#I wrote this a week prior to posting it and just put it in my queue

[cerise-on-top]

Easter with König

It's another holiday, which means I'm going to make my favorite fictional Austrian go through the holidays as well. First was Fasching, now it's Easter! If I have to celebrate it, then so does König, except he gets to have a better time doing it!

I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d meet his family during Easter. It’s a tradition of his to go to his parents’ home during that time for a visit and a chat, he only sees them maybe twice a year, so he can appreciate having a small get together with them. He normally gets along well with his parents, but he’s lost most of the contact he had with them ever since he hit his mid 20’s, but he does look forward to seeing them. Naturally, he’d take you along for the ride, regardless of whether you actually know German or not. He can play interpreter for you, it’s not a problem for him. But if you know German already? All the better, that way his parents and you can just talk to each other with no problems. He does hope that you’ll get along with them, they did play an important part in his life when he was younger.

König genuinely hopes that you will like the traditional Osterjause*, though. He’s loved Easter for that reason, and for the freshly baked lambs, but mostly for the best Brettljause*. In fact, he’s probably called his mother two weeks before his visit to let her know what kind of meat and sausages to get for him and you as well so that there shall be plenty to go around. If you’re not from around, then you likely don’t know what a “Gsöchts”* or “Schweinsbratn”* is, but he will assure you that it’s something delicious. König could rave on and on about that one farmer’s “Hauswiaschtl”. In fact, if he can, he’d love to go to the farmer’s market on Friday with you just so he can get you something to eat. Not above grabbing some Bauernbrot* and Krenn* either while he’s at it. Mans needs his Krenn when eating his Osterjause. Although it will have been a while since he’s seen everyone, he will introduce you to all the farmers there since he knows a good chunk of them growing up.

Naturally, he’ll be drinking a few beers here and there as well. He’s Austrian, it’s in his blood. Will have you try everything off the plate, from the Nuss* to the low-fat Karree*. Loves having you with him and will actively try to involve you in any conversation there may be so that you get to talk as well. Again, it might be a bit awkward if you don’t know any German, especially since he’s not the most reliable translator, but you’ll get by somehow. His parents have been curious about you for a while now anyway and have been wanting to meet you.

Although he claims to be far too old for that sort of thing, he wouldn’t mind looking for an “Osterkerberl”* with you. It’s a nice tradition that he used to love as a child and he wants you to experience Austrian Easter with him, so he likely asked his mother to hide one for you somewhere around the yard so you can go find it. She won’t give you any clues as to where it could be found. It’s childish, but it’s a lot of fun. In fact, if König were to ask her to prepare a Kerberl* for you, then chances are she prepared one for him as well, for old time’s sake. And then the both of you, two fully grown adults, will run around the yard, looking for the basket. Once you found it, you had to admit it was rather cute, filled with a few hand painted eggs, some colorful chocolate, a baked lamb and some crafted chicks and bunnies. Clearly, his mother put in a lot of thought into what goes into such a small basket. In fact, even the “grass” was made of edible paper, it seemed.

König would feel somewhat stupid, looking for a basket of all things during Easter, but it did remind him of his childhood, so he wouldn’t outwardly complain. Besides, you walking up to him, all happy with your little basket, does something to him. The sight was just too adorable, so he’d likely ask you, the master sleuth, to assist him in his hunt. Once you’ve both found them, you’d return back to his parents’ apartment and continue just chatting while occasionally eating a bit of the Jause*.

_________________________

Osterjause - Food that’s been prepared for Easter. It usually consists of meat, sausage, cheese, tomatoes and horseradish.

Brettljause - Same as Osterjause except it can be eaten at any point during the year.

Gsöchts - Geselchtes - Salted and smoked meat.

Schweinsbratn - Schweinebraten - Specifically prepared roast pork, eaten cold in this context.

Hauswiaschtl - Hauswürstel - A hard sausage.

Bauernbrot - A special type of bread.

Krenn - Horseradish.

Nuss, Karree - Types of meat

Osterkerberl - Osterkörbchen - Easter basket, a basket filled with easter themed food. Sometimes has a gift in it as well, mostly for children.

Kerberl - Körbchen - A basket

Jause - In this context it refers to the Osterjause.

#cod #cod x reader #könig #konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #I wrote this a week prior to posting it and just put it in my queue #I am not back just yet I just wanted to post something for another big day for König #I think he wouldn't drink as much during Easter. maybe three beers at most #also he gets along well with his family because I said so. I want the big guy to be happy his childhood was rough enough as it was #I sort of miss looking for the baskets in all honesty. that was always so much fun #it's a shame that I'm too old for that sort of thing these days. I also want a chocolate bunny in a colorful basket!! #if König was real I'd drag him around like a doll to all the places I don't wanna go to alone. and that includes seeing my family #we'd just sit in the other room and play UNO together until we get to leave because we don't wanna talk to anyone #König is good because I get to imagine what it would be like to go literally anywhere here with him #if I had cared about Call of Duty during my high school years I likely would have thought about attending my graduation with him as well #König comforts me in that way. at least I'm not alone in wanting nothing to do with other people while being forced to socialise every time

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons that I wrote in like 15 minutes don’t judge me

I feel like both Bal and Ambrosius are the kinds of people who try and act like they’re not sick 

Bal has an amazing immune system he rarely if ever gets sick 

But when he does get sick he’ll be in absolute denial about it 

If someone confronts him all he’ll say is “No I’m fine I don't get sick” and then he’ll push himself until he’s literally sitting in a hospital still acting like he’s not sick 

Ambrosius has the worst immune system you can possibly imagine 

Someone sneezes on this boy and he’s sick for the next two weeks 

But he’s also sick enough times that he’s convinced himself that he can work through anything 

After a while he’s literally forced to relax and be taken care of and he complains the entire time that he should be working 

I’ve kind of alluded to this headcanon but I don’t think Nimona can get sick

But if she could get sick she would be the most annoying person known to mankind 

She would have a sore throat and make the biggest deal about it and force the boys to take care of her

And the boys will comply because this is one of the few times that Nimona lets them take care of her 

I mentioned in this post tags that they all hand make every single present 

The first thing that Bal ever made/gave Ambrosius was welded rose that he made out of scrap metal 

He thought it was a stupid present but Ambrosius got super emotional and said it was the best present he had ever received 

Bal highly doubted that cause Ambrosius literally got a car as a birthday present once 

But then he saw it in a little vase that Ambrosius made and it became kind of a tradition after that

During every big event in their lives Bal welded Ambrosius a rose and he kept every single one 

By the time the knighting ceremony rolled around he had close to 80

Ambrosius made more heavy-duty vases just to hold all of the flowers 

It’s kind of sweet because you can see both of their hobbies improving as the years go on 

The first gift Bal ever got from Ambrosius was a sweater he crochet himself 

He made it cause he knows that Bal runs cold and he would make off-handed comments about it every once and a while

He was kind of nervous cause he never took on a project that big before 

Bal wore it all the damn time 

He treated that sweater like it was gold which is why he was crushed when it started unraveling 

He went to Ambrosius sobbing with an arm full of yarn apologizing and saying he ruined it

Mind you he gave him that sweater like 5 years prior and had knitted and crocheted him a million things afterwards 

It was a miracle that the sweater lasted as long as it did 

He spent the entire night consoling him while asking for his input on the new one he was currently working on 

The first gift Bal and Ambrosius gave Nimona made him tear up and cling to them as an actual koala for the rest of the night 

Bal welded him a little dragon and Ambrosius crocheted him a little rhino

The first gift Nimona gave the boys was for both of them

It was a painting of the three of them the boys thought it was beautiful but also incredibly out of character 

Until they gave them the second painting of the three of them fighting guards as the institute burned down behind them

The boys framed both and hung them in the living room

Whenever Ambrosius goes anywhere he’s swarmed by groups of people and sometimes those people will ask questions about his clothes and jewelry 

And he gets this proud look in his eyes while he says “Oh my kid made this in the living room 15 minutes before I left the house” 

When Bal proposed he actually made both the engagement and their wedding rings 

He always got compliments on both rings and Ambrosius would let them get a better look while gushing about all the little details that were put into it

And this doesn’t stop when Bal and Nimona are around either 

In fact he’ll drag them over and gush about them while they get progressively more embarrassed

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #they get back at him tho #they'll wear the shit he makes just to make him emotional #Bal will wear the old sweaters and Ambrosius will get all nostalgic on him #because he remembers literally everything he's made for them #but he's not used to his hobbies being taken seriously #they also use plates and mugs he made #no matter how old and ugly they are

[zot3-flopped]

Two months prior to its release, would-be doyens of Swift’s Tortured Poets Department have taken its barbed track listing very literally, leading to intense, often nefarious speculation regarding Swift’s six-year relationship with the British actor Joe Alwyn, which seemingly ended in early 2023.

The album’s title, revealed onstage at the Grammy awards, was quickly linked to a December, 2022 interview with Alwyn and Paul Mescal in which they revealed that Andrew Scott started their group chat, the Tortured Man Club. (“It hasn’t had much use recently,” Alwyn said: you wonder if it’s undergone a recent revival.) Swift revealed the leading track list a day later: My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys, So Long, London, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart, The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived, to name a few, sending fans wild with speculation.

Swift, obviously, has every right to sing about her relationships however she wants to (no apologies to Eamonn Holmes). But in the absence of any music, some fans have spread baseless, dangerous and even libellous allegations about Alwyn’s conduct (which, for obvious reasons, I can’t repeat).

Last month, a brief fan-shot video of them dining in a New Orleans restaurant in December, 2022 was recirculated online with AI-doctored audio that made it sound as though Alwyn is saying “you don’t get to tell me about sad,” a line printed on the back of one of the new album’s four physical editions.

When Swift recently told a crowd that she was “lonely” when writing her 2020 album Folklore – some of which was co-written with Alwyn during the pandemic, a lonely time for most – fans took that as further confirmation of their theories. A live medley of three songs that all appear to reference cheating threw petrol on the fire.

Swift could make this stop. She is no stranger to airing her displeasure with the likes of Ticketmaster, Scooter Braun, Spotify and Apple Music, and, occasionally, politicians. Before she released Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) last year, she gave a veiled speech at one Eras tour date effectively asking fans not to go after John Mayer, whom she dated when she was 19 and he was 32 and is understood to be the subject of that album’s Dear John.

“I am not putting this album out so you should feel the need to defend me on the internet against someone you think I wrote a song about 14m years ago when I was 19,” she said in Minneapolis.

But for whatever reason – and obviously, no member of the public has any idea what transpired between her and Alwyn so far – this time she has opted to stay quiet.

Establishing a baseline for conduct is neither commercially risky nor unprecedented: just last week, Ariana Grande said, after the release of her post-divorce album Eternal Sunshine: “Anyone that is sending hateful messages to the people in my life based on your interpretation of this album is not supporting me and is absolutely doing the polar opposite of what I would ever encourage”.

It feels like the endgame of a cat-and-mouse act that’s gone too far. Swift’s gestures towards meaning have led every single thing she does to be considered a kind of marketing, a clue to be solved. It leaves a superstar who’s usually hot on her messaging open to misinterpretation: hints about her personal life are turned by some fans into witch-hunts for anyone perceived to have wronged her; her current silence on politics allows politicians to invoke her name, from the New South Wales police commissioner quoting Swift’s anti-haters lines while defending police to Joe Biden joking that the matter of her apparently much sought-after endorsement is “classified” on Late Night With Seth Meyers.

When Swift made a blandly neutral handwritten post encouraging US citizens to register to vote on Super Tuesday, some fans speculated that her unusual left-leaning handwriting was the real indication of her loyalties – suggesting they’re so starved of substance that they’re reading into empty messages because of this dynamic she has established. (The more likely explanation is the insane way she holds a pen.)

For Swift to only direct fans as to her wishes when it suits her, it weakens her status as a truth-teller. If the comparisons with Dickinson mean anything, she might remember that nothing in the world has as much power as a word feels like the endgame of a cat-and-mouse act that’s gone too far.

#taylor swift #anti taylor swift #joe alwyn #travis kelce #the tortured poets department #the critics are not going to be kind to this album #she's too rich & successful to be so bitchy & vindictive #laura snapes

[tunastime]

A Gear of the Heart, Starting

just a little something I wrote for somebody's (@shepscapades) birthday back in November :3 after I asked what etho and bdubs would've been like shortly after etho's deviation. this is the few times before last life where bdubs realizes etho might be a good friend, and how their relationship changes. comes right before A Gear of the Heart, Turning! (4653 words)

Etho remembers quite a bit.

He remembers the ricochet of the explosion through his left side. He remembers a dozen errors across his vision, showing every unit damaged by the blast, the fractals of fracturing snaking up his arm, the shattered remains of his central programming lingering like a livewire. 

Over and over he can remember the pitch of Bdubs’ voice and had to wonder his own diagnosis at that moment. Bdubs watching his android die in his name—he remembers that, too. Bdubs didn’t even ask for that. It was something Etho gave to him. He’s not sure he could even say why, either. 

It remained a bitter flavor he couldn't identify, even as Xisuma assured him he was okay. Something had happened then, sitting on that floor, thirium in hand. Some movement in his chest he couldn’t place. It wasn’t anything physical, but it felt like some gear of his nonexistent heart had started, turned—rotated. And all he could do was ask himself why. What’s he supposed to do with that?

He doesn’t know. Fine. 

