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dreamauri · 9 months

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‧˚⊹ 𝗱𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 ଓ :: 𝗠𝗩𝟭 ‧₊˚⤾

— you are reading: part three !!

╭╯ pairing . . . max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ) ┊ summary . . . a day for max and leila ) ┊ genre . . . angst/fluff ) ╰╮ warning . . . bleeding, passing out, mentions of cpr

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Max found himself petting the sleeping pup gently as he watched Leila sit on his lap and read through a dictionary, helping her pronounce the occasional words.

He had found out that his means of communication of her was through German, one that she'd find muse in making fun of him in while they waited for their flight. "Um . . . Thirsty?" She said confused.

"You're thirsty?" Max looked down into the book, confirming the word. "Let's get you something."

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MEDIA DAY THURSDAY JULY 21 2023 — Hungaroring, Hungary

Max had come to learn a lot more about Leila during the flight. Including, the fact that she could not sleep before washing her face, can not sleep with socks nor shoes on, and can absolutely not sleep alone.

He found himself laying back in the business class chair, watching some movie on the presented screen while patting the child that was laying on him.

He's come to like her very much, reminding him of Victoria, his sister, and the relationship he shared with her.

Arriving at Hungary was easy, the two were quick to get settled into the hotel before going down for breakfast. "She eating cereal." Max talked with you over the phone, updating you on his new responsibility.

"If you could get her to eat some protein that would be great. Eggs or chicken, anything." "I have bacon." "Avoid pork." You winced at the idea.

"Omlete?" "Yeah, that's good." Cutting up ⅔ of his dish into bite pieces, he gestured for her to ear. "How's he doing?" "He's OK. Still sleeping. But recovering." Max nodded even though he knew you couldn't see him.

"Leila, eggs?" "Ya3." [ew] She pushed the plate away putting her tongue out in disgust. "Hot chocolate?" "Eh?" She looked up at him confused looking at where the dutchman was pointing, the drinks station. "She likes mango. Try that instead. Alright."

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"Ba7lam M3ak, besafina." [i dream with you, about a boat] The girl sang quietly as she held onto Max's hair as he carried her on his shoulders through the paddock. Sadly enough, the tween was wearing a red ferrari cap that contrasted with Max's navy blue shirt and orange lion cap. "Wen ba7ar tani." [where we go sailing again]

"Aussieee." Mkayla cooed once she spotted the australian shepard, leaning down and showring the pup with affection. "Thank you, Max. I'll take it from here." She gestured, ready to take the child off the driver. Leila clung to Max's leg once he put her down, hiding from the middle aged woman. "allez, ma chérie. Max a des choses à faire." [come on, sweet heart. Max has things to do]

Leila shook her head. "je veux rester avec Maxie." [I want to stay with max.] "She can stay with me." Max nodded with a soft smile, gently placing his head atop Leila's head to comfort her. "C'est charles." The tween whispered watching the ferrari driver pass by.

"Lets go say hi." He picked her up from under her armpits, setting her on his waist. "Thanks, Mkayla. C'ya, Aussie." With a quick farewell, Dutch boy quickly caught up to the Monégasque. "Non non non, tu vas m'embarrasser." [no no no, you're going to embarrass me] "I don't speak French." He reminded her, even though he could probably put together what she said.

"Charles, Mate." "Max!" The drivers greeted each other, sharing a quick, hand shake. "What's this?" Charles was obviously curious, its not everyday you get to see max carrying a child wearing Ferrari merch. "Babysitting. This is Leila. She's a big fan." He introduced, holding the girl towards Charles like she weighed nothing.

"Well Hello." "Salut." Her voice was small as Max set her down. "Ah, tu parles français?" he kneeled down to her height, a small smile covering his face. "Oui, J'habite en France." "Très beau." He winked at her, taking the hat of her head and signing it. "I'll see you around, Leila." He ruffled her hair, putting the cap back on. "She doesn't speak english." Max told him. "You might want to stick to the french." ". . . How have you been communicating?" "We haven't."

". . . Did you kidnap her?" "What?! Why would you even think that? Look, if I put my hand out she'll take it— Leila seriously? You're dumping me now?" The girl took Charles' hand smiling happily. "I thought she doesn't understand what you were saying. I think I'll keep her." The Ferrari reminded, picking the girl up to his chest. "She doesn't." Max folded his arms as the girl giggled, sticking her tongue out at Max. "You owe me a football match." He booped her nose.

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FREE PRACTICE Friday July 21 2023 — Hungaroring, Hungary

"Goan!" [goal] She whisper shouted, as she kicked the ball ( she somehow got her hands on ) between Max's legs. He could only smile as he watched her kick the ball around the garage as everyone packed up for the night.

"Bist du bereit, zurückzugehen?" [are you ready to go back] "Dein Akzent ist sehr schlecht." [Your accent is very bad] She teased making Max once more give up on using the language for being made fun of by an eight year old.

"Yallah." [come on] He held out his hand. It was the only word he knew, disappointingly for you. After spending a week in an arab house hold, he was able to pick a few words, including: la2 [no], inshalla [in gods willing/never gonna happen], and khalas [enough]. He already knew Habibi [darling/sweetheart], but that wasn't making anything any better.

