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vonev · 7 months

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Zombie apocalypse with Simon Riley

Sum: You finally meet your hot neighbor; albeit all it took was an apocalyptic disaster.

Oh my God, what the fuck?

“—reports states that an infectious zombie-like virus has begun to spread amongst multiple areas in the city—”

“—Please seek the nearest hazard shelter in your local area—”

A fucking zombie virus breakout is happening, in front of your lunch.

You'd never thought the national emergency alarms would ever blare during your lifespan, but you're here, a spoon full of egg drop soup in hand sitting across your TV and your mouth hung open as all your devices deafens the entire living room.

The telenovela you were watching was just getting so good too.

Immediately shooting your hand out to fetch your phone, scrambling for the national notification, horror dawns on you.

The fucking breakout is in my city.

Isn't it so lovely? On a random Tuesday afternoon in the middle of an approaching autumn.

What is it that they do in those zombie shows again...? Oh yeah, run.

Wait—no, no. Pack your shit then run.

So you did. Your feet working the fastest they've ever been scattering toward your bedroom to dig out the ancient duffel bag you've not touched in eons. Shoving essentials in there: tampons, pads, your Kindle (because God forbid an apocalypse stops you from finishing a book) and a couple of other things you think you'd need...a thong is one of them, right?

The loud alarms never stops, it only adds to your increasing anxiety threatening to bubble over and spill all over the floor; you didn't think they'd go on for so long, but they do, and honestly they sound fucking terrifying.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Think—

Wallet, passport (in case you wanted to fly over to Milan, you know.), all the money you had was stored inside the bank; speaking of, you wonder if anyone had started robbing stores yet after the alarms sounded.

Nope, can't think about that right now, because the more time you waste, the higher of a chance you'd end up having your face bitten off by some freaks—zombie or not. So you scramble once again, head full of doubts and worry; good thing you kept refraining yourself from ever getting a pet because holy shit having to sprint with a massive fluff ball in your arm would be the last thing you'd want to do.

Just then, screams started filling your ears; an indication that you spent too much time dwindling.

Looking down you scoff at your casual wear: a tank top that exposed too much and sweatpants. Making your way out along your bedroom you snatched a jacket you promised yourself you'd wash last week.

Good thing you didn't, I guess.

Stepping foot into the living room once more, your eyes dart around in a hurry, practically running into the kitchenette to grab canned foods and your leftovers from yesterday. It's just a sandwich, but it'll hopefully last until whenever you can finally eat again. You repeated the same conundrum with your bathroom, frantically pushing things aside with more things to make space for other things.

Alright, you think, that should be everything...

You even got that first-aid kit you bought from Amazon months ago, thinking that someday you'll need it.

Always trust your instincts.

With that, you waste no time scurrying to the front door, fitting yourself into a comfortable pair of shoes then fetching your keys from the bowl above the accent table you probably spent too much money on (they looked really cute) and inserting it into the lock, cursing yourself when you kept missing the keyhole. Eventually, you got it, and with too much brute force, you threw the door open and stepped out into the hall.

You wince from the loud banging sound of the door you pushed; to your right, your neighbor's door opens as you walk out.

Tilting your head, you see the neighbor casually fixing his shoes with absolutely no care regarding the current situation, a bag slung over his broad shoulder in contrast to you desperately holding onto your heavy duffel bag.

What the fuck is his deal? How is he so...calm?

You didn't realize it 'till now, but said neighbor turns his head toward you, and it's as if a lightbulb flare up in your head.

Oh.

He stares at you, unmoving with his hand still on the doorknob.

It's the hot neighbor.

What was his name again? Sam...Samuel...no, Semen...wait, definitely not.

Whatever. You'll call him Semen in your head, because you can't be bothered standing there to recall his name. Not while he's staring at you so intently, either—like you owed him something.

God, is he a sight to look at; full brows with lips looking so kissable with a cute pout, blonde strands covers his front as though he'd just woken up from the best nap of his life, the faint yet noticeable scars littered across his face so perfectly. Tall, mysterious and muscles that threatened the seams of the too-tight shirt he wore. Is he even aware?

And his eyes.

You can't even begin to mention the amount of times you'd shamefully indulged yourself with those eyes of his in your mind—sometimes, you dream of them too. Who could blame you though? Yeah, you definitely feel normal about him. You barely interacted with him, only ever seeing him the rare times he'd come home. You assumed he's ex-military or a military personnel on leave since he's been back home more than usual in the recent months. You wouldn't know, though, considering the most words you said to him was "hi" when he moved into his flat a year ago. That, and you're generally kinda afraid of strangers.

"D'ya have a staring problem?"

Right. You can't just stare at someone and not say anything, that's creepy.

"No," you shuffle on your feet a little. "Do you?"

He scoffs with a small shake of his head and closes the door behind him before walking away to the lift. Your brows furrowed, lips pursed, slung your duffel bag over your shoulder and chased after him. You both stood in front of the lift for a good (incredibly awkward) minute before the familiar ding sounded. Once inside the lift, you can't help but feel the unspoken tension rise as the two of you stood close to each other.

You swear he had his eyes on you for a moment, but you don't dare to call him out.

"...you come ‘round often?"

He snaps his gaze to you instantly.

Great. Your mouth has no filter whatsoever. Mentally slapping yourself, you open your mouth to whisper an apology; he beats you to it, though, a soft chuckle from him and it strikes into your heart like a stake.

"I live—lived here," crossing his arms, his eyes softened a little. "Just got discharged from the military a couple of months ago."

Bingo.

Silently patting your back in your head as you nod at his response and humming. "That's cool, what did you do for the military?" it may have been too much to pry, but it doesn't hurt; plus, it's pretty much the end of the world as you speak.

He stood there, completely rigid from top to bottom. The silence was deafening this time around, so much so that when the lift sounded once more with a loud ding, it made you flinch.

"What didn't I do for the military?"

That's...

"...is that rhetorical?" None of you walked out of the lift, just standing there in each other’s company. Oddly, you don’t mind it.

He shrugs, getting out of the tiny space—and you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in your breath when you finally exhaled through your teeth.

I guess I have my answer.

It doesn’t take long for you to catch up, nor for the two of you to realize what an utter mess the outside world had become when he opens the door.

People roamed about, running ‘round and tripping over each other and on top of each other, cooperating on wreaking absolute havoc on the streets. Lots of screaming, too much of it, in fact. Jogging down the stairs, someone almost bumps into your side, but not before he pulls them back with a frown on his face that had the poor guy screeching and scrambling away from his grip.

Oh, now come to think of it—

—“Hey what’s your n—“

A hoard of groans catches your attention, cutting your words short; you turn toward the source, squinting at the scene from afar. A group of people started dashing toward your way, their faces an evident blur of confusion, surprise and horror. It would make sense, because as they slowly get closer and closer, a giant figure gradually appears in your vision—and it looks fucking disfigured—like the textbook embodiment of an eldritch creature. Sure enough, it breaks out into a sprint, chasing down its next victim; pulling the back of an unfortunate businessman’s suit and it flung the man over its head. You can hear the poor man’s scream echo in your mind as you watch his body fall right into the creature’s mouth; next thing you know, his head snaps off in its jaw.

Your blood runs cold, the shock from seeing such a sight sends an unnerving terror through every nerve; your breathing gets heavier, beads of sweat breaking out from your skin—yet you can’t take your eyes off of it. Ever watched a car crash? Yeah, exactly that.

“Uh oh.”

You don’t know what to do; years and years of medical training in school hadn’t exactly prepared you for this situation, even if some of the things you’ve seen are horror beyond comprehension. Your body doesn’t cooperate with your commands no matter how hard you try; they’re stuck to the ground like glue, and as the horrid looking creature slowly bolts toward your way, the way you’ve become a mere spectator to your body should concern you, but your eyes are transfixed on that thing—

—it wasn’t until someone roughly tug your forearm that you realized you almost fucking killed yourself by standing still too long.

“Fuck, come on, let’s go.”

You should’ve probably questioned why he’s remained so calm despite the calamity surrounding him. It’s an admirable trait, really, a part of you wants to thank him profusely for not leaving you behind; in the span of time you spaced out, he could’ve easily gotten away in a fleet—like a gust of the wind, and you wouldn’t have noticed nor would you have blamed him. So much for being medically trained.