Etho goes back to work at someone’s request. Not even his own request, either, so he has to wonder if maybe Doc put him up to it. Him being Bdubs. Him being Bdubs who shifted back and forth on his feet at Etho’s door—a facade of a base in the process of being designed. If one could even call it a base, yet.

And even though he was increasingly certain that Bdubs had been told to ask—and Etho asked him if he’d been asked to help, and he was adamant about asking by himself, that’s what he said. He said: “You think I gotta be told to ask people for help? I can’t just be doin’ things on my own?” and it had felt so much like doublespeak that Etho didn’t even fight to differentiate his tone. 

But Bdubs had asked if he wanted to help with the horse course. Terraforming—it should be right up his alley, if he’s still into that kind of stuff. Figured he was the expert—or so it goes. Etho had nodded. He wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do. He supposes he could have easily said no. 

But every part of him yearned to say yes.

So he did.

The dust sifts through his fingers.

Etho perches in the grass, partially hunched as he leans over his line of redstone, shrouded by the hill half-built around him. He’d spent most of the week prior carving out the lines of the track, setting posts for buildings, laying out blueprints for Bdubs to finalize. Today, he lays his line meticulously, dust shifting in his hands. They still shake a bit—nothing a human would notice, nothing that disrupted the flow of his lines, but the overworked gears still shifted in protest as he worked. He could see the faded overlay of the project in his vision if he focused. It crackled, slightly blue-yellow, orange glowing indicators where action was needed, where there were mistakes to be corrected.

It isn’t his redstone to fix. The lines under his hands were—freshly laid by his near-expert technique—but the deeper lines, noteblock announcements, droppers, doorgates, the flourish of the house course, weren’t. Etho smooths out the line he was standing near with his thumb. 

There was nothing wrong with the laid redstone, really. It’s just. Well. It’s not even. It takes up so much space. It lacks the efficiency and tidiness he practiced to a precision. It radiated Bdubs in an overpowering way, one that might turn a gear of the heart—one he didn’t have, of course. Etho’s lines are neat, rigid, conforming to his perfect mental map. 

He lets down his section of dust, drifting over to the dispenser system. He pushes a line further into place, brushing dust back from the side. Further on, where the line crosses, he readjusts it, he smooths them from start to end of line. His hands work where his mind recalculates, looking for errors along the redstone already laid out by Bdubs. Programs bubble up to assist; he dismisses a message, and another as he works. The line straightens from source to sink. 

As he passes, searching for another correction, he hears someone above him. In the corner of his vision, another message notification pings: from Bdubs.

They’re all from Bdubs, actually, now that he notices in full. He blinks, mouth twisting into a frown. Whoops.

He hears someone—Bdubs, he realizes, as he notes the fall of his feet, and the sigh he hops down from his horse, the shuffle of said horse, hooves on grass—clear their throat. Bdubs shuffles around as Etho moves back over to his finished redstone, dusting his hands on the sides of his pants. He lifts the small bag of dust, twisting the tie shut around his fingers as he travels back up the line to recheck the connections. 

“Etho?” Bdubs calls. Etho straightens, just on instinct alone, glancing up at the stretch of sky he can see. It’s bright blue, barely dotted with clouds, and the grass looks warm with sun. He fixes where the dust starts as he sections off the end, tossing the rest of the redstone over to his sling bag.

“Under the hill!”

Bdubs leans over the edge, tilting his head at Etho as he peers into the dark. It takes him a moment to find Etho’s face, partially obscured by black fabric and the fluff of wool around his collar. Etho tilts his head, raising his eyebrows.

“Did you need something?” he asks, arm hanging loosely by his side. Bdubs frowns, too, watching Etho’s expression. As his eyes seem to adjust to the dark, his gaze falls on the lines of redstone. He pauses there for a long moment. In that moment, Etho feels something in his chest grind, almost to a noticeable ache. If he could pull in a breath to settle it, he might have, but the sensation and minute sound passes as soon as he moves his hand to press flat against his regulator. Bdubs is gone when he looks up, reappearing only as he drops into the cavern, catching himself on the wall. He readjusts his cloak around his shoulders, shuffling into the low-light.

“Etho,” he says, still frowning. Etho looks him over. He watches Bdubs set his hands on his hips, but his heart rate stays even and his temperature level. The only thing that changes is the tone of his voice, fluctuating with a pattern Etho recognizes as forcing something. Bdubs takes a long breath in and lets it out. Etho’s eyes find the twitch of his fingers as he folds his arms, rather than the sharp curve of his mouth.

“Yes?” Etho asks. He feels his pump work a little harder. It kind of hurts still, whatever’s stopped working in his chest. He flicks his eyes, recalling a diagnostic, setting it to run in the background as he closes out of the overlays and the world returns to yellowish-grey. Bdubs is still frowning.

“You mind tellin’ me what’s wrong with this redstone?”

Etho blinks. The diagnostic comes up clear.

“What do you mean?” he says, his expression shifting into something copying amusement. He’s trying. He’s at least trying to mimic the emotions he sees. Soon enough it’ll feel natural, he’s certain. “What’s wrong with it?”

Bdubs snorts, which turns into a laugh, which turns into Etho smiling a bit wider, a bit more confusion lingering in his expression as he leans around Bdubs to check his meticulously placed line. Bdubs turns away from him, facing the system, the clock that linked the start gates to the timer below.

“What’s—” Bdubs scoffs, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with it? Etho—” he holds out his hand, waving Etho over. Etho lingers at his shoulder as he steps forward, peering over the curve of it and the moss and small leaves and flowers draped over his neck. “It’s too perfect.”

Etho makes a sound like a scoff now, a caught sound in his vocal unit, a stuttering start to his sentence that doesn’t form right away. He’s trying for surprise, the pitch of his voice rising unexpectedly.

“It’s too perfect?” he asks. 

Bdubs nods. After a moment, Etho thinks he sees his expression shift, the high of his cheek rising. When Bdubs turns his head to look at him, just for a second, Bdubs is smiling.

“Bdubs,” Etho says, sighing, turning away from him, to his bag on the far side of the room. He shakes his head. That something-nothing in his chest flutters and fades and disappears all at once, instead replaced with the urge to smile back. Bdubs laughs, and Etho can imagine him tipping his head back, mouth curved up as he giggles to himself. Etho shakes his head. As he starts to pull away from Bdubs, he feels him catch his sleeve, holding fast to his elbow.

“Etho, wait—” Bdubs giggles. “It looks really good.”

Etho raises his eyebrows. Caught in Bdubs grasp, all he can do is look at him, head tilted, trying not to let the amusement show on his face. Bdubs giggles, face breaking again as he does.

“Etho…” he tries again, fighting back a smile. Etho tilts his head the other way, as if to prompt him further, looking for anything. He stays silent. Bdubs hand lowers slowly, that smile faltering just a fraction. Maybe he thinks Etho’s upset with him. There’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “You gonna say anythin’? Or you just gonna stand there?”

Etho smiles, finally. He shrugs a little, glancing over at the fixed lines of redstone.

“I fixed your redstone,” he says cooly, sticking his free hand in his pocket. Bdubs blinks. He jerks away as Etho’s smile grows, shoving him hard in his shoulder. Etho wobbles for a moment, smiling to himself, scrunching up his face as Bdubs’ expression morphs. He does laugh, after a beat, poking Etho in the shoulder as he does. Etho hopes he can see the smile in his eyes. He saves, logs, keeps this moment. He’s sure in the low light that his LED spins yellow for a moment. It feels right. If there’s any feeling to catalog.

Bdubs huffs. Etho thinks he hears him say something under his breath. It sounds a lot like thank you.

It’s out of habit, rather than obligation, that Etho finds himself back at the horse course. Of course he ends up here, his feet moving him about as if his brain-not-brain had no thoughts of its own. Man. Some days, it really felt human.

He wanders across the plain, eyes lingering on fully-built buildings, knowing the schematics and plans, watching as those plans-now-buildings stretched higher above his head, where they nearly threatened to pop the sky wide open. 

Bdubs had sat down with him earlier that week, papers spread out between them. He’d stopped by, actually—worked his way up the mountain to the base Etho had finally finished, papers in hand, looking like he was on the verge of collapse. He’d dropped the blueprints on the largest table Etho had managed to clear, spreading out the designs for huge, complex buildings. Etho watched him explain, listened for the inflection of when to offer suggestions, heard the way Bdubs’ voice grew quieter, almost conspiratorial, as he explained his palette. There was something methodical in the way Bdubs spoke, not only in the approach to his colors, but to his style. As much as it seemed eclectic and strange, he watched the pieces fall together as Bdubs spoke of his gradients. There was something deeper there, a precision that Etho, all of a sudden, in that room, craved to emulate. To write to disk. To save. To do more than just copy. 

He’d built the horse stable first—all to his own specifications. It was Bdubs later who came in to detail, tilling up the dirt around to plant grass and flowers, sectioning off parts of the empty stable. It was almost difficult to compartmentalize that Bdubs was finished with it now. That they’d worked each line of the redstone and Etho had supervised the first steps of building, and now he could look up and see the very top, or almost, if he were to strain, of the spikes above the buildings. 

And in just a few weeks, Bdubs was onto another project. Etho smiles to himself. He can’t help it. There was something rather comforting about that. Something about Bdubs dragging him along to help, pointing him toward the thing he was good at, and asking for help. Bdubs showing up at his door with plans. Bdubs cracking jokes with him, and looking for a laugh Etho couldn’t replicate yet. It’s like something clicked. Or was just on the breach of it. And Etho liked it.

Etho clears his field of view, taking in, instead, the stretch of sky where it met the ocean, along the line of hills and grass and flowers, and further still, to the smudge that looked like Bdubs. He blends in too well—the green of his coat barely noticeable against the field of grass that splayed out from the side of his build. There were still materials strewn about—chests half opened, shulkers stacked waist high. 

Bdubs stands to the side of a dark grey and white horse, one hand placed on its nose, the other digging through his bag. Etho watches for a moment. Bdubs fishes around for that entire second that he lingers, searching for something, until he pulls out an apple. Another falls to the ground, rolling away from him. He holds out the fruit for the horse as Etho clears his throat. 

“Hiya, Bdubs—” he says as Bdubs startles, twisting around to see him. He huffs, an immediate frown coming to his face. Bdubs turns to fetch the dropped apple, holding it high above his head as the grey horse nudges its nose into his empty hand. He pats it instead.

“Etho,” he says, tone thin. He sighs, shaking his head. “Scared the life outta me, you know that? You gotta make some noise when you’re walkin’ around.”

Etho smiles, a nice and easy reaction to the annoyance in Bdubs’ voice. It’s getting easier. At least a bit. The smiling part, that is. The inflection that comes with being happy.

“I’ll try next time,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. His hands find his pockets as he looks around, eyes following the path around the buildings. He’s sure the pollen and moss will be stuck to his clothes for days before he gets them out.

“Mm,” Bdubs hums, unconvinced. “I’m sure you will. Now, what’re you doin’ here? You don’t have anything better to do?”

“That’s a good question,” Etho says.

Bdubs turns back to him for a second, just a glance over his shoulder as he cocks his head to the side. He raises his eyebrows before he turns back to the horse, who’s started to nose at his bag. He drags his hand down its nose.

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t have an objective right now?”

“I never have an objective, Bdubs.”

Bdubs snorts again . Etho steps over, slow, minding the horse. It sniffs as Etho holds out his hand, nosing his gloved palm. He pats the horse's nose, somewhat stilted, smoothing over the soft bridge of his nose.

“Right,” Bdubs hums. When Etho glances over to him, Bdubs glances away, as if he’d lingered as Etho stepped over. He’s not moved from Etho’s side, which. Makes something fit into Etho’s chest in a way he isn’t expecting. He rests his hand on the horse's head, looking over at Bdubs in full.

“I can’t come see how the horse course is looking, now that you’re done?” he asks. Bdubs makes an embarrassed sounding noise, watching the rise of the buildings to their left. The horse sniffs, and Etho lifts his hand away, letting it fall to his side.

“I—I got excited about it,” Bdubs mutters. If Etho leans enough, he can see the beginnings of a flush creep over his cheeks, up the shell of his ear. Something about that, too. Etho looks beyond him, though, studying the rise of the buildings as Bdubs does. He nods to himself.

“I can tell,” he says, amusement slipping into his voice, almost naturally. Immediately, Bdubs whips around again, face twisted in offense.

“Hey!” he snaps. “You makin’ fun of me?”

Etho shakes his head, spreading his hands out in front of him as he does.

“No, no. Not at all,” he says, hoping the smile he’s giving is reaching his eyes. “I’m saying we make a pretty good team.”

Bdubs makes a little huff of a sound, but his posture and expression softens. Etho studies it from the moment it appears, trying to place the emotion behind it. He seems upset—but not from anything Etho said. He almost looks guilty.

“We’ve always made a good team,” Bdubs mumbles. Etho blinks.

“Since when have we been a team?”

“Since—s…” Bdubs blurts, then backtracks, folding his arms over his chest. “Well we’re a team now!”

Etho raises his eyebrows, stepping away from the horse and more around Bdubs’ side. He leans in a bit as he stands by his side, bumping their shoulders together. Bdubs doesn’t recoil. Instead, he pushes back, just for a moment, and they jostle. Bdubs hums, sighing through his nose.

“Are we?” Etho asks. Bdubs nods, short and firm.

