#if you hate it or find too repetitive do tell me in the asks or notes

[hotvintagepoll]

Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS tournament! We are now finished with the Hot & Vintage Men Tournament; The Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament is ongoing. Submissions for hot vintage women are now closed, but we are accepting propaganda for those already in the bracket.

Round 4 of the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament will be posted Friday, April 19th. All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag. Every poll in the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament will be tagged with the hottie in it if you need to search for someone in particular. If you would just like to look at the polls in Round 4 of the Hot & Vintage Women Tournament, click this.

FAQs:

“Where is [my favorite hot woman]?” It depends. Have you checked all the polls in the tag? Have you done a tag search for her? If you still haven’t found her, either nobody submitted her or she did not fit the criteria of being a movie woman from 1910-1970.

“Can I still submit hot women?” No, the submission window has closed. Please do not send in women you wish had made it into the bracket. I can’t do anything with those asks and they just make me sad.

“I have additional propaganda for the hot women!” Great! Send me an ask or reblog the poll and add your propaganda to it. You can also tag me in posts (this is the best way to submit gifsets or fancams). I don’t boost all the propaganda I see or receive, but I try to boost the best of the best.

If you’re submitting propaganda for your hot woman, I don’t accept propaganda that’s from beyond the end of this tournament’s era (ie don’t send me pics of them from before 1910 or after 1970). I also don’t accept propaganda of TV appearances unless it’s clearly a cameo where they’re playing themselves. Please break long asks full of photos up into a few short ones so I don't clog everyone's dashes. I watch every video I receive to tag for trigger warnings, so please don't send me super long videos.

I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about any hot woman. If you really hate that a certain hot woman is winning, send me positive propaganda for their hot opponent. If you think a hot woman shouldn’t even be included in the tournament because of scummy things she did in her lifetime, please read my take on it here.

If I see repetitive, trolling, and/or bigoted remarks in the comments, I may block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a hot woman’s flaws or misdemeanors, that’s fine, but if I see consistent bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked.

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t submit my own propaganda, and I don’t change what’s submitted beyond fixing obvious spelling mistakes. If you hate a poll bio or a pic, let me know and send me something I can use instead. Thoughtless bitching gets blocked.

"Where are the hot men?" Most of them are in the shadow realm! Toshiro Mifune was crowned the winner of the Hot & Vintage Men Tournament, and the rest were banished below the earth, where shadows creep and the hours grow long. You can find all the round 1 matchups here (thank you @markwatnae!), or you can do a tag search to find out what happened to a specific hot man.

"Tell me more about this shadow realm?" There is too much lore. Send me an ask about this.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the tournament.

If you want to search through the different rounds of the tournaments, or see the schedule for future tournaments, I'm including links under the cut.

Relevant tags:

First round of the hot men—#round 1 archive, #round 1 blog

Second round of the hot men—#round 2 archive, #round 2 blog

Third round of the hot men—#round 3 archive, #round 3 blog

Fourth round of the hot men—#round 4 archive, #round 4 blog

Quarterfinals of the hot men—#round 5 archive, #round 5 blog

Semifinals—#TWO KINGS archive, #TWO KINGS blog

Finals—#hot men finals

First round of the hot women—#ladies 1 archive, ladies 1 blog

Second round of the hot women—#ladies 2 archive, #ladies 2 blog

Third round of the hot women—#ladies 3 archive, #ladies 3 blog

Other featured tags: #housekeeping (organization updates), #family lore (personal anecdotes in asks relating to the hotties or stories about sharing this poll with family members), #hollywood creatures (pets named after old movie stars), and #silly times (what it says on the tin).

Upcoming Tournaments, in order:

Ultimate Hottie Tournament (top brackets of the hot men & hot women competing together)

Scrungly Little Guys tournament (gender neutral)

TBD: Horror Hotties (Frankensteins, Draculas, Brides, etc.)

TBD: Dandy Detectives (Marples, Sherlocks, Nancy Drews, etc.)

fun mini polls that pits sets of characters from the same movie together, like the Philadelphia Story or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers ones (these can be found in the #minis tag)

#new masterpost! #housekeeping #ladies 4

[cybernaght]

The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain 

As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.

This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.

Part one. Fanon.

The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe. 

Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”. 

(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)

Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours. 

And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.  

(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)

We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we? 

Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals. 

Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.

(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)

The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.

Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation. 

So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.

I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth. 

Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space. 

Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality. 

Part two. Microanalysis 

Here are my two suppositions on the matter:

1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling. 

Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season. 

Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal. 

2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.

And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal. 

Too much metaphor?

Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.

Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.

If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works. 

If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time. 

As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever. 

So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.

Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding. 

But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.

One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs. 

Part three. The Conspiracy Brain. 

If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.

So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?

One, Because We Have Been Lied To. 

All conspiracies start with distrust.

If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another. 

We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership. 

And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.

(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)

Two, Cognitive Dissonance.

The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.

Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:

A) this is not good

B) this author could not have made a mistake 

C) this must be done on purpose

D) here is why 

(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)

This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another. 

Three, Intentionality 

I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.

However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed. 

The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.

It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media. 

When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.

If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.

(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)

And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic. 

But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking. 

Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way. 

Four, Wildfire.

Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness. 

Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here. 

So where are we now?

I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all. 

All I am saying is… listen.

Do you hear that echo? 

I do. 

#fandom thoughts #fanon #good omens #good omens 2 #bbc sherlock #merlin bbc #think piece #it's been years and I still have no idea how to tag #conspiracy theories #fandom content #all fandoms

[leclsrc]

wait and see ✴︎ cl16

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst barely, other drivers appear

word count: 2.5k

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

auds here... req'd, this was p fun to write i hope u guys like it! :) short bec if it was any longer it wouldnt have been as nice to read i think? anyway... i love u guys. title from this.

Lando takes a seat. “Is this the thingy for…? Yeah? Okay. What am I supposed to do again?”

“Just describe the two of them.”

“Easy. She was always pissing him off.” He rubs his chin, lost in thought. “But… in a good way?”

—

“I told you a hundred times I didn’t want this to be the soundbite you published.” Charles chases after you, his footsteps quickening like a lost puppy as you wrestle your way into the media pen. “A hundred times, and you said okay, and you still published it. Che succede?”

You turn, crossing your arms over your torso. “Look. I said yes, but when I looked it over, nothing else you said was really worth it. It was all just repetitions of the same PR bullshit that makes you look good on camera.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling with frustration, watching his biting comment on Iñaki rack up hundreds of thousands of views. “This was not a good idea!” He repeats, the same sentiment he’s been telling you in the half-hour he’s known of this video’s publicity.

“But it happened.” You adjust your mic and gesture to Lando, who’s awkwardly waiting for the cameras to roll so you can start the post-FP2 interview and he can talk about his shit car. “I’m busy, so deal with it. Your fans will appreciate you not riding Ferrari’s dick all the time.”

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, shoving his way back outside and into the motorhome so he can cooperate in damage control. He doesn’t admit it—to you, to Carlos, to anyone—but the PR that comes of it is more good than it is bad in the end. He doesn’t admit it because it means admitting you’re right, and God if that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

—

“They were always butting heads,” George says, laughing as he soaks in the memories of it. “Always fighting over something. Anything. Whatever there was that could be disagreed on—they’d be disagreeing.”

—

It started harmlessly enough. Seb walked in with two swatches of color—a blue and a purple—and addressed the room with a light tone, asking what color would best suit the tablecloths at his wedding. And then, as it always did with you and Charles, chaos ensued.

“Blue suits green better.” You wave the blue in his face. “You’re busy thinking of red all the time so you don’t understand color theory.”

“It’s not about coordination! It’s about creating a highlight!” He gestures with his hands, aggressively gesticulating to try and get his point across. “Highlight!”

“Oh, bullshit! Blue!”

“Purple!”

“Are you crazy?!”

Across the room, Seb and George watch in mild horror at the two figures caught in a needlessly intense argument over colors at a wedding that isn’t even theirs.

An AlphaTauri engineer comes in to refill his coffee for the third time, finds the two of you still fighting and is genuinely stupefied. He turns to the two onlookers, asks, “Bridezilla, huh? Happened to me once, too. I swear the grooms always try to weasel their way in to seem more involved but their choices never make sense.”

“Oh, no. They, uh, they’re not together.” George clarifies quickly.

“They’re not?!” The engineer and Seb ask at the same time.

They all watch the argument, bemused, but secretly they all wonder just how correct George is.

—

“We have a saying in Spanish. Del amor al odio hay un paso. Neither of them will understand it—it’s in Spanish, obviously—but I think that applies to them. One minute you think they hate each other, and the next…” Carlos lets himself taper into silence, smiling softly.

—

Being around Charles feels like karmic retribution, a constant eternal push and pull. But it makes the both of you better, even if neither of you admit it in the end. You can’t really grasp why, or how it started—it might take ages if you do so much as try—but you’re content with letting things happen the way they do.

Or maybe you’re not. “You ruined my fucking broadcast, dickhead!”

You toss your earpiece at his chest, body welling up with annoyance. Your segment was being casted live until Charles insisted he take up your airtime to do whatever-the-fuck, you honestly don’t care. And yeah, sure, he’s way more relevant, but the less airtime you get, the less easily you get the exposure you need.

“It happened one time.” He sounds amused, and it patronizes you, sets you on fire. He clutches your earpiece to his chest and hands it back to you.

“Fuck you.” You tug it toward yourself, and suddenly you’re closer, noses almost touching. You step back, but it’s not enough. “You have no idea how much that mattered to me.”

His eyes flit toward your lips, your bodies melting together. “If it really did…” he says, inhaling, “you would’ve just ignored me.” And damn, he’s right.

Charles does not like you. He just knows you well. But then one might argue—isn’t that the same thing?

—

“They have trouble not calling the shots, is the thing,” Lewis offers. “So put them in a team, in a room together, and boom.”

—

“…We didn’t agree on this script.” You underline the problematic lines and toss it onto Charles’ lap from where you stand in front of the sofa. “You want your fans to hate you?”

“The questions were clumsy. I asked you to reword them, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask, to be clear. You demanded.” You click your tongue.

Lewis is in the middle of posting on Roscoe’s Instagram account and manually making typos, but he looks up, interest piqued by the increasingly heated conversation.

“I asked,” Charles insists stubbornly. “Plus, this is a Ferrari segment. You get hired to write on Ferrari, you follow Ferrari.” He points to the yellow logo on his shirt. Ferrari, he mouths. Lewis stifles a chuckle at the sarcastic exchange.

“Jesus.” You reread the script. “Fine. I’ll reword this and this.”

“And that.” He points, tapping the paper.

“Only if you edit this and this. Oh, God, and this.”

“Fine. Wait, that?”

“Are you serious? It’s the corniest statement ever. Edit that or I edit nothing.”

“Okay, bossy.”

Lewis exits Instagram in favor of texting Seb to ask if you two are dating. The response he receives is equally unhelpful: Nobody knows mate.

—

“You know, for all the disagreeing they did, they actually agreed on so much of the same stuff. If they stopped fighting for two seconds they would agree on most things.” Alex muses. “But they never did, so. Or maybe a few times.”

—

Media is a tricky thing. It’s either on your side, or it isn’t.

And this weekend, Charles has drawn the short straw, subjected to bouts of backhanded journalists and tweets for his strategy during quali. You know this especially well—you’re media, for Christ’s sake—and you’ve seen your colleagues hound Charles for how he chose to tackle the session.

Alex is in the middle of a FaceTime call with Lily when he hears it. “Wait—I think they’re talking,” he says to his girlfriend when he hears you approach him, carefully maneuvering himself into optimal eavesdropping position.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Lily’s voice comes through like static.

“I know it’s wrong,” Alex confesses. “But—”

“No, I meant I can’t hear properly. Move the phone closer, you dick.”

So he does, and the two of them listen intently to your talk. You go first, a few shuffling footsteps and an adjustment of your media pass, then. “Will’s been all over you today.”

“Yeah,” comes Charles’ voice, tired if anything. “I, uh… I just hope I can understand where I went wrong and, uh. Well, uh.”

“No, I…” There’s heavy silence. “I think you did the right thing. You didn’t get pole, but it was a good strategy. Better than what was being proposed, anyway. I think that would’ve landed you at the back of the grid, to be honest.”

You both laugh. “Thanks,” he croaks.

“You did great. Don’t, um… don’t let them tell you otherwise. I’m proud of you.”

Alex never tells anybody what he heard. But it inspires many long-winded conversations with Lily about the nature of your relationship. Each time, though, they never arrive to a solid answer.

—

“Hey, listen. I always knew something was there with those two. They had the kind of dynamic you only find once in, like, a million instances.” Daniel says firmly. “But I also kept thinking… poor Charlotte.”

