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shizucheese · 3 months

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Okay okay okay, I need everyone to listen to me about this.

I know I kinda talked about this before in a reblog to someone else's post, but the idea has been rotating in my brain ever since and I feel like it needs to be further explored. A lot of people have been talking about the differences between TMA and TMP, and memeing about how people can actually quit the OIAR (which btw, I'll believe when I actually see it, by which I mean if we're able to get through the entire series without Teddy either coming back or turning up dead or otherwise facing "You can quit but you can never leave" levels of repercussions) but like nobody, from what I've seen, has been talking about what imo is the pretty glaringly obvious element at play here. So let's talk about the spider in the room, shall we? What do we know about the Magnus Institute in TMA?

People came there to give statements regarding their spooky experiences, including people who had doubts about doing so (because they weren't sure if the Institute was reputable, because they weren't sure if they believed what they had experienced, because they served a different entity so what reason would they have to do something for The Eye, etc).

The head archivist would ultimately become the Archivist, an Avatar of the Eye.

The Archivist's abilities included enabling statement givers to give their statements without going off track or leaving out details (we even see what happens when it's not the Archivist taking the statement), and being able to compel people to tell them things against their will, from statements to their darkest secrets.

You couldn't quit, at least not without gouging your eyes out.

The Magnus Institute was a part of the Eye.

Or was it? Because the other thing we know about the Magnus Institute is that the Web was using it as part of its plan to break free from the TMA world and gain access to the other worlds out there. How much of the compulsion aspects of the Institute-- people being drawn to the Institute to give statements, the Archivist's ability to draw statements and secrets out of people, people's inability to quit the Institute--was actually because of the Web? Where does the Eye's "compulsion to seek out knowledge even if it could be bad/ harmful" end and the Web's "not being in control of your own actions" begin? Was the Archivist--at least in the form Gertrude and John took--really purely an Avatar of the Eye? Or were they an Avatar of a mix between The Eye and the Web, much like how Martin, if he were to ever become a full fledged Avatar, likely would have been a mix of the Eye and the Lonely, just like his domain in S5 was? After all, Jonah was an Eye Avatar, was he not? And as far as we saw, he never needed to compel information out of people. He just Knew it (and used it to torment people).

One of the themes I've been playing around with in my TMA fanfictions since I first finished the podcast for the first time last winter is how the course of history would be different in the alternate worlds, where the Web wasn't interfering--at least not on the same scale, or for the same reasons--since it had already gotten what it wanted at the end of TMA. And I think that's exactly what we're seeing a version of in Protocol. I think the OIAR is what it looks like when it's entirely the Eye at play, with 0 interference from the Web. The Eye is all about having your secrets exposed, being watched, being followed. The tape recorders--something that would need to be turned off and on (controlled) in order to record something--were a tool of the Web. Now we're "witnessing" the events of the podcast through the audio from security cameras and other things that are constantly running; constantly seeing and listening without needing to be turned on and off. The statements aren't being given by people who somehow found their way to the institute and were on some level or another compelled to tell their tales. They're journal entries detailing a person's private thoughts. They're letters meant only for the eyes of the recipient, sharing secrets not meant for anyone else. They're recorded therapy sessions.

And the statements that are related to the Eye? The ones read in John's voice? They're forum and blog posts, which not only makes them the only ones whose sources didn't have the same expectation of privacy as the others, also ties them to the Web, since computers and websites were previously established as being associated with it.

#the magnus protocol #the magnus protocol spoilers #tmp #tmp spoilers #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tma spoilers #shizu's red string board

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strawbeerossi · 9 months

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Warmth

Pairing: Gn!Reader x Aaron Hotchner

Description: When you end up leaving your winter clothes at home before leaving for a case in Alaska, you’re convinced you’re gonna freeze to death. Thank god for Aaron.

Content Warnings/Other: Course language, case matter (nothing specific), tooth rotting fluff, mutual pining, little bit of awkwardness, a nice cuddle session in the end for the ole razzle dazzle

Word Count: 1.7K

Navigation || Masterlist || Request

Fulfilling a request for my beloved @cr1minalskies, I hope you enjoy sweetie. 💐 I did change a few things up, however I still think I captured what you were looking for!

A/N: Also it’s my first gender neutral fic! I’m gonna try and do more Gn!reader and male!reader fics as well to branch out from my typical fem!reader

PS: This wasn't proofread, I just let my heart guide my fingers in writing this. Sorry if it's rough

How did you manage to forget a jacket? You knew that you were going to Alaska for a case and you knew damn well that the weather conditions would call for temperatures cold enough to turn you into an ice pop. It should’ve been something that was triple checked for; a jacket, a beanie, a sweater, a scarf, mittens, anything to combat the freezing temps.

Instead, here you were, arms pulled into your shirt as your bare arms were hugging your torso, trying to use your own body heat to bring warmth to your limbs.

Aaron had quizzed you on what you packed in your go-bag the previous night when you were being called in to go over the case at hand. You were confident to say that you were all set and packed enough warm garments to keep you toasty for a month straight.

What a big liar you were. It wasn’t that you purposefully chose to be freezing to the point where you felt your fingers were going to fall off, you just managed to grab the wrong bag out of your closet.

You strived yourself on having one bag for warmer weather and one for colder weather that you claimed to have labeled and ready for any last minute cases.

Weren’t you surprised when you pulled out a pair of shorts this morning, which ultimately led to you throwing every article of clothing out of their rightful spots in search of your sweater.

The end was near, that was all you knew. This weather wasn’t easy, especially due to it being mid-December. There was fresh snow blanketing the grass, the impending snowfall giving a harsher chill to the air.

You always thought that you’d be taken out by an unsub in the line of duty, an honorable death that had meaning.. What cruel fate to know that it was going to end with you being a popsicle instead.

With a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you were currently standing in the middle of the police precinct. You fiercely denied any kind of jacket from your work colleagues, even if Derek was trying to force his coat on you to cease the incessant chattering of your teeth.

Last thing you needed was for them to be frozen just because they were hellbent on helping you. That would just leave plenty of guilt on your end.

Aaron had taken notice of you earlier in the day though, his eyes fixated on your chattering teeth, blue lips, and rosy cheeks. You were freezing, so bad that you were shaking in your boots and yet you kept refusing jackets, even Spencer’s purple scarf that he’d never share under any other circumstances.

He’d finally had enough though when your nose was almost as red as Rudolph’s.

“As useful as you’d be navigating us through a winter storm,” Aaron began, a play on the old reindeer tale as he was taking off his puffer jacket and placing it on your shoulders. Unlike the others though, he held the coat in place while you tried fighting him on it.

“Please take it. I don’t need an agent in the hospital with pneumonia.” He stated in a simple tone. He may have had a hard exterior with a tough demeanor, however he wasn’t heartless and about to let anyone freeze.

However with the harsh cold outside, it was his turn to shiver. He knew he couldn’t go for a few days without a jacket, especially knowing this case could