"Leila, seventeen is going to kill me." He picked her off the floor starting to make his way out of the garage. "attends- uhhh . . l'anniversaire de nunu c'est demain, on doit lui faire quelque chose." [wait uhh, nunu's birthday is tomorrow. we have to make her something.] "Anniversaire, birthday? Who's birthday?" "l'anniversaire de dix-sept, seventeen." "You want to buy her something?" "Make."

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"Fuck mijn nek." [fuck my neck] Max groaned, flexing his musche as he opened his eyes after they adjusted to the sunlight. He was sleeping on the ground which had become a mess of paper, glitter, and beads. The only thing was missing was the girl that had passed and left him do all the work.

"Lei— Oh shit. Leila?" He quickly stood up, sobering up from his sleep to start starting for the tween. "Lei—" "Shh." You came out of the bathroom, covering his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed in surprised as you put a finger over your mouth, which held your toothbrush. "She's sleeping." Your mouth was muffled as you pointed at the girl sleeping in bed in her pyjamas.

Max sighed in relief, moving to the night mare that has been haunting hm for the past two days, adjusting the blanket over her. "She likes me more than you." Max whispered, putting his hands on his hips proudly. You could only glare at him as you continued to brush your teeth.

"Cousin thief." You mumbled going back to the bathroom, spitting out the toothpaste. "Hey I— I got something for you." Max came back with a neatly wrapped up box. "Happy birthday." You looked between the gift and him, a small smile creeping its way onto your face.

"You don't have to—" "—I'll keep it then—" "—mine." You took it out of his hands, gently starting to unwrap it. "It's a bottle." "It's water bottle." He chuckled clarifying, smiling with a shrug. "You broke yours so and I know you loved the last one. So, I thought I'd get you a new one." "Oh that is sweet. Thank you, thirty three." Your turned around, starting to fill it up with water.

"Thirty three?" "Yeah, since you keep calling me by my number." "That's because I don't know your name." "You kon't know your teammate's name?" You gasped, faking heart break. "I didn't— Hey! Don't know!" You laughed, wiggling your eyebrows as you exited the bathroom. "Senta." You answered.

Max peaked his head out the door, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, his toothbrush hanging from his mouth. "Is that your name?" "It's my middle name." ". . . Isn't that German?" He asked confused. "Pick a country. First France, and then one from the middle east, now Germany? What's next?" "Netherlands." You joked making him glare.

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QUALIFYING Friday July 21 2023 — Hungaroring, Hungary

"There he is! Lighting up the whole paddock!" You cheered as Daniel rolled passed on the scooter in the Alpha Tauri fireproofs. "Seventeeeeeeeeeeeen~" He pointed at you with the laugh that made your heart warm. "Danieeeeeeel RIIIIIcardOOOOOOOOO." You sang as you swung Leila's hand.

"Up you go." "ba3raf atla3 lewa7di." [i can get up on my own] She huffed folding her arms as you set her on the couch in the hospitality. "ana 3arfa, bas enti betegbari besor3a awy." [I know, but you're growing up so fast.] You kissed her cheek gently. "lazem aro7 delwa2ti. wa3d mesh hatemshi men hena?" [i have to go now. promise you wont leave] "wa3d." [promise]

Q1 :: you easily made it into q1, sitting in the top ten comfortably knowing you wouldn't be knocked out. rolling back in the pits, you waited in the garage with the warm tires which you'll stick with till the end of Q2.

"Who's out?" "Sargent, Magnusson, Hamilton, Tsunoda, Albon." "Hamilton? Huh." You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "He forgot he's in a Mercedes?" You joked as the team started pushing you out for Q2. "Danny is in, whoo!" You cheered to yourself as you waiting for the go.

"Who's P1 right now?" "Zho." "What? You're joking. Good for him." "Not for you though." "Eh, easy peasy lemon squeezy."

Q2 :: "We are P3. P3." "Who's ahead?" "Norris and Kraus." "Which Kraus?" "Killian." "Alright, you think I have enough time to give it one more?" "Negative. Negative. We are ok where we are. You will have a chance in Q3."

A sigh came from your mouth as you rolled back in your garage to get a change of tires.

Q3 :: "P1! P1! Great job Seventeen." "Yaaaaay." You cheered quietly giggling as you let the other cars pass by on their hot laps. "And Max?" "Max is P3. P4, P4." "Oh? Who's up?" "Kraus is P1." ". . . Which one?" "Meike." "Really?" Your voice darkened. "I'll give it to him."

"Starting grid tomorrow is Meike, you, Killian, Norris, Verstappen, Zho—" "Wait you're joking. Max P5? Are you sure? Is he ok?" "Affirmative." "Dang it. I'm sandwiched by two brothers now, I swear if they drag me into their family drama I'm going to **** **** ****** ******** **** ******." Safe to say you traumatized Jj. "A—alright. Just don't fined."

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"Happy birthday to you." You heard the team and Lando sing down the pitlane. Happy birthday dear Meike, happy birthday to you." Laughs errupted throughout as Leila watched quietly. "Yala halan balan. Heya Abu El fasad. Haykoun 3iedmilad El Leila as3ad El a3yad. Fal yaha Abu elfasad." [an egyption (?) continuation of the birthday song] You hummed quietly.