—

You’re half-sure Pierre was the one who bought you all shots. Or a quarter-sure. Okay, you’re not sure at all. Your mind’s cloudy, your inhibitions lowered, tongue loose and laugh contagious. Around the table everyone is laughing, some others have gotten up to dance, but you, Daniel, Lewis, and Charles are all conversing about work, albeit while drunk.

“Is… tequila… plant-based?” Lewis grimaces as he throws another shot back and you all laugh mindlessly.

“Danny,” you say, tapping his shoulder. “Any plans once you’re out of the paddock next season?”

“Ah,” he hums. “Self-discovery and a shit ton of shrooms.”

You all cheers to the epiphany, shots once again entering your system. “And a party again tomorrow!” Daniel adds half-jokingly, much to your delight. Charles, right beside you, throws an arm over your shoulder as he laughs. You’re unfazed.

Daniel’s gaze lingers on his arm a little too long, especially because your own hand reaches upward to wrap around his wrist, to make sure he doesn’t pull away. But you’re both drunk, he reasons. And plus, you can’t usually stand each other’s guts.

“I’ll pass, mate, if it happens,” Charles says, his tone clearly inebriated.

“You’re no fun,” you say lightly, laughing and turning to him. Your eyes are on the other’s, dark, lips almost touching as if you’ve forgotten Daniel and Lewis are even around (though the latter is as good as dead, honestly.)

“Invite Charlotte instead,” Daniel says with a smile, to try and test your reactions. “How long, now? Three months?”

You clear your throat, looking away with a faux smile.

“Oh. We’re not doing so well, to be honest.” Charles smiles, tight-lipped. He hopes Daniel doesn’t ask why. He can’t think of a lie quickly enough to cover how Charlotte told him I love you, Charles, but this is over. I hope you end up with her someday.

—

Seb takes some time to think about it. “Those two always fought. Everyone said that, didn’t they? All the time, disagreeing.” He hums. “I could tell very early, though, that they were also the only two who could truly understand the other. Figuratively, obviously—but as a result, also literally.”

“Elaborate?”

“When you understand someone that well, inside and out, you end up understanding everything they say.” Seb smiles. “That was them, I think.”

—

“It’s impossible to transcribe your interviews,” Will says to Charles. It’s that hour on the paddock where everyone’s waiting for the pre-race bustle to start, so small talk is what’s keeping them busy.

You’re reviewing a few clips from practice on your phone and Seb is chipping into the conversation, which has moved from Mick’s future to F1 into Sky Sports into this.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks.

“You’re always sliding in and out of your three languages!” The Englishman laughs. “I have to consult a native speaker of both Italian and French each time. And you’re always going I, I, I, or we, we, we… but hey, the fans dig it, innit?”

“I think I sound perfectly understandable.” Charles smiles. You’re still busy, unfocused on the conversation at present.

“Like, okay. Look at this.” Will retrieves his phone, opens his voice memos app, and plays one of the audio recordings there. It’s a scratchy one of Charles describing his quali session, and sure enough, even if he’s speaking straight English, the adrenaline and exhaustion have him sounding totally indecipherable.

We—we had gasjdhfhs and I, I, I… I think we need to rejshdhs and thijsjsh about the hsfhdh, yeah? And, and, uh, we ajhshajs. And

Will closes it. “Sebastian, can you tell me that said?”

He shrugs, amused. “Sorry, Charles. I genuinely can’t.”

“See?!” Will makes a voila motion. “Nobody understands this.”

“He said we had good traction and I think we need to recalibrate and think about the boxing strategy, yeah? And we need that mindset.” You’re still going over your phone, busy and not 100% invested. “You two just aren’t listening.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the smile off his face, the whole hour.

—

Pierre comes last, clearing his throat. He’s ready. He knows exactly what to say, so he says it. “Those two are fucking soulmates.”

—

It’s three-thirty when somebody knocks on your hotel room.

But your body still feels like it’s five in the evening, your brain’s stuck at two in the afternoon, and your sleep schedule thinks it’s nine in the morning, so you’re not asleep but instead rewriting notes from the weekend prior.

You’re horribly disoriented when you grab your pepper spray and unlatch the door, and even more disoriented when you see Charles on the other side of it.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, breathless, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Maybe he has.

“You’re at my hotel room at three a.m., so… a bit.” You rub sleepiness and jetlag out of your eyes. “Charles, what’s going on?”

“I love you.” There it is. “It sounds so stupid. But I love you. And it’s almost—I can’t bear it. I woke up this morning? You, on my mind. Lights go off after a race? You. I go to sleep? You. It’s always you. And I know, I know it’s—I know, with Charlotte, and—but it’s true. I, I, I—I think about you every minute. And usually this happens accidentally. Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s’agit d’amour... moi y compris.

“But this was… I knew I was falling in love and I let it happen. And so I thought, why keep waiting? Why let it drag on and on and fight over and over when I can just come and tell you how much I—and maybe, hopefully, see if you feel the same?”

He pants, tired from his clearly rambled and unplanned confession.

“I love you, too,” you say, struck. Oh God.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“It’s may,” you breathe. “May I kiss you.”

“You may,” he whispers.

“Right now?”

“Anytime.”

“So now.”

“It’s now or next Tuesday,” he jokes.

“Now is… the best. Now would do.”

“Now would do.” So you cross the threshold and let him scoop you into his arms so he can well and truly kiss you.

—

“Is that all?” The interviewer asks Pierre. “Just… those words? We need a bit more for the article on this event.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gets up, straightens his tie. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear the rest during my best man speech.”

Del amor al odio hay un paso – From love to hate, there is one step.

Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s'agit d'amour... moi y compris – We are all fools in love... me included.

#f1 #leclsrc2000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

[hippiepowrs]

patchwork

eddie munson x (implied) metalhead!reader

eddie wants to add a new patch to his vest but hates sewing.

a/n: thank you for the love on my first fic!!! this one is based on the fact that i think eddie would be bad at sewing. like he could be good at it but it's funnier to think that he's not. also you will probably see a lot of metalhead!reader from me bc it's self indulgent and there's just not enough of it.

warnings: fluff. gn!reader. sewing needles (obviously). one mention of blood/vague mentions of eddie stabbing himself with sewing needles. established relationship. no reader pronouns. no use of y/n. use of "babe," "baby," and "sweetheart" as nicknames from both. playful bickering. eddie is a biter and impatient as fuck. swearing. sort of eddie's pov i guess?

wc: 877

Eddie is good with his hands. It’s undeniable. Between chords, riffs, strumming, and picking, his calloused fingers know how to move, and they know it well.

But the one thing he always struggled with was sewing.

To him, sewing was like the devil. A necessary evil in his life, but evil nonetheless.

There’s a reason his vest has always stayed so empty. Well, a few, but the main one is the fact that his fingers can never get the needle to move quite how he wants it to. He’s always stabbing himself so hard it draws blood, somehow. One time the needle went clean through. He was able to crack it for long enough to get his back patch on, and one or two more, but then he decided he’d be able to live with it like that. At least for a while.

But now he has you. You, the beautiful thing laying on the floor of his bedroom. You, the one with a cooler vest than him. He can’t let that slide for much longer, can he? He finds himself trying to sew on a new patch he got up in Indy, but he’s already giving up.

“Babe,” He calls from atop his bed, “can you sew this for me?” He gives you that look. The one where he tilts his chin down and looks up at you with his big, wet eyes and bats his eyelashes when he wants something.

“You can’t finish it yourself?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice that he’s keen to pick up on. 

“It’s–ugh… it’s just not going well.” He sighs, frustration showing. 

You stand up from your place on the floor and snake into the spot next to him on the mattress, getting as close as you can without sitting on top of him. 

“Baby, you have like… five stitches done.” You say, looking up at him with a sarcastically annoyed glare.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, though.” He pouts, playing it up like he always does.

You hesitate for a moment, not sure whether to argue or just accept it.

“Ugh, fine. Give it to me.” You pretend to be annoyed, but in all honesty, you can’t help but adore that he relies on you for things like this. It’s weirdly sweet, just like him. You’re able to quickly get into the groove of stitching the patch on, up and down, out and in. It’s relaxingly repetitive, but Eddie is looming next to you. He’s leaning over, a little too close, mesmerized by the way your hands work.

“Ed, can you get out of my fucking face?” You say playfully. He leans back a little to watch from a distance for a minute before leaning in and sinking his teeth into your shoulder. “Ow, you dick.”

He’s as impatient as ever. You can feel the way he’s practically vibrating beside you as he waits for you to finish with the stitching. 

“Go do something,” You tell him, knowing you’re only halfway done, and he won’t last at this rate. 

“But I wanna watch.” He pouts again.

“Put some music on at least, please?” You ask, putting on a softer tone so you know he’ll get up and do it. 

When he reaches his tape deck, he starts shuffling through his collection, trying to find the one that calls out to him. The previous album you were listening to finished a while ago, and neither of you were bothered enough to get up and change it. Eddie finds the cassette he was looking for, and pops it in with a grin. 

It’s the mixtape he made for you for your third date. A little corny, he knows. But, he’d never really gone out with anyone before he went out with you, and he didn’t want to fuck it up. Especially not when he found the coolest person to ever grace this horrible town. 

Your third date was a night that he’ll never forget. He picked flowers out of the rich neighborhoods’ front gardens, made a glorious mixtape out of all the music you guys talked about loving, and showed up to your house on time. That’s big for him. 

He took you out to a real dinner. It might’ve just been the little Italian place on Main Street, but Eddie made sure to save extra cash for the week leading up so that he had enough to pay for you. 

And now here you are, sitting on his bed, sewing for him. It’s so domestic that he thinks he’s going to explode. The way you’re so comfortable in his space, and you’re so comfortable around him. 

“I’m done, babe.” You softly call to him, holding up his prized possession to show your handiwork. 

His eyes widen when he sees you, the giant smile on your face, so proud of yourself—and an even bigger grin breaks out on his own. He almost tackles you onto the bed, engulfing you in one of the most aggressive, warmest hugs he’s ever given you. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” His voice is muffled in the hug, but he makes his point clear by littering your cheek with kisses. With one big smack of his lips on your skin, he mumbles, “God, I love you.”

reblogs and notes always appreciated! | requests are open!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic

[folkloresthings]

Northanger abbey - I think we need to see jealous sebastian 👀👀 he would be so hot I swear...

JEALOUS BOY. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

✩⡱ warnings: allusions to sex

days in the paddock were long. you hated thinking it, because you knew how much it meant to sebastian for you to be there, but when you’d done it time and time again — it got a little repetitive. especially when sebastian was busy, off doing practice pls or inspecting the car. times when there was nothing you could do but wait.

it was completely innocent. you were stuck in the aston martin garage waiting for sebastian to finish his practice. lance had just so happened to be there too, having finished his practice lap a little while before. he’d spotted you, sitting all alone, and decided to keep you company. you appreciated it, really, the boy was always sweet to you.

“how’s the new job?” he asked you, passing you a cup of coffee he’d brought from hospitality. you forgot you had mentioned that a few weeks ago, a new job that allowed you to work online and travel with sebastian.

“it’s been really good!” you chirp, eyes lighting up. it was the first time that day someone had asked you a question that was actually about you. “they’re super flexible with travel and stuff.”

“that’s good. i’m sure you’ll smash it,” lance insists, sitting next to you. “i mean, who wouldn’t love to have you?”

you blush a little, a small smile pulling at your lips. you had to admit, lance was incredibly charming — an expert flirt. and while you were utterly dedicated to sebastian, it didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy some flattery.

sebastian’s practice had ended not long ago, and he headed straight back to the garage to find you where he left you. he didn’t expect to find his teammate with you, though, making you giggle and blush like a schoolgirl. sebastian felt jealousy rise in his throat.

he was always quite possessive of you. not to a worrying extent, just that he liked people to know that you were his. and he, yours. but you were younger than him and beautiful — he would be lying if he said he didn’t notice how people looked at you.

lance was closer in age to you than sebastian was. maybe that’s why the green envy that filled him was worse than usual. he knew you loved him, and he was sure you would never be unfaithful, but he despised seeing another man make you look so… happy.

“seb, hey,” lance spots him first, smiling over to him. you turn and smile widely at him. much wider than you’d smiled when lance was speaking to you.

“how’d it go?” you ask, waiting for him to come over. he doesn’t though, only grunting something incoherent. he passes by you both, storming straight to his driver’s room. lance looks at you, confused, and you know just what’s wrong. rolling your eyes, you pat the canadian on the shoulder and leave him there.

“seb?” you call, sticking your head around the door. he’s sat at the little table, arms crossed and sulking like a child. “seb, c’mon.”

you shut the door behind you, hands finding his shoulders. he shrugs you off but you persist, moving until you’re sat on his lap, legs straddling his waist. he can’t ignore you then, hands subconsciously going to your waist.

“he was just keeping me company,” you tell him, brushing back his wild blonde locks. sebastian looks up at you then, eyes dark and heavy. his hands grip your waist a little tighter, pulling you close.