He ran, and you trailed right behind him. Even during such a dire moment of your life, you have to try your hardest to not get distracted with the way his muscles contract as he swiftly moves along with the breeze. No time for thirsting, you stare at his arms, how they effortlessly flex with each step, Okay, maybe a little bit of thirsting.

You’ve no idea how long you both ran; doing your best to dodge every obstacle lunged into your face, but with the soreness slowly creeping up your soles, you wonder if you could keep up—Semen, on the other hand, is doing just fine. Just keep pushing, after all, how hard is it to run forever? Super fucking hard apparently; unfortunate for you, the conveniently placed fallen pipe on the ground became your nemesis as you missed a jump and fall on your fucking face. Your duffel bag cushioning only your left arm, body absorbing all the impact from the fall.

Ouch! wouldn’t even describe the pain you were feeling. You might have a broken nose because it sure fucking feels like it.

Semen immediately halts, his head snaps back as if his gut instinct told him you stumbled and fell. He’d be correct; attempting to get on your elbows can only get you so far, your adrenaline runs out too quickly—and suddenly it feels as though your body has been lit on fire. Well, you’re being dramatic, but your ankle sure doesn’t feel fine like it did a minute ago. You try to stand up, and Semen crouches down in front of you with his hands extending out to help you up; but the harder he pulls the worse you cry out. When you try to move your right ankle it just fucking hurts like a bitch.

This is it, you think; your breath coming out haggard and harsh, I’m gonna fucking die.

“Just—go, just go, I think I sprained my ankle,” holding back furious tears, you sniffle. “Leave me and run, it’s okay.” God, was it ever this hard to let someone go? Even if the selfish part of you wants him to stay. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, people and vehicles running by your bodies and their cries fill the void in your head—not their fault they prioritize their lives over yours—but it still stings your eyes to think about. People really do show their true colors in the most desperate times.

He reaches over, and you almost swatted his arms away—his stern gaze told you to stop, and you did.

Flipping you over in an instant, his arms hook under your back and knees, hoisting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. In a feat of panic, you push against his chest; you can’t stress how much you’d rather not be the reason he’s held back and be killed for it. He sends you a final warning look; a stare so chilling it had you reeling back your arms into your chest and obediently lay against his.

Impressively, he maneuvers around everyone else with ease, dodging and zig-zagging, only bumping a few shoulders here and there. Worry clouds your head; what if he trips? Or better yet, what if he realized you’re not much of use and dumped you on the streets? It’s absurd you’d even have the luxury to overthink while he’s busting his ass to save both of your lifes—how the fuck are you supposed to make up to that? You can’t bake him your infamous croissants (you’ve mastered the craft), you doubt appliances are as convenient in the wild as it is in homes—you hope he’ll find a place to hide soon; he can’t run infinitely.

Maybe you should stop thinking too much useless shit and start strategizing instead.

Okay, it should be easy; your eyes frantically search the surrounding area: the alleyway? No, way too risky. Run into one of the homes? Still risky, and those nasty creatures were breaking into them from what you saw last. Fuck, you wish you’d bought that expensive ass car few weeks ago when it was on sale, then again, who knew you would require it so soon? Wait, did he have a car? You don’t think so, his designated parking slot has been empty since forever.

As he kept sprinting on, you noticed more and more of those zombies started pouring in from multiple angles—it would be harder and harder to avoid their attacks; you try not to dwell on the gruesome sights of people being mauled down the streets. Out of nowhere, a mangled arm lunged at you, though he swerved just in time to avoid; you didn’t even have time to register what occurred until you blinked again.

“Was that—holy fuck,” your body involuntarily shivers at how close you were to dying right then; all his efforts would’ve gone to waste. It served as a reminder that death is now only a mere hand reach; one wrong breath and say bye-bye to your life.

Mortality is such a fragile thing.

At least you don’t have a family making you worry to death about, just good ol’ you—always been you.

Does he? Eyes drifting over to his face, you trace the scars on his neck with an invisible hand. You’d have to play 21 questions with him later, if there’s a later. Seeing how things are moving, you’re slowly coming to terms with the concept of death; for some odd reason, you just know he’d keep you alive as long as he can—you will too, with him. God, you grunt, this feels so sappy. You have to constantly remind yourself that you’ve known your neighbor properly for less than an hour; don’t get too attached. It only ever comes back to bite your ass.

In your peripheral you notice a sluggish zombie digging into the driver’s side of a sizable car through the broken window—blood splatters the inside of the car’s windshield as the zombie dives further in. The car is alive, tugging at his shirt, you hastily gesture toward the spot with a shaky finger. Peering up, you don’t miss the way his brows knit together and how his lips are pulled into a thin line—he understood soon afterward; and switched his path to match the direction of the vehicle.

He’d have to fight with the obscene thing for it, but it’s worth a try, even with you in his arms.

Approaching it, he doesn’t hesitate to kick a leg up to hook it under the weighted zombie and throw him down to the biting asphalt; just as it was about to spring up—he stomps a leg over its head without a hitch. Oh my fucking God, excuse your blasphemy, that’s the brain matter. You would know how a human’s brain looked; with countless hours spent plastering your head onto your textbook about How To Surgically Remove a Brain for Dummies the image practically tattooed itself on your mind. It’s never a good view, the textbooks can’t accurately reinvent the feeling of disgusting sliminess into their pages after all.

Your knight in shining armor doesn’t prolong his luck; throwing the driver’s door open, he ducked his head into the driver’s seat (not before chucking the dead body laid in the seat out), sliding you into the passenger side; you have to awkwardly make fit for yourself in the seat as he rushed into his side and pressed down on the brake, slamming his door closed. There was no time to relax, though, upon seeing him toy with the car, people started piling over the trunk, clawing at the metal slate with their bloodied nails as more zombies lurked closer—few unlucky numbers were dragged away from the car, leaving a myriad of gory handprints behind on the trunk.

He grits his teeth, he holds an arm out in front of you; confused, you turned to him as he slammed down on the acceleration.

“Oof—” That’ll knock the wind out of you.

It’s proven to be challenging for him to drive down a road filled with civilians; but soon enough, people started parting ways for him and a few other vehicles to pass through, afraid of being hit by a car.

“Buckle up, love.”

Huh? Love?

On the outside, you’re as calm and cool as you can be: you know, in a zombie apocalypse with your handsome neighbor driving you to (hopefully) safety; the inside…it feels as though your heart soared into the sky—you know it wasn’t meant to be flirtatious, but damn it, a girl can dream. Scrambling your hands to reach for the seatbelt, you grimaced at the sight of gooey matter dotting its material, you buckled up anyway; better safe than sorry. And because he asked so nicely, your heart flutters once more.

He drove on for quite a while, managing to duck and swerve others on the road (albeit with a lot of trouble) and eventually reaching the highways—not that it was far, but you’ve never exactly drove, or been outside your little area. Why would you need to? Everything you’d ever need was there: a delicious shawarma shop across from your flat, embroidery store…in case you needed some embroidering done, a family-owned Indian restaurant that served the best naan and dal—point is, you’ve pretty much got everything covered in your small area.

But why do you feel like you’re missing something…

…your fucking duffel bag.

Everything was in there—your ID’s, necessities, your fucking family photo back when you were a baby; it all holds importance to you one way or another—

—and they’re gone.

Slumped against your seat, you hadn’t even realized your shoulders started convulsing until teardrops fell on your curled fists in your lap. How could you be so fucking careless? Tilting your head down, your hands fly up to rub away stray tears that can’t seem to stop falling from your eyes regardless of your effort; you hope he hasn’t noticed (he did, eyes squinting in worry and unsure) because you seem pretty fucking pathetic right now.

(He doesn’t mind, he’s more worried your tears will drown the both of you before getting to the motel)

“We’re,” for some reason, words get caught in his throat—congealed, like an immovable lump—watching you silently sob to yourself from the side. "We're going to a motel."