“Mhm! ‘Cause I said so.”

Etho nods with him. There’s that thing again, a turning, jostling, in some part of his chest that really shouldn’t turn or jostle. He can feel his temperature tick up just a few degrees, a fan kicking on to settle the temperature, thirium sludging warm to cold through his limbs. A team, huh? He couldn’t beat Bdubs’ conviction, that’s for sure. Maybe it was a bit of guilt, then. Maybe something in Bdubs had realized Etho was much more of a help than a hindrance. Maybe Bdubs wanted a friend. Maybe he just felt bad and the feeling bad got to a point where he had to just do something about it. Etho didn’t know. He didn’t live inside Bdubs’ brain. And picking at Bdubs’ every emotion was a task enough to drive his processor into the ground. He could already feel another spike in temperature, LED glowing yellow-blue. Maybe it wasn’t all bad. Etho sticks his hands in his pockets.

“I’d like that,” he says, finally pushing out the words as his programming jumps into gear, “What’s our next project then?”

Bdubs goes back to jostling him before he turns away, moving from Etho’s side to collect his horse. Gathering the horse's reins in his hands, Bdubs pauses.

“Ooh…” he says, frowning a little. Etho watches the little furrow of his eyebrows—thinking. Bdubs is turning the idea over in his head. Bdubs steps back over with the horse in tow, already walking in the direction of the horse stable. Etho jolts forward, taking several big steps to match Bdubs’ pace. “Well why don’t you come back to the clock and we can talk about it, huh?”

“That sounds nice.”

Bdubs makes an affirmative sound, leading the horse around and into the stable. Etho watches him unlatch the gate, ushering the horse into the pen.

“I can put the kettle on and everything,” Bdubs says. He lifts the bridle out of the horse’s mouth, running his hand along the length of the horse’s nose. Etho doesn’t mean to watch him as he does, but the action is so purposeful. There’s a moment where Bdubs’ expression is unreadable—unreadable as in Etho simply can’t place anything on it. Unreadable in the amount it changes—something softer than he’s seen, something far away. Bdubs’ whole demeanor seems to shift as he stands still for a moment. Etho isn’t sure what to do with himself. He’s just standing in straw and dirt and stones, all of which he can feel under his shoes. He shuffles a bit, back and forth, to make his presence known, before he says:

“You know I can’t drink anything, Bdubs.”

And Bdubs rolls his eyes, squinting over at him, stepping away from the horse to hop the gate.

“Well you can at least fake it,” he grumbles. He folds his arms again, wrinkling his nose at Bdubs as Bdubs leads him out of the pen and into the open field around the horse course. The shadow of the buildings above them hasn’t changed, yet. The sun is still high and warm in the sky.

Etho laughs. At least, he makes a sound that he thinks passes as a laugh. Bdubs laughs too, though, so it must sound pretty convincing. He nods, the smile on his face feeling much more natural than he ever could have expected. 

“I could fake it,” he laughs. “Sure.”

Bdubs grins at him. It’s nice. It makes the walk back to his base a little more bearable.

By the time Etho gets his invitation to the life game, he’s grown accustomed to being at Bdubs’ side again. He wanders around Bdubs’ base like he knows it, makes it a spot he chooses to map, to memorize. Bdubs checks in on him when he isn’t around as much—asks him how his builds are going, wonders if he needs help. Bdubs lingers in his spaces too, like a plant trying to root, gives himself reasons to stand in doorways just a bit longer, just enough to extend their goodbyes. It feels right—in a way that almost gives reason to Etho’s deviation. Maybe, deep down, from their first introduction, Etho had decided to glue himself to Bdubs’ side and not become unstuck. Maybe he’d simply put that decision, his first ever decision, into motion that day. It didn’t matter much as to why anymore.

When Etho gets his letter, he doesn’t open it. He holds it between two fingers, turning it over and over. He doesn’t need to read it to know what it says. There’s a dark red seal on the back, shaped like a heart. He makes a little sound, some sort of click in the back of his mouth, before he stuffs the letter in his pocket, half-folded.

He finds Bdubs exactly where he expects. Bdubs is sitting cross-legged in his garden, hands in the dirt, when Etho arrives at the crescent moon base. If he looks closely enough, Etho can still tell that Bdubs’ own letter sits on his window sill in the kitchen, unopened. But he’s really squinting to notice, so he writes it off for now as a flaw in his own sight. 

Bdubs turns to him as he walks up. His hair is pushed back away from his face with his bandana, and his hands are covered in dirt, and he’s got a streak of black soil across his forehead that Etho tries not to look at for too long. Bdubs shoots him a toothy grin, going back to his bright orange tulips. If Etho looks long enough, he could probably guess the soil mixture, and tell him if it's good enough to be planting orange tulips in, but he doesn’t. Instead, he comes to stand behind him and Bdubs hums in greeting.

“Etho,” he says, looking up again, wiping the dirt from his forehead. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Etho says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He forgets who he picked the gesture up from, but it’s become part of his natural body language patterns now, so he won’t be stopping it anytime soon. “I just came to see how you were doing.”

“How I was doin’, huh?” Bdubs asks, amusement trickling into his voice. Etho smiles, feeling his face pull.

“Mhm,” he says. “That’s right. I can’t come and check up on a friend?”

Bdubs laughs, sticking his spade in the dirt.

“Oh, we’re friends now?” he says, still giggling as he turns around. “I thought we were just a team.”

Etho watches him lean back on his hands, legs coming out from under him. He tries to read Bdubs’ expression and voice for any note of insincerity, or play, or teasing, but doesn’t find anything he normally associates with Bdubs. This just feels true.

“I mean, I figured with how much we’ve been working together…” Etho starts, to which Bdubs startles, waving his hands.

“No, no!” Bdubs yelps. “Etho, I thought the same thing! I just wasn’t expectin’ it from you.”

Etho blinks. It feels owlish, small, almost a wrong reaction to hearing Bdubs say something like that. But it’s what immediately happens, before he tries to open his mouth, and no sound comes out. He waits for a moment. He assumes his LED spins, maybe even red, as Bdubs watches him, face paling.

“Oh,” Etho says quietly.

“We’re friends,” Bdubs says, voice much smaller than Etho’s ever heard it. “‘S that alright with you?”

Etho feels like the proper response would be to laugh, if he could really feel anything at all besides every gear in his chest halting and restarting themselves. He makes a noise that sounds almost like a cough.

“Mhm,” he says. He watches Bdubs’ shoulders relax and finds that his own posture sinks with it. 

“Good,” Bdubs says, nodding along. “Was there anything else you wanted to scare me with?”

Etho knows this tone—playful. Teasing. He works up a smile and fishes the letter from his pocket, slightly bent. Bdubs’ eyes flick right to it, right to the red seal pressed into the paper. Immediately, he scrambles up, reaching for the note in Etho’s hands. Etho lets him grab it in his dirt-covered fingers, even as Bdubs tries frantically to dust off his hands as he notices. Bdubs turns it over itself, glancing up at Etho.

“It’s for you?”

Etho nods.

“It was on my doorstep this morning,” he says. “I can see you’ve got one in your window?”

Bdubs snorts, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I haven’t opened the damn thing. I’m excited up until the point I’m not, ‘cause I know I’m gonna lose again.”

Etho hums. As Bdubs hands him back the letter, Etho rests his hand on his shoulder, giving it a hesitant, light squeeze. Bdubs looks quickly down at it, before he’s back to staring at Etho’s face.

“Don’t worry, Bdubs,” he says, hoping his voice is full of amusement and affection like he feels like it is. “You’ll have me there this time!”

And Bdubs laughs, full and warm in his chest, and Etho jostles him around as he does, until Bdubs is smacking his shoulder and wiggling free. He picks up his fallen hat and his tools, and Etho follows him around the side of the house as he puts things away. As he shuts one of the chest, Bdubs says:

“You mean that, though? You wanna be on a team?”

Etho smiles, feeling his eyes squint, forces every ounce of new feeling into his words when he says:

“I don’t think I wanna team with anyone else, Bdubs.”

And Bdubs’ grin in excitement is more than enough to convince him he’s made the right choice.

It’ll be a long two weeks until the death game starts. When he returns home later that night, Bdubs’ plans for success turning over in his brain, recording for later, Etho reads over the letter enough to commit the page to memory. He keeps it safe internally as the letter finds its way to his bookshelf, half-sealed. Through him, like it’s just under the skin, runs an emotion he’s not yet familiar with. He hopes it's a good one, at the very least. He hopes so, as much as an android, a machine, someone just now familiar with the idea of free will, can hope. 

It feels good, though. And something makes him think that everything will turn out just fine.

#hermitcraft dbh au #dbhc #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #dbhc etho #dbhc bdubs #ethubs #mcyt #mcyt fic #hermitcraft fic #text #hermitshipping #dbhc fanfic #fics #SCREAAAAMS SO LOUDLY AT THE TOP OF MY LUUUUNGS #DBHC I MISSED YOUUUUU #so i wrote this for shepherd for her birthday back in november!! yaaay!! #but i'm just now posting it LMAOOO #it takes place shortly before gear of the heart turning! #we love and stan dbhc in this house < so normal and definitely not insane about it #smiles :) #definitely not being dragged back into dbhc by the scruff of my neck nooo nevarrrr #oooh you wanna ask me about gear of the heart so bad ooooooh aaahhhh

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  Pricklywhicket/@messessentialist ! Prickleywhicket has four fics published to AO3 -- All in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by pricklywhicket:

so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey

it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)

start by pulling him out of the fire

"Sadie is so super talented in the way she describes literally everything. She is so good at writing and it's a shame that she's flown under the radar because she's not the quickest at putting things out there." -- Anonymous

Below the cut, Pricklywhicket answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Why do any of us write anything? Because we want the story to exist in the world, and it doesn’t yet, so we gotta hike up our pants and do it ourselves!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Hurt/Comfort. I’m always a sucker for the blorbos taking care of one another, in whatever form that takes. This has always been true, across a truly astronomical number of fandoms I’ve found myself dabbling in over the years.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

…actually, probably hurt/comfort! I just need to get those little dudes some validation and unconditional positive regard, okay?

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I’m sure I won’t be the first one to say this, but: I HAVE TO PICK ONE????? Okay, alright. I can do this. I’m gonna say…Sanctuary by SpicedSage.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve only written canon or canon-adjacent fic so far, so I’m eager to work on something that’s completely AU. I think there’s a unique challenge to keeping characters recognizable as themselves in a world that might not have all the same contexts that made them into that person.

What is your writing process like?

I would love to say it’s super organized and well-planned, but the truth is it’s mostly about routine and responsibility. I set aside time to do it every day, even if I can only tap out a few sentences. I’m not very strict about writing in a straight line - I can stop a scene if it’s giving me trouble, write a note about what I think happens in some [brackets], and move on to something that I have more fully fleshed-out ideas for. Sometimes writing the next scene helps you know more about what needs to happen in the current one. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

I'm sure my betas would say yes 🙃 I tend to write a lot of dialogue - a lot of my revision process is going back through and realizing I have two pages of a conversation with no indication of what’s physically happening in the world around the speakers.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Definitely when I’m finished. Prior to my ‘23 bang fic, I had never written anything chaptered. I knew going in that I could NOT start posting if it wasn’t finished, because I’ve been burned too many times by abandoned works. I didn’t want to do that to people reading my fic, and the best way to avoid it is to finish before you post.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Easily start by pulling him out of the fire. The biggest, most ambitious thing I’ve ever attempted - I still kind of can’t believe I wrote 85k.

How did you get the idea for start by pulling him out of the fire?

Like most terrible ideas, it was spawned in a fandom discord chat. We were discussing the tendency of Steddie fics to centralize the party at Steve’s house, because his parents are never there anyway. And then someone mentioned what if the parents came home and found their house occupied, and someone else mentioned Wayne being there, and it just sort of…spiraled out from there.

When writing start by pulling him out of the fire, what was something you didn’t expect?

I had no idea, going in, that I was going to write a comprehensive history of the Wayne and Eddie Munson relationship. I started writing it where I did to give some background on Wayne’s existing distaste for the elder Harrington, and then I just…kept writing. Over the course of a month or two I wrote 20k of WayneAndEddie that I had no idea was in me - it just kept coming.

What inspired it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

@wynnyfryd. It was a gift for her birthday. We were talking about our mutual love of Letterkenny, and she mentioned that the episode was her favorite and wouldn’t it be funny if someone wrote… and the rest is history.

What was your favorite part to write from it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)?

I had an unreasonable amount of fun with that one in general. But I think my favorite part was Eddie polling the party about what Steve means to them all. It was fun to sort of put myself in each character’s shoes and think about how they would answer. Plus y’know, any excuse to unironically love on Steve Harrington.

How do/did you feel writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats, honey?

I believe my exact words upon deciding to write it were “jingles miserably to a blank google doc.” This was a classic case of saying “god I wish there was a fic where—” and having friends tell me that it was now my responsibility to write it. I’m glad I did, though. I love that story, and it proved to me that I could write sex and publish it and not burst into flames. I also just really, really love summer storms. And Wayne’s use of the singular ‘herpe.’

What was the most difficult part of writing so let's sneak in from the cheap seats honey?