“you’re mine,” he reminds you, softly kissing your bottom lip, teasing.

“i know,” you say, head dizzy already. “yours.”

“mhm,” the german man hums, tucking his finger under your chin and guiding your gaze straight to his. “can he make you feel like i do?”

your head shakes quickly, grasping at his drivers suit. “no. no one can.”

“good girl,” he quietly praises, fingers slipping under your shirt. “now, let him hear who you belong to.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel drabble #sebastian vettel blurb #sebastian vettel x reader

[kmgkmg]

STAY WITH ME - JEON WONWOO

word count: 3.3k...

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

synopsis: you finally interact with the ever so famous ice prince of your campus and he wants you to be in a fake relationship with him?!

genre/s: fluff, non-idol!au, college!au, fake relationship, strangers-to-lovers

warnings: alcohol mention

rating: pg-13

a/n: a submission for k-vanity's cupid arrow event. golden arrow: fake relationship to falling in love. fic title is based on the song stay with me by sole and wonstein! ty @kimchicollardgreens for helping with the ending!! <3

“You hate me, don’t you?” Chan sulked, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye.

 Both of you were finally finished with your final class of the week. You were glad that the class was over. Although you both loved dance, Chan even having it as his major, your professor somehow managed to drone on and make it boring enough to make you both sleepy as hell. The course description enticed you and when Chan showed interest as well, you knew it was destiny to register for it. 

You planned for it to be a chill weekend, full of homework, but your best friend had other plans. Normally you would 100% support him, that’s what friends are for after all, but the start of this semester had been harder than expected. Less than three months into your new courses, yet you felt like you were desperately trying to escape from the bottom of the pile of coursework thrown on top of you. 

“Fine, I’ll skip getting the FREE sandwiches that my department offered. It’s not like they were getting them from the newly opened restaurant. That, may I remind you, is close to campus. It’s not like I could’ve reported back to you on the taste to decide if we wanted to go there in the future,” You ramble, making sure to emphasize the free aspect of the deal you were missing out on. You usually did attend Chan’s shows, but you told him before class that you wanted to grab a sandwich and head home to finish your readings for next week’s courses. 

Chan kissed you on the cheek, “You love me after all!” 

Most are thrown-off by his touchiness but you became friends with him before orientation and quickly bonded with each other. He was like a brother to you, and he viewed you as a sibling too. With his kiss of appreciation placed, he headed towards the practice room to finalize his choreography for tonight. You shouted out for him to be careful since he was prone to running into things or people when he was excited. He waved his hand in recognition of your warning and you started heading to the campus library to study while waiting for the showtime to approach. 

You were now walking to the old main building that the show was going to be in. There was one course you took as a first-year student in it, so luckily you knew how to find it since your campus could be confusing at times. Since it was an old building, the main floor was marked as 000 instead of 100. So even though it was on the first floor, Chan’s performance was in Studio 011. From the distance, you could see that the door had been propped open with... a tiger-patterned door stopper?

Why do tiger-patterned door stoppers exist? 

No, more importantly, how did Soonyoung manage to think of buying one? Laughing at the dance team leader’s fondness towards tigers, you entered the building. 

Although Chan’s performance was taking place on the main floor, he had hilariously begged you to bring him an energy drink to hype himself up. It was the first performance of the semester, of course he was excited but the firsts are always mixed with nervousness as well. It didn’t bother you that he asked. Really. But, what did bother you was the location of the vending machine. The fifth floor.

On the elevator, the repetitive melodies of the music persisted, until getting to the third floor. A man with square frame glasses was breathless, carrying a box full of unknown objects, all you could tell is that it looked heavy. Another box was at his feet, barely staying closed with flimsy tape in an attempt to seal it. 

“I lost rock paper scissors, so I’m their errand boy for the day,” he explained as you uncrossed your arms to hold the elevator open with your hand. 

You nod in understanding, still surprised that the elevator wasn’t as full as it usually was. 

“Do you need help with the other box?” You inquired, eyes drifting to the box at his feet. 

“No, no. I couldn’t bother you to do that,” he refused, kicking the box into the nearly vacant elevator. 

You again nod silently, extending your arm out to hit the button to close the doors. 

“This isn’t going to the first floor?” He asks, perplexed since he could’ve sworn he hit the button to go down.

“I mean, it will eventually. I’m going up to grab some drinks for the dance team,” You told him, still unsure of who he was.

His ears perked up, “Oh? Are you friends with any of the members?” 

“Yeah, I know almost all of the team. I’m closest to Chan!” You replied, a smile beaming at the mention of your best friend.

“Oh, I’ve interacted with Chan a couple of times. He’s such a sweet kid,” He smiles back at you, before the elevator doors open once again.

“Yeah he is! But this is my floor so I have to go fetch them drinks. Do you want anything for the performance…actually what’s your name?”

“I’m good, thank you for offering. But my name’s Wonwoo, you?” Wonwoo introduces himself.

“Y/N. See you in a bit, Wonwoo,” you wave at him, removing your foot from the elevator’s threshold.

“You DMed the ice prince, Jeon Wonwoo?” Chan squealed, drawing attention to the two of you near the busy coffee cart. You hurriedly shushed your friend, shoving his croissant sandwich in his mouth as he still looked at you in bewilderment. 

“What is up with that old-fashioned nickname? Are we in a drama or something? And it’s not that big of a deal,” You shrugged, attempting to move on from what you had accidentally let slip. 

“I mean, but why? What does Y/N L/N have to say to Jeon Wonwoo?” 

“Well, after I bumped into him he seemed like an interesting character. What do I have to lose by asking him out to dinner?” 

“Dinner? Y/N, that’s like the mealtime for dates!” Chan exclaimed, not even attempting to hide his excitement at his best friend potentially going out with one of the school’s most popular guys.

“Who says?”

“Literally him. He said that one time when we were giving Soonyoung advice for how to ask out Soohyuk.”

“Shit,” you sighed. 

“That’s what I thought,” Chan triumphantly replies.

You shake your head to his response, “No not that, I just spilled my smoothie on the table,” you explained, reaching for napkins to wipe up the mess. 

“You’re really not affected by this?”

“If he sees it as a date, then it’s a date. I don’t really have any objections to going out with him,” you shrug, relaxing in the seat across from your best friend once again. As if Wonwoo could sense your conversation, your phone vibrated alerting you of a notification. You looked at it, momentarily forgetting you were in the presence of your overbearing best friend.

“It’s him, isn’t it? Let me see!” Chan giggles, nearly snatching your phone from your hand.

“It probably isn’t,” You groan, finally looking at your screen to reveal it was indeed, Jeon Wonwoo.

I would love to catch dinner, but I’m sorry I’m busy after my classes.

Well, he was called the ice prince for a reason. You quickly started messaging him back, fully aware of Chan’s presence in front of you.

Don’t worry about it, I know I asked super late notice!

“Well?” Chan asked, eyes full of curiosity.

“He’s busy,” You shrug.

Chan’s excited self visibly deflates as he goes to throw away the box that his sandwich was in.

Class was going like usual with Chan dozing on your shoulder with his hood on over his head. 

This professor must have a supernatural ability to suck all the fun out of learning. It’s scary that this was the same Chan trying to steal your phone not even an hour ago. 

“We will continue our analysis of this reading on Friday, enjoy the rest of your day,” Your professor concludes class, signaling for students to pack up their things. It was evident every single student wanted to escape the lecture hall as soon as possible. 

“Chan, wake up,” You groan, pushing his head off of your shoulder.

“Mm, five more minutes,” He whined, attempting to lean his head on your shoulder again.

“Go sleep in your bed, dumbass,” You scolded, pushing him away from you as you got up to pack up your things. 

“You hate me, don’t you?” 

You roll your eyes at Chan’s go-to rhetorical question, “Not going to work today, Chan. Make sure you get home safe though, yeah?”

He sleepily nods, waving you goodbye. You hoisted up your backpack, starting to head out of the lecture hall. Chan liked sitting in the back, a prime place for his naps, but you regretted it every time class ended. Not only did it take way longer to leave since the only exits were at the end of the stairs, but you always had to somehow avoid confrontation with your ex, Joshua. He was the TA for this course, an issue that usually didn’t bother you, but since Chan had overslept more students had already cleared out. You were almost at the end of the stairs, dreading your impending interaction with Joshua. To your surprise, as you glanced at Joshua’s usual spot, he wasn’t there. 

Instead, Jeon Wonwoo was? Was he in this class the whole time? Why was he in Joshua’s spot? Before you could ask him, he stood up and started making his way over to you.

“Hey, I know I said I was busy, but could you help me out tonight?” He asks, making you raise your eyebrows at his genuine request.

“Depends, but why are you in Joshua’s spot?” You responded, needing to satiate your curiosity. 

“Oh, he’s sick and I’m the preceptor for the next class so I said I could just come an hour earlier and fill in his spot,” He started to explain, his eyes asking you to make him elaborate on what he needed help with.

You noted the urgency of his body language, making you smile at how his nickname did not suit him at all. “Why do you need my help?” 

He starts twiddling his fingers, looking down at them. He's so cute.

“Well there's this banquet tonight and um, I told my friends I had a date so they couldn't use my plus one, because I couldn't pick just one friend,” He looks back up at you and you nod to confirm you're still following his story.

“And, well, they somehow asked around to all get added as plus ones by other people invited. So, um, I was wondering if you could pretend to be my partner? Just for the night!”

“What’s in it for me?” 

He was clearly flustered at your question, not expecting his proposal to make it this far.

“Um...free catered food?”

“Good enough, I was just going to grab cafeteria food tonight anyways,” You grab one of his hands to stop him from fidgeting and shake his hand, “We have a deal then.”

You walk away from him with a smile on your face. Even if it was fake, the upcoming date excited you.

“You're wearing that?” Minghao, your roommate, judges you as you showed him your outfit for the night.

“What's wrong with it?” You frown, you thought it was a cute business casual outfit.

“Y/N, this banquet is for the students handpicked by our school's president and elite alumni. You need to be more formal with your outfit,” Minghao calmly explains, getting up from your couch to make an outfit from your closet himself.

The bell rang, indicating Wonwoo was at the complex's entrance. You hit the button to talk to him, “Come on up, I'm almost done!”

You desperately look at your roommate, “He said he was going to be here at 6, this is too early!”

“Y/N, the clock...” Minghao trails off, making you look at the time to see it was five minutes after 6.

You sped back into your bedroom, throwing on the outfit that Minghao put together. Having a fashion design major roommate came in handy at times.

Wonwoo was awkwardly waiting on the couch sitting next to Minghao. He knew Minghao and Chan were on the dance team with Soonyoung, but Minghao intimidated him too much to ever approach him. After a few more seconds of unbearable silence, he decided to get up from the couch and head towards the door.

“You know, I can just wait for Y/N outside,” He tries to flee, only for you to open your bedroom door, perfectly ready for the night ahead of you.

“Sorry it took so long, but let's head out! Minghao stop intimidating him,” You scold, grabbing your keys and heading out of the apartment with Wonwoo.

“You look so…” You begin, approaching Wonwoo who was clearly zoning out. You had excused yourself a little while after arriving, noticing a professor that had been avoiding your emails.

“Hot?” He answers almost immediately. 

“...bored.” You raise your eyebrows at his attempt to finish your sentence. “Now, Jeon Wonwoo, I know you’re the ice prince and all but have you really let that get to your head?” 

His face turns pale realizing you were the one talking to him. “Oh, it’s just- I thought- most people comment on my looks so I thought you were going to as well and I just..um yeah,” He mentally beats himself up for the way he was acting, what happened to his cool facade when he was with you? 

“So, it has gotten to your head?” You nod, teasing him more. 

“No! I-” 

He’s interrupted by your laughter, turning his head to see you cracking up at his reaction.

“Loosen up a bit Wonwoo. I won’t bite,” You manage to say in between laughter, handing him a glass of champagne. 

He smiles at you, grabbing the glass of champagne before silently taking a sip. Did you call him the ice prince or did he mishear you? “Wait, how do you know my nickname?” 

“Chan told me, although I have to admit it really doesn't suit you.”

“Why's that?”

“Well, you're nothing like ice. If anything, you melt people's hearts,” You say, mentally beating yourself up at what you randomly just spewed. He melts people's hearts?

Wonwoo could feel his ears turning hot at the unexpected compliment, but couldn't miss out on the opportunity to tease you back.

“I melt people's hearts, huh?” He grins.

“I know, not my best work. I cringed as soon as it came out of my mouth,” You agree, but your conversation is cut short by a trio of guys walking towards you.

“Shit, my friends are coming over,” He tells you through the gritted teeth of his artificial smile.

“So, this is your hidden partner? You weren't making them up after all Wonwoo!” One of them cries, resembling a puppy with his excited demeanor. He resembles Chan.