He shouldn’t care; he doesn’t know why he does, especially since you’re still a stranger (that he saved, again, he’s not sure why) he coincidentally shared a hallway with for about a year; he barely knew you, either, only knowing you by name because he had seen it stamped on a few mails that fell from your mailbox. He also knows that you bake, a lot, often times the smell would traverse through the small cracks underneath his door and reach his senses—he’d debate knocking on your door each time, he wouldn’t know what to say though: “I smelled your baking, they smell amazing, can I take the whole thing?” or “‘Aye you’re actually kinda fuckin’ cute.”

Yeah, he’s not too good at conversing with strangers either, especially a cute one like you.

And now that you’re sitting right next to him, shoulders no longer heaving as he keeps driving down the vast highway, he’s not so sure what the next move should be. A couple of quick glances let him know that somewhere along the way, you had fallen asleep, head lolled against the window, your chest rising and falling with a silent rhythm. The sun is setting, the warm glow casts down on your figure—you look like an angel.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, of course—but deep down, he knows he’ll keep that image of you and engrave it into the back of his head.

And he knows just the place to take you to.

#angst #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mwii #ghost cod #simon riley #ghost x you #apocalypse #zombie apocalypse #im having a brainrot yet again #they should kiss kiss fall in love #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty

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pooks · 1 month

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Percy headcanon time! by Pooks!

everyone be like "post-second war, Percy moves back to the burrow"

but CONSIDER

he doesn't do that. he doesn't wanna go back, but he wants a good, healthy and stable relationship with his family. he even connects the old fireplace in his flat to the floo network, so they can travel with ease.

now you wonder, why doesn't he come back? for the better part, they assumed that Percy thought it was too cramped at the Burrow or that he wanted some adult independance, learning to grow into his adult role.

trust me, it's none of those reasons. his reason is something entirely different.

Percy got a TV.

no, he doesn't want to share it. no, he isn't giving up his TV with good reception and dozens of channels (headcanon; he's a sucker for tv dramas).

the most hilarious thing is when he and Molly argues about why that TV is so much better than her radio ("You can't see the visuals, Mother! And if I have to listen to Celestina Warbeck 24/7 again, I might throw myself into the Thames!") and when Arthur is so interested in the TV ("No, Dad. You can't experiment on my TV! It costed me so much Muggle money, please don't do that!")

and just as he expected and lowkey feared, his siblings starts to mooch on the TV. the younger ones, at least. Bill's busy being husband and father and Charlie hightailed back to Romania cause he misses his baby dragons.

and since this is end of 1990s and early 2000s, there is a slight civil war between his siblings about which channel is the best and yes, they're all cartoon-related.

Ron and Ginny likes Nickelodeon while Fred and George favors Cartoon Network.

Percy likes Disney Channel (and he's a big sucker for spanish telenovelas), tho, and successfully ropes in the others cause there's some good content.

of course, he comes home from work and always finds one or more of his siblings watching TV and he's annoyed at this point because damn it, he can't have ANYTHING for himself (true sibling energy, right there).

#hp headcanon #percy weasley #percy weasley headcanon #arthur weasley #molly weasley #bill weasley #charlie weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley #percy weasley and the tv #2000s nostalgia #1990s nostalgia #pooks rambles

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peeweekey · 1 month

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i visited idiot street and everyone knew your name!

part i, part ii, part iii

a/n: i wrote this for valentines last month and only got around posting it now, here you go!

synopsis: the three times you friendzoned Alhaitham, and the one he made damn sure you didn't.

tags: alhaitham/reader ; childhood friends to lovers ; school setting ; valentine's day special ; reader likes sewing

“S–sorry! These are for you!”

A breathy utterance, the girl speaking is shy and completely red in the face, while holding out the pink paper bag like an offering to some higher being—and maybe to her, he is.

You swear you can almost hear the cheesy background music that television shows play with these types of scenes, you lean in as much as your desk will let you and strain to hear his response. Gripping the wood of your desk tight. Some of your other classmates are tuning in too, drama hungry vultures they are, you can feel the buzzing energy of anticipation waiting for his answer.

Without missing a beat, he offers her a shallow nod of his head.

“Thanks.”

…and another one bites the dust.

Slumping back in your chair, you gaze at a disheartening confession scene from your seat across the room, picking idly at your sandwich’s crust, sighing to yourself and for the poor girl that has been plainly rejected by Alhaitham.

The whole class either lets out sounds of disappointment—they only wish that once Alhaitham is off market, they’d have their chance, though you doubt it—or loud sighs of relief—aka, those who, too, wish to make themselves known to him. They all don’t register much to you though. All you can see is her crushed expression.

He isn’t even looking at her for goodness sake. Poor girl.

Valentine’s day is not only a day of cheesy confessions and plush teddy bears and chocolate (though you especially enjoy those), for those lonely souls without a valentine it is the perfect day for witnessing the drama unfold. It’s like watching a telenovela in real time.

Alhaitham is that telenovela’s perfect lead.

He’s breathtakingly handsome even as he delivers the driest response to whatever-her-name’s confession. His gray-silver hair tumbles artfully on his head and glints as the afternoon sun outside hits just right. The aquamarine of his eyes are enrapturing and absolutely intense as he stares down his new goodie bag.

It’s a little silly to see such a stoic man gripping heartsy pink gift bags that are filled with the high quality chocolate you can only dream of. His marble-carved physique and top tier face makes up for it though, it makes it all the more endearing to you. You understand wholeheartedly why he’s such a magnet for so much romantic attention. Not that you’d fall victim to it yourself.

You find yourself unable to conceal the way your lips turn upwards in amusement, a little cruel knowing the situation. Taking a generous bite of your sandwich, you laugh to yourself quietly (honestly, you’re making it seem like you’re not all there).

“What’s so funny?”

Summoned by your laugh—or the thought that you are laughing at him, for some not-so-crazy reason—he stands tall in front of your desk.

You’ve known him since your bratty elementary school phases, you’ve fought, pulled at each other’s hair but you consider Alhaitham to be your closest and oldest friend. Before he was a stunning romantic magnet, he was an insufferable book worm in junior high.

When you started exploring your interest in sewing and fashion design, he was by your bed and bluntly critiquing any piece you’d show him. You have come a long way since then, having become an integral member of the fashion design club.

You crane your neck to look at him, giving him a lazy grin, you kick blindly at his shins from underneath the table in an attempt to draw some form of reaction (though he doesn’t even bat an eye).

“Nothing, nothing,” you wave him off, speaking through a mouthful of peanut butter and jelly. “As long as you’re on the market, there won’t be enough for the rest of us.”

He gives you a look, though you can’t take it as seriously, he’s still holding all those valentines. “Irrelevant. Your sense of humor needs fixing, not even Cyno would find you entertaining.”

“First off, I do not appreciate all this sass.”

His lips twitch. “I had quite the persistent teacher.”

This time, you flat out laugh at him. “Whatever,” you snort. “Anyway, you should consider taking up acting. Pretty boys like you will have people salivating like starving wolves.”

He pauses and just stares at you, it’s a little peculiar and totally out of character for him, you tilt your head in confusion.

“Pretty boy?”

You almost choke on your sandwich, bringing a fist to your mouth through coughs. Out of everything you said, that’s what he chooses to focus on?

“Uhm, yeah,” you mutter, laughing sheepishly, and suddenly feeling out of place. Internally, you cringe at yourself. “Have you ever looked in a mirror or something?”

Once the words tumble out of your mouth, you feel the heat of mortification crawling up on the expanse of your skin. Oh my god, do you ever stop talking?

Alhaitham says nothing, he stares you down with the intensity increased by tenfold. If anything, the expression on his flawless face looks displeased.

“I meant platonically, of course,” you blather on, pointedly avoiding eye contact. The table looks especially interesting as of the moment. “I mean—I would never—”

He puts his free hand up, sharply stopping you from going further on your flustered tangent. Something you are all too well acquainted with, Alhaitham does not have much patience for dalliances. Immediately, your jaw locks shut—you’d rather not start a fight with him if you wanted to mooch off all the valentines chocolate he received.

You take another big bite of your sandwich.

You roll your eyes, mumbling. “Okay, whatever. Don’t be a pretty boy, then. As long as I get a share of your chocolate, it’s whatever you want.”