Getting over the fear of publishing something E-rated. It was just something I hadn’t done, and I had a lot of anxiety that people were not going to respond well to it. I made three people individually review the sex scenes before I even asked anyone to beta the full fic. Of course I was worried for nothing, the reception for that fic was super lovely and gave me the confidence boost I needed to attempt start by pulling him out of the fire!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

This is like asking me to pick a favorite child. I’ll say this: most of my favorite lines in start by pulling him out of the fire were taken directly from conversations @wormdebut and I had about the fic. She’s my number one cheerleader and sounding board, and sometimes she’s so goddamn funny that I just have to include it. You have her to thank, for instance, for Steve quite literally dropping his croissant when he first sees Eddie in glasses.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a couple of irons in the fire, but nothing I’m ready to share just yet! I’ve been taking a breather from writing (blame baldur’s gate 3, okay) but my WIPs are still very much IP. Stay tuned!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Not that I can think of!

Thank you to our author, Pricklywhicket, and our anonymous nominator! See more of pricklywhicket's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's wednesday #writers on tumblr #steddie writers #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things

[glitterquadricorn]

Amélie - Pierre Gasly

Summary: Baby Gasly wants to come earlier than planned. Pairing: Pierre Gasly x Pregnant!Reader Warning(s): that red flag of the Japanese gp, indirectly mentions Jules' crash in 2014, FIA slander, google translate usage, labor, pregnancy, childbirth (non-graphic). If I missed something, let me know. Word Count: 1,586 (instgram au post not included)

a/n: It's been a hot minute since I wrote for a real person and It's been months since I posted anything, so forgive me if this is awful. I'm trying my best.

a/n2: I've never been pregnant, nor do I plan to, fuck them kids, so forgive me if anything inaccurate.

BIG FAT THANK YOU TO @charlewiss. They helped me get unstuck! This fic shall be dedicated to them! :)

---

Pacing around the living room, hands on her waist, she breathed through a contraction. Once it passed, she noted it was quite stronger and more painful than the previous ones she felt throughout the day. Her due date was only three weeks away, so the contractions shouldn’t be this intense, right? Both Pierre’s parents and hers aren’t scheduled to fly out until a week before the baby is due and she didn’t have any friends staying with her, so if her water broke, she’d have to find a way to the hospital herself. A new fear unlocked.

She looked over to the TV just in time to see Pierre drive past a tractor that was on the track. The weather already made her feel uncomfortable prior to the race starting, but seeing just how close he was to hitting said tractor made her heart launch into her throat. Did the FIA not remember what happened in 2014? Were they trying to have a repeat? What she finds funny is they speak so much about driver’s safety and it being their top priority yet have tractors on the track while the race is still ongoing. They should’ve just canceled the race after Carlos crashed out if they wanted to practice what they preach.

The FIA collectively as a whole is her 13th reason.

A sharp pain shot across her belly, followed by a gush of liquid running down her legs. It was times like this where she wished she had someone with her. 

“No, no, no. This can’t be happening.” 

Moving carefully around the puddle at her feet, she frantically reached for her phone, calling Pierre hoping he answers. But of course he doesn’t, so she tries again and again. Nothing. He’s most likely doing post-race media. The next person she tried calling was his performance coach, Pyry. Fortunately for her, he answered.

All in one breath, “MYWATERBROKE.” 

“What was that?”

“My water broke, Pyry. I tried calling Pierre, but he didn’t answer.”

“Are you sure?”

“I know I didn’t just piss myself, Pyry,” She snapped. There was some shuffling in the background before the phone was handed over to Pierre.

“I’ll be on the first flight out, mon ange (my angel).” 

“It’s too early, Pierre.” She cried, “They're not allowed to be this early.”

“Everything will be okay. I’m going as fast as I can.”

“Please hurry.” 

Pierre’s heart ached hearing y/n’s quiet whines of pain. If he could, he’d take the pain away from her and put it all on him. As he left the circuit, he had one thought and one thought only; I’m going to be a dad soon!

Meanwhile, all the way in a hospital in Italy, y/n adjusted herself on the rather small hospital bed, trying to get comfortable. The contractions were practically on top of each other, and the last time a nurse checked her she was about four centimeters dilated. It was shaping up to be a long night and a long labor. 

“That contraction was off the charts!” Charlotte remarked. After settling in, y/n called Charlotte and without asking her to, Charlotte dropped everything and drove the three and a half hours from Monaco to Milan to be with her. She also did her a favor by calling both her and Pierre’s families.

“And I felt every second.” she winced, “Is there any update on where Pierre is?”

Charlotte pulls out her phone, tracking his flight. “He’s making his way towards Beijing right now.”

“I want him here.”

“I know you do, but don’t worry about it right now. Get some rest, you're going to need it.”

The sound of thumping from the monitor lulled her to sleep. After a couple hours worth of sleep, the nurse on call woke her up to check her dilation. She went from a four to a six. When the nurse saw the frustration on her face, she recommended taking a walk around the room or the labor and delivery floor. 

Taking their advice, her and Charlotte took laps around the nurse’s station. On the fourth lap, she turned to Charlotte, “Did I ever tell you how I told Pierre I was pregnant?”

“No. I don’t believe you did.”

Ever since the first positive pregnancy test, she thought of how she could tell Pierre. She didn’t want nor need anything big and elaborate. The more simple the better. Balloons in the shape of a pacifier? That would be great, but she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to suck the helium out if it, which is the fun part. There was also maybe the thought of sticking the positive test in a box full of grass from an Easter basket, but that can get messy and she didn’t feel like cleaning that up.

Just then a proverbial light bulb went off above her head. A simple card with a nice little note written on the inside. But then she remembered there was an unused birthday card in the drawer in her office desk. Heading off to her office, she opened the drawer in the middle, searching for the card, and once in her hand, she reached for a pen and began writing the note.

Dear Daddy, 

I am small, not yet born. I am a blessing, a gift from an unseen friend. I’ll bring you endless amounts of joy, love and laughter. I love you and momma oh so much. I can’t wait to meet you.

Love, 

Baby Gasly.

Her hand softly ran over her lower belly. She refused to believe there was a whole new life inside her. But then again, she could. Pierre and her could never really keep their hands off each other and there has been once or twice where they were reckless as far as not protecting themselves. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

The sound of keys in the door alerted her to Pierre coming home. “Mon amour (my love), I’m home.”

“Hey handsome! I got something for you.”

“Oh?” Pierre’s gaze went to the pink, glittery birthday card in her hand. “You know my birthday was weeks ago, right?”

“I know, but you should open and read it.”

He started reading the card as he was told. As his eyes scanned the words on the card, the smirk that was on his face turned into a broad smile. And when he got to the finish, his head snapped up.

“Are you serious? Please tell me you aren’t joking?”

“No, I’m not joking. We really are pregnant!”

Pierre wrapped his arms around her in a hug, careful not to squeeze her too tight. He pulled away, resting his forehead on hers, “Je t'aime, y/n. Je t'aime.”

“I love you too, Pierre.”

She and Charlotte went back to her room once she said she had felt immense pressure in her pelvic area. A nurse came in to check her and announced that she was fully dilated and ready to push. 

“But Pierre isn’t here! I want him here! I can’t do this without him!”

Charlotte grabbed y/n’s hand, “While it’s unfortunate that Pierre isn’t here, but I am. You can do this, I know you can. Now, let’s have ourselves a baby, yeah?”

Nurses came in and out of the room, prepping and getting things ready. The doctor followed soon after.

“On the next contraction, I want you to take a deep breath in and push downward, holding it for about ten seconds. Okay?”

A familiar pain washed over her, and she did as she was told: she pushed. Her attention kept going towards the door, hoping Pierre would walk through. But she didn’t have time to think about him not showing up because another contraction hit and she pushed through it.

“That was a good push, y/n.” the doctor smiled, “The baby's head is out. All I need is one real good push. Think you can do that for me?”

Nodding her head, she took in a breath and gave one final push. Suddenly, the pain and pressure was relieved and a loud, piercing cry rang throughout the room. 

“It’s a girl!” the doctor announced. They placed the screaming baby on her chest.

“Hi! I’m your momma,” she said, tears rolling out of her eyes. “And this is your godmother, Charlotte.”

“What? Why? I mean, I’m honored.”

“Charlotte, you’re one of my best friends. You also dropped everything you were doing and drove all the way here to be by my side. I feel that naming you as the godmother is well deserved. Besides, Pierre and I were planning on naming you and Charles the godparents, anyway.”

“I- thank you. This means a lot.”

The two friends stared down at the beautiful baby with tufts of dark blonde hair. Her eyes were a dark blue, hopefully getting to the same shade of her father’s. They also had Pierre’s nose and lips. This baby essentially looked exactly like Pierre.

Hours later, the door to y/n’s hospital room opened, and Pierre stepped in. She raised her finger to mouth, quieting him so as to not wake Charlotte who’s asleep on the couch at the end of the bed. 

He sat next to her on the bed, “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“You were on your way, and that’s all that matters.” 

“Can I hold them?”

“You can hold her all you want daddy.”

“Her? It’s a girl?” Pierre carefully picked his daughter from y/n’s arms, “mon petit ange (my little angel).”

liked by yourinstagram, charlesleclerc, charlottesine and 425,267 others.

pierregasly: Amélie Antoinette Gasly.

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yourinstagram: I can't even get mad that she looks exactly like you.

↳ pierregasly: thank you for giving me such a beautiful little girl 💖

danielricciardo: DADDY GASLY!!!!!

charlesleclerc: Can't wait to spoil my godchild rotten.

↳ charlottesine: OUR*

yukitsunoda: my little sister :)

lewishamilton: Congrats you guys!

AlphaTauri: The newest member to the team! ↳ yourinstagram: you better get her alpha tauri contract ready! I reckon she'll be better driver than her father @pierregasly 🤣 ↳ pierregasly: 😒😒

sebastianvettel: Congratulations! If you ever need advice don't hesitate to call.

liked by pierregasly, alphatauri, mickschumacher and 252,126 others.

yourinstagram: You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

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pierregasly: you make me happy when skies are grey. ↳ yourinstagram: you'll never know dear how much I love you ↳ pierregasley: please don't take my sunshine away.

---

I don't think this was too horrible for not posting in a while. ALL PICTURES ARE NOT MINE. CREDIT TO THE OWNERS.

Tagging:

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @sergeantjbuckybarnes @patzammit @yagirlmexic @awkwardfangirl2014 @beckieandhertardis @tinycyberhacker @streetghostfighter07 @distant-illusions @alisoncdariel @1awesomeash @nocturnalherb16 @thisismysecrethappyplace @rainysuitcaseprunegiant @geeksareunique @stressedandbandobessed7771 @xshinytrashcanx @finallyforgotten @keenmarvellover @inkybird @heshewumbo11 @shadow-dixon @mrspeacem1nusone @augustvandyne @harleyquinnpuddin @drayshadow @rue-cimon @lendeluxe @alexxavicry @lyeatoalinatoheaven

@charlewiss & @micks-afterglow

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for publicly (among the crew) putting my boss on blast? And AITA for having already done it in the past?

So I've been having issues with my boss not following my availability. I changed my availability 4 months ago and my boss sometimes follows it. I immediately had an issue with her scheduling me blatantly in the middle of a day that I was not available all day for. This was after she went out of her way to confirm my availability with me in person. (We have paper forms to fill out at work and a folder to drop them off in, so her going out of her way to talk to me in person and then ignore me was an extra unnecessary step)

Admittedly, I went in a little bit of a blind rage and photocopied my copy of my availability form (always keep the receipts, kids) and pinned it to the schedule that was posted on the wall and wrote a note stating that x days/times were outside of my availability and I will not be working those shifts. I thought it was very professional in the wording, considering how furious I was.

That's part 1. AITA for making that public within the crew vs. talking to my boss directly? Admittedly, it was not very professional of me.

Part 2. SHE FUCKING DID IT AGAIN

She was doing alright with following my availability for 4 months and then out of nowhere, just ignores it 2 schedule weeks in a row.

So I had not updated or changed my availability in any way and there was no previous rule about resubmitting availability for the new year and my boss did not ever say she wanted us to resubmit our availability (I gladly would have if necessary) so the assumption was that prior availability continued into the new year, right? Apparently not, because she scheduled me blatantly outside of my availability not one, but TWO WEEKS IN A ROW.

After seeing the schedules, I resubmitted my same fucking unchanged availability (but was a little petty and wrote on the form that it was a resubmission that hadn't changed) and put it in the turn in folder without making a public scene about it this time. Since I calmed down. This was yesterday so we'll have to wait and see if that works.