“Come on, leave the poor guy alone Mingyu,” Another friend chimes in. “I'm Choi Seungcheol, it's nice to meet you...?”

“Y/N L/N. It's nice to meet all of you as well! Wonwoo has talked about you all before, especially Jihoon!” You point at the shortest friend of the group, thankful Wonwoo had texted you with a rundown of his friends with photos that would be at the banquet earlier.

“What did he say about me? Hopefully nothing bad,” Jihoon speaks up.

“No, nothing bad! Just that he likes having a friend around who has similar energy to himself,” You make up, praying that Jihoon really was similar to Wonwoo. You looked at Wonwoo for approval of what you said, to which he softly smiled back at you. Does this mean you were right in your deductions?

“That does make sense! They're both super reserved,” Seungcheol replies, confirming you were spot-on.

“Enough talk about Jihoon, Y/N, what made you melt our ice prince's heart?” Mingyu pries, shifting the attention back to you and Wonwoo.

You look at Wonwoo, his eyes briefly meeting yours as you both recall the cringy line you used earlier. The odds of Mingyu saying the exact same thing made you both giggle, making his friends confused at the cause of shared laughter.

"Sorry, it just made us think about a conversation we had earlier. I'm not sure what made me melt his heart, but I know that I liked him first. We met by riding the same elevator and he seemed so stressed, but didn't want to bother anyone else. His quietness also made me want to know him more, so I asked him out," You summarize, trying your best to play the part of Wonwoo's loving partner.

Seungcheol, Jihoon, and Mingyu especially Mingyu had been doubtful when Wonwoo announced he had a partner, but seeing you with him made their doubts wash away. The way Wonwoo looked at you, it was clear that he cared for you.

The winter air had froze the rain from earlier to ice. The banquet had finished without a hitch, all of his friends buying that you were dating Wonwoo. Walking back to your place was more of a struggle than you imagined it to be, with him having to save you from slipping every couple of steps.

“I could say that I'm usually less clumsy but that would be a complete lie," You laugh, unaware of how he was looking at you.

“By the way, you looked amazing tonight. I mean not that you don't always look amazing, but I missed the timing to tell you earlier,” Wonwoo hesitantly compliments you.

“Thank you, Wonwoo. You look criminally attractive right now as well,” You mumble, becoming shy from the unexpected compliment as well.

You turn towards him after he hadn't said anything in a while, “Wonwoo?”

“Would you maybe stay with me in this relationship?”

“You want me to be your fake date again? I mean as long as free food is included-”

“No, Y/N. I mean I really enjoyed tonight and would you maybe go out on real date with me?”

“Oh,” You pause, “yeah, I would really like that.”

Wonwoo links his arm with yours, making you doubt that he was timid just moments ago. Your quizzical expression must've been noticeable because even in the dark of the night, Wonwoo's face could be seen gradually becoming flustered.

“This way I can keep you from slipping,” He looks away from you, too shy to maintain eye contact any longer.

“Is the ice prince shy?” You grin, teasing him once again. It was impossible to refrain from teasing Wonwoo when he it was so easy to make him blush.

“I can't help it when I'm with you, Y/N-” He turns to you, only to be met with the sensation of your lips on his. He reciprocates the kiss, deepening it by supporting the back of your head with one of his hands and the other hand around your waist. You stay like this for a while, unaware of how much tension there was between the two of you. Soon enough though, you were at the doorstep of your apartment complex.

“You said I melt people's hearts, I didn't know that you were included in the people. And I definitely didn't expect you to melt my heart,”

“You're so corny. Goodnight, Wonwoo,” You wave.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” He waves at you from the bottom of the icy steps. You smile one last time at each other, closing the door as you watched him put his hands in his pockets and walk back towards campus. You hummed out of excitement back to your apartment.

The ice prince wasn't as cold as the rumors made him out to be.

#caratwritersclub #kpopccc #k-vanity #kcupid #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonu #jeon wonu #seventeen #svt #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fluff #svt x reader #kmgkmgoriginal #was this semi based off an interaction i had w a classmate? yes.

[courtforshort15]

Under My Skin

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word count: 2,700

Summary: You're extremely late for work, and your boyfriend is extremely unhelpful.

Trigger warnings: absolutely none, just the risk of possible death by the feral smirk of Matt Murdock

Masterlist

"Shit motherfucker God damnit!"

You're late, you're very late.

Matt laughs at you from his kitchen as you swear a blue streak, foul words falling from your lips like candy out of a damaged piñata. If you hadn't been rushing around his apartment like a chicken with its head cut off, you'd take the time to stomp over to him and shove your middle finger right in his face. But as it is, you don't have the time to stalk over to him and brush your hair in the mirror. You have to choose which one is more important, and right now, the only correct choice is the one that doesn't have you showing up to your 9am meeting with a rat's nest on your head.

You'll make sure to flip him off later.

"Where the fuck is my phone charger? Have you seen it?"

"Technically, I haven't seen any--"

"Save your repetitive dad joke for later or I swear to God, Matthew, I'll risk being screamed at by my boss in front of the whole damn company just so I can smack that smug grin off of your face."

The man snorts into his coffee.

"Seriously, where is it? I thought I plugged my phone in so it could charge last night. I need it so that I can at least charge it at work." With toothpaste foaming and a toothbrush now in your mouth as you rush to scrub the night's build up off of your teeth, you use one hand to frantically throw the blankets and sheets off of Matt's bed, desperately trying to find the charger.

"Where did you have it last?" He asks as he comes up behind you, a mug of coffee still in his hand. His hair is sticking up in odd angles, but you're too frantic to tease him or run your fingers through it. "Are you sure you even packed it before coming over after work last night?"

"I always have my charger on me," you grumble out around the toothbrush, the statement muddled with all the toothpaste that's still present in your mouth. You brush past him on your way into the bathroom, where you spit noisily into the sink. You gargle a large sip of mouth wash, hoping to make up for the short brushing period. Not a great start to the day, but it would have to do.

Matt "bloodhound" Murdock can suck a giant dick if he mentions anything about your breath.

"You should really get a new phone," he tells you as he begins making his bed, apparently having had no luck finding your charger. You eye the abandoned cup of coffee he's placed on his dresser longingly. "Your battery dies too fast."

"My battery is fine," you object tersley. "Or at least, it usually is. It lasts a decent amount of time."

"Right," he drawls sarcasticly. He places his hands on his hips, raising his eyebrows as he focuses in your direction. "That's why your phone died overnight when you weren't even using it."

"Shut up." You're yanking your black slacks up over your ass now, and you growl as the zipper catches. You fumble with it for a second, hands shaking in a steadily rising panic, before it finally breaks free, but not without popping a thread.

Fuck.

"I'm just saying, you wouldn't be rushing like this if your phone hadn't died."

"Yes, I know that, Matt," you snap. Matt raises his hands in a defensive position, and you wish you hated the self-satisfied grin on his mouth. As much as you love him, this man drives you absolutely nuts, cocky and self-assured in his ability to rile you up with little effort.

He's right about the phone though, you mentally acknowkedge with a groan. Your alarm would have gone off at the right time had it not ran out of battery.

Damn it, you hate it when he's right.

"Are you sure it's not in your purse? It's still hanging over by the door, isn't it?"

You freeze, mouth going slightly slack. You hadn't actally checked your purse, having rushed into the shower less than 30 seconds after he'd told you what time it was.  The look Matt gives you is one of astonishment as he accurately guesses the reason behind your silence.

"You mean you didn't check?" He asks incredulously, eyes wide in what looks to be disbelief. "Isn't that the first place you should have looked?" Matt tosses you your bra from the overnight bag he's already moved to the bed after picking it up from his bedroom floor for you. He exits the room to check your purse for the blasted charger.

"Don't judge me!" You call out defensively. "I haven't been able to think clearly since I got up and realized I'm gonna be horrifically late."

Snapping the bra straps over your shoulders, you walk over to your bag to pull out the shirt you planned for today. It's wrinkled, you notice with a wince. There's nothing you can do about it now, so you soak up the frustration and begin pulling it on, pushing your arms through silk sleeves.

"Sweetheart, the charger is in there," you hear him say from just outside his bedroom, and you know he was able to sense it just a few feet away from the purse in question. You bristle at his borderline condescending tone and you retaliate by laughing sarcasticly.

"Oh, thank God." You finish buttoning up your blouse. "Thanks for finally using those senses you're always bragging about, Matt."

"It doesn't always work like that," he informs you, speaking slowly as if he was talking to a child. You resist the urge to storm into the living room just so you can throw a pillow at his stupidly handsome face. "I have to focus on the right things, which is hard to do when you're screeching like a banshee at 7:30, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes, ignoring the fact that you know he's right again. The bastard.

"I'll just use my battery pack to help charge it on my way to work."

"How did you even forget about charging it last night?" Matt downright saunters back into his bedroom to begin stripping for his own shower. His shirt hits the floor and you have to force yourself to look away, acutely aware of the sudden flicker of arousal you feel just by glancing at his naked chest. The way his mouth quirks up on the left corner you tells you he's already picked up on it. "You always remember to plug it in at night."

"Yeah, well, I must have gotten distracted," you say defensively. "You came home last night and you...wait, hold on."

"Yes...?" Matt's face is one of slight puzzlement, fingers pausing as he moves to remove his boxers. Your head snaps up as your eyes narrow, struck with a sudden realization.

"I was waiting up for you on the couch, and then you came home and I must have forgotten to charge my phone when you...when you-"

"I what?"

"When you demanded I take my clothes off and then dragged me to your bed!"

Matt gapes at you in surprise, as if he's forgotten having his way with you last night, fast and rough and hard. Repeatedly. The look of shock lasts only for a second before it morphs into something heated and downright sinful instead. "Whoops."

His reaction and utter lack of repentance fuels the fire.

"It's all your fault!" You hiss at him, finger pointed in accusation. "I forgot to plug in my phone because you came home and apparently needed to fuck me right. that. second!"

"As I now recall, you didn't exactly have a problem with it."

You screech in frustration, doing your best to avoid tearing your soaking hair out of your scalp as you turn on your heel to make your way to where your purse is hanging on his coat rack. "I'm never letting you touch me again."

"Sweetheart, don't be rash." The smugness in his voice is still present even as he chases after you. "It won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't, because I'm going to be celibate from now on."

"Sweetheart--"

"Celibate, Matt!"

You finish slipping your heels on, cringing as your feet start aching almost instantly, the arch throbbing and yesterday's blisters already chaffing. It's going to be a long day, and it's barely even 8am.

Matt wipes a large palm down his face, trying to hide his grin and utterly failing as you walk around him to grab your phone off of the kitchen table where you'd mistakenly left it last night. You shove the offending item into your purse with a glare.

"Let me make it up to you tonight?"

"Why, so I can wake up with a dead phone again?"

Matt huffs out a laugh. "I promise I'll help you plug it in myself. I'll even be nice and pick you up a new phone charger so you always have one on your side of the bed and don't have to worry about grabbing it out of your bag every night."

You groan. Despite the frustration of the morning, nothing sounds better than sleeping next to him again tonight on what he's affectionately labeled as your side of the bed.

But he doesn't need to know that.

"Even if I wanted to, which I don't because boyfriends who are capable of sex marathons at 2am are horrible for my career, I have to go home tonight."

"Can I persuade you otherwise?" This man has the most unreal set up puppy dog eyes you have ever seen, despite being unable to see how effective they are, and you hate him for it. His hands settle on your hips and they tugs you in gently, a sharp contrast from the restless energy thats been filling the apartment for the last twenty minutes, your bickering loud and unapologetic.

"No, Matt." He adds in the well-practiced lip quiver and you almost give in. Seriously, who taught him these things? "I have absolutely no clean clothes left. I'm not even wearing any underwear because I ran out of clean ones here."

"Oh, I'm fully aware you're not wearing any." His grin is downright salacious as his sightless eyes land somewhere around your lower abdomen. He licks his lips for good measure, assuring you of what exactly is going through his mind.

"Stop it!" You shove him, but he dosen't move an inch. "You can't have thoughts like that while I'm trying to rush out the door. It's not fair."

Matt lets go and grins as he walks over to the kitchen counter to pour coffee into your travel mug. You follow him in desperate need of the caffeine, and he places it in your awaiting hands once it's full. "You know...I might have a suggestion that could possibly help your underwear problem."

You hurriedly add creamer and then take a large sip, wincing as it burns on the way down. "If your suggestion is that I go without underwear every day, I will walk out that door and not come back."

"I was actually thinking that you could just move in with me and keep all of your panties here."

Coffee is spat on to the floor as you find yourself choking, eyes widening drastically. You thump your hand against your chest as you wheeze, still coughing as you stare at him in mild alarm.  "Did you...did you just..."

"Did I just ask you to move in?" Matt smirks at you, leaning unconcernedly against the counter, still in his silk boxers. "Yeah, yeah I did."