"Betghanilo leh?" [Why are you singing for him] Leila asked taking her back pack off. The garages were mostly empty now, you had dismissed a Mechanic, taking up his sweeping chores instead of him.

You shrugged in answer to the question. It just felt right. "Toz fih." [A vulgar/extremely rude way of saying who cares] "3andi 7ega liki." [I have something for you] Getting up in a random chair and dumping her bag on the table. "Max!" She called. "Found a cupcake from the Aston Martin hospitality!" Max raised the cupcake as he entered the garage, proudly placing it in the table top.

"What is this." You laughed looking at both of them as Max held up a lighter. "Sanna 7elwa ya gameel." "Oh no." You sighed hiding your face as they begun singing. Leila had apparently force-taught Max the arabic version of the happy birthday song, and his accent was horrible, with the occasional mistake. "Sanne 7elwa ya gameel. Sanna 7elwa ya, nunu/senta. Sanna 7elwa ya gameell~."

Leila did a little zarghroota ( failing miserably ) as you laughed blowing out the little flame. "How old are you now?" Max asked leaning on the table, with a look of mischief on his face.

"The big two three." You joked folding your arms, leaning on the table as well. "Hah, I'm older." "Older than dinosaurs." You mocked, a genuine smile on your face as Leila pulled you away from Max, handing you a pop out card.

"Aw look, is that me?" "Da enti, Dija, baba, teta, gedo, ana, we da Max lewa7do." [that's you, dija, dad, grandma, grandpa, me and that's Max in the corner] you could only laughed as she pointed at the drawing Max.

"He looks just like you." You teased as Leila pulled out 2 handfuls of accessories. "I technically made these since, Leila slept and abandoned me." You laughed as she put the bracelets and necklaces on. "I love them. Shukra, ya 2amar." [Thank you, beautiful] You kissed Leila's cheek, offering a hug to Max next.

"Thanks Max, you made my day."

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RACE DAY Friday July 22 2023 — Hungaroring, Hungary

"Killian." Walking down the pitlane, the older of the Kraus Brothers looking to his side seeing his dad, gently holding his shoulder. "Give us a minute." Leon dismissed the mechanic, pulling his son aside.

"Deal with that Seventeen girl. She losses this round. We won't have to worry about her nor her ego again. Make sure your brother wins." "I- . . . Alright." He couldn't even protest because the man walked away, walking to the pole winner car.

"Killian? Killy willy?" "Huh?" Everything alright, mate?" "Yeah . . . Everything is-" He got in to his car with a deep sigh. "Everything is. Peachy."

"It's lights out and away we go at the Hungarian Grand Prix."

Lap 1 :: "Meike gets away well, so does Seventeen, so does Killian. It's masked driver sandwiched between two Krauses." "I can already tell this will not end well for Seventeen."

"There is contact on turn one, and the two Alpine drivers are out! Zho drops a few positions and Riccardo spins out."

Lap 6 :: "Verstappen overtakes Norris on turn 3 and he is now in P4, one position away from the Kraus vs Seventeen battle. Max is charging forward to aid his teammate."

Lap 38 :: Killian felt his heart beating in his mouth, you were going to over take his brother any moment now, and gain P1. He couldn't let you lead. He couldn't over take you either, the plan that he had scripted had failed. And he had no other choice.

"Sorry." He whispered to himself.

"OH! AND- KILLIAN DRIVES INTO THE REAR OF SEVENTEEN!" "Massive crash there catching Norris, Hamilton, Leclerc and Sainz!" "Verstappen was able to get away safely. And that is a red flag."

"Oh fuck! Y/N? Is she okay?" Max's voice popped up on the big speakers as he begun to slow down. "She has not responded yet." "I need to-" "Max stay in the car. Stay in the car. The marshals will take care of it. Red flag. Red flag."

As soon as Killian managed to get out of the car, he heard crying. Like a seven year old balling her eyes out.

Back in the garages, Max was quick to leap put of his car, running through to your garage. "She's up. She's—" "What is she doing?!" He yelled, gripping his hair, watching you on the screen. You were lifting up the side of Lando's flipped car so he could crawl out.

"YOU'RE BLEEDING!" He shouted at you even though you couldn't hear him. Lando was the quick to run to the medics once he got out. "GET TO THE FUCKING MARSHALS!"

You could feel your head spinning as you let car drop the few inches you lifted. You couldn't hear anything, and you your limbs were numb. Your ears were pulsing as you took a step forward to the Marshals, only for you to find yourself weaken.

"And she's on the ground— she fell!" "Where are the marshalls?! She's bleeding! WHERE ARE THE MARSHALLS?!"

Max could hear the commentators, his ears ringing as he watched someone come to your aid. The world was blurring before him as he watched them commence CPR.

Sobs. Snapping out of his trance, Max found a lost Leila at the entrance of the garage, crying her eyes out. Not even waiting a second he was quick to lift her into his arms, bouncing her gently as he tried to calm her down.

Mkayla was quick to come for support, whispering reassuring words to the tween in her second language. "C'est bien. C'est bien, Leila. Y/N est bien." [It's ok. It's ok, Leila. Y/N is ok]

Max himself didn't even know if she was going to be okay. He's seen crashes like that, and they never ended well. Especially after seeing the fate as the previous holder of the number Seventeen had met.