“I didn’t say anything about that,” he deadpans. In his arms, the goodie bags shift as he moves closer.

A small plastic-wrapped chocolate box is dropped inelegantly on your table, resounding with a heavy thump. It’s pink and smells heavily of chocolate and cinnamon. Your eyes widen at the pleasant surprise—but more importantly, the price. A crazed smile curls from your lips, and you clutch the chocolates to your chest.

You gasp. “Oh my—fuck! Haitham, these are like a thousand mora a box!”

Alhaitham raises a perfectly arched brow. “Is that so? I should get it back then.”

Even if you’re pretty sure he’s only messing with you, your hold around the chocolates tightens into a death grip. You turn your chest away from him, shielding the box away from his view.

“That’s too bad,” you sing-song. “No take backs.”

A smug smile tugs at his lips before it completely melts away—the thing that growing up with a boy so ungenerous with his expressions makes these small moments all the more special.

“Then I’ll just have to keep the rest of these for myself.”

“Haitham, no! You promised to share—”

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #genshin impact #genshin #alhaitham genshin #key's-vault

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bleongambetta · 9 months

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Moves That Make Promises In Pasión de las Pasiones

One of the tricks I like to use for writing effective, interesting custom moves in Pasión de las Pasiones (my Ennie 2023 Best Game nominated game of telenovela drama) is to build it around a promise.

I'm a sucker for a payoff in a piece of media, I love to be promised I'll be shown something and then be shown exactly that. I think it's innate to want exactly that, we love foreshadowing and getting that payoff. That's the entire basis of telenovelas honestly, through all of the twists and turns and questions, we have a promise (sometimes direct, sometimes implied) of how it will end.

Bonus points to those who get my gif choice.

Im going to give the quickest background I can before showing the move.

Briefly Custom Moves

Moves, for those uninitiated to Powered by the Apocalypse, are little bits of rules with a trigger, a mechanic (often rolling plus a stat), and a result.

When you MAKE A TUMBLR POST, tell us what it is then ROLL PLUS SHARP. On a hit EVERYONE REBLOGS IT.

These little mini bits of rules let's games really focus on specific genre conventions of the stories they are telling. When they do a good job, they focus play.

Custom moves are invented by the GM either before or during the session. They are for a scenario that the game didn't see coming or that normally wouldn't necessarily be a focus of the game. They follow the same structure and can be a little tricky to master, because often you're doing them quickly!

Briefly Pasión de las Pasiones Moves

Pasión de las Pasiones is a variant on PbtA which instead of stats uses questions. Simplistically, for each "Yes" answer to two questions on a move, the player adds +1. Those questions usually have to do with fictional positioning (what is happening in a scene or what advantages/scenarios a character has).

The Move

When you race across the jagged cliffs, trying to claim the prize that will forever change your life, roll with the questions:

* Are you willing to die to win?

*Are you willing to kill to win?

On a hit, you make it to the end, neck and neck with your greatest rival. On a 10+, pick 1. 7-9, pick 2.

*You chicken out at the last minute and lose, mark 1 conditions

*You make it over the line, but you're busted up to the point that you're not walking away from this. Face Certain Death.

*You drove someone off the cliffs. If they're a PC, they Face Certain Death. If they aren't, they are dead, dying, or missing.

On a miss, you screw it all up. You lose control of your vehicle. If you were willing to give your life, Face Certain Death. If you weren't, watch as someone else takes your place at the podium.

So why does this custom move work?

It asks the player, what are you willing to give for this and the player makes a promise. For promising to give their life, they get a +1. For promising to kill, they get a +1. That's a great little moment, of all of the players listening to the racer say that.

Then, if they roll poorly, we get that payoff. They promised they'd give their life, let's see it happen.

If they roll well, we also get that payoff! You said you would give your life, will you now? You said you'd kill, will you now?

This design basically makes a mirror around the objective, you tell me what it's worth to you and then I ask you if you'll pay it.

For the record, our roll had the racer falling off the cliff, but being saved at the last minute by a mysterious racer who turned out to be the missing heir to the fortune and identical triplet to two of the players.

#ttrpg design #ttrpg #ttrpgdesigntwitter #indie ttrpg #ttrpgs #Pasión de las pasiones #pasion de las pasiones

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unmotivated-student · 3 months

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If something else is controlling Roier's original body I would like the spiderbit reunion to be super dramatic telenovela type, like, can you imagine it?

"Cellbo!"

When Cellbit hears that voice he can't help but feel the urge to start runing towards Roier to wrap him in a hug. But he doesn't.

He wanted his husband to be happy.

He believed his husband would be happy even if he was not by his side, and there he was, smiling as he used to before Purgatory.

But... Why didn't it feel right?

"¿Qué haces ahí parado, pendejo?"

Although Roier talked to him, Cellbit did not answer. He didn't even move an inch.

Roier just looked at him, smiling and shaking his head, then, as if Roier had read his mind, he approached Cellbit, giving him the hug he longed for.

But something felt weird, it was not how he expected his reunion with his husband to feel after so long... Why did he still had the feeling that something was wrong?...

"I missed you Guapito" Roier said in his ear as he tightened the hug.

Cellbit's skin crawled.

It was now clear.

That wasn't his husband.

"Where is my husband?" Cellbit asked trying to stay calm.

"What are you talking about pendejo? I'm here" Roier responded, letting out a soft laugh.

"You are not him"

"Did the radiation go to your head or what? It's me"

"Stop lying to me! Tell me where Roier is! I know you're not him!"

"Are you... sure?"

That "Roier's" smile became sinister and a chill ran down Cellbit's spine.

"Well, I guess I couldn't expect anything less from a detective like you, so... tell me, how did you know? ... It was because of those cheesy nicknames of yours, right?... You see, watching romantic comedies isn't my thing, so I never paid attention to what nickname belonged to who... I admit it, that was careless of me but I didn't think you were coming back..."

Cellbit didn't say a word, he just clenched his fists trying to contain the rage he was feeling.

"hey, why don't you say anything? Did the mouse eat your tongue?" said the impostor with a smile on his face.

Cellbit couldn't hold back anymore. He he took out his knife and lightly pressed it against the impostor's neck.

"what? you want to scare me?" "Roier" asked while laughing cynically.

Cellbit did not say anything and pressed a little more, managing to make a wound from which a little blood was already beginning to come out.

"Oh, you don't want to keep doing that"

"why? because I may regret it later? don't worry, I can assure you that it won't be like that"

"Oh, well... Yeah, you will... you see, you haven't discovered the whole truth about me the truth about me"

"What?" Cellbit lower his knife.

"This body does not belong to me" "Roier" whispered in Cellbit's ear.

"What-..? What do you mean by that?"

"You're smart Mr. Detective, come on, connect the dots..."

Doied let out a sinister laugh as he watched Cellbit's anger grow as he realized. He could see in the brazilian's eyes his desire to kill him right there.

But at the same time he could also see how Cellbit had to restrain himself from fulfilling that desire.

Doied was really enjoying the view.

"why?" was the only word that could come out of Cellbit's mouth.

"why? I just wanted to have some fun and not live in the shadows for a while, I just wanted to know what it was like to be him"

"Well, you already did it, now give me back my husband"

"Uh, I can't do that, I have a kid, right? I want to meet him"

"I won't let you get close to Pepito"

"Why not? Don't you want to see a child happy to see his father after so long? I heard that he missed me..."

"You are NOT his father, Roier is"

"You're such a party pooper, what did Roier see in you? Anyway, why don't you let me have some fun...?"

"I will not let you escape"

"What are you going to do now then? Torture me until you squeeze everything I know out of me? you wouldn't do that, and I doubt the others will trust you after your "bloody adventures"... I doubt you even trust yourself"

Cellbit looked down. It was true.

"How do I know you are telling the truth? How do I know you're really in Roier's body?"

"you'll have to trust, or would you be able to risk killing me and your husband with me?"

Cellbit knew he couldn't. He couldn't put Roier's life at risk.

"I knew it" Doied smiled "Well, see you later cat boy, have fun catching rats, solving puzzles, or whatever you do for fun... I want to go meet some people.."