Your mouth is gaping like a goddamn fish. You wipe your chin off with the back of your hand, staring at him in disbelief. "And you think now was the best time to bring it up?"

He shrugs. "Seemed relevant, so yeah. I'd say so."

"Matt," you whine. You resist the urge to stomp your foot like a toddler. "You can't...You can't just ask that when I'm about to leave."

The smirk is still on his ridiculously handsome face. "And yet, I did."

"I don't have time to talk about this right now, I'm already so late," you say, regret seeping into your voice, hoping to convey that it's not a rejection, just a matter of the morning's poor timing.

Sometimes you think he lives for catching you off guard.

Your face is burning as you move to bend down with a paper towel to wipe up the coffee you'd spat on the ground. Matt waves your hand away, indicating that he'll clean it in a minute.

"We don't have to talk about it now," he tells you, and his voice is suddenly lacking the teasing edge it had a moment earlier as he takes the paper towels from your hand. He's still smiling, but it's softer now, less flirtatious, less merciless in his desire to continue riling you up. "Just...think about it."

Shaking your head, you reluctantly back away, closing the lid on your travel mug. You're at a loss for words. The mad rush of the morning has left you, replaced by a different type of buzzing that's resonating in your head, caused by the unexpected suggestion he's just thrown at you.

Still reeling, and still struggling with the one thousand thoughts running through your head, you make your way back to the hallway leading to his front door and crack it open slighty. You watch your hands tremble briefly before pausing to turn around. 

He's followed you, unsurprisingly, and he's now leaning against the wall to the right of the door, using his shoulder to brace himself as he crosses his arms. His chest is bare, and he's still only wearing boxers, much to your amusement and rapidly increasing hunger. The sight sends a shiver of lust down your spine without shame.

God, this man.

Even knowing that your boss will absolutely murder you in your sleep, you risk being late just so you can look at him for a minute before you go. He usually walks you to the faded exit of his apartment when you head to work, but this time it's different as you're suddenly hit with the realization that you've never found it so hard to leave.

"Matt," you say, swaying gently into him, and he places a hand on your waist as if to steady you. You can tell he's aware that the air around the two of you has suddenly shifted into something calmer, something more meaningful than your early morning bickering. The rapid fire of panic at the possibly to being late to work shifts into the flame of desire and want and love you feel for this man.

He leans into you instinctively, as he always does.

Sighing fondly, you reach up to place your hand on his cheek, and he immediately nuzzles into it. You take a small step forward and tip your chin up to kiss him, a faint gasp leaving you as his lips press more insistenly against yours than you had planned for. Despite the heat, it's a quick kiss, and you take your mouth away from his after only a moment, his quiet groan going straight down your spine.

You're unable to stop the smile spreading across your face as you whisper the next part. "You already know my answer is yes."

The smile he gives you is so blinding, you can't help but laugh in response. He moves to kiss you again, reaching out to pull you into him, but you deftly take a step to the side, effectively wiggling away. You know if you start now, you'll never stop, and you'll never be able to pull away from him, meeting be damned.

Besides, the man deserves to be teased after fucking you into submission last night and leaving you unable think and unable to move; the two factors absolutely necessary to plug in your goddamn phone.

All things considered, you'd still let him do it again in a heartbeat. You'll never tell him that, though; the man is already egotistical enough when it comes to his skills in bed. And on the couch. And in the shower. And on the kitchen table.

"Seeing as how you asked me at the worst possible moment, and I have a meeting that I cannot miss, you'll have to wait until tonight to celebrate," you tell him cheekily, already backing out into the hallway. You can tell by the look on his face that it's taking every ounce of his self-control not to pull you back in anyway. "I'll see you after work, and after I pick up more clothes from my apartment."

The smirk is back. "Will you still be without underwear?"

"I'm sure I could make that arrangement."

"Perfect."

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x fem reader #matt murdock x fem reader

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Welcome to the HOT JANE AUSTEN MEN bracket! We have just finished voting on all the HOTTEST Jane Austen Gentlemen and Rakes from all the many TV and Film Jane Austen Adaptations.

After nearly two months of voting we have our Winner! Thank you everyone for taking part and all your propaganda I will be taking a little break for a while but look out for more polls in the future...

All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds,mini ask polls—can be found in the #hotjaneaustenmenpoll tag. Every poll in the Hot Jane Austen Men Tournament is tagged with the hot regency man and the year his adaptation was made if you need to search for a hot man in particular.

FAQs:

“Where is [my favorite Jane Austen man]?” Have you checked all the polls in the tag? Have you done a tag search for him? Only some of the actors are tagged but if you search for his adaptation and the year he was in it you should find him! If you still haven’t found him, he probably isn't in this poll.

“WHERE ARE THE HOT JANE AUSTEN MEN. I want to see all the hot men competing in one place! -

The Final

Third Place Poll

Semi-Finals Master List!

Quarter-Finals Master List!

Round Three Master List!

Round Two Master List!

Round One Master List!

“Who is included on this list?” We started with 64 opponents readied their duelling pistols to defend their own hotness but only 8 remain! I included men from Pride and Prejudice 1940/1995/2005, Sense and Sensibility 1971/1995/2008, Emma 1996/1996/2009/2020, Northanger Abbey 2007, Persuasion 1995/2007/2022 and Mansfield Park 1983/ 1999/2007 as well as a couple from Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, one from Sanditon and one from Love and Friendship/Lady Susan. Most are the main hero/anti-heroes but there are a few others scattered in too.

Have you included Spin Offs ?”  The only strictly none Jane Austen adaptation I've included men from is Pride and Prejudice and Zombies because it is set in the correct time period, the characters are basically the same in terms of personality and I thought the casting was great! In terms of Sandition, Sidney Parker is the only man I have entered as he is mentioned in the book as well as the TV so sadly as much as I love the other Sanditon Men they aren't included!

"Can I submit hot Jane Austen men?”  Submissions are now closed! But my ask is still open for propaganda...

“I have additional propaganda for the hot men!” Great! Send me an ask, tag me in gifsets, fancams etc or reblog the poll and add your propaganda to it. Also feel free to send in any book propaganda!! I'll try to boost as much propaganda as possible

WHy is the propaganda so uneven on this poll? To stay impartial I only add propaganda to the main poll that has been sent in before each round's polls open. If you submit any after then I will reblog or post and add to the winner's propaganda in the next poll. If it's uneven it's because you never sent any in, not because I'm being biased.

"How have you paired up the men ?" I did start to try and vaguely seed the men but I will be honest I did get a bit slap dash towards the end which means a couple of the match-ups are maybe a bit too even but fun I hope!

If you’re submitting propaganda for your hot man, I don’t accept propaganda that is of the actor outside of their Specific Jane Austen Adaptation but I do accept propaganda from them in their respective books. I would love to be tagged in gifsets and fancams, and I'd like to boost propaganda that tells us why your Jane Austen man is your favourite :)

I won’t post or boost negative propaganda. If you really hate that a certain hot man is winning, send me positive propaganda for their hot opponent. I may make exceptions if your propaganda is of another Austen character bad mouthing him though...

If I see repetitive, trolling, and/or bigoted remarks in the comments, I may block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a hot man’s flaws or misdemeanors, that’s fine, but if I see consistent bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked.

On that note—if you have an issue with a poll, offer a solution! I'll do my best to keep the poll happy and fun, and I'll block people being dicks. If you don’t like a poll photo or a description, offer one I can use instead.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I'd love to hear from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the tournament.

And Thank You @hotvintagepoll for the inspiration!

#hotjaneaustenmenpoll #jane austen #pride and prejudice #sense and sensibility #persuasion #emma #northanger abbey #mansfield park

[wolfjackle-creates]

I'll Carry Your Heart with Me (Until I Find You Again): Part 2

This time we switch to Danny's POV. 2.4k words long.

There's been a bit of a time skip and their friendship has only grown with time.

First

---------

“Mr. Fenton!” and a smack on his desk caused Danny to jump. He hadn’t even realized he’d been staring out the window.

“Sorry, Mr. Lancer. Did you ask something?”

“Your grades may have improved over these last few months, but that does not give you leave to daydream in my class. I expect you to pay attention. Now, why don’t you explain what the repetition of ‘Brutus in an honorable man’ in Marc Antony’s soliloquy at Caesar’s funeral means.”

Jason had done such a good job reading that speech that Danny actually thought he could repeat it from memory. “Oh, it’s done sarcastically. To indicate he’s anything but.”

“Hmm. Very good. I hope you can keep up this new studious attitude of yours.”

Danny’s leg bounced as the rest of the class seemed to pass so slowly. As soon as he got home, he wanted to visit Jason again. His friend’s tutelage had helped not only his grades but also his fights. Who knew formal training could have such an affect? Well, he needed to pay him back.

It took all of Danny’s focus to not let his eyes drift out the window again, but he barely heard a word Mr. Lancer said as class dragged on.

And finally the bell rang, signaling the end of the day.

Danny shoved his binder in his backpack and rushed out the door without even waiting for Sam and Tucker.

He was moving as fast as possible without actually running in the halls to switch things out in his locker. It was there Sam and Tucker caught up to him.

“What’s got you in such a rush today?” asked Sam.

Danny flushed. “I’m meeting Jason today. Taking him to Ghost Writer’s lair. He’ll love the library and Ghost Writer said it’d be okay so long as I don’t so much as touch a single piece of paper or even breathe too hard on anything.”

“Dude, how’d you get him to agree to that? Ghost Writer hates you!”

Not wanting to admit how long he’d spent groveling, Danny shrugged. “I apologized to him and emphasized how much Jason loved books and writing.”

“Woah, the Danny Fenton apologized to someone? Is the world ending?”

“Shut up, Sam. I’m not that bad.”

“You kinda are, dude,” commented Tucker.

“Pot, meet kettle.” Sam flicked the back of both their heads.

“Now that pick-on-Danny time is over, I need to go!”

Tucker grinned and said, “We want all the details on your date soon as you get back!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Danny waved them off as he half-jogged out of the building. He pulled out his phone to text Jazz.

Danny: Did you get mom and dad out of the house? Jazz: Yep. Jazz: They’re coming to the school for a parent-teacher conference Danny: Thanks! Danny: You’re a life saver! Jazz: Have fun on your date Danny: How many times do I have to tell you! Danny: Not. A. Date.

Running was too slow. Danny ducked out of sight of the road and let the coolness of his transformation wash over him before flying home. So much faster.

And sure enough, when he reached home, the GAV was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh of relief, he phased through the walls right to the lab and through the portal. Even in the ever changing realms, Danny knew the path to Jason’s lair by heart; it’s location shone like a beacon in his awareness.

Something must have been on his side, because he was approaching the island within a few minutes of passing through the portal. From his core, he sent out a greeting. A moment later, he got a return pulse from Jason followed by the ghost himself.

“Jay!” Danny trilled a greeting.

“Hey there, human-boy. Ready to have your ass kicked?” Jason grinned and tossed an ectoblast his way.

Danny laughed and blocked it with ice. “I’ve got a different idea, actually. What would you say to me introducing you to another ghost? I got permission to take you to his lair and you’ll absolutely love it. He may be a bigger book nerd than you.”

Jason hesitated and looked over his shoulder at his lair.

But Danny had anticipated that. Jay was still a young ghost and obviously hesitant to leave his lair. He gave a loud whistle. “Don’t worry so much, a friend of mine will be able to look after your lair for you.”

Before Jason could even ask what he meant, excited barking just barely preceded Cujo jumping onto Danny’s chest and licking his face.

Laughing, Danny asked in baby-talk. “Who’s a good boy, who’s a good boy!” Cujo barked at him.

He’d never introduced Jay to Cujo before and Jay was watching them with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“Not my dog, he chose me. But he can protect your lair. Right, Cujo? You’ll protect Jason’s lair? And come get us if something happens you can’t fight off?” Cujo barked and rolled over to show off his belly and Danny rubbed it roughly.

Jay laughed. “No offense, but how good a guard dog is he? He seems too friendly.”

Danny looked up and let his grin turn a bit sharper before moving a bit away from Cujo. “Oh, he’s the best. Cujo, big!” he ordered.

Cujo’s happy yaps turned to menacing growls as he grew to his large form, drool dripping from sharpened teeth.

Jason’s mouth fell open and he stared. “Wow. How common is it for ghosts to be able to change shape like that?”

“No idea. Queen Dora can transform into a dragon. And Bernard can take any shape he wants. Spectra goes from a black shadow to a human-looking middle aged woman. Each is a bit different.”

“Every time I think I get used to this place… Are you sure my lair will be safe with him?”

Cujo transformed back into a puppy and ran to Jason barking, circling him once before licking his face, too.

“Here, I’ll prove it. Cujo! What do you do if someone comes close?”

Cujo’s barking got deep again as he grew in size.