Final Lap :: "and Max Verstappen takes the win. Breaking the record of the most consecutive wins with 12 races in a row."

"This is for, Seventeen." He sighed as he crossed the line. "This was her win." "Thank you, Max." The Dutch heard Christian over the radio, a deep shaky sigh coming from the driver.

Hopping out of the car, Max was quick to go to where his team waited for him, patting his back gently as he pulled the reaching Eight year-old into his arms. Pulling her over the fence ( not giving a single shit about getting fined) , he kept her in his arms as he walked to the cool down room.

Sitting in between the two Krauses, he braided the girl's hair gently, occasionally wipping the silent tears that streamed down her eyes. When it came to the podium, Max had failed convince Leila to wait for him, ending up with her joining him, hugging his leg on the top pedestal as they played the National anthems.

He felt anger, raged. Watching Meike celebrate made Max want to punch him in the face. But he held back, holding up his trophy slightly for his team, before walking out hand on hand with Leila.

17: oh no im bleeding to death

lando: *not injured, is fine*

17: i want to play prince charming

( taglist ↳ @lorarri - @benedikwonn - @mycenterfold - @iamahallucinanionnn - @lizzieolseniskinda - @chelseyyouraverageluigi - @michellekstyles - @ironmaiden1313 - @azxulaa - @mistrose23 - @lazybot - @hockeyboysarehot - @iloveyou3000morgan - @livster

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nicohischierz · 2 years

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can you please write something soft about ethan Edwards like a cute date or the reader is insecure about her body and he makes her feel better? It would make my day

hi lovely, of course i can!

i’m so sorry i just saw this now but if you ever need to talk feel free to reach out at anytime 💞

you never understood why ethan decided to date you. you weren’t sure whether it was a dare by his friends or maybe he just pitied you.

growing up, you were always a bit “bigger” than all your friends. at first you never saw it as a problem until you turned fourteen.

that’s when everything came crumbling down.

you always knew you seemed out of place amongst your friends, but it never was a problem to you. sure sometimes you felt a little insecure but no one said anything about it.

however, when you started high school that’s when the boys started picking on you.

at first, you let their comments slide by you. everyone knew you did sports and you were quite fit so what they said never really affected you.

but when their comments started becoming more frequent and when they started attacking you whenever they felt.

that’s when everything started piling on.

those insecurities about how you looked followed you throughout your life. a constant reminder of how imperfect you were.

the only time those thoughts stopped buzzing in your head was when you first met ethan.

ethan edwards was in your english class and he was the sweetest boy you had ever met.

the more time you spent with him, the more confident you felt in yourself.

that was until ethan posted a photo of the two of you and you read all the comments about you.

has she ever eaten a salad?

poor ethan must be crushed by her weight

he really said go big or go home 😂

before you knew it tears were streaming down your eyes. yet through your teary vision you could see more hateful comments about you and how ethan could do better.

and you agreed.

you agreed that ethan could do way better than you and that you were just holding him back. you’d seen girls flirt with ethan at parties or after classes.

he never entertained them but you knew deep down he would rather be with them than with you.

he’d rather be with a girl who can easily find a pair of jeans that fits her perfectly and doesn’t have to walk out the changing room disappointed.

he deserved to be with someone who prefers not to go shopping with the other guys girlfriend because they’re embarrassed by the way they look.

and after the thoughts overtook your mind you had enough. you took down every picture of you and ethan on your shared apartment wall and threw them in the bin and walked out the door.

you walked and walked until your legs gave out and that’s when you broke down completely.

ethan never saw anything wrong with your body. in fact he loved it.

he loved every aspect of you.

after training he walked into your apartment with mark. all he wanted was to cuddle with his girlfriend and watch a movie with his best friend.

“y/n i’m home! marks here too,” he yelled opening the door. when you didn’t reply ethan dropped his stuff and walked through every room looking for you.

and when he couldn’t find you he grabbed his phone and keys and walked straight out. “hey eddy, you should see this,” mark called.

ethan walked back in and saw all your pictures in the bin. the first couple were pictures ethan had taken if you and there were slight scratches on them.

scratches in the places you hated seeing. that’s when it dawned on ethan what this was about. he immediately took his phone out and saw the comments about you.

he set mark in the task to delete and block everyone who criticised you as he went in search of you.

ethan’s search didn’t last long as nick called him saying that he found you outside the gym crying. the boy ran across campus to reach you.

“hey baby, you’re okay,” ethan whispered as soon as he got to you. he let you cry in his shoulder until you were feeling slightly better and thanked nick for keeping you company.

ethan moved some hair away from your face and lifted your chin up. “what’s on your mind?” he asked. you knew he knew, so you just shrugged.

“you know, you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen,” he told you out of the blue. you shook your head disagreeing with the statement.

he laughed slightly at your response “oh so now you’re telling me i can’t tell who’s pretty and who’s not? okay, then who’s the prettiest girl i’ve seen,”

you shrugged and replied “margot robbie,”

this time ethan shook his head “nah, margot robbies got nothing in my girlfriend. you know why?@ he asked rhetorically.