Doied took a few steps and then stopped.

"Oh and so you don't think I'm evil, I'll give you a hint... don't waste your time with me and go find your husband, okay? Did you know that before we caught him he was looking for you? ha, let's see if you have more luck"

After that Doied walked away leaving a Cellbit full of doubts and regrets behind....

∆•∆•∆

Uh, it could've been better but I'm still not good at writing things like this in English, anyway... you get my vision right?

I was going to write that to prove that it was Roier's body, Doied showed Cellbit the scar but I can't remember well if Roier told him about that 😵‍💫

I also rushed a couple things, my apologies for that 😵‍💫

#roier #spiderbit #writing practice

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jesuisici33 · 3 months

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Fuck it Friday

tagged by @wikiangela @theotherbuckley @diazsdimples @daffi-990 <3<3 it's not quite friday yet, but why not celebrate a couple hours early? anyways a continuation of my sub!eddie fic which i started on wednesday (first snippet found here) and here's eddie freaking out about a new kink he discovered he has! (kink is watersports, if not your thing, feel free to skip :D )

“Eddie? Eddie! Eddie, hey, hey, hey! I’m right here, what’s going on. Talk to me.” Eddie sees a pair of gazelle legs stumble over themselves as they make their way over to where Eddie is at from the bathroom. A pair of hands cup his face, forcing him to look at worried blue eyes. “I’m going to cut you out of these, alright? Can you nod your head yes for me so I know you understand?” Eddie doesn’t know if he nods in confirmation or not, all that he knows at some point he’s out of the ropes he was once lovingly wrapped in and now in Buck’s arms. “Just breathe for me, baby.”

Oh. He’s having a panic attack. It’s been a while since he’s had one of those.

His hand tightens around one of Buck’s and sound starts to sharpen again as he finds himself back to reality. He’s no longer down on the carpet like he was before, instead placed on the couch. The telenovela is still going on. A character shot another character at a wedding. Luckily this is an episode Eddie already saw or he’d be pissed at Buck for letting him miss an important part. The ropes he was tied up in are now on the floor, cut in various pieces. Eddie pouts at that.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Buck responds before Eddie can finish his sentence. “I just want to know what caused you to panic. Did I-” Buck’s breath hitches “-did I do something?’

“No.” Eddie looks away at Buck’s face, not ready to look him in the eye yet. Glancing down, Eddie notices that Buck didn’t even zip up his pants. Must have been in too much of a hurry to comfort him. Eddie doesn’t know what’s worse – the fact that Eddie’s panic attack was so evident that Buck didn’t have time to properly clean up in the bathroom, or the fact that a part of Eddie is still wanting to taste some of Buck’s piss in his mouth. Is wondering if there’s any droplets of it still on his cock or his underwear, wants to know if Eddie asks –

Eddie looks away. No. He’s not going to think about it. He’s not going to think about it anymore.

tagging @hippolotamus @911-on-abc @tizniz @eddiebabygirldiaz @monsterrae1 @liminalmemories21 @pirrusstuff @your-catfish-friend @thewolvesof1998 @carlos-in-glasses @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @rmd-writes @disasterbuckdiaz @loserdiaz @lover-of-mine @apothecarose @mammameesh @exhuastedpigeon @wild-aloof-rebel @spotsandsocks @alrightbuckaroo @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @steadfastsaturnsrings

#spoiler alert: eddie thinks about it again

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urfavnegronerd · 9 months

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stars in the sky- phora + jhene aiko

trope: fluff, s/o mick for the idea in my ask box smooches

sum slight

warnings: grammarly hates me, reader has trouble sleeping bc i said so (i’ve had so much trouble falling asleep idk why), no use of pronouns but use of mama, ma, n mami, idk how much i like it but im outa slump so yay, lmk if i missed anything

published: august 15, 2023

song lyrics are italicized

w/c: 1.3k ish

reader is black-coded like always

stay in the state of the greatest bliss

Miles’ room was dark. Well, dark-ish. He tried though, pulling the curtains all the way shut, turning off the light in his room and the hallway, but the afternoon sun still gently weaved its way through the fibers of his curtains.

“What’s the point of this, Miles?”

“To get you to try and sleep,”

“It's four in the afternoon,”

“Naptime,”

“What?”

“Just try, mama, okay?”

You’d never been a good sleeper and usually stayed awake while Miles fell asleep in your arms, that was how it usually went. Even more so when he came to your window late at night after his Prowler duties, those visits mainly consisted of cleaning any wounds or scratches, on occasion giving him stitches, helping him change, and kissing the top of his head when he inevitably dozed off on your chest. You were usually up then anyway, it was a fun addition to your nighttime routine. Miles had only begun to worry about your sleeping patterns when you fell asleep at 9 am while you were over his, watching a telenovela with Mrs. Morales. Gently nudging you awake after the telenovela marathon at about 1 that afternoon, he fell into the pattern of observing your moods. Most of which during the day consisted of you constantly being tired, and yawning, but somehow always getting school work done that assisted in your straight A’s. At first, he assumed that it was just you putting too much pressure on yourself to perform, but when he realized these patterns continued well into school breaks, he started to worry.

He had started to realize that every time he came to your window after his Prowler work, you were up anyway, reading, writing, drawing, or pretty much any activity you could get your hands on. Again, at first, he thought this was endearing, and went as far as getting puzzles for you after he had interrupted the puzzle on the floor when he gently knocked on your window. And so a much-needed conversation ensued the morning after.

“Ma, I’m worried about you,”

“For why Miles?” You turn your attention away from the mirror where you’re laying your baby hair down.

“Ian never seen you sleep,”

“So?”

“Do you sleep?”

“Yeah, I just have some trouble with it is all,”

“I don’t make you sleepy?”

“You make me feel safe, comfortable, relaxed, and loved, but no Miles, you don’t make me sleepy,”

He huffed, falling back onto your duvet.

“What's wrong papá?”

“I’m worried about you,”

“Sueñito, you don’t need to be worried about me,”

“You fall asleep when most people would be awake starting their days, almost always during the first and second period, mama, that's not normal,”

“Maybe I’m just sleepy in general,” You were beginning to get defensive then, why did he care if you were tired usually?

He sighed then, rubbing his eyes and urging himself out of your bed. He didn’t want to fight with you, he never wanted to fight with you, so he had just decided to leave it alone then. However, the very same conversation was repeated about two weeks later. The two of you were walking home, as school had gotten out early that day, and you had slowly begun to slump onto Miles’ shoulder, yawning and rubbing your eyes.

“Ma?” There was a twinge of concern in his voice, it was barely even noon, is it normal to be this tired? “You okay?”

“‘m just tired,” You yawn, still clawing at your eyes.

“It’s 11:45,”

“So?”

“Mama,” he knew you were just being stubborn, but he also knew you didn’t want to admit that you had a problem sleeping. You didn’t like to ask for help, you tried to get things right on your own, and you usually did. “Be honest.”

“Fine,” you forced out, shame tugging at your cheeks, and Miles knew exactly what you meant by that

“Thank you,”

And so, the two of you were here, in this moment.

“Please? Just try for me,”

You huff plopping onto his mattress.

“Now what?”

“We wait,”

“Oh, joy,”

whenever i’m in your atmosphere

The two of you had been lying, in the dark, for about an hour and a half. Naturally, the sun was slowly beginning to set, hence dimming the light in his room.

At this point, you were fighting sleep. It’s not like you didn’t feel exhausted all the fucking time, it’s that you had this mental block in your head. It’s like when you’re so tired but you can’t manage to fall asleep, like someone is forcing your eyes open. It’s hell, and it frustrates you, makes you want to scream and cry and essentially just throw a tantrum. Not that you’d ever admit it, but you feel so powerless, so out of control. A sigh mixed with anger, frustration, and disappointment breezes through your lips as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes.

“Uh uh ma, don’t do that,” he whispers, gently pushing your hands away from your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t working,” you whine. “I turn seventeen in a year and I can’t even sleep right,”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not that serious,”

“I’m so tired, Miles,” you mumble, tears poking at your eyes.