HOWEVER. If she pulls that shit again, I fully intend to do the same thing again with the public note (hey it worked for 4 months) and put her on blast in front of the whole crew. (Schedules are kept in the breakroom that is locked under passcode, so only employees would be able to see, not customers and the general public)

WIBTA for putting her on blast publicly? (Kinda shooting for at least JAH here lol)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[idontlikeem]

i'd like to talk about grieving, a little bit. as in the past, discussions of death and cancer below the cut, don't read if this will hurt you, etc....i'm having a bad day and i just need to stream of consciousness for a little bit. sorry.

so my mom died. if you've read my personal posts before or whatever, you probably figured that out. it happened on thursday february 15th around noon. luckily we had a bit of notice that it was coming, so i was able to drive down the saturday prior and spend time with her—three full days where she was pretty much still herself, and part of a fourth.

it's been a really hard month. like, obviously. but i think a part of me still wasn't quite ready for it. i don't know how.

my mom was first diagnosed with breast cancer in fall 2011. she had a mastectomy and went through chemo, and that was hard and scary, but it was i think technically considered stage one—a tumor that was definitely growing fast, but it hadn't spread out of the area, like not to her lymph nodes or anything, and with the treatment she went almost ten years totally symptom-free. right at the start of the pandemic, the cancer came back, but this time it was already stage four, and it was in her abdomen and uterus and intestines.

there was a time when we weren't sure she'd live more than a year. endometrial and other reproductive cancers aren't 'sexy' like breast cancer is, they're not widely studied and there aren't a lot of treatment options. when she had breast cancer i hated 'save the boobies' campaigns (and please never donate to susan komen), but now that my family has lived with another type of cancer that doesn't have tits as a draw, i hate them even more.

my mom made it four years, pretty much, since the first diagnosis. she did chemo, and radiation, and went on medication trials, and put her body through hell to try and fight it. she lived longer than i think any of us thought she would.

the problem with that is how long i've been existing in a state of grief.

i've had years to prepare for this. i've thought about it literally thousands of times—how i'd feel, how i'd tell people, what i'd do after. i pictured it, because i was trying to plan. i was trying to get myself ready.

turns out pre-grieving isn't real. turns out you can't get this pain out of the way by experiencing it in advance. much to my chagrin. i'm not sure there was a way to avoid it, though. so here i am, with four years of grief behind me, and not one second of it has made what's going on now any easier.

some days i forget. every time i'm on twitter or instagram, there are posts i want to send her, and then i don't know what to do with myself. for all that my relationship with her had its hard times, she was my mom, she was my best friend. i love her more than anything and i don't know what to do with myself now that she's gone.

i've been sort of just surviving for the last four weeks. my apartment is a mess, i'm barely leaving, i haven't been good at responding to people. so today i thought i'd at least clean up a little. i'd gone to target a day or two before i drove down to my parents', and i figured i would start with those bags, because they were just sitting there.

i'd forgotten that i bought valentine's day cards for my whole family that i wanted to send. one for each of my brothers, one for my dad, one for my mom. i never sent them, obviously, i didn't even bring them with me. i burst into tears when i pulled them out of the bag, and i've been crying pretty much all day since then. i'm never going to pick out a card for my mom ever again.

i also have a notes app file sitting on my phone. she wrote each of us letters, and my dad sent them out to us, but i haven't been able to open mine yet. it's the last new thing she'll ever say to me. how could i possibly be ready for that? how do i know when the right time to read that will be?

one thing my mom wanted was to die at home. she didn't want it to be in a hospital, and i get it. she spent a month in the hospital after christmas, and god knows how much time cumulatively over the last four years. the fact that she was able to push to get home is something i don't understand, because she was so sick—but she did it somehow. she was able to die in her bed.

and i was with her. like. i wasn't just at home, i was with her.

something they don't tell you about having someone die is you have to start arranging stuff before it actually happens. when we woke up on the 15th, we knew it was only a matter of time—her eyes weren't all the way open and her breath was labored, and she couldn't talk, although at first she still tried to say stuff. we sat there with her and kept her company and talked to her. hospice came by around 11 or 11:30, i don't even remember, and said that based on whatever measurements or readings they take (pupils? breathing? i don't know), it would be between 4-8 hours, and he recommended that my dad call the funeral home. because you have to do that first.

so my youngest brother was driving down from where he lives, my middle brother was in his room, my dad was in his room on the phone, and i stayed with her, because....well, of course, right? and i was just kind of talking, and crying, but trying not to...i don't know, beg her to stay? ask for more time? the nurse said she could still hear, they're pretty sure that hearing and understanding what's being said is the last thing to go, and i didn't want her to feel bad or guilty, or to hurt herself in an effort to stay longer even though there's nothing more that i've ever wanted in my life.

so i told her, you know, we'll be okay. it's going to be unbearably sad, and it's going to suck, but all the stuff we did as a family with her—we'll still do it. and we'll be okay. and there's nothing more important to us than her not hurting anymore, not being miserable and stuck and just...not herself. all that matters to us right now is her, and she didn't have to worry about us, because we'd be okay.

and she took in a breath. there was a pause. she took in another one. and she stopped. that was it.

i didn't even realize at first, not right the second it happened. the hospice booklet had talked about a 'death rattle', about how it happens almost all the time, but that it's more distressing for the people with the person dying than them, that they're not in pain. how the fuck would they know that, i'm not sure i believe it, but...it's what i was expecting. that didn't happen, though. she just stopped breathing.

the amount of guilt i felt for my dad being out of the room...i don't know if that will ever leave me. he said it was ok, because he was having to deal with stuff, and he'd spent a lot of time with her and it was fine, but jesus. how do i not feel like i stole that from him?

i've felt like a shell ever since. i'm back where i live, and i'm getting up and going to work and taking care of my dog and trying to stay connected to life, but...i don't know.

how is it that she's gone? how is this possible? how am i supposed to go the rest of my life without her?

i had four years to get ready for this, and i wasn't. i don't think there's any way i really could have been, but still. it doesn't seem fair that it was so hard for so long, and for NOTHING. nothing is easier now.

i'm sick of feeling sad, and hurt. i feel like i should be over it or something? i don't know, maybe just less actively affected? it's been a month. people's parents die all the time, right?

what am i supposed to do?

#personal

[sataniquepanique]

New York, I Love You.

Summary: Eddie plans a trip to NYC for your anniversary, but becomes distant once you land in the city that never sleeps. You know he's hiding something, but you're not sure what.

Genre: fluff, angst, older!Eddie

Warnings: mention of depression/intrusive thoughts

A/N: I'm getting married in 2 weeks (fucking yikes), so I wrote something based on my fiancé's actual proposal to take my mind off of planning shit for two fucking seconds.

“Have you heard about the theory that Van Gogh didn’t actually kill himself?” You chime, looking over the museum map, eagerly tracing an invisible tour path through the winding galleries.

“You’ve only told me about it a million times over the past seven years,” Eddie chuckles as he stares down the entranceway of the Museum of Modern Art. The two of you look incredibly out of place; stark white walls, juxtaposed with tattoos and leather. The soft squeak of your Docs reverberate through the winding hallway, adding to the anxiety that’s been building since stepping foot in New York City two days ago. Something was off with Eddie, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. It started at the airport, he had stopped talking after getting to the gate; chalking it up to nerves about flying, you ignored it. The first day in the city was the same, barely any conversation unless you initiated it, and even less physical affection on his part. Maybe he was still tired from the trip, or maybe he just hated the city? A third reason rears its ugly head and starts to burrow deep inside your conscious; maybe he was getting tired of you. After seven years of being together, of cohabitating in a small apartment outside of Hawkins, of two cats and a dog later, maybe the love of your life was pushing away. 

A hand on the small of your back snaps your attention back to the map. The 1880-1940’s collection is on the 5th floor, allowing you to traverse through the rest of the museum before seeing the one piece this entire trip was centered around.

———

New York City was actually Eddie’s idea, though it doesn’t seem so from his current disconnected behavior. A few months prior he had bounded into the living room, smiling like he had just won the lottery.

“Baby,” he sang in his best, most innocent voice, “how would you feel about going to New York City in July?” 

Your head slowly rose from the book you were buried in. His particular tone was usually only reserved for when he was already in trouble, or plotting something mischievous. 

“What’s your angle, Munson?” Shifting forward on the couch, your eyes narrow in suspicion.

Hand over heart, he looks at you with faux offense, “How dare you think so little of me. I just think we should do something cool for our anniversary this year.”

All your wariness fades to glowing endearment.

“Oh Eds, that’d be amazing! Of course I’d love to go to New York!” 

His face relaxes as he huffs out a relieved breath, “Oh thank god, ‘cause I already bought plane tickets—“

You smile at him, impressed that he had actually planned something ahead of time instead of waiting until the last minute like usual. You’ve been together almost 7 years, and as time went on celebrating your anniversary became less and less theatrical, now consisting of take-out from your favorite Chinese place and a movie of unanimous choosing. Low-key, comfortable, but still full of love, just like you and Eddie.

“—and I also reserved two tickets for the Museum of Modern Art.”

Your eyes almost pop out of your head, “That’s where—“

“—Starry Night is. I know, that’s why I’m taking you there.” He flops down onto the couch, throwing a casual arm around your shoulders as you melt into him.

For your entire life, or at least as long as you can remember, Van Gogh has been your favorite artist. Doing master-copies of his paintings in high school, trying to hard to get his technique just right, obsessing over his use of color to convey emotion. In college you majored in Art History, specializing in Post-Impressionism, spending long nights pouring over books about Vincent’s life and background. As much as you love his work, his story made him that much more intriguing. How a man struggled with such a tragic life and still managed to see the beauty in the world was nothing less than astounding. 

You’ve seen a few of Van Gogh’s pieces in person at museums in the tri-state area, but you haven’t traveled much further. Money’s been tight ever since you and Eddie moved in together a few years ago, but you’ve always had the bug, itching to go far away and see the world with all it has to offer. Eddie shares the same desire, always talking about dream trips and planning fake vacations, waiting for the day you can make them a reality. 

“Eddie, where did you get the money for this?” The thought of possibly spending rent money on plane tickets makes you panic, but he’s is quick to shrug it away.

“I picked up some extra shifts at the shop, we’re fine don’t worry.”

———

Eddie is usually very physically affectionate, constantly having a hold somewhere on your body; but through 4 floors of galleries he hasn’t so much as touched your hand. The lack of contact is all you can think about, barely able to take in any of the artwork you’ve traveled all this way to see. As you make your way to the 5th floor, Eddie trudges behind silently. The awkward tension is killing you, and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

Turning into the 1880s gallery, a small crowd of people gather around the far corner. A glimpse of familiar cerulean and marigold swirls, the same brushstrokes you’ve studied for years, peaks over the top of their heads. You swiftly push to the front, and all of the air is crushed from your lungs. 

It’s other-worldly. 

Every photo you’ve ever seen of The Starry Night doesn’t do it justice, not even remotely. The peaks of paint that dot the surface of the canvas, the brightness of each color, none of it can be properly depicted on the pages of a textbook. After so many years of studying this painting, seeing it in the flesh is almost like seeing an old friend. There’s a calmness in it, admiration mixed with giddiness.

You’re close to tears as you feel Eddie’s presence beside you.

“It’s amazing…” his voice is low, partly because of the subdued setting, but also in awe.

All you can muster is a nod as your eyes drag over every inch of the painting, committing it to memory. 

You have to practically rip yourself away, buzzing from the entire experience. 

Eddie waits by the entranceway with his hands in his front pockets, “Do you wanna go get dinner? I’m starving.”

“Sure,” still unnerved by his demeanor, your tone is stoic and emotionless, “Where do you wanna go?”

He scratches the back of his neck, something only done when he’s uncomfortable, “Uh, there’s this pub across 52nd if that’s cool?”

An audible stomach growl answers for you.

Eddie keeps a few feet of distance between your bodies, weaving through groups of people on the crowded sidewalk. You’ve never seen this many people in your life, even at college in Indianapolis. Growing up in Indiana, your hometown was so small that everyone knew each other, same with Eddie’s upbringing in Hawkins. City life always intrigued you, and up until this moment you had thought of Indianapolis as a “big city”; but it was nothing compared to New York. After high school you moved away to college to study art, choosing Indiana University for its busier atmosphere. 

A month after graduating with your BFA, you met Eddie by accident. Moving back home to live with your parents was the last thing you wanted, but finding a good paying job was proving to be more difficult than anticipated. 

Depression started to sink it’s disgusting claws into your psyche; you felt like a failure. 

One night, in a valiant attempt to bring some joy back into your life, your best friend dragged you to a bar in the next town over; the promise of live music and alcohol extremely enticing. Hawkins wasn’t known for much, except for the weird rumors about mysterious disappearances over the years, so you weren’t expecting much from this hole-in-the-wall bar. The Hideout was kind of gross, but in an almost endearing way. The floors were sticky and the air almost unbreathable, but the staff was kind, despite their rough appearances. The bartender chatted the two of you up for while, making jokes and letting you sample whatever beer you wanted to try, all while some metal band played on the rickety stage in the back. 

A little before midnight, the band had packed up and the crowd inside thinned out to just regulars and a few drunk stragglers. As you sat at the bar and waited for your friend to get back from the bathroom, a stranger sat next to you and ordered a beer, greeting the bartender like an old friend. After exchanging a few light-hearted jabs, the stranger smiled and looked over at you. 

“Cheers—“ he holds out the neck of the bottle towards you.

Taken aback by his boldness, you return a small grin, “Cheers to what?” 

He shrugs, sucking his teeth in thought for a second, “To metal? To surviving another gig? I dunno.”

The guitar pick around his neck catches your eye, “Was that your band playing earlier?”

He gives a shy nod, smile stretching wider and accentuating a dimple on his left cheek.

“You guys sounded really good,” You hold out your own bottle towards him.

“I’ll cheers to that,” he taps against yours, a small clink echoing in the almost empty bar. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.” Normally, you would rather die than talk to a random person at a bar, but there was something about this boy that drew you in. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was how ethereal he looked under the neon bar signs, either way you were captivated.

You stayed at the Hideout longer than intended, long after your friend had decided to go home. Eddie made you laugh with stupid jokes and weird stories, sharing your mutual love of horror movies and fantasy books. You were so enthralled that you hadn’t even noticed it was closing time. Apologizing to the bartender, you asked to use their phone to call a cab. Eddie immediately offered to drive you home, promising he wasn’t a serial killer when you profusely questioned him. 