“because my girlfriend is the sweetest person i know. she doesn’t care what people think and she wears whatever the hell she wants and looks good doing it. i especially love when she wears my clothes m, she just looks so sexy in them. i love how they fit her so perfectly.” he started

“i also love how my girlfriends curves can drive any guy mad. i mean it took a lot in me to not push her up against a wall and kiss her senseless the first time we met,” he finished.

he picked your hands up in his “i forgot to mention that i love holding her at night because she feels like home.”

#tani speaks #ethan edwards #marcoskasper answers

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the-second-tonks · 2 years

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hey could i submit a cym?

as hp characters

Hii okay!

@chosenimagines as Katie Bell/Hermione

@enchanting-disaster as Narcissa Malfoy

@daredevil-1910 as

@decadentwastelandtrash as Cho Chang

@silverblades as Dobby

@msfandomfreak as Sybill Trelawny

@fairytalelover33 as Fred Weasely

@mendesxruel as Cedric Diggory

@moonrainbowfish as Neville Longbottom

@bellatheslytherclaw as Sirius Black

@animeangsteng as Remus Lupin

@nevilleismywhore as Snape (not the behaviour)lmao

@nymphadorathebubba as Nymphadora😂

@tobibam as Lily Evans

@insane-horror-movie-addict as Bellatrix (without the behaviour)

@msaerithxiii as Draco Malfoy (without the behaviour)

@ikassiaworld as Pomana Sprout

@barelyoksometimes as Mad Eye Moody (without the behaviour)

Done!

#tani speaks #moots #anon ask

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wispstalk · 3 months

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diplomacy

Tanis slaps an open book down atop Martin’s notes. He points. “Read it,” he commands.

“Er… knight-errant of—”

“Knight?” Tanis sits down heavily across the table. “I thought Coradri was fucking with me.”

Martin fights back a smile. She is capable enough as a reading teacher, aside from her deplorable habit of lying for no other reason than her own amusement— two days ago, Martin was forced to break the news to Tanis that there is no such letter as chent in the Cyrod alphabet.

But he has his bone now, and won’t stop chewing it. “Fucking knights. Pah. And why's it have to be— it's twisted, priest. Impossible, with all these fake silent letters. What’s that K there for? And the H, I’ll forgive, but the G?”

“I don’t…” Martin can barely get the words out for laughter. “That’s really how it’s spelled. There's nothing I can do to stop it from being spelled that way. I don’t know what you want from me.”

“An apology! For your stupid language. Mine makes sense.” He seizes the scratch paper Martin had been using, and painstakingly writes a word in Daedric script. “Foyada. See. Fo-ya-da. It says what it says.”

“Oh, really.” Martin snatches the paper back and scribbles out a word of his own. “One of your very own Great Houses.”

“ ‘M no House Dunmer,” he says disdainfully, and folds his arms. “What’s the problem.”

“Hekem and lyr together? Hlaalu? Hardly rolls off the tongue.”

Tanis cackles. “Ha-lalu? Oh, you’re going to make a fool of yourself in the White-Gold Tower. Ha-lalu.” More laughter.

Martin’s face must have fallen, because Tanis stops his mockery at once, and reaches across the table, and gives his arm a light thwack. “Didn’t mean it like that, priest.”

“No fault found in speaking truth.” Martin offers him a conciliatory half-smile. “I suppose I’ll have to make do with you for my education in diplomacy. How is it said? I’ve only ever seen it in writing.”

“La-lu,” he says, two delicate little chimes of a bell. Martin likes to hear the man speak in his own mother tongue, even if Martin understands none of it; the lazy roll of the vowels, the quick flick of the consonants, fluid and hissing like a river of molten fire. He realizes, perhaps a second too late, that he is staring at Tanis’s mouth.

“Fake silent letters,” he accuses.

“It’s not silent, it’s different,” Tanis fires back. “Hlaalu. Leyr. Hear it?” When Martin shakes his head, Tanis shrugs. “You’re hopeless.”

Martin lets out an incredulous laugh. “You’re giving up on me so quickly?”

“Mhm. You’ll have to find someone else for your dip— er…”

“Diplomacy.”

“Dunno that word.”

“It’s… negotiation. Conducting good relations between the provinces. That sort of thing.” He sighs, and rubs the bridge of his nose, and casts a reproachful glance at the book he had been plodding through before the interruption. One of four ponderous volumes on the history of the Empire, purchased in Bruma with Tanis’s money and hauled up the mountain on Tanis’s back, at Martin’s request. In the hopes he could learn something of the unthinkable task before him.

“Nothing about bloody knights in that one, is there?” Tanis follows his gaze and picks it up. “Ka-ta-ri-ah. Katariah?”

The delight on Tanis’s face when Martin nods. “Consort to the Mad Emperor, Pelagius III, who became his successor,” he explains. “One of your own, in fact, from Morrowind, distrusted by the nobility but beloved by the people. And famed for her travels and diplomacy, though this blasted book says nothing of how she managed to weave in the loose ends of a damaged Empire, just that she did it…”

“Diplomacy’s a tough tattle, I reckon.”

"You're the expert."

Tanis retrieves his beknighted book and rises to leave. “But your answer’s right there, isn’t it, priest? Shack up with a madman and the people will love you.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” Martin says.

#just felt like writing some pointless old man flirting it's been a while #oc: tanis #martin septim #tes oblivion #ray writes

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zinzabee · 4 months

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If ur still doing these :3 For Baxter, Hannah, and Tyson

🍑 [PEACH] How do they show their kindness? How kind are they truly?

