him bcs i feel like ive neglected hima bit compared to the others! its been a fair bit since ive drawn him #i cant remember what else i said here haha so ill just say hope ya like!#im still happy with the characterization notes and lore in the read more so def read it still!!#and as always please inquire if you have any thoughts or question abt the au #fernando alonso #f1 #formula 1 #<- it gets more and more absurd every drawing to tag this but ah tradition ig #catie.art #boy king au #vettonso

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