The drive was filled with loud music and scream-singing on both of your parts, Eddie drumming on the steering wheel to the beat as you headbanged beside him. When he pulled up at your parents house, you quickly pulled a pen out of your bag, scribbling your phone number onto his forearm. He winked before driving away, having stayed a few extra minutes to make sure you got inside safely. Every thought for the rest of the night was consumed by Eddie; something was tying you to him, and you wanted to follow that invisible tether all the way to the end.

———

The 52nd Street pub was empty, something that was shocking upon entry, but you were nonetheless a little grateful for it. The quiet was a welcome change from the overwhelming sounds of New York, a small corner of solitude in the center of the city that never sleeps. Welcome almost as much, are the beers that you and Eddie down immediately. 

Though he normally cannot stop talking, Eddie is being uncharacteristically mute. You have to practically drag out any bit of conversation, forcing small talk until the food arrives and you can focus on that instead. 

After a silent meal, the portly older waiter drops off your check and strikes up a conversation with Eddie about your trip and why you were visiting. Eddie put on his polite voice, smiling and laughing along with man’s questions. This stranger was receiving more from him than you had in days. 

The nagging voice in your head struck up again: he’s tired of you.

You stopped paying attention to Eddie’s side-conversation as annoyance consumed you. There was an emerging throb in your head, the physical pain matching the emotional hurt of Eddie’s complete disdain towards you. At this point, all you wanted was to go home.

The sun was setting as you walk out onto the corner of 52nd, and you squint down the street searching for a cab. 

“Hey—“ Eddie smiled at you for what seems like the first time all day, “—wanna go to Central Park?” He points down the street, and you can make out the tops of the trees seven blocks away. 

You shake your head, “I’m really tired, and my head is killing me. I’d rather just go back to the hotel honestly.” 

Eddie’s face falls a little, and you feel slightly guilty, but then remember how uninterested he was all day. 

Again, he glances towards the park, “Are you sure? It’s just a few blocks away—“

“No, Eddie. I just want to go back to the room.” Your voice was stern, annoyed that he only now wanted to spend time with you. A yellow cab crested over the next block, and you raise a hand to get the drivers attention.

“I would rather share one lifetime with you—“ Eddie mumbles behind you. Only half listening, you swear he’s grumbling about not being able to go to the park, and it sets off a rage flare.

“—What?” You snap your head around to face him, eyes narrow and angry, bracing yourself for an argument.

He’s standing a few feet away, one hand in his pocket, the other holding up a diamond ring. Your lungs constrict, an audible gasp escaping as you stare at him wide-eyed. He grins sheepishly as you freeze in place.

“Eddie…what?” 

“I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone,” He repeats, returning your stare with his soft brown eyes. 

“…are you seriously quoting Lord of the Rings to me right now?” You laugh, all tension leaving your body. 

“Did you expect anything less from me?” His deep eyes search yours, silencing the menacing voice in your head, “Marry me, Y/n. I love you more than anything—“

“—more than Gollum loves his precious?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and snorts, “Obviously, you fucking nerd.” 

Scoffing dramatically, you smile and take the ring from his outstretched hand, sliding it onto your finger. 

“Of course I’ll marry you, Eddie Munson. I thought you’d never ask.” 

Finally, after days of anxiety and frustration, he kisses you, smiling the entire time. You can almost physically feel the stress leave his body as you hold onto him.

Pulling back you grab his hand, interlocking your fingers, “Is this why you’ve been acting weird?”

He chuckles, “Yeah, I was super nervous. I honestly planned on doing it in front of The Starry Night, but I freaked out when I saw how many people were around.”

Your heart soars at the sentiment, and you look down at your hand in his, the little diamond sparkling in the fading sunlight. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson edit #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfic #eddie x y/n #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem! reader #older!eddie #Eddie Munson angst

[nerdieforpedro]

A Night of Madness

Joel Miller x plus size female reader

Fanfiction 18+

Warnings: Awkward family dinner, smut, heavy Southern accent, Joel is a menace

Summary: Jane had a one night stand. She meets him a month later at the last place she expected him to be. Joel is well, Joel 'fucking' Miller.

Masterlist

Notes: I made Joel’s accent extra Southern, not sure why just wrote it and kept it. All mistakes are my own. I thought I had posted it last week and still saw it in my drafts. I was very confused. 😐

“Um…hello. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, name’s Joel doll. So you’re Jane?”

“Yup. I’m Jane. I’m here.” The pair shook hands, Jane felt her face become warm along with her underarms, anxiety is a bitch.

“God, could you two be anymore awkward? You’re the damn godparents for goodness’ sake!” Tommy had his hands on his hips. His brother was a big teddy bear. A mean ass looking one, but still a teddy bear.

“Tommy, ya’ don’t need to yell. Hell, we just met. Since’s he’s not gonna tell ya, you can park right here.” Joel held out a chair for Jane who sat and pulled her pale-yellow sundress down. It was her favorite, made her feel confidant. And she needed to for this so called ‘family dinner.’ Maria had insisted on it, gathering those who she felt closest to. It was sweet but also meant Jane would have to meet new people, like Joel, though he wasn’t exactly new. Joel’s daughter Sarah was previously unknown to Jane as was the adopted Elle and her girlfriend Star. Jane knew Tommy and Maria of course and their two children, Maria was six months along again.

The teens were playing with children while the adults spoke, Maria asked for Tommy’s help in the kitchen, presumably to explain again why this was a good idea when maybe it wasn’t. Did they really need to meet? Joel didn’t think so, though he was shocked it was the same woman who last time he saw her she was in a royal blue dress one month prior.

He had seen her in a bar and she looked very out of place. Apparently she had gotten separated from her friends and was asking the bartender if he had her phone’s type of charger. He did not. Joel offers to buy her a drink and to use his car charger. He thinks he knows where it is in the truck. She was weary but did need to to be charged, so she agreed and set out to his truck, she laughed about her poor luck and was thankful he was not a creep as she put it. Joel laughed and put a hand over hers, telling her he wasn’t, she would be safe with him. Her fingers intertwined with his and she leaned over giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Be careful who you say that to handsome. You might get more than you bargained for.” Her sultry voice and made Joel shift in the driver’s seat.

“That right doll? I don’t ’suppose ya’ nothing I can’t handle. I might give ya’ sumtin’ ya’ll never forget.” Joel’s other hand cradled her head and pulled him to her, crashing their lips together. It wasn’t long before she had her panties off and Joel was being jerked off by her. She then rode him both in his truck and when he was able to drive, on his couch later. After napping, he insisted that they go to the bedroom where the elder Miller made sure to take his time, get her out of the dress so he could explore all of her curves. He expected her to be hesitant but she was bold and poked fun at him for bemoaning his back. She soon was made to swallow her words as well as Joel’s cock. He tasted her core and couldn’t get enough of her, but the time the sun rose in the morning, they were sprawled across the bed, tangled in each other. It was then that she nervously said she had to go. He didn’t get a name or a number. Turned out she gave him something he couldn’t forget too.

Now they were sitting, making small talk over pasta and garlic bread like none of that happened. She was giggling like everything was fine. When dinner finished, Tommy and Maria put the kids to bed while Elle drove Sarah and Star to a local concert, Joel had already agreed on account of Sarah’s excellent grades, now they were left in an uncomfortable silence. Jane spoke first, after five solid minutes of quiet. “It’s, I don’t think we should mention that we know each other at all. It will make it weirder than it already is.”

“That so doll? Houdya figure?” Joel leaned forward, he had rolled up the sleeves of his red flannel shirt, with a smirk on his face. Jane’s met them and then went back to his face. It was frozen right now, but she remembered the expressions, the sheer awe that it showed looking at her naked form. No one else had treated her with such reverence. It scared her and she didn’t know the man’s name. Her first one might stand. It was easier to do than she thought, but so hard to leave. She knew if she didn’t Jane would have never called an Uber and left. “I remember a hellova night and morning.” His accent sent shivers up her spine. She thought she had a night of madness but she knew she was wrong. It was everything about him, the accent, his hulking frame actually making her feel small. Those hands all over her body and the praises he gave her.

“Doll you sound fuckin’ beautiful right now.”

“Tightest pussy I’ve had, you took me all the way in.”

“Shit that tongue, make me drown ya’ throat.”

“Fuck Doll you’re so soft, lemme hold ya’ stay right there. Not pulling out ‘till I harden up ‘gain.”

Jane remembered all of it and he had given her something she’d never forget. She’d gone so far as to go back to that bar and ask the bartender if he know the man she had left with. He’d scoffed at her and told her it wasn’t his job to remember everyone she fucked. She may have through another person’s bourbon at him. A waste of good liquor.

“I can’t…I lost myself that night and became,” Jane whispered “a bit concerned about finding you. So we can’t…” Her train of thought was lost when Joel’s hand patted her thigh. His touch gentler than the smirk he had.

“Jane, you look pretty in that yellow dress. Damn near close to that blue one you had on.” Joel’s thumb pressed into her thick thigh before scooting closer to her and leaning into her ear. “Still prefer you out of it. I wanna grab ya’ and see ya’ dripping’ fer me.” He left a small kiss to her check and stood to meet the footsteps he heard coming down the stairs. Jane felt her thigh where Joel’s hand had been, missing the pressure.

“You two make things a bit more friendly? You can’t be stiff ‘round each other. For the kids’ sake.” Tommy chimed as he hugged Maria. Jane stood and nodded, hugging the happy couple before moving toward the door. Joel used his long legs to meet her there and open it for her. “Brother, walk her to the car. She parked on the street. Elle’s car was blocking the driveway earlier.” He suggested, Jane put her hands in front of her plush belly, she normally did that when she was anxious. A given since she felt she might fuck him in her car on the street outside of her friend’s house. Joel and Jane stepped out of the house in silence until they got to her car.

“What is it about you that makes me want to have you rail me? I feel insane…” Jane opened her car door and tossed her purse in, slipping her keys in one her dress pockets. Joel stepped to embrace her but she stopped him, putting her hands on his chest. “No. Give me your number Miller. Tell your girls you’re sleeping over at your brother’s house. You’re following me to my place. Now.” He commanded and hopped into her car. Joel put both hands up and walked around to her window.

“I showed ya’ what ya’ couldn’t handle Jane. Now you wanna keep handlin’ it until ya’ understand. I’m fine ridin’ ya out Doll. I’ll follow ya’ and show ya’ some good lovin’ darlin’.”

The Tag List:

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @modernperplexity @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @mintypossum @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @awilderi @deviinci @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @tessa-quayle @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @magpiepillsjunior @intoanotherworld23 @beabliss @alwaysmicado @daddy-dins-girl

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x plus size reader #Joel miller is a manace #tlou

[dangerously-human]

I'm a little late on posting my celebration this year, though I did celebrate with writing Resurrected Hope. I've been reflecting on this anniversary quite a bit - coinciding with Holy Week had me thinking a lot about hope and resurrection and life conquering death and how our stories are echoes of The Story - and I ended up focusing on a slightly different angle of this part of my own history.

Thirteen years ago, I was the most suicidal I've ever been. I don't tend to talk about that part as much, because there's no nice neat bow to tie on it the way there is with the cutting - there wasn't a habit to quit, and it wasn't the last time, by a long shot. I knew the how and I was pretty much decided on the when. So you've got a pretty good idea of where my head was at, at the time.

I forget, often, that I got baptized around this time, too. I was born into a Christian tradition that believes in infant baptism, so I was sprinkled as a baby, but as a teenager actually studying the Bible for myself, digging into theology more, I decided that didn't sit right with me, and I should take the step of obedience on my own as a reflection of the spiritual rebirth and renewal I'd experienced years prior through the work of the Holy Spirit. My dad recently told me that was a time he heard most directly from God, praying for wisdom after I asked what he thought I should do: God told him to tell me to do it, basically. Increasingly, when I have the opportunity to share my testimony, that's a piece I mention, that even in the midst of the darkest season of my life, God was still working, and I was still growing, even though I didn't feel the faith he'd gifted me with.

But it wasn't just "around the same time." I'd forgotten, but it was two days later. I didn't really know at the time, but I cut myself for the last time, and then I was baptized into the fullness of belonging that comes from walking in the Way. Renewal. Rebirth. None of it the narrative I had planned, but the one my Maker ordained before time began.

That wasn't the end, for better or worse. Getting dunked in some water didn't magically take away the depression I pled with God for years to take from me. I still spent a lot of my teens and early twenties wanting to die. But on the self-injury front, at least, by the grace of God, I never went back, even when the temptation was very, very loud. And I am being constantly remade as a new creation in Christ - my identity in him is irrevocably sealed.

Partly because of what I've been studying in the Bible recently (especially Psalms), and partly because of my special interest in Lockwood & Co, I've been thinking a lot lately about the victory of life over death, and the way breaking the grip of depression is a picture of that. Celebrating Easter last week was a powerful reminder: Jesus submitted to the grave in order to put it under his feet. I remember last spring, just when I'd gotten to the climax of The Empty Grave, I had to put the book down to head out for a Coram Deo prayer and worship night at church; perhaps unsurprisingly, I was struck by the thought that night that my God has stolen me back from death many times over. Once when he pulled me out of the muck of my own sin; again when he said, "Not this time. That's not the way it's going to be" and pulled me back from the grave I was determined to throw myself in. However worthless I considered my own life (the last lie I wrote on my skin), God saw it as precious, worth redeeming, because he made it and claimed it - and this morning, taking Communion, that's what I repeated through tears: "It's yours, it's all yours." That's why I spend this time reflecting and remembering each year, in gratitude for the light that entered the darkness and made me new.