Of course I'm still taking these! Thank you so much, Tany ^w^ BAXTER

Baxter is all about big, open gestures. He hugs people when they're sad, he's the first to volunteer when someone asks for help. He buys the biggest batch of flowers for his mama on mothers day, and he makes sure that no kid on the playground feels left out of any games they play. He's the kind of kid that becomes popular because he's a genuine sweetheart and thoughtful of every kid in his class. He's not afraid to be kind and look out for everyone. All of this comes from a genuine place of putting others needs before himself. His kindness is as simple as "This is how I would want to be treated when I'm feeling this way."

TYSON

Tyson has a lot of trouble with expressing himself through words, so most often his actions will speak louder than them. This is especially true in the way he shows kindness and love towards those he cares about. He's the type to complain about doing something he needs to one minute (such as chores), and then the next you'll catch him doing it anyway in total silence. When push comes to shove he will show his true colors, especially if he values the person his actions will benefit. A great example of this is his relationship to his adoptive younger sister, Hannah:

These were some quick sketches I've done in the past of an incident when they were little. Although Tyson expresses his dislike of Hannah at first (due to common jealousy of loosing his 'baby of the family' privileges, mostly), he still comes to her rescue and provides her comfort in a distressing situation. He might not be as doting and cuddly as Baxter is, but he is his father's son, and fiercely protective of his family. Tyson's kindness comes in the form of chivalry, honor, & duty towards others in need.

HANNAH

Similarly to Tyson, Hannah prefers to speak through actions. If someone is uncomfortable, she will do what she can to accommodate. If someone needs to vent, she will provide a listening, unbiased ear. If someone is struggling physically, she will assist them. She does all this without being asked first, too. She is an observer who responds to the world around her accordingly, not because she thinks she should, but because she doesn't think about it at all. Her kindness is a part of her nature. Active, not reactive.

List of Questions

#asks #baxter hamato #tyson hamato #hannah hamato #rottmnt fankids #rottmnt fankid #thank you so much for the ask tany!!#doodles #digital

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taniushka12 · 11 months

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si querés usa el formato del coso de música pero opiniones por ahora tema x tema de Hotel Miranda

OK TEMA X TEMA (con video incluido) DE HOTEL MIRANDA

DON

youtube

al principio no me convencía, más q nada xq la canción original es el clásico de los clásicos, pero para el final me compró, épica, bruto video, me encanta, 5/5

YO TE DIRÉ

youtube

tiene MUCHISIMA onda no lo voy a negar, medio me da pena q no mantengan la temática de la canción en el video, pero bue, para eso existe el video original, y AMO la onda de terror (plus qué buena guitarra eléctrica) 5/5

PERFECTA

youtube

no soy muy fan del trap ni de la canción original ngl :/ y el video estuvo bien, pero le faltaron más aspectos Hoteleros, 1/5

TRAICIÓN

youtube

el video es hilarante y me encanta, pero siendo la original una d mis canciones favoritas no tiene punto de comparación 😔 está como un beat más lenta y me mata, 3/5

UNO LOS DOS

youtube

me gusta!!!! creo q de todos los cantantes hasta ahora es mi favorita, tiene muy linda voz y actúa muy bien su parte en el video (tipo todos actúan bien, obvio, pero el papel ese de robot no te lo hace bien cualquiera(?)) 4/5

PRISIONERO

youtube

literal dije quién carajo es este tipo cuando comenzó a cantar, como si conociera alguno d los artistas invitados de las otras canciones dfgdfg ANYWAY, me gusta :) no se si sus voces armonizan bien juntas pero el video es muy divertido y canta bien + he matches the energy so 4/5

ENAMORADA

youtube

REINAS!!!!!!!!!!! creo q es una de las pocas canciones q me gusta más el remastered q la original, y eso q le tengo muchisimo cariño a la original 😤😤😤💞💞💞5/5 10/5 me encantó ♥ y voy a buscar a esa francisca valenzuela xq canta lindo u_u

MENTÍA

youtube

mentía es mentía y creo q no hay forma de mejorar la perfección, pero tampoco me gusta mucho la voz del tipo así q 4/5

YA LO SABÍA

youtube

sin video :( qué puedo decir, está bueno! pero no se diferencia tanto de la original como para decir fuaa que buena versión, 3/5 como remaster pero 4/5 como tema

NAVIDAD

youtube

canción medio underwhelming para terminar el disco, pero suficientemente bonita así q está bien u_u buen video! lindas voces! sólido 4/5

OVERALL 4/5 a mi también me encantaría q los cantantes d miranda! fueran mis demonios personales en un limbo con temática de hotel u_u

#sorry no sé nada de música pero espero q estas respuestas sirvan fghdfghg #tani's personal shit #music #long post #@ non spanish speaking users You Will Listen To Miranda 🔪#btw comentario obvio pero que buenos outfits por faVOR! amo amo amo

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randombush3 · 1 year

Text

Without You

florence pugh x reader

summary: alcohol makes exes easier to talk to, but not in this case

words: 2173

warnings: drinking, vomiting

notes: this was requested by anonymous. i loved it, i think i did change it slightly, but i like this. it’s short and… sad

Your retreat into your bedroom for the last two weeks has now become worrying. Not to say that the olive-eating, stinky, emotional monster crawling to the fridge and then back to bed wasn’t concerning seven days ago — it was, your friends are unanimous. However, two weeks is the amount of time your friend group give all members to mope about a breakup before an albeit over dramatic intervention.