“Good boy! And what do you do if someone attacks who you can’t fight off?”

Cujo shrunk down and ran to Jason and nipped at his clothing, trying to drag him towards the island.

Jason grinned. “You are a good boy, aren’t you? Keep it safe for me? We won’t be gone too long.” Though after saying that, he did look up at Danny as if to confirm.

“You’ll wish we were staying longer when you see the place. Jazz knows where I am and can distract my parents for tonight. But I do have to get back and sleep and show my face at some point.”

“Got it.” Jason turned his back to Danny to look over his lair. “Then I think I’m good to go. Should I bring anything?”

“Nah, you’re fine just as you are. Now, come on! We don’t want to waste any time!”

Jason turned back to face him and as he did, his outfit transformed once more into his Robin uniform. His flaming hair matched the uniform perfectly. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Danny smirked. “Let’s see how well you can keep up.” Without waiting an instant more, he flew off. Not at his top speed, but still quite fast. He laughed as Jason cursed him and did his best to keep up.

The Zone must have been in a good mood today because it didn’t take them long to get to Ghost Writer’s lair. Danny paused before crossing the border and flared his aura to announce his and Jason’s approach. Jason copied the gesture a moment later.

Around them, the very air seemed to grow heavy. It felt like someone was looking right through them and examining their very souls. Next to him, Danny could sense Jason tense as he crouched into a defensive stance.

“Calm down, Jay. He’s just checking us out before letting us into his lair.” By the time he’d finished speaking, the heaviness lifted and a sense of Welcome washed over them. The door to the library swung open.

Without waiting for Jay to ask what was going on, Danny grabbed his hand and pulled him into the building where Ghost Writer was waiting just past the doorway.

“So you must be the young Jason that Danny”—his lip curled just a bit as he said Danny’s name and Danny tried not to flinch—“told me so much about. Welcome. I am Ghost Writer.”

Danny looked over to Jason to see what he thought. Jason was staring past Ghost Writer with his mouth wide open. His clothing had transformed back into his civvies and his hair was a burning white inferno on top of his head. Something must have penetrated his brain because he gave himself a little shake. His eyes met Danny’s briefly and Danny had to stifle a laugh at how wide and shocked they look.

But then he fixed his attention on Ghost Writer. “This is your lair? It is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it. How’d you get so many books?”

Danny’s once-enemy smiled at the boy. The expression looked out of place on his face. “Every book ever written ends up in my domain.”

Somehow, Jason’s mouth managed to fall open even further. “Every book? How is that possible?”

“Yes, every book. I’ll give you a tour and explain. But first, the rules for all who enter my domain. You will treat every book with care—”

“Of course!” interrupted Jason who had gone back to staring at the high ceilings and walls covered in bookshelves.

“—the instant you damage a book is the last time you will be allowed to visit,” continued Ghost Writer as if he’d never been interrupted. “You may not remove any books from my domain. Danny is not allowed to touch a book. Nor to look at any too closely nor to breathe too hard near them.”

That finally caught Jason’s attention. “What? Why not?”

“He damaged a book.”

Danny looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet Jason’s eyes. He wasn’t proud of his actions that day.

“What? Danny!” scolded Jason.

“Indeed. The only reason he is allowed back here is because he apologized profusely and begged for the chance to take you here. He indicated you have given him a new appreciation for literature which I wish to encourage to keep the rest of my collection safe. Now, follow me and I will show you how to find what you’re looking for.”

Danny tried to pay attention as Ghost Writer showed them around. He really did. But the tour took so long and they traveled through room after room after room. And these were only the books written in English!

Jason didn’t get bored, though. He continued to stare at the walls in wonder, every so often catching Danny’s eyes. Danny liked watching him. Far more interesting than learning which time period or geographical location the current shelves contained.

Finally, after what felt like ages to Danny, the returned to the first room.

“The two of you may stay for three hours. Depending on your behavior, future visits may be longer, shorter, or prohibited.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll definitely make the most of it. Your domain is beyond amazing.” Without wasting any more time on pleasantries, Jason grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled him out of the first room through a doorway.

Once they were out of sight, Jason stopped and stared at Danny. He opened and closed his mouth before swallowing as if unsure what to say. They were still holding hands.

Danny laughed self-consciously. “So, do you like it?”

Jason continued to stare at him. “I…” he started. He shook his head, but his eyes were still wide in wonder. Jason bit his lip and then lunged forward. The hand that wasn’t holding his cradled the back of his head as Jason pressed their mouths together hard.

His lips were hot, far hotter than a human’s, but before Danny could react even enough to close his eyes, Jason was pulling away. Danny tightened his grip on his hand to keep him from retreating entirely.

In fact, he took a step closer until scant inches separated them. Moving much more slowly than Jason had, he leaned forward and brushed their lips together softly. Jason twitched, but didn’t pull away, so Danny did it again. Only this time, he didn’t pull away.

Jason’s hand once more found their way to the back of his head. Danny closed his eyes as his lips parted slightly. Jay’s tongue probed, and Danny met it with his own. Deep in his chest, his core pulsed out a message affection, happiness.

Jason replied in kind. Thank you, amazing, disbelief, affection. Kissing a ghost was nothing like kissing a human. The waves of emotion made the connection so much deeper in one way. And even physically, Jason’s mouth was so much warmer than a human’s due to his fire core.

And they didn’t need to stop to breathe. That was fantastic.

However, there time here was limited, so with a pulse of disappointment, Danny pulled away. “We are definitely going to be doing that some more,” Danny said, though he sent out a non-verbal question of you want?, “But you’ve less than three hours here. Make the most of it.”

Jason’s responding pulse of yes, more made Danny grin. Verbally, he added, “Danny… This is… I… Thank you.”

“Of course.” Danny laughed as if it had been easy to set up. “Now go have fun, book nerd.”

Jason tweaked his nose, leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips, and rushed to the nearest bookshelf to see what he could find.

Danny crossed his legs and floated in a sitting position as he watched Jason take down two books and open them both as he examined what was written. “Danny! He has earlier drafts of Bleak House! This is so crazy. I wonder how much Dickens changed from his initial draft to the final printing?”

“Well, looks like now you can find out.”

“I can find out. Holy shit.” Jason sent out another wave of Thank you, affection.

The sentiment warmed Danny up just as much as their physical touch.

----------

Next

Tag list:

@echoednonny, @britcision

#dpxdc #danny fenton #jason todd #ghost writer (dp) #dead on main #first kiss! #can you tell i wrote the beginning part to this segment around the ides of march? #these boys like each other a lot #and the fluff is so much fun to write #if i end it here we can pretend things will always be just great for them

[imjustwritingsuckers]

Learning Moments

Daryl’s Daughter Daryl Dixon x Daughter!Reader 1263 Warnings/Notes: Screaming, Anger, Daryl being a dad but hes still learning

not my image

“Eat up.” Daryl says as he throws a plate of food in front of you. “I don’t like broccoli.” You cross your arms and whine. “I don’t care, you have to eat.” Daryl stands above you with his hands on his hips. “The other kids are eating just fine.” He waves his hand in their direction where they’re eating with their families. “I will eat I just don’t like broccoli.” you look up at him with a pouty face and your arms crossed. “I don’t want it.” “Fine, don’t fuckin’ eat.” Daryl throws his arms up and walks away towards the tent you two have been sharing. You watch him until he zips the door shut and you see his shadow lying down on the bed. You look back down at your food and stare for a minute before picking up your spoon and eating the funny-looking soup Daryl had heated up for you just a little earlier. You take a spoonful and chew. It was the perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. The perfect temperature and it didn’t taste too bad. You continue to eat and realize that he always makes things a good temperature and gives you the better of the things he found or hunted for that day. After a little while you finish the soup and look over at Carl sitting with his mom and dad, and the other kids sitting with their families. You watch as the other kids eat the food without complaining and they finish and go play after. Lori waves at you and you smile and wave back before quickly looking back down at your food. You pick up one of the pieces of broccoli and realize that he heated it up for you. You chew and swallow, chew and swallow. It's still nasty, and you still hate it, but you know you're not supposed to waste food.

“I ate all my food.” You say as you unzip and walk into your and Daryl’s shared tent. You get no response so you just put your plate and silverware next to the others to be cleaned tomorrow. You climb into the cot and pull your blankets up around you, hugging your stuffed animal close. “Goodnight Daryl.” you say before drifting off to sleep.

You wake up the next morning and turn over to look at Daryl’s cot. As always, he’s not there. Probably out hunting or something like that. You get up and change into your clothes for the day. You exit the tent to find Carol waiting by a tree nearby. “Hi, Carol.” You wave and give her a small smile. “Hi sweetheart, would you like to come to wash the clothes with me and the girls?” She asks me, getting up from her spot under the tree. “Sure, let me grab Daryl and I’s clothes real quick.” You say before running back into the tent to gather everything.

“Alright, let's go.” you come out a couple of minutes later with a rather large bucket full of a mix of your and Daryl’s clothes. “Alright, c’mon.” she nods her head in the direction of the rest of the camp and starts walking. “Wait, do you know where Daryl is, I should probably tell him where I’m going.” You ask while catching up with her. “I don’t know, but I’m sure it will be fine. I bet we’ll be done before he even gets back and then you can surprise him with your hard work.” She smiles down at you. “Alright.” you walk with Carol to the quarry where some of the women are already at work cleaning things.

“Carol, will you teach me how to clean this stuff, I don’t really know how?” “Of course, just do what I do.” “Ok”

You spend a good portion of the day cleaning with everyone. You realize that it’s a break from all of your normal activities, which at this point are boring and repetitive. You’ve finished cleaning all the clothes and ran back up to get the dishes. You're halfway through the dishes when you hear familiar shouting. “Y/N! What the fuck!?” you shoot up and spin to face the shouting. You see Daryl coming down the hill and he looks pissed. You stand there in shock, unsure of whether to move or not. The other women have gotten up at this point and are gathering around to see what's going on. “What the fuck are you thinking!?” He screams again and is still coming towards you at a quick speed. “Hey! What are you screaming for?” Lori steps up and runs up towards him, meeting him halfway. “Get outta my way Lori, this is between me and the kid.” “No, you have no right to scream at her.” Lori has her hands on her hips and she looks pissed too. “Lori, this is between me and my kid, if she keeps fucking disappearing we're gonna have a problem.” He points at you over her shoulder. “Now let me talk to my kid.” “Ok, so that's what this is about.” She lets out a sigh. “Daryl, I would be pissed if Carl just walked off too, but screaming at her like that is only gonna scare her.” Daryl takes a second to process what Lori has just said before you see his body relax. “Sorry, she just worries me sometimes.” “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” Lori gives him a look before stepping out of the way so he can get to you. “Listen, kid, I’m sorry for yelling, can we talk for a minute?” He kneels down on one knee so he's face to face with you. You just nod in agreement and follow him as he starts to walk back up the hill.

You make it back to his tent before either of you say a word. You sit on your cot and wait for him to say something. After a while of watching him sit on his cot and stare at the ground, he finally says something. “First off, I’m sorry for yelling.” he pauses and glances up at you. “And second, I didn't mean to scare you, I just got worried when you weren't where you were when I left this morning and you weren't doing activities with the other kids.” He finally looks back at me and holds eye contact. “I'm sorry too. I knew I should have asked I just didn’t know where you were and Carol said you were ok with it.” “Ok kid, just next time come find me or leave a note, ok?” “Ok.” you say back, agreeing with him. He holds his hand out towards you and you stare at him blankly, not knowing what he’s doing. “It’s called a handshake, kid.” he reaches out slightly farther and nods at you to do the same. You extend your arm to meet his and he gently grabs your hand and shakes it up and down before letting go. “I washed all of our clothes by the way, Carol and the others taught me how. I thought it might be of some help.” “Thanks, kid, you would have never caught me doin’ that.” he smiles at you and moves over to sit next to you on your cot. You suddenly lean over to hug him and he puts his hand on your head. “If anyone catches you huggin’ me your dead by the end of the week.” you can practically hear the smirk on his face. “Got it.” and now your smirking too.

-----

Thanks for reading! As always support your writers by not only liking but also commenting and re-bloging!