#personal #lockwood & co

[ingravinoveritas]

Just popping by to say how much I appreciate you. Thank you for always keeping a level head. Even when you're disagreeing or calling out bullshit, you still manage to stay diplomatic and respectful. And of course, you always focus on the important things, the main one being that Michael is David's #1 fan (and vice versa)

Aw, thank you so much for this! I can't tell you how nice it was to get this message in my inbox (and apologies for not replying sooner, as I've been entirely swamped and am now trying to catch up on my Asks).

Given that this was from two weeks ago, I'm going to guess that this is mainly in response to the whole situation with David's BAFTA nom and some of the reactions that have occurred as a result. I think a lot of people have said a lot of clumsy things (looking at you, Neil) and while some may not have meant to take away from David's big moment, that still seems to be what's happened. I absolutely believe David is more than deserving of the nomination and it is long overdue at this point. He should've been nominated for Des, or even before that, his role as Alec Hardy in Broadchurch, but I am so glad he's finally gotten a nomination now.

I think the reaction a lot of people had was borne out of how tied together David and Michael's performances are as Aziraphale and Crowley, and the thought that if David were to be nominated for that specific role, then one hopes that Michael will also be nominated for his role as Aziraphale at some other point in the future.

But to your comment about my keeping a level head, I find it interesting that, in the midst of all the theories flying around about why Michael wasn't nominated and questions I got to that effect, this post showed up in the tags the same day you sent me this Ask (blog name is cropped out):

This was very obviously in reference to this Ask that I received and had answered just prior to then. This person didn't even have the nerve to mention my blog by name, but had no problem calling me an "rpf fucker" (really nice...). The question pertained to whether Michael's lack of a BAFTA nom could have been because of Anna's off-putting social media posts prior to the announcement, and I indicated in my response that I did not believe this was the case. I am not about to place blame on Anna for something that she had no part of--which I suppose this person was hoping I would do, to give credence to their ludicrous claims of sexism--and I made my position on the matter clear.

So to your comment about me disagreeing, this was exactly what happened...and yet this person had to twist what I wrote so far around (to the point of lying by omission) just to make their point. And yes, I took that Ask seriously, as I take every Ask/Anon that I get seriously, even the ones that attack me (which is also why it takes me for-freaking-ever to answer the questions in my inbox). According to the above blogger, however, instead I should've responded to the person who sent the Ask by mocking them and telling them how ridiculous and stupid they are. Because just politely disagreeing while still allowing someone the space to share their thoughts is so horrible, but telling someone to fuck off is apparently the height of discourse. Ugh.

In any case, I am very much grateful for this message, and for you and everyone else who follows my blog and has been so lovely. It's your encouragement and kindness that gives me the drive to keep posting, so thank you! ❤️❤️

#genderqueer-hippie #reply post #personal post #and yes Michael is and continues to be David's number one fan #bless his bisexual Welsh chaos #fandom woes #to the people who keep coming for me and other RPF blogs on here #please have several seats #and try reading what i actually wrote instead of accusing me of ridiculous things #people can be awful sometimes #but then people can be wonderful too #and my followers are awesome #thank you all you lovely people for being here #<3

[sarahs-secrets2]

Tread Carefully (Phillip Graves x Reader) 18+ ࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

Am I switching to my gif era omg (I literally don't know what I'm doing how does this work)

I genuinely am so tired, like its so bad, I wanted to put something out tonight for yall tho so enjoy this, the long-awaited pt 2 will be out tomorrow (pls don't hate me I can't even type properly I am so tired, writing this was a battle loll), the sleep delusions wrote this so bare with me, pls lmk if there are typos

Based on Tread Carefully by SZA

gn! (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 620

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, sexual tension, swearing, slight NSFW, adult themes, pet names (if I forgot something pls lmk)

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

Falling for Phillip Graves was a slippery slope, one second he shoots you a wink, and the next you end up tangled in his sheets asking yourself how you got here. The early morning crept through his room as you attempted to hide from the streaks of sun bouncing off the walls. Lightly pulling the blanket off you were about to sneak out of bed. Before you got a chance a strong arm reached around your waist pulling you back in. 

“Too early doll, stay here with me”, Phillip whispered as he placed a small kiss on your neck. 

“I have things to do today, I can't be here all day,” you protested, however, you reluctantly let the commander continue to shower you with kisses.

“Shhh, go back to sleep”, he muttered in between kisses, his eyes remaining closed. It was hard to say no to the handsome man next to you as you laid back down, thinking of how you ended up here. 

It had become customary to go out to the bar with the Shadows after a mission, a way to unwind. Graves rarely joined, as much as he loved his liquor, he spent most of his time preparing for the next mission. This time he finally decided to join the company out at the shitty dive bar. Maybe it was just a coincidence but in the weeks prior you and the commander had been sharing more looks and flirtatious jabs than usual, and now here he was paying for your drink. 

Something about Phillip had always pulled you in, he was quite charming or cocky, whatever it was, it was attractive. He oozed confidence and it made it all the easier to fall for him. 

“You did good today, you deserve it”, Graves handed you the drink he had just paid for, as he smiled.

“Couldn't have done it without you though” you smiled back as you slightly raised your glass to “cheers” with his. He stepped towards you, closing the small space between the both of you. Having Phillip Graves this close wasn't something you were used to, his hand crept down to stroke your arm as he went on about the day's events. His voice was muffled in your ears as you were too focused on the fiery touch on your arm. 

“Hello? Ya there?” he waved his drink in front of your face trying to get your attention back to the conversation at hand. 

Your voice now caught in your throat, letting out a small cough in an attempt to gain your composure, “Yeah, sorry, just distracted”,

“Bout what?” he inquired, “Music too loud in here? Too crowded? What is it?” as he went on his hand moved from your arm to your waist pulling you closer so you could hear him clearly. 

“You, you’re distracting me” looking up at him finally

“Me?” he smirked “Whaddya mean darlin’”

“I think you’re well aware of what you're doing here Phillip,” you slightly nodded at him as you took a sip of your drink

“And what would be wrong with that?” he tested the waters to see where you were at, “I think we both know what we want here” 

“Tread carefully Commander” 

“You first sweetheart” he chuckled as he shot a wink your way. 

Your idea of “treading carefully” has resulted in ending up somehow making out in the back of a cab, which then led to being in Phillip’s room. A sense of urgency rose between the two of you fighting for dominance, neither of you willing to be the first to give it up. Graves finally relinquished his power allowing you to tread carefully until you were on top of him.

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

It's 4am when I'm posting this and I'm going to sleep till noon, see you all then

#Spotify #phillip graves #phillip graves cod #phillip graves x reader #philip graves x reader #warren kole #cod mw2

[asexualzoro]

it's december 9th, meaning today is my 23rd birthday (which is my favorite number!), which means it's time for...

Lew Writes Wrapped 2023!!!

im including anything that happened after my last bday, so we have some works from december as well. this one's a bit of a weird one for the total word count, you'll see why

it's all treebark from my sideblog / alt ao3. i cannot change. i will not change. for these im just gonna specify the relationship that's the main focus bc thats easier than fandom bc all but like one are third life

dandelion wishing

(Dec, 2.4k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

op movie 6 au for dogwarts in which Martyn is the baron and Ren doesn't know he's dead

id actually plotted out a whole third life au for this movie like months prior and really wanted to write it, so i took it for treebark week and focused it just on these two. it's my fave movie of all time and i obvs had to give it to my fave completely dead team <3

i will admit tho. it did make me back search martyns twitter to see if hes ever posted abt watching this movie. bc i know he likes One Piece and i realized this would bring me into the danger zone (he hasnt ever posted abt it if hes seen it)

A Romance Route for the Doomed Villain?!?

(Dec, 5k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

treebark dating sim isekai parody that spiraled out of my control made in a day-long possession

im still baffled by this one. why was the response to this one so insane?? there was smth in the water the day i posted this bro. a 1:2 kudos to hits ratio for the entire first day is literally fucking unbelievable. 70 comments?? what hold did this fic have on you people. i got fic written about this one?? my friends goncharov'd me in front of my face

really fucking fun to write and the insane response was smth im always gonna remember. i appreciate you guys so much

treesekai also turns a year old in a few days!

Until the Angels Realize You're Not One of Them

(Feb, 7.2k, emerald duo, oneshot) (link)

a traitor phil au which was mostly just me talking about all the reasons i love technoblade

this one... wasnt actually written this year for the most part? i didnt want to not acknowledge it, since it's on my ao3 in this year, but i wont be able to count it toward the total

still. traitor phil au my beloved. hearing him say on his stream he and techno wanted to do a betrayal arc made me feel insane bc i already had this written at the time

missing or obstructed

(2022-present, 12.9k, Grian & Ren, ongoing) (link)

post 3L fic about Ren and Grian seeking out closure with a lot of funny little sleep metaphors

same deal as the last fic, i, uh dont think i actually wrote anything new for missing or obstructed this year either? just uploaded chapters i wrote last year,,, i didnt wanna now acknowledge it, but i wont count this in my total later

i miss her. one day ill actually sit down and write more missing or obstructed. in my doc im JUST at introducing Martyn and i havent written it yet

to reach my mangled debut

(Sept, 4.2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

it wouldnt be me if i didnt have an execution somewhere in here. another op au!

THIS. I LOVE HER. when rev and i were plotting out the whole storyline for smop renchanting i was begging please give me this scene i need it and i had so much fun writing it. i rlly need to finish soon but i haven’t had time but please. please check out smop. she’s top of my priority list to update

Three-Dog Night

(Sept, 6.7k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

BIG DOG. beauty and the beast au!

god im so fond of this au. there’s some rlly good scenes written for this and unposted bc i just need to link them together. honestly i think if i took a month and focused it on this fic alone i could fucking finish it but i don’t have the time ;-;

that said i’m so enamored w this au genuinely. o dunno what else to say i just think. puppy

Cover Me In Roses

(Sept, 3.3k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

lamplight roleswap! put Martyn in a flower pot

i don’t feel as motivated to work on this one when i have lamplight unfinished so it’s lower on my priorities but know i have like an entire arc of this written and unposted. we just have a few paths for this one and i have to decide which one to use

it’s so wild to me lamplight has like. aus. like this isn’t even the only one? a roleswap. that’s insane? it’s wild that you all like lamplight enough i can even get away with this

First Sign of a House Fire

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i love superhero stories for two reasons: plots about secrets and adapting the characters to give them powers. this had smth fun for both of them

yellow rose isn’t super high on my list of priorities to update (i think the oneshot is interesting on its own) but one day,,,, it’s part of the many aus cherri and i have but it’s the longest for sure. the doc for just this au is like 100k words long on its own. at the time i draft this cherri and i are actively writing smth else for it in another tab. theres like 4 offshoots and im obsessed w all of them. we had to make ocs about this one. i’m excited to eventually add more to this series

actually that’s one of the scenes i’m most excited for and most dreading adding. we made a backstory oc and im SO attached to him and im excited to post a thing out there w him but. ough. whatever cringe is dead i’ll get there eventually and brute force my way into attaching you to our funky little robot guy

also love that this fic forced me to be decided on a docv characterization that i have to stick to. he may be a canon guy to martyn’s vtuber lore but he’s my oc now too

Blindsided

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

pirate au and royal au based on a big secret and also stuffing a guy in a box and it's all stupid dramatic literally what else do you want or need in life

this is my wife. my favorite. my most beloved. blindsided gives me new illnesses and diseases. i have just one scene to write before i can update it and then i can continue unleashing her. god i love this fic the drama of it is SO fun.

the funny thing abt blindsided is i know all the plot chronologically but now how to Present it which is part of why i haven’t continued too much. eventually i will but until then know that one of the scenes im sitting on which has been fully written is one i think about constantly. hopefully when i post it cherri’ll let free the comic she did for it

i actually have the ending of this fic written i just need to get there lmfao. second on my priority list after smop i think

Cradle of the Leviathan

(Sept, 1.5k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i just love mer aus man. whats the point of it all if you cant have mer aus. just get a big ol fish

i have the ending of this au written as well and literally so little of the lead up. but this is pretty low on my priorities. i think this one stands just fine on its own. mer aus are nice like that

we actually have a few mer aus but for now i’ll be focusing on this one. i do have a few sweet post story things written for this one. maybe one day i’ll write enough to post em lmao

Lamplight AU

(2022-present, 47k, treebark, ongoing) (link)

renchanting dnd/fantasy au, martyn's a paladin and ren's a lamp

so i started this au last year. my wrapped last year said my total was 20k, so that means this year's total is.... 27k!

and… it was just lamplight’s birthday and i did all my appreciation for the fic and its readers then, but god. i love this fic so much and i love you all who have read it and been so kind about it. the amount of popularity it has makes it a bit nerve wracking to work on, but i still really want to see it finished. i hope to see the bulk of it done by this time next year!