They don’t give you an opportunity to tell them to fuck off, storming into the room armed with high heels and a large makeup bag. “No,” you groan, pulling your duvet over your head. “No, no, no. Too soon.”

“Time’s up!” She shouldn’t have been the one you chose to be your best friend, because Freya is loud. Really-super-fucking loud. “Oh no! Hot, sexy actress and boring, vaguely attractive Y/n break up. What a shame!” She pouts and you’re forced to look at it when your other two friends pull the covers off you. “You can’t be this sorry for yourself. She dumped you, get over it.”

You’re being ganged up on.

“That’s slightly harsh,” your friend cuts in, defending you against her annoyingly true statements.

Your best friend shrugs. “You had to be humbled eventually.” Before Flo, no one has ever broken up with you. You’re not used to feeling so… empty. “We’re going clubbing tonight, my dears, and Y/n is going to have sex with a pretty girl and forget about the hot, sexy actress who broke her heart.” Freya smiles mischievously, as if there is more to her plan than what she has declared.

“We’ll pre in a couple of hours?” You check the clock, surprised to find that it’s five o’clock in the afternoon. “Tani and I are going for coffee with some coworkers.” Tani, the friend who pulled your duvet off you more aggressively than Kara who is speaking, frowns and rolls her eyes.

“You’re a despicable woman,” Freya giggles at her friends, knowing how much Tani hates her job as an assistant in a publishing warehouse. She and Kara first met there, and you’ve known Kara since university. All four of you share a house in Golders Green; you’ve been doing this for at least three years. There’s a bedroom for each of you, plus a study in which a rota is in place for who gets to make important calls in a moderately fancy (definitely snazzy) room.

Except, you hadn’t thought you’d be living in this house any longer.

A wave of sadness washes over you, and you grimace. Freya has already begun a chant of ‘let’s get Y/n drunk’. You throw your pillow at them as they conga their way out.

- - -

Somehow, you completely forget your limit. It was well discovered during your teenage years — there’s no way you don’t know it. But, for the life of you, there seems to be nothing stopping your agreement to do another round of shots.

And another.

“This is fun!” Freya shouts, aiming to be audible over the blaring music of the third bar you go to.

“Yeah.”

“I missed you.” You nod solemnly, realising you may have been a bit of a bore. Inside, you vow to never get your heartbroken again. “I missed this.”

She saunters off to find someone to pay for her drinks instead, leaving you smiling softly, enjoying feeling wanted. It’s nice to be missed.

A girl sidles up to you five minutes later. Before your head turns, you catch blonde hair in your peripheral vision. Something inside you jumps, jolting into motion, sparking and starting an engine you didn’t know needed to be on. Your lips curl up, and you’re about to greet her, but your eyes lock properly onto her face. That’s not Flo. It won’t ever be Flo again.

You end up ignoring the woman by your side until she sighs and leaves you behind with a generously paid-for whiskey on the rocks.

Freya comes back, frowning. “You’re not looking so happy.”

“I thought I saw her.”

“Sleeping with someone who looks like her will not help.” She may be speaking from experience. “Kara’s left with someone, so Tani wants to go to the next place. Something about bad luck in this bar.”

You raise your glass to that. “I wholeheartedly agree.” She chuckles, but the disappointment is not lost on her expression. The bartender, instructed by your friends to give you a shot every time you look miserable, raises his hands in surrender, pouring tequila quickly. Begrudgingly, you swallow it. “I’m not sure I can stand.”

Freya grabs your arm as you stumble to your feet. Heels were a bad idea. Looking down, your dress has ridden up too high for it to be dignified, and surely the constant blinking to fight off tears must have smeared your mascara. She beckons Tani over to assess you. They seem to have a silent conversation.

“Okay, let’s get a cab.”

Shivering on the side of the road, your saviour is a black car which is warm enough for you to close your eyes and not listen to the address your friends give. It’ll be somewhere in Shoreditch, knowing what they’re like this time of night. Now is when being the drunkest becomes a competition.

Apparently you fall asleep, because the next thing you feel is Tani hauling you out of the door and onto a familiar doorstep. They knock on the door. Its click reminds you of someone else’s doorway. The light shining from the hall is the exact same shade as someone else’s lamp. This party is suspiciously quiet.

A bleary eyed woman exchanges a few words with Freya, whose face has turned stern and defensive. You get a kiss on the cheek before being lightly pushed inside. Your lips can hardly form a farewell before you tumble into a very fucking familiar woman.

They haven’t. No, that’s ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

They wouldn’t—

“Let’s get you some water.” Oh, they did. And her voice is sickeningly genuine and caring. Soft and warm and comforting and… How on earth did you ever believe you deserved her? “Y/n?”

Leaning against the wall, you shake your head. “No, I remember where your glasses are. I can… I can get it myself.” Florence pauses, hesitating, but backs down. How could you forget anything about this woman? “Jus’ go back to whatever you were…” Something about the warm air of the house and the feelings in your head makes your stomach begin to churn, nausea swirling right under your sternum. “Toilet still in the same place?”