“Amor, I know it’s frustrating, okay? I know how much you love to be in control and I get that, but this is so bad for you,”

“I know,”

“So can we try? Just one more time?”

“Yeah,”

“Do you want like, some kind of noise?”

“Can you just talk?”

“Yeah. I can do that,”

And he does. He talks about anything and everything, all while staring at you, your body pressed against him, your face angled upwards at him. Your full lips slightly parted in a little ‘o’ as your big brown eyes ogle up at him. To a lot of people, everything he’s saying would seem pretty mundane, but the way his voice soothes you is something different. His voice is calm, cool, and collected, his nuyo accent ever so prominent.

You’re not sure just how much time passes until you slowly begin to get groggy, your eyes heavy. Miles, obviously, takes notice and brings his voice down to a whisper.

“Dad woulda been so happy I met you, ma,”

Your movements are thick as syrup, you nod, trying to open your eyes more so he knows that he has your full attention.

“No no no, don’t do that,” he whispers, running a hand over your eyes, forcing them to droop lazily once again.

“Jus wan’ you to know ‘m listening” you slur, languidly clutching his wrist. The point of this action? You didn’t know, but you held onto him anyway.

“You’re always listening, Ian gotta worry bout that.” He mumbles, softly stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. His hands are calloused and rough, but they’re always soft and gentle, making sure to love every curve of you. As your eyes begin to wilt close, he delicately traces your cupid bow, in response to which your lightly freckle-kissed nose scrunches, your brows tightly knitting themselves together. With a quiet laugh, he gently runs his fingers over your eyebrows, desperately trying to relax your face, to which you hum tiredly in response.

“Kiss?”

“Mmmm,” you groan, fatigue finally catching up to you, in affirmation. Taking the hint, he kisses you- your cheeks, chin, jaw, everywhere– peppering light butterfly kisses all over your face. Gently, you sigh and fully close your eyes, your head relaxing into the pillow. Smiling, he brushes gentle kisses onto both of your eyelids and then your nose. Cradling your head into his chest he kisses the bonnet covering your hair, inhaling the scent of hair product and oil, the scent of you, something he adored in a way that words couldn’t describe.

“Sleep, princesa.”

i’m so glad that i got you, you’re my dream come true <3

a/n: everyone say thank u mick @lunarfleur

taglist: @hiimayee @masaidabest @lunarfleur @zo3ez @miguellover6969 @[email protected] (idk if this person is on tumblr or not but hey!) @nagi3seastorm @kombuuuu

reblogs are always appreciated for reach <3

xoxo,

rae <3

p.s. taglist form in my masterlist as well as my spam lmao

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childlikegoblinqueen · 5 months

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Huntlow Week Day 4: Touch/Tears

"Huh?"

A small weight tugged at Hunter's pinky finger.

"Thanks for what you said back there."

The weight was Willow's pinky wrapped around his own.

"You mean a lot to me too."

For Hunter -- touch was always well? It was in fact a touchy subject. For one thing, he'd been training in the Emperor's Coven for as long as he could remember.

Any form of physical contact during scout training was the kind that brought pain. Of course, if a scout was in pain it was because they should have gotten out of the way or struck first.

And if a scout actually allowed others to witness their pain, it was quite obviously because they were weak. And of course, a weak scout was of no use to the Emperor, and Belos only needed strong useful scouts -- and as the Golden Guard, Hunter was supposed to be the most useful of all.

Sixteen years and Hunter had never experienced the tenderness of loving touch in any form.

The shoulder squeezes Belos had given him were painful, but Hunter had been grateful for them at the time, because he truly thought they were a sign of trust. Hunter was Belos' only family. His confidante. And it wasn't like Hunter had anything to compare. Sure, sometimes he'd be on patrol, marching past children and their parental figures and he would witness the playful ruffling of hair or a soft hand on a cheek -- but just because Belos hadn't done any of those things didn't mean it was wrong.

Maybe these tender moments were how that was how some families showed affection to their children, but Hunter was not a child! He was the right hand man of the throne!

And anyway, these shoulder squeezes? They hurt, but it wasn't like they were a cursed limb to dodge. Or a smack across Hunter's face. Or... well. That's what he had thought back then.

But back in the human realm, when Camila had touched his shoulder ever so gently? Like the hug Willow had wrapped he and Gus in after the battle for Hexside, Hunter had realized there was a lot he'd missed out on.

Willow was flying above Kikimora. Gus had conjured one, two, three illusions of her.

"Woah! What did I miss?" Luz asked from down below.

Kiki hurled abomination goop eliminating the illusion Willows until she hit the real one, knocking the plant witch off of her staff. Hunter was in the sky at once. Just as Willow had grabbed him all those months ago when he'd fallen from Flapjack, Hunter was cradling Willow in his arms.

Cradling her like -- a bride in one of Camila's telenovelas.

When Hunter looked down to the witch in his arms, her cheeks were dusted with red.

"I missed a lot!" Luz shouted.

And now? Willow's cheeks had dusted once more with a healthy shade of red. When it happened with Kiki, Hunter was sure that look had been from how winded Willow must have been from the fight. But this time?

"You mean a lot to me too." Willow had told him.

Titan, she was smiling! And ... blushing?

The warmth of her pinky in his own. The gentleness of her touch.

"You guys mean the world to me." Hunter had told her back in the cave.

He'd upset her. She'd been trying to cheer him up -- but Flapjack's loss was too new. Raw. Hunter had been so focused on revenge. On paying Belos back for taking everything from him, that he'd lost sight of what was right there.

"I can't control my own magic. I can't help my friends. I'll only ever be Half-a-Witch Willow..."

And as the tears bubbled up in Hunter's eyes, so did the magic in his heart. He'd held Willow in his arms. Heart against heart. And later he'd grabbed Gus and saved them both, but the tears in his eyes lingered.

Crying, like the desire for tender touch, like showing pain, or fear? Those were all forbidden in the Emperor's Coven.

And now, Hunter felt his eyes soften. Willow was still smiling at him. Eyes open. Soft.

Loving?

As the softness lingered, Hunter felt the tears begin. He tried -- he really, really did try but there was no helping it.

"You mean a lot to me too."

Willow had told him. And while Hunter was still not great with words, touch was something he was much better with.

Pinkies still interlocked, like a promise. A bond unbroken. Hunter and Willow turned their wrists towards one another. Their hands touched ever so slightly.

What words could Hunter have said that possibly could have expressed what he'd felt in that moment? Tears in his eyes. Holding the hand of someone who meant the universe to him?

I want to feel every new sensation and experience every moment of my freedom by your side.

I want to live in this moment forever.

I never ever want to let you go.

"Cool." Hunter said. "Happy to help."

#the owl house #hunter noceda #toh fanfic #spotify #willow x hunter #huntlow #willow park #toh hunter #sweet child o mine #a03 fanfic #huntlow week #huntlow week 2023 #toh willow #hunter toh

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wonderinc-sonic · 4 months

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Today's news from Mobius:

@SylvanianDrama's Season Finale

The TikTok account @sylvaniandrama was deleted today, after it was revealed that it is run by Cream the Rabbit. Fans mourn the shocking cancellation, which came at a time when the Soap Opera-esque stillframe story was about to reveal the twist killer of Mrs Panda.

It was at breakfast time this morning, when a MISS VANILLA RABBIT (34, Rabbit) accepted the post as usual, when she became suspicious of a package sent to her daughter specifically. Despite the protestation of her sweet daughter, CREAM (6, Flying Rabbit), she opened the package and found, to her horror, a tiny plastic bag of flour labelled 'coak', a miniature model gun, and the rare collectable Penny Peacock of the Sylvanian Families Limited Edition series - and the beans were spilled.

@sylvaniandrama is a popular account on the video sharing platform Tiktok, posting stories made with children's toys covering such shocking topics as: Substance Abuse, Mariticide, Bullying and Gun Violence. More alarming still, it is known for it's remarkably candid dialogue with these dark storylines. Fans have latched onto this form of speech in particular, and this account is credited with the rise in the use of 'perf 💅'.