Commissions: Open

#the walking dead #twd #daryl #daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #daryl x reader #daryl x daughter

[jo-writes-fanfiction]

Learning Moments

Daryl’s Daughter Daryl Dixon x Daughter!Reader 1263 Warnings/Notes: None

not my image

“Eat up.” Daryl says as he throws a plate of food in front of you. “I don’t like broccoli.” You cross your arms and whine. “I don’t care, you have to eat.” Daryl stands above you with his hands on his hips. “The other kids are eating just fine.” He waves his hand in their direction where they’re eating with their families. “I will eat I just don’t like broccoli.” you look up at him with a pouty face and your arms crossed. “I don’t want it.” “Fine, don’t fuckin’ eat.” Daryl throws his arms up and walks away towards the tent you two have been sharing. You watch him until he zips the door shut and you see his shadow lying down on the bed. You look back down at your food and stare for a minute before picking up your spoon and eating the funny-looking soup Daryl had heated up for you just a little earlier. You take a spoonful and chew. It was the perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. The perfect temperature and it didn’t taste too bad. You continue to eat and realize that he always makes things a good temperature and gives you the better of the things he found or hunted for that day. After a little while you finish the soup and look over at Carl sitting with his mom and dad, and the other kids sitting with their families. You watch as the other kids eat the food without complaining and they finish and go play after. Lori waves at you and you smile and wave back before quickly looking back down at your food. You pick up one of the pieces of broccoli and realize that he heated it up for you. You chew and swallow, chew and swallow. It's still nasty, and you still hate it, but you know you're not supposed to waste food.

“I ate all my food.” You say as you unzip and walk into your and Daryl’s shared tent. You get no response so you just put your plate and silverware next to the others to be cleaned tomorrow. You climb into the cot and pull your blankets up around you, hugging your stuffed animal close. “Goodnight Daryl.” you say before drifting off to sleep.

You wake up the next morning and turn over to look at Daryl’s cot. As always, he’s not there. Probably out hunting or something like that. You get up and change into your clothes for the day. You exit the tent to find Carol waiting by a tree nearby. “Hi, Carol.” You wave and give her a small smile. “Hi sweetheart, would you like to come to wash the clothes with me and the girls?” She asks me, getting up from her spot under the tree. “Sure, let me grab Daryl and I’s clothes real quick.” You say before running back into the tent to gather everything.

“Alright, let's go.” you come out a couple of minutes later with a rather large bucket full of a mix of your and Daryl’s clothes. “Alright, c’mon.” she nods her head in the direction of the rest of the camp and starts walking. “Wait, do you know where Daryl is, I should probably tell him where I’m going.” You ask while catching up with her. “I don’t know, but I’m sure it will be fine. I bet we’ll be done before he even gets back and then you can surprise him with your hard work.” She smiles down at you. “Alright.” you walk with Carol to the quarry where some of the women are already at work cleaning things.

“Carol, will you teach me how to clean this stuff, I don’t really know how?” “Of course, just do what I do.” “Ok”

You spend a good portion of the day cleaning with everyone. You realize that it’s a break from all of your normal activities, which at this point are boring and repetitive. You’ve finished cleaning all the clothes and ran back up to get the dishes. You're halfway through the dishes when you hear familiar shouting. “Y/N! What the fuck!?” you shoot up and spin to face the shouting. You see Daryl coming down the hill and he looks pissed. You stand there in shock, unsure of whether to move or not. The other women have gotten up at this point and are gathering around to see what's going on. “What the fuck are you thinking!?” He screams again and is still coming towards you at a quick speed. “Hey! What are you screaming for?” Lori steps up and runs up towards him, meeting him halfway. “Get outta my way Lori, this is between me and the kid.” “No, you have no right to scream at her.” Lori has her hands on her hips and she looks pissed too. “Lori, this is between me and my kid, if she keeps fucking disappearing we're gonna have a problem.” He points at you over her shoulder. “Now let me talk to my kid.” “Ok, so that's what this is about.” She lets out a sigh. “Daryl, I would be pissed if Carl just walked off too, but screaming at her like that is only gonna scare her.” Daryl takes a second to process what Lori has just said before you see his body relax. “Sorry, she just worries me sometimes.” “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” Lori gives him a look before stepping out of the way so he can get to you. “Listen, kid, I’m sorry for yelling, can we talk for a minute?” He kneels down on one knee so he's face to face with you. You just nod in agreement and follow him as he starts to walk back up the hill.

You make it back to his tent before either of you say a word. You sit on your cot and wait for him to say something. After a while of watching him sit on his cot and stare at the ground, he finally says something. “First off, I’m sorry for yelling.” he pauses and glances up at you. “And second, I didn't mean to scare you, I just got worried when you weren't where you were when I left this morning and you weren't doing activities with the other kids.” He finally looks back at me and holds eye contact. “I'm sorry too. I knew I should have asked I just didn’t know where you were and Carol said you were ok with it.” “Ok kid, just next time come find me or leave a note, ok?” “Ok.” you say back, agreeing with him. He holds his hand out towards you and you stare at him blankly, not knowing what he’s doing. “It’s called a handshake, kid.” he reaches out slightly farther and nods at you to do the same. You extend your arm to meet his and he gently grabs your hand and shakes it up and down before letting go. “I washed all of our clothes by the way, Carol and the others taught me how. I thought it might be of some help.” “Thanks, kid, you would have never caught me doin’ that.” he smiles at you and moves over to sit next to you on your cot. You suddenly lean over to hug him and he puts his hand on your head. “If anyone catches you huggin’ me your dead by the end of the week.” you can practically hear the smirk on his face. “Got it.” and now your smirking too.

-----

Thanks for reading! As always support your writers by not only liking but also commenting and re-bloging!

Commissions: Open

#fanfic #daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x daughter #daryl dixion x daughter #jowrites

[sincerelyourswhistledown]

Lucerys doesn’t remember much of the outside world.

There are faint memories, flashes of silver streaks and high pitched giggles. A faceless brown haired boy with a hand always held out for him to take. Lucerys remembers feeling warm, a lightness to his otherwise empty chest as he chases the high of his dreams.

Aemond tells him it’s his overactive imagination. That the outside world wasn’t good, that their childhood was nothing but pain and despair. That’s probably why he never lets Lucerys out of the house.

Every morning Aemond leaves him with a peck on the lips and a promise of return. During that time Lucerys is left alone to his devices, cleaning the house and playing with his kitten, Jace. Never mind that Aemond absolutely hates the cat, he’s not the one stuck at home bored out of his mind. At exactly five in the afternoon, Aemond comes home and Lucerys is there to welcome him. With open arms and a hearty dinner.

It’s repetitive but it’s all Lucerys has ever known. All he’s ever remembered since the accident. Aemond doesn’t like talking about the accident. Whenever Lucerys tries to ask about it his lover’s expression becomes unreadable and he’d have to deal with a brooding Aemond for the rest of the day. Sometimes, when Lucerys pushes too much he wouldn’t see Aemond until the next morning. The idea of cheating had never crossed Lucerys’ mind, usually by then he’d been too inconsolable. His separation anxiety turning him into a sobbing mess and only Aemond’s warm arms and comforting hum could make him stop.

There was one time when Lucerys had managed to summon the courage, he’d asked Aemond where he went to every Friday. And why he came home so late. He didn’t expect much, in fact he’d expected it to get ignored. The same way all of his questions about the outside world was. Much to his surprise, Aemond had stared into Lucerys’ face with an expression that was absolutely devastated.

‘To a dear nephew.’ He confessed. That night Aemond had told him about a beloved nephew who had been in the same accident as Lucerys, except unlike him the boy never woke up. He’d explained what the doctors had said, that he may never wake up ever again. Forever caged to his hospital bed and connected to wires. After that night, after seeing the devastation and despair in his beloved’s face Lucerys never asked again. He didn’t like seeing Aemond like that.

“My Aemond is so handsome,”Lucerys teased, tying his lover’s tie with expert fingers. “It almost makes me want to tie you to our bed and keep you here forever.”

The older man chuckled, his sapphire eye glinting in the morning light. With his long arms he encircled them around Lucerys’ waist and pulled him closer. “Promises, promises.”

Lucerys eagerly accepted his kisses, basking in the affection before his beloved once again left him for the day. It almost made him want to pout and charm his way into keeping Aemond home today, it’s not like he hasn’t done it before. It usually took some effort and the man was nothing short of disciplined but with enough kisses and suggestive petting, he’d find himself back in bed and a playful Aemond on top of him.

Breaking away from the kiss, Lucerys rested his forehead on Aemond’s and sighed. “Are you sure you have to go to work today?”

The pale blond almost looked apologetic, giving him another peck on the lips. “I’m afraid this meeting is impossible to reschedule, my dragon.”

Although unsurprising, Lucerys found himself grumbling as he begrudgingly untangled himself from the older man. He could do nothing but pout as he went back to straightening his beloved’s crumpled suit, determine to keep Aemond looking sharp and put together no matter how much he wanted to tear the suit off and not fix it. “What do geneticists even talk about in meetings? Don’t you guys just stare at microscopes and petri dishes all day?”

Aemond let out an amused huff, shaking his head at the younger boy’s adorable grumpiness. “Silly taoba, do you really want me to stay that much?”

Lucerys stayed quiet, stubbornly refusing to meet his eye. If Aemond didn’t want to stay with him today then he wasn’t going to force him. He wasn’t some dumb doll created solely to rely on Aemond and fawn for his attention. He had more pride than that, thank you very much.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Aemond grin in amusement. A gentle hand on his chin coaxed him to look up and Lucerys once again found himself staring at the breathtaking view of his love’s pale lilac eye and the blue sapphire.

“Don’t worry my love. Once I finally prove to them that human cloning is impossible then I can finally shut this research down. That means more time for you and me.” Aemond cooed, bringing the younger boy back into his arms.

“Promise?”Lucerys asked, his voice tiny but hopeful.

“I promise.” Lucerys beamed at his lover’s quick response, feeling warm all over.

“Besides,”Lucerys feels more than hears Aemond’s voice from where he’s pressed his cheek on the taller man’s chest, “Human cloning should be left as it is. Who knows what kind of crazy things sick fucks would do if it was possible.”

Lucerys hums along in agreement.

#lucemond #aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #hotd #aemond targaryen x lucerys velaryon #aemond x lucerys #if you don’t get this short Drabble #it’s basically aemond cloning lucerys #the accident aemond talks about is the same accident where aemond chases Luke’s car with his own and Luke ends up in an accident #the original Lucerys is in a hospital and in a coma #at this point the doctors are unsure if he’d even wake up #he’s like two inches from being brain dead really #with this news Aemond spirals into madness #and he basically clones his own healthy Lucerys to keep him sane #this is why Lucerys never gets out bc if any of the family finds out then it’s the coo coo ward for aemond #I’m sorry but I feel so bad for clone Lucerys #he doesn’t even know he’s a clone #someone free clone Lucerys !! #also I’m making it canon in this universe that should the doctors officially declare original Lucerys as brain dead #then aemond would 100% kidnap his body so that no one can pull the plug on original comatose lucerys #don’t mind aemond it’s just him his lover clone Lucerys and comatose Lucerys chilling #if anyone wants to expand this universe please do #idk Aemond just gives me STEM kid vibes #please don’t ask me to get into the scientific details #I’m an accounting major pretending to understand science #also Lucerys’ brother worship for jacaerys definitely passes on to clone lucerys #clone Lucerys basically has all of original Lucerys’ memories but it’s muddled and difficult to understand

[marley-manson]

My main takeaway of Fade Out, Fade In is that Hawkeye is extremely chill and secure lol. I feel like I've seen it used as an example of Hawkeye's egotism and I think that must be due to misremembering the episode because Hawkeye is constantly gracious wrt Charles as a surgeon. He's overjoyed that Charles knows the aneurysm operation they need to do and more than happy to let him do it, assist, and learn from him, asking questions and complimenting him. He's quick to give him the credit afterwards when Dr Berman wakes up as well.

When Charles finds a flood of patients too intense and doubts himself, Hawkeye reassures him by saying, "We're not any better than you, it's just that by sheer repetition we've gotten fast."

What Hawkeye takes issue with and makes fun of is Charles' superiority complex. He rolls his eyes when Charles pointedly insults him or anyone else, he mocks his haughty demeanour and upper class accent, calls him Chuck to annoy him, etc. This is all separate from his skill as a surgeon, which Hawkeye vocally admires, and all completely warranted because obviously Charles is an asshole lol.

The second takeaway of this episode is that I wish Potter was a villain. I'd forgotten this, but he's the one who arranges to keep Charles at the 4077 when otherwise Baldwin would've taken him back. Blah blah blah they need good surgeons and saving lives is important and someone's gotta do it blah blah blah, fact is Charles is well within his rights to hate Potter for this and I wish he did, and I wish we could be on his side about it properly, because I absolutely am on his side here.

Instead it's framed as something Charles deserves for being haughty, and a trial by fire to improve him. I would prefer to see it framed as a personal tragedy that engenders sympathy, perhaps planting the seed of comraderie between him and Hawk and BJ. Not a fan of framing being forced to work in a warzone as character building.