She has no chance to nod before you bolt towards the door closest to you, knees thudding against the purple tiles as the sound of retching begins to ruin the silence and tranquility of her evening. You vaguely realise she is holding your hair behind your head over the toilet, rubbing the exposed skin of your upper back soothingly, until the next wave of things you ate earlier rises up. Your cheeks burn, but you assume it’s because of the vomiting. No other reason.

In a courteous, two minute break between lunch and dinner being thrown up, she slips away to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water. You sip it cautiously, not trusting your body at all. Fingers rake through your hair as you slump against the toilet. You gasp quietly, not expecting it.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t too knotty before I tied it up.”

You cling onto the toilet a little tighter. Not because that’s made you feel a little better and you need to hold onto reality. Not at all.

And finally, when you have nothing left to give the evil toilet bowl, she helps you up. You find yourself being half-carried up the stairs. “I can walk,” you lie, prompting her to drop her hand from your waist and shake off your arm from her shoulders. She thinks for a moment, maybe you can, but when she lets go slightly to test her theory, you lurch forward and only remain upright because she catches you.

You swear you didn’t have that much to drink.

“Just hold on,” she says firmly, ignoring your slight struggle against her grip. You give in by the time you’ve reached the top of the staircase, and she is standing on the landing like a lost hiker at the crossroads. Where does she put you?

A little too enticing is her bedroom — recently just hers, previously shared — and she supposes… Well, the spare room is the furthest away from where you are standing. (If you can even call your position that.)

You say nothing as she opens her door, bracing yourself for the overwhelming smell of Florence Pugh; something you have longed to have again, but now want nothing more than to run away from. It’s ever so embarrassing, really. Look at you: pathetic, drunk, far from independent. Isn’t this just proving her point? Isn’t this just letting her win, showing her that you are completely and utterly out of your depth in a life without her?

She feels you tense. Maybe this was the wrong decision.

You stare at the wall — avoiding a framed photo of you and her that she is yet to take down — and attempt, very ungracefully, to shimmy out of the tight ‘dress’ you squeezed into. When you run your hands up your legs to search for the fabric, you’re alarmed to find that it barely covers your bum, meaning everything has been on show (lacy knickers and all) while you’ve been vomiting for half an hour. Glittery, surprisingly not-stretchy material gets caught on your necklace and your earrings, and she reaches out to help, but you can’t see her, so you don’t let her.

When it’s time to get more naked, you realise that she has stood beside you, offering a hand. “Sit down,” is all she says as she places her hands on your shoulders and walks you back towards the bed. The springs groan quietly at your weight, and you fight your instincts to flop. Your body is becoming a little too pliable under her touch.

She reaches out, fingers ghosting your collarbones, trailing down your back. Her touch is tentative and curious, as if she’s checking whether you feel any different to the last time she touched you like this. You shiver, obviously because of the cold, and she pulls back quickly, snapped out of her trance.

The bra clasp that she had tried to find proves to outwit your intoxicated mind, clever as you are.

“Are you going to let me help you?” She has been waiting for you to try for yourself, you realise. “Here.” You take the t-shirt from her hand, managing to pull it over your head. Engulfed by the faded red fabric, you recognise it as your own, left months ago. “Can I take your bra off?”

You gulp.

She notices.

“‘M not that kind of girl,” is your panicked response, to which she chuckles quietly because you are and of course you’d say that.

“Y/n, let me help you.”

You shuffle a centimetre away from her, her hands now out like she had been trying to catch smoke. It would be comical if not for how you ache to make this situation anything other than what it is. “Why d’you want to?” Her subtle smile falters, upturned lips curving downwards slightly. “You’re the one that said I was too… How did you put it? ‘Caught up in my own meaningless shit’? Meaningless?” She doesn’t like how clear the memory becomes, how easily her mind reverts back to the sound of a plate smashing and the door slamming and your car engine igniting. She doesn’t like how sober you seem to become. She doesn’t like how you’re looking at her, watching your words sink in.

“I was angry.”

You giggle. “Couldn’t tell,” you reply sarcastically.

“You’re not even going to remember this in the morning,” she scoffs, getting defensive.

“I will,” you promise. A challenge to her statement, definitely, but a promise to yourself as well. You want to remember her face when she realised how what she says matters.

What she said mattered.

There’s a brief pause in activity. Neither of you seem to breathe, nor make an effort to add fuel to the fire.

She ends it by kneeling on the bed, towering over you in your hunched, half-horizontal state, and quickly undoing the clasp to your bra. She leaves it up to you whether you throw it at her, strangle her with it, or take it off. You hold her green eyes while dropping it beside the bed.

“You’re not going to remember any of this,” she repeats, almost more to herself than you. “Why would you?”

Your helpless look says more than words can: I’m miserable without you.

The fight is over. You’ve lost.

She concedes and backs away, her footsteps thudding down the stairs muted by the closed door.

tags: @pewpughpew @ridleypugh @jeyramarie @flosbelova @kassies-take @delfiore @yelenabelovasbxtch @xsophiesx @slut4milfs69 @sunshadesnrainbowz @wandasbb @karsonromanoff

#florence pugh fanfiction #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh one shot #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh angst #florence pugh x you

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