Cream, who has always been a remarkably good girl according to her friends and preschool teacher, started the account last year, receiving few views at first from only her peers. However, she discovered her flare for the melodramatic with her first viral video in which a girl stalking her crush ends in them both falling off a cliff. 'Climbing Rose' reached 4M views in just a week, and soared her account to stardom, where she has been chasing ever greater heights of tragedy ever since.

If fans are disturbed by the reveal - which came in the form of a 30 second apology video from Cream, recorded by Vanilla - that feeling was dwarfed by their outrage at the series' cancellation.

"Can you pls ground her after she tells us what happened?" - @Storm-ontheboat comments, and a reply from @Cuboid-boi concurrs: "please - i bet my wages on the elephant"

When asked for comment, Vanilla had this to say:

"Excuse me, but who are you? How do you know our address? Kindly leave."

She later confirmed through the letterbox that all the models used on the show will be donated to the local orphanage, except for those that had knives permanantly attached to their hands or backs. The true volume of the collection is unknown, but it is likely that due to their added fame this will cause a spike in market value for the toys, and warnings not to buy products claiming to be Official SylvanianDrama Models.

We weren't allowed to speak with Cream, however we hope that she continues her creative passions in other mediums with her mother's permission, and eagerly await her first Telenovela.

If you know anything about who sent the damning delivery, please reach out to us, and we will put you in contact with Vanilla.

#writincs #fancied some silly creative writing as a stress relief and I haven't done fauxjournalist in a while #cream the rabbit #vanilla the rabbit #sylvaniandrama #wonderincs #news from mobius #<- incase i or you ever want to do this again

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respectthepetty · 7 months

Note

PETTYYYYY THE FINAL EPISODE OF THE NOVELA ENERGY THE LAWS OF ATTRACTION FINALE HAD *CRIES IN THE CLUB WITH YOU*

God, that finale was everything to me. It's been weeks, and I'm not just crying in the club, Anon.

I'm crying at work, in the shower, in the car, in the Dairy Queen parking lot.

Everywhere, llorón.

I want Laws Of Attraction back! I want cute ass bitch Charn back!

I want to learn how to spell his name properly.

I want him to lecture the audience about the need for marriage equality because as much as I love y'all shouting in the tags of this post that there are legal resources that queer folks can utilize to protect ourselves, marriage equals a quick way to get those benefits without the hassle AND grants easy access to government, legal, and insurance benefits that are only given to married couples.

Y'all, I don't even believe in marriage, but I need you to see the importance of marriage equality not only from a legal standpoint,

but on the principle of basic human rights. We deserve the same damn rights as the heteros!

*breathes deeply* I just miss this show, damn it! It came out of nowhere and fucked up my entire Best Of List. Moonlight Chicken and Our Dining Table didn't stand a chance once the grandma dressed in drag. She loved her grandson and his HUSBAND, unconditionally. Even when he tried to burn down their house.

This had big telenovela energy. Step by Step's Jeng was a novela leading man, and Moonlight Chicken's Saleng was my Thai primo, but the entire cast and plot of Laws of Attraction felt like mi nino y mi nina (padrino y padrina for you Spaniards) randomly showed up to my house with their tortillero filled with perfectly shaped warm homemade tortillas, and we ate them with butter. Meaning, this shit was delicious and heartwarming.

Fuck it! I'm gonna rewatch it Sunday!

#laws of attraction #i miss only when I'm breathing #charn x tinn #it had that telenovela sparkle #it was everything to me

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evita-shelby · 4 months

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Love's a State of Mind

Chapter 6

Cw: angst, sex, feelings

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta

Yes i did use the smuff-mas one-shot to make up the last part of the chapter lol

Feliz Navidad y'all

Every day begins and ends the same for the next week.

He calls in the morning to check up on her, the moment he leaves his office ---doing the work he would have done in Sydney--- he comes to spend the rest of the day with her and leaves, very reluctantly, at the end of the day.

They talk, he tells her about his day and both fight the urge to be more than friends like madmen.

It all changes the night before her procedure. They watch her comfort telenovela on the sofa that’s more comfortable to lay on than sit on, and she leans on his shoulder leading to him wrapping his arm around her, before the episode even ends they’re spooning as of nothing had ever changed between them.

“I should go, you need all the sleep you can get for tomorrow.” He said gently prying her off him before they do something they’ll regret.

Eva would usually agree and see him to the door where they’d stand there both secretly wishing for a kiss goodbye like before.

“Could you stay with me. Just for tonight?” she finds herself hating how vulnerable she sounds. Even worse she’s turning to look at him as she speaks and feels pathetic because he can see exactly why she wants him to stay.

But she’s scared, and she wants him and there was nothing more comforting in the world than him holding her as he does now.

“Yeah, if you want me to.” Robert agrees and adjusts himself as Eva buried her face in his chest. He’s stripped off his button-down shirt and despite the slight discomfort of his buckle and trousers, being like this felt like heaven.

“We could find the best in their field if you want.” He suggested and she shook her head. Robert tucked her under his chin and stroked her hair understanding exactly what she was afraid of.

“This one’s the best in California. It’s a stupid worry, I know.” She murmured into his chest. “Impossible for them to fuck up something they do so often.”

“Said the same thing when I had knee surgery, I think.” Rob points out, reminding her of how nervous he’d been after reading up all he could on the procedure and several horror stories of people who didn’t recover from it. “We should sleep, we, you, sorry, have long day tomorrow.”

It had been a bad idea.

In a moment of vulnerability, Eva had asked him to stay with her and he had.

Robert had offered to stay in the guest room or sleep on the floor, but Eva had shaken her head and asked him to sleep with her.

There was too much history between them for this to work. He couldn’t forget her no matter how much he tried, and she couldn’t move on because their last night together resulted in the worst-case scenario.

Had anyone told him he’d be here holding her because they’d have to see a doctor for an embryo that didn’t form, Robert would’ve siced security on them.

But here he was holding his ex-girlfriend who used him to keep her company above the water because tomorrow they’ll pretend nothing ever happened and go their separate ways.

“I was wondering where my pajamas went.” The Fischer Morrow heir comments as tried his best to remember they were over and the sex they had last week was merely a fluke.

“I had intended to give them back, but then I remembered you still have some of my panties and I thought they were worth about the same, in sentimental value at least.” The dark-haired woman moved slightly as she got comfortable, and he pretends he’s fine when her ass brushed against his dick.

“Sorry.” She said before moving away to prevent it from happening again, but it would once Eva fell asleep.

“Don’t apologize, remember when I was high on painkillers after my surgery?” Rob would be lying if he didn’t miss all those times they’d cuddle and end up fucking because the accidental stimulation was enough to drive him fucking insane.

So many times where she’d rub against him ---on purpose as well as in her sleep--- and he’d be waking up rock hard and wanting nothing more than to fuck her good morning.

But they can’t do that, because after tomorrow it is over for good.

Or so they’ve been telling themselves this past week.

“Oh, how could I? You were like a very horny puppy most of the week.” She answered bemused. She’d been on edge all evening, terrified about tomorrow even if the procedure was rather simple and the doctor the best in California. “Slept on my tits because you said your pillows were lumpy.”

It was good for her to regain her usual good humor. Even if it drudge up memories that had the both of them wanting to regain what they lost.

He wanted to, but he had agreed to her terms because he didn’t want to push. She’d used him and she didn’t feel worthy of him, and Robert has disappointed his father enough to know he’s a fucking dumbass when comes to love.

His father would never forgive Eva for making a fool out of his son, but Robert was never on the same page as his dear old man.

“Please, those six weeks without sex was a nightmare for you too, Evie.” Robert pointed out and fought the urge to rut against it like a horny teenager.

“I missed you.” Evie admits and does something worse than grinding against him, she seeks out his hand and holds it like she used to do when she was troubled.

“I missed you too.” Robert admits as he interlaced his fingers with hers and held her tightly.

“I know I said I didn’t want us to give us another try, but ---” she stops herself fighting with the proud part of her that thinks she knows what’s best for the both of them.

“A do over would be nice. Once you’re recovered, if you need time to come around to it.” He didn’t let her change her mind and once again considered not going to Sydney this week.

He didn’t need to think about it, he’s had plenty of time this week. Robert had wanted his pound of flesh that day at her office, but then he ended up looking forward to seeing her each evening. Even as ‘friends’ he couldn’t imagine a better person to share his life with.

“No dream sharing this time.” Eva sets a new boundary; one he doesn’t pretend to agree with…for now.

“Agreed.”

This time he is the one rubbing his growing erection against her ass and this time they don’t stop doing it. Between her presence and knowing there’s still hope for them, Robert can’t seem to get himself under control.

Never been good at self-control, anyways.

“Doctor didn’t say anything about not having sex before the procedure, you know.” She supplies as a sigh escapes her lips.

“We don’t have to do it, Evie.” He protests half embarrassed at their predicament. The other half of him is letting his ex-girlfriend ---or just girlfriend since its inevitable that they’ll be getting back together by morning--- take his hand under her shirt and very obediently playing with her tits.

That time last week in the dining room had been a frantic fuck, of thinking that just one last time would be enough. Right now, it was knowing that desire won’t go away and why the should they deny themselves something they desperately needed.

“What I wanted you to fuck me, Robert?” such a crude question she said as he slid his free hand past the waistband of her sleeping shorts. “What if I told you the mere knowledge of feeling you like this has me thinking about all those times we fucked until I couldn’t remember my own name?”

And she wasn’t lying, her pussy was wet and hot as his fingers toyed with it.

“Then I’d say your wish is my command.” His father was right in being disappointed with him, Robert could never live without Eva and this week had only proven it.

Robert’s hand leaves her chest and with ease he freed his aching cock from its confines as he entered her from behind with a groan.

No woman had been able to satisfy him like she did, and now he knows no one ever will.

He rocks against her, takes his time seeking ti make the night last as long as possible. Knowing Eva she may change her mind by the time the sun rose.

But for tonight, he is hers, she is his and nothing exists beyond the moment.

“Did you try to forget me like I did?” he asks thinking how she’d pretended not to care that his latest conquest had kept calling last week.

“No, didn’t want to.” She shook her head as he reminded her no other person could ever make feel like this.

They were made for each other, if such a thing existed. As if they had always been lifetimes ago.

He didn’t believe in soulmates, but she did.

“Then why fight it, why push me away, Evie?” he asks and clenched beautifully around his cock and Robert thanked his lucky stars there was no need for caution tonight.

“I don’t want to hurt you again.” The brunette answered as she lost herself to the pleasure.

As much as he wanted to make it last, it isn’t long before he takes her over the edge with him.

He hasn’t let go of her, not yet. “You won’t hurt me, I’m not as fragile as you think, sweetheart.”

#eva smith riley #robert fischer x oc #robert fischer smut #eva x robert #love's a state of mind fic

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residentialrabbit · 3 months

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Which was your favorite character to create?

Ooo this is a hard one to answer. Because everyone is was fun to write for in their own ways. I think I'll just name my top three favorite in terms of creation (mind you these may not even be my favorite characters just the one that is fun to make stuff with)

1) Lilith- She was so fun to come up and write for. I love her feral personality mixed with her old english-y fancy way of speak. Lilith's introduction and backstory was also the real nail on the coffin (pun intended) for showing how villainous Dominion was for people. Her entire character and backstory, along with Luci's, is so SO important to the overall story and she was really fun to write dialogue for. Su Ling Chan(she/her) did an amazing job voicing her and bringing that chaotic energy to life.

2) Noel- Noel is just really fun to torture :) And I mean that in a good way! Sam and I made sure give him enough tragicness to his character to help support the narrative we made. I have a distaste for stories that have pointless tragedies because even if "bad things happen for no good reason" there is still a point to be made in that (seemingly) senselessness. Trauma has an effect on people. Grief is processed in many different ways. Those two things effect how Noel, and us to an extent, form relationships with people. Which is why Noel is the most difficult to romance. John(they/he) did such an amazing job voicing his highs and lows for the game, I had to mute myself several times when recording some of the emotional line because I was crying!!

3)Irene- This may be a curveball but I really still love Irene as a character. Her route is so different and telenovela in comparison to all the other routes. People are really missing out on skipping her because she leaves a bad first impression when meeting but she's genuinely such a fun and genuine character despite it. She also has the most implied sex scenes when played on male mode and is possible to score a threesome with her and Ramon regardless of gender. She's got girl boss white woman energy and Vyn Vox(he/they) parodied that exceptionally while still nailing Irene's emotional moments.

what say you @samrosemodblog?

#ask eros

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weirdthoughtsandideas · 4 months

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**This is related to the post about dcla gatekeeping telenovelas** In my eyes this whole debacle is mostly about popularity and demand/availability. Even before Violetta/Soy Luna there were a shit ton of teen (non disney tho) telenovelas that were extremely popular on their lands but didn't really pick up outside except a few places + europe, which is a shame for so many reasons, especially because i've seen a fair share of stuff that i think you and a lot of other people of this community would enjoy if they liked violetta/soy luna/bia/go vive tu manera etc but it's not available if you don't understand even slightly one of the neo-latin languages or languages that are kind of indirectly affiliated (mostly because those dubs/subs are the ones that are easier to find). I was also tempted to try and start subbing them in English but it would take an insane amount of time (still thinking about it tho..)

And then Violetta was like an insane phenomenon at the time and I understand why they tried HARD to push it on the american audience even tho they never really cared that much (which is insane to me because Violetta was such a core memory from my childhood) and maybe with Soy Luna they saw how popular it was in general and compared it with how uninterested the english speaking countries were at the times of Violetta and just... gave up with the whole translating thing because it wasn't worth it since it was already doing insanely good?? i guess (but that's just a theory/an opinion)

p.s. (The only disney gatekeeping I can fully conferm tho [in my opinion] is Juacas because I swear to god I cannot find it to save my fucking life in either it's original language or dubbed in my native language (it was released and was also really popular apparently, but at the time i was kind of away from telenovelas) so yeah I still think that sometimes they truly do shit without thinking and just generally suck at preserving international stuff. (i'm shit at explaining myself sorry lol)

No you’re good! D+ also randomly gatekeeps their d+ la shows from the international audience (like S2 of Papás por encargo?? Why not release it everywhere???? We wanna watch it too!). Also I wish they released stuff like Patito Feo… I’ve heard of that show’s existence since I first saw Violetta and it was only released in a handful of countries. Also, Violetta was really marketed EVERYWHERE, and then SL came along and in my country, they dubbed the two first seasons and then never the third and I barely remember it airing on tv, while Violetta was marketed so much you could not miss it. They never aired Bia here at all, and it’s not out on D+ in my country (but when watching it with a vpn they had swedish subtitles available so??? why gatekeep it from us). ALSO, so many countries have their own version of ”as the bell rings” and not a SINGLE VERSION is available on D+, not even the italian version which is the original??

I also have some shows from my country (non-disney) that was popular here, but I wish was known everywhere because they are awesome.

The english dub of Violetta was not popular in the UK. It was popular everywhere else, for people who did not speak spanish but still loved the show, and thus when wanting to show clips from the show they used those clips. Now, I personally don’t like the english dub and they randomly don’t translate stuff correctly at times, but for many kids who did not understand spanish but did understand english, it was useful. Now, most countries had their own dubs too, but when posting about clips online for everyone to see, you rarely used your own language’s dub. You used the english dub, so that you could reach out to a larger audience.

I remember a few years back, I said that I felt like Soy Luna barely was marketed and people were like ”No it has higher ratings than Violetta!!” - and it turned out I simply missed it because as I said, in my country they barely marketed it in comparison to Violetta and since it did not even get an english dub, kids who did not know spanish could not talk ”internationally” about it in the same way, and mostly had to talk about it locally with the people from their own country.

I definitely agree that Violetta was such a phenomenon that they really tried pushing it on americans. ”Come on!! All of latin america and Europe are obsessed!!!! You need to join in on the fun!!” and they were like ”uh no thanks we don’t like dubs and the kids will be bored if it’s subbed”, and that eventually lead to them not even caring to dub SL. The only thing that is sad about that is that we could have gotten british Ámbar.

#Idk if I answered what you wrote properly I kinda spiraled away #but I get what you mean!!

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