And now some miscellaneous thoughts:

-- Hawkeye clocks that Berman is jewish after hearing him speak one sentence (i assume, since hawk immediately jokes about him kibitzing), for the jewish hawkeye headcanoners

-- also love how overtly gay Berman is, I'm calling the "you doctors are all alike" joke as evidence of Berman clocking Hawkeye in return

-- "command me, o tall one with the presbyterian features" is such an amazing Klinger line

-- Hawk stealing Frank's boxers for himself

-- the scene with Margaret and Hawkeye and BJ is such an awful bait and switch lol, I go from 'aw they're friends!!' and loving Hawkeye when he tells her she doesn't have to tell them what's bothering her but she's clearly upset so she should sit and have a drink either way, to 'nooooo' when the (narratively endorsed) answer given to Margaret is she's too much of a flirty slut and it hurt Donald's feelings :(

-- Hawkeye being nice to Frank on the phone even when he's pissed at him and throws the phone immediately afterwards was cute honestly. Hawk speaking for both him and BJ was cute and married too ("we both think that's wonderful. we're proud to have known you")

-- BJ and Hawkeye both collaborated on the snake prank but Hawkeye's the one who gets a comeuppance >:( "Please, Mozart" is a fantastic final line though.

-- OH! the patient who didn't want to go back to the front because he doesn't want to kill anyone else! When he speaks to Mulcahy, Mulcahy starts off with his usual rote 'yeah it's scary go fight anyway' thing, and when dude corrects him about his reasons Mulcahy doesn't say anything, just stares off into the middle distance. And that's the end of that storyline.

Like man I would've liked to know what Mulcahy said to him lol, how Mulcahy squared that with himself. It's a fantastic counterpoint to his usual encouragement but I want more. Wish we could've repeated this premise in a Mulcahy-heavy episode.

#mash #marley on mash #mash s6 #hawkeye mash

[minimoxha]

I have a dream (Tangled, pt.3)

Summary: After his wife and daughter died he thought he lost everything. However, you for some reason, you'd didn't disappear. So, Miguel locked you up. He had to find some way to protect you so you couldn't be taken from him like Gabriella. What better way to do that then keep you in his dimension where he could get to you in case of anything

Warnings: bad parenting, lowkey kidnapping, signs of crying.

Now the two were off, walking off the property of her house. Though, inside of her chest her heart was repeatedly beating as if it was trying to make an escape. Just as she was doing. Was this really the right thing? If she wasn’t back by the time her dad was, he’d be furious. But at the same time, if she could show that she could handle herself and be an adult out here. Maybe miguel would finally let her enjoy her life. What if this was the worst decision she’d ever let happen in her life and the men, Hobbie brown that would whisk her away would be the worst descion she ever made.

“Why does your dad keep you inside anyways?” Hobie asked, breaking the previously awkward she soon that sat thick in the air. They haven’t spoken since he helped her out the window with his webs. “That’s kind of repetitive, inside seeing the same things all day”

The girl nods, picking up speed to the point where she’s now side by side with the man. “He wants me to be safe. There’s a lot to do but it does get repetitive, it’s really boring being cooped up in the house all day.” Y/n could feel herself get sad at the thought of being ignored at her request today. Why didn’t he want her to live her life? At this point, it was beyond trying to protect. He was trying to control. He loved being in control, being able to stop things from happening this was the same situation here.

“Is it some kind of grounding situation? How long you been in here?” Hobie asked.

“Since I was maybe 7. I got to go out a couple times on walks with dad but never enough.”

Hobie was stunned. Considering he hates repeating things and too much of things, he would hate being in the position that she was currently in. “That’s tough. You should have left a long time ago” Hobie was actually feeling bad for the girl, as if he was to take some type of responsibility for the girl to experience the best life she possibly could. “Miguel’s too uptight anyways, he needs to chill. The fireworks are in a couple hours, let’s just do other things before that aye?”

Y/n nods excitedly, walking with him before he clicks his watch and opens a portal to another dimension. She knew it was possible but it was amazing that she could see it unfold in front of her. He grabbed her hand before pulling her inside.

—-

“Miguel, did hobie come get you? he was supposed to tell you about the emergency.” Jessica said urgently, walking in front of Miguel and trying to show him his own office where something was unfolding.

“i don’t understand why you’d trust him to do anything right.” Miguel sighed. When the both of them got to the room to see the emergency signs all over the monitors. “What’s the emergency?”

“Sir, there’s an anomaly jumping from universe to universe, we can’t locate them at the moment. They have the power to open hee realities with their hand.

now this was a problem.

Thanks for all the love and support! Sorry for the short chapters but I was so excited to get this one out to create a bit of cliffhanger! Comment if yo want to be apart of the tag-list and thanks for reading.

Taglist:

@fairycorequeen @onyxstarhigh06

#fanfic #xreader #minimoxha #black!reader #anime #astv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #hobie spiderverse #astv hobie #spiderman astv #astv fanfic #astv the spot #astv fic #astv x reader #astv #hobie x y/n #hobie x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie headcanons #hobie my beloved

[jungkookslipring]

I think you should know you saved my life

Pairings: Jimin x reader

Relationship: Platonic

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

TW: mentions of c0vid, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts

AU: this was written so fast in such a short amount of time but it was what I was feeling in my heart. I apologize if there is any misspelling or repetitiveness. They truly got me through the roughest time in my life, and if I could tell them this face-to-face, I would. As always, be safe out there, sending all the love and hugs, and I can't wait for 2025.

"Remember there is a person here in Korea, in the city of Seoul, who understands you."

-Jimin

Nothing could have prepared anyone for what happened three years ago. Nothing could've prepared you for the sadness, fear, anxiety, loneliness, anger, and mental/physical toll it would take on you and your loved ones, making you feel 20,000x worse because they were going through it too.

Now that the world was in its current season, you couldn't help but look back at where you were when it all started. It was truly the lowest point of your life. You couldn't have felt any lower than that season of your life. Life also didn't prepare you for the blessing it would send you. Well, more like seven blessings.

Your wave of emotions hit you so randomly. You were watching a movie in your room when everything hit you all at once. The familiar stinging behind your eyes were not tears of sadness but tears of gratefulness. They didn't burn as much, but were quick to build before they would flow out of your eyelids. You couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips, and before you knew it you were throwing the blanket off of your body, in need of finding the person who was making you feel this way.

You pulled open your door and before you could run out, you were face to face with the angel who got you through it all.

Jimin looked at you, eyes wide with concern. Before he could say anything, you threw your arms around him, burying your face into his shoulder. Jimin was quick to engulf you into a tight hug.

"Hey hey hey whats wrong? Whats got our y/n so sad?" he asked gently. You shook in his hold while he walked you back into your room.

"Lets sit down, try to catch our breath okay?" he said calmly. He held you so safe and securely in his arms, your heart rate was calming down just a little.

"I-I just- you-"

"Shh shh shh shh let's try to calm down first y/n, we don't need you passing out on us okay?" he whispered into your hair, rubbing one hand up and down your back while the other held the back of your head. You sat there as small sobs wracked your body and tears plopped on Jimin's shirt. After a few minutes you calmed down a little more, Jimin never stopping the motions on your head and back.

"Do you feel a little better?" he asked wiping at your cheeks with his thumb. You nodded as you let out a sigh.

"What's got you feeling this way, sweetie?" he asked kindly. You shook your head, trying to keep the oncoming tears at bay.

"I'm just so thankful for you," you whisper, biting your lip.

"Aww y/n I'm thankful for you too," he said with a warm smile. His eyes filled with concern as you shook your head and moisture pooled your eyelids again.

"Y/n..." he whispered.

"Three years ago I was so lost. I was not in a good place, I wasn't happy, I hated my life, I hated myself, I started to believe there was no light at the end of the tunnel. My heart hurt every day. I felt like I had nothing to look forward to, nothing to get me through the day, nothing to bring me any sense of comfort or happiness. I was drowning in everything that was happening and I was letting whatever dark power is out there get a hold of me because I had nothing left in me," you say thickly as the tears started falling.

"But then I met all of you. All seven of you pulled me out of the dark hole that was swallowing me up. When I had no more fight in me you let me know it was okay and you got me out. You helped me find happiness, you helped me smile more, laugh more, and live more. I wouldn't physically be here if it wasn't for you. You saved me in more ways than you could ever know, and I don't know how to repay you or thank you properly for all that you've done..." you finish before wailing into Jimin's shoulder. The arms wrapped around you tightened enough to be comforting and grounding. Jimin shushed you gently as he swallowed the lump in his throat. He pulled you further into his hold and up onto the bed to where you two were lying down. You had to get everything out because you didn't think he realized all that he had done for you, but little did you realize all that you had done for him.

"Thank you for saving my life," you whisper when you feel your eyes drooping. Jimin placed a kiss on your head, tears falling from his eyes as he whispered

"Thank you for saving mine."

taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do

#bts fic #btsedit #bts hurt/comfort #bts #bts army #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts taehyung #bts rm #bts jin #bts jhope #bts suga #bangtan #run bts #bts ptd #ptd on stage #ptd concert #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #jiminie #park jimin #jimin x reader #kpop fluff #kpop x reader #kpop edits #kpop #bangtan sonyeondan

[flokali]

— Love Letter | Tartaglia

Warnings: Gn! Reader, yandere, obsessive behavior, slight repetition, mentions of violence and kidnapping, delusional behavior, cussing, manipulative behavior, if I forgot anything ask to tag!

You received a love letter, it had been slipped through the door of your bedroom and caught your eye just as you were preparing to go to bed. You make your way to the door and open it, taking the letter on your way; you look around the empty hallway in hopes of perhaps catching the sender but there’s not a soul in sight.

You close the door, slight uneasiness blooming in your chest as you make sure to lock it - you even think of barricading it but chose otherwise, you doubt it’d stop him if he was determined to find you. With a heavy sigh, you sit on the bed, you look over the simple envelope and hesitate. It was white with his name scribbled on it, you hated to admit it but you always did envy his handwriting, it was deceivingly innocent looking but you knew better; nothing could be innocent if he was involved.

Whatever, you think to yourself, you might as well read what he’s written.

To the sole owner of my heart and soul,

How are you? I know that, by the time this letter reaches you, we probably have only been away for a couple of minutes or at most an hour but I feel inclined to know anyway.

It’s funny, I tend to write quite often - mostly to my family - but I realized I never wrote to you. Mainly because I have never quite let you leave my side but it still felt wrong to not have ever sent you something, my dear.

I hope that, perhaps, this way I can better articulate how I feel, maybe then you’ll be more interested in hearing. I mean, if you’ve read this far without tearing my humble letter apart it must mean I’ve caught your interest, wouldn’t you say? Ah, normally it’s here where you would scold me and tell me to get to the point, I like the way you sound so annoyed — is my voice that unpleasant to you? To me, your voice is easily the most alluring sound I have ever heard. If I could, I would like to have it replace the voice that narrates my thoughts; it’d be romantic, no? It'd feel like you could never leave my side… but then it’d only be fair if your thoughts were narrated by me; in that case, I would never leave your thoughts either~ I like the way it sounds…

You know, I think we’ve come quite far, wouldn’t you say? I remember the first night you spent home with me, you tried suffocating me with that pillow while you said all those cruel things, how long has it been since you’ve gotten angry like that at me? Four or so months by now? You’ve begun falling for me, haven’t you? Ah…

Just the thought makes me want to rip my heart out and give it to you! You falling in love with me, I’m getting excited at the idea – you’d be such a lovely spouse for me. I’m sure that if we keep working together you’ll love me just as much as I love you! You’ll want to die without me, you’ll want to breathe only the air I breathe, you’ll need to feel my skin against yours to feel alive, you’ll want to be one with each other until we can’t live apart, I’ll be the only thought in your mind! We’ll be such a lovely couple, in love and together and happy with a cute little family too.

Fuck… I miss you so much; I really do love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so much and I need you to understand that and that everything I do is for you. I know you’re angry at me for stealing you away from that horrible life you had (because it was horrible, don’t try to deny it) but you need to understand I had to take you away, I can’t live without you. Not anymore. You’ll understand it someday and when you do, you’ll thank me, I’m sure.

I just couldn’t stand the thought of you being without me, the thought of other people touching you, talking to you, looking at you, thinking about you. It pissed me off. It makes me want to tear their eyes out, carve their hearts and make sure they can’t even think about you ever again, I simply can’t let them live. I can’t let them do that to you, I can’t allow you to be soiled by another who isn’t me.

I know right now you may struggle understanding that, but I know you’ll eventually come to see things my way. Be honest, sweetheart, were you truly happy? I can provide for you, I can love you, I can give you everything you want and deserve; I’m the only person who can love you the way you deserve to be loved. You need me as I need you, it’s that simple. Our love is the purest love there can be and there will come a day you’ll see, I’ll make sure of that.

It’s getting late and I want you to receive this letter before you go to sleep, I heard that when you read a letter from someone before bed you’ll dream about them, so I’ll wrap things up for now. Make sure to have plenty of dreams about me, okay? If you don’t, I’ll know~

Rest well, my darling.

With love,

Your ever loving Ajax.

#๋࣭ ancient scrolls #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere tartaglia #yandere childe #yandere ajax #yandere male #yandere #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere letter #yanderecore