Six Sentence Sunday

six sentence sunday is a challenge where i try to post six sentences i wrote that week every sunday, to keep me writing every week of the year! i do it over on my writing blog, @driflew

i did not keep up on my six sentences,,, i had a lot of sunday fencing tournaments. i did for ~33 weeks this year! thats a pretty good amount! i’ll have to be more on top of it next year tho

unpublished work

the last few years i havent included unpublished work, but with the extreme bulk of it, i wanted to note it down. cherri @/cherrifire and i have been writing a lot back and forth at each other in discord dms this year, and i wanted to include those in my count! bc holy fucking shit is there a lot of them

i didn’t include collab pieces, just pieces i wrote alone. i also only included the renchanting aus i share w cherri and scarian aus i share w flowey, nothing else—no unfinished lamplight or other independent pieces or oneshots, no original fiction for class, nothing. i also missed a few u haven’t moved to docs yet. so i’m lowballing by a few. thousands. of words

the total for those is...... 135k words! there is,,, something wrong with me

total and end notes

our total this year is...

187512 words!

that might be my highest word count yet! because i caught treebark disease. wild.

something really fun about this year to me is i really loved everything i wrote.

if you want to get me a gift or support me on my birthday… maybe try reading my work and reblogging it or leaving a comment! you can find my writing at driflew or skelew on ao3, follow my writing blog at @driflew, or even consider tipping my kofi!

thank you for sticking with me and supporting me this year! i really appreciate it! hopefully i can break 100k next year too!

#lew writes wrapped #lew writes

[the-s1lly-corner]

Knubbler hcs (Fluff alphabet edition)

Ik I just posted a fluff list to do with CRP characters last post but I also wanna do it with Knubbler because this fucker has been on my mine for WEEKS and I gotta feed my fellow dick enjoyers

Obvious heads up on heavy hc stuff since we don't have much on this dude RAAAAAAAH + still developing my hcs

Long since its A-Z, not proof read and I wrote this in one sitting I need to be put down

Attraction-

Torn between wanting to say he has high standards but I'm a dickface shipper sooo (/lh)

I can't explain it but I feel like he'd be into the feistier people; more dominant and outspoken, that sort of thing, ballsy. Also balancing with being chill so it's not just. Constant energy

Balance, you know

Appearance wise? I'm stumped tbh so maybe I'll revisit this later some day

Bonding-

While he enjoys dragging you around and spoiling you (getting into that for D + G), he does enjoy time spent at home with you! Knubblers always been the type of person to sit by a fire reading a book with a glass of wine; in a robe of course

At least he does to me

Calm stuff like that is a must

Oh how I crave domestic life hcs with this man

Cuddling-

I don't have PDA on this list so imma let it be said, this man loves affection, giving and receiving. Absolutely adores being all over you at all times and not at all afraid to show you off

Going to the actual prompt he doesnt care if you're larger or smaller than him, if you sprawl yourself over his chest he will melt!!!! Hold each other!!!

Dates-

This man is going to pour so much money into these dates

Could just be because we saw him take Abigail out to dinner but my brain defaults to restuarant dates, but otherwise I feel he's also a museum enjoyer (historical, art, ect)

Emotion-

Of course since this for reader insert stuff I can't exactly say who's more emotional so we're relying on Knubbler

I feel like. He's moderate, based on his interactions with Dethklok

He's patient by a considerable amount but has his limits

Absolutely pours his heart and guts out to you when hes drunk, though, not that he doesnt already shower you with compliments and affirmations

Wanna put him at a 6.5/10 when sober, and solid 8/10 when drunk

Family-

He doesn't strike me as the type to want kids, honestly, not that he has anything against them though, it's simply not what he wants

I saw someone hc a while back that he would have a bunch of siblings and I'm HARD agreeing on that + adding my own thing that hes an uncle

Need to write a silly fic where he's assigned as babysitter for a day (I desperately need more solo/knubbler centered stuff)

Gift Giving-

Nearly every week or so he will buy you something from flowers to jewelry to stuffed animals to fancy chocolates to really anything

If you so much as mention vaguely wanting something hes pulling out his wallet

This dude is likely loaded (based on working for Dethklok and being successful prior judging by the newspapers at the end of episode 2) so he's not afraid to drop some cash for you

As for receiving gifts he doesn't hold you to the same standard regardless of your income but he would be thrilled with anything you give him, I feel like hes a jewelry guy but maybe that's just because I like drawing him with rings

I feel like he'd go bonkers for baked good though

Harsh-

You guys may butt heads but you guys probably wouldn't argue too much outside of the basic disagreements that happen in every relationship!! Usually apologies for lashing out (if he does that in that particular argument) but will refuse to apologize if there's an actual problem that needs to be addressed (if said problem is on your end)

King of compromises (learned trait from working with bands me thinks)

Injury-

Depends on the severity

Knows very very basic first aid (cleaning, applying pressure if it's an open bleeding wound, cool water if it's a burn, ect) but more than that he's lost

Swearing and a bit of panic if it's something more serious, this is true for if hes the one hurt as well

If you're the one hurt hes going to hover all over you. Oh nooo please dont tell him hes your savior/hero, please don't make him reel good for pampering you oh NOOOOOOO (stares)

If hes the ome hurt hes going to bask in the attention if he needs to be taken care of, hypes up splinters/j

This stuff also applies to sickness

Jealousy-

Oh this is one jealous motherfucker. He will *glare* with those red pin prick robotic eyes of his

If someone's flirting with you he will saunter over and wrap an arm around you, loudly and sharply calls you babe to get the point across

^Kinda cliche but I feel like this man is a sucker for tropes

But if you're like actively uncomfortable I think he might have to intervene

See: his criminal record and the fact he "knows people who can 'take care of someone'", whether he'd actually follow through depends

Kisses-

Recieving he loves when you kiss his face; mouth, cheeks, nose

Giving, really everything is fair game if you give the go ahead; has a particular fixation on your hands (backs and knuckles), cheeks, and neck

Love anything from quick pecks to full on make out sessions

Love Language-

Physical touch and gift giving! Sometimes the gift giving can get intense since hes so ready to treat you like royalty but he doesnt mean anything malicious by it

As for receiving he has a soft spot for affirmations

Marriage-

He goes either way I think, but leans further to no marriage

That doesn't mean hes any less committed to you, though

You guys probably get matching rings even if there isn't a ceremony or legal thing, I think

No-

A deal breaker is like. If you're genuinely a bad person or a threat to his career

Like theres a difference between the shit Dethklok gets into and what you would have to do for him to cut you off full stop

Though I'm stumped on what exactly would call for that outside of being a genuinely horrible person, maybe I'll revisit this later

Oddity-

His laugh is the first thing I can think of. While I think the original is silly and cute in its own way, I'm kinda glad they changed it in the movie

He laughs at his own jokes and has a killer hair routine he follows religiously. Shitty innuendos, too. I am not going to let this man live down the hot dog thing and I KNOW it ain't a one off thing there is no way, this man gets no bitches (using Nathan's "you're horrible with women" comment as leverage)

Outside of that I dont think there's many quirks or habits that are worth mentioning

Petnames-

By law he has to call you Baby/Babe but I can also see him saying Hon/Honey, maybe even Sweetheart

Loves being called things like Dear and Darling

Question-

Loves coming to you to ask if you wanna give a second opinion on something hes working on, work related or not! Hes more than confident in his skills regarding sound engineering, but he likes getting the attention and time from you

Risk-

Skipping this because I'm truly stumped on trying to figure out how far hes willing to go in a relationship in terms of taking risks

SHH-

Has a few secrets, ranging from personal stuff to things that ultimately don't concern you

And that's okay, as long as it's not anything that can screw you or the relationship over, privacy is necessary

Probably has a lot of secrets surrounding dumb or embarrassing stuff hes done before and during the relationship

Tunes-

Obligatory I have a funky sense of music and while I want to choose a song that fits the time period of the main show to the decades before I'm a bit lost. Also I dont generally listen to love songs/songs that can be passed off as ones if you squint. So you guys get 2 songs that give me knubbler x (reader/oc insert) vibes

And

Upset-

When Knubbler is upset he shuts himself off and tries to get over whatever funk hes in, usually a glass or two is involved

Occasionally he'll seek you out for comfort or validation

If you're the one upset he's already lending you an ear and offering a shoulder to lean on (metaphorically and literally), gets mad on your behalf if someone upset you and offers solutions if it was something else

I like to think that you guys dedicate nights for venting and unloading on drama and bullshit. Like two gossiping moms

Valentine-

He is not holding back

You wake up to breakfast and gifts. He takes you out all day for shopping, you guys come home to get ready for dinner and a movie

Things definitely get.. intimate

But this is a SFW blog so I am not going to elaborate

Wedding-

If there is a wedding you guys make sure it's straight out of a storybook; dream wedding basically

Since he's not too worried about getting married I'd assume it makes sense that he lends most the power to you when it comes to decorating

Xray-

Urges you to communicate your feelings outwardly and verbally since hes not a mind reader, but he does pick up on certain behaviors to give him a general idea of how you're feeling

He doesn't want to push too hard, though, so he tries to offer an environment where there's open communication

Yearning-

Stealing this from my friend but hc that Knubbler actually would not know how to react to someone genuinely having an interest in him, at least in the beginning

Like he knows he's not the ugliest or the most horrible person but he doesnt think hes a heartthrob

So when you come along and actually get him to sit and settle down with someone he kinda. Doesn't know how to feel about being on his own/seperated

Like he can still function but hes finding himself thinking about you a lot; from wondering how your day is to things he wants to tell you when you guys are reunited

Zzz-

As mentioned before he loves cuddling so be ready for him to hold onto you

Prefers soft and light covers compared to heavier ones

Probably yoinks the blanket while he's sleeping

Probably snores

Bonus hc I think his robo eyes can be taken out, like for charging and he has a lil case for them. Has a sleeping mask so nothing gets into his sockets + he understands how it looks to others (especially if they wake up half asleep in the dark and arent used to the empty sockets yet)

#metalocalypse x reader #knubbler x reader #dick knubbler x reader #knubbler x you #dick knubbler x you #self indulgence at its finest #dick knubbler #knubbler #Youtube

[ilhoonftw]

Fjfjfjfjfjfjf what!?!?

let me explain the gyuri boyfriend lore

they started dating in 2019, broke up in 2021

he is the grandson of guy who was once in charge of major construction business so the whole family is rich

they were known for being a noona - dongsaeng couple bc of 7 years age gap.... officially. but then after his car accident he was exposed for ageing himself up 5 years because 'young people aren't treated seriously in business' so in reality they have 12 years age gap 🫣

you'll be the judge. him at 21:

the news about his age came out loong after they broke up, when he announced he's gonna take part in elections and... gyuri subposted him on ig story

On January 12th 2022, KARA Park Gyu-ri posted six letters with an ambiguous meaning on her Instagram story. What she wrote was “loss of humanity”. Some people speculate that she might have written this after knowing about the recent issue related to her ex-boyfriend Song Ja-ho. However, this is just speculation, and there is a possibility that it was written as she wanted to express an opinion on social issues or her personal matter.

june 2021 ... dui

According to media outlets, Gyuri’s boyfriend Song Ja Ho, also known as the eldest grandson of Dongwon Construction founder Song Seung Hun, was caught drunk driving in Cheongdamdong. He reportedly fled the scene after hitting another vehicle in the parking lot. At the time, his blood-alcohol level was high enough for the cancellation of his license. Song is also accused of confinement as he allegedly confined a woman in the car even when she requested to be dropped off.

september 2021 official breakup confirmation (to be fair a lot of korean celeb couples not rarely release breakup announcements late, to the point you have actors talk about their ex on variety shows like they are still dating bc officially they are... all while their new partener co-star promoting the same drama on the same show is watching 🫣 jiyeon's ex did that. there's a whole i think happy together episode that's super awkward to watch... later he married the co-star but they are now divorced and co-parenting)

official reason was 'oh we are both having busy schedules, it's hard to meet'

they both deleted all photos of each other etc from ig right away. and they were a very public couple, they did charity stuff together and were pretty known

before i start the fraud part, gyuri did post on ig that she was unaware of what he was up to 🧐

If I did something wrong, my biggest mistake was not ending things earlier. As I stated in my official position, I am not involved, so I hope everyone writes based on the facts that have been revealed. — Park Gyuri

so basically 2 weeks ago he was released on bail after 7 months of detention

The Seoul Southern District Court’s Criminal Agreement 12th Division granted Song’s bail application on February 5, setting the stage for a trial that involves nearly 14,000 victims and a scam amounting to approximately ₩33.9 billion KRW (about $25.5 million USD).

Song Ja Ho, who ran a shared economy art company, was arrested last July. The charges against him were severe, involving violations of the Act on the Aggravated Punishment of Specific Economic Crimes. Song was accused of recruiting investors to put money into artworks that he had not secured and then manipulating the market price of a virtual asset known as PicaCoin. Alongside brothers Lee Hee Jin and Lee Hee Moon, Song is suspected of a massive embezzlement scheme that has left thousands defrauded.

The court has set stringent conditions for Song’s bail, including a 200 million won bail bond, a prohibition on leaving the country, the requirement to wear an electronic device for real-time location tracking, and restrictions on his residence. These measures reflect the court’s attempt to mitigate the risk of flight, given the gravity of the accusations. This case is particularly notable because of Song’s high-profile connections and ambitions. Prior to his arrest, Song declared his candidacy for the Seoul Seocho Gu National Assembly by-election, signaling his interest in entering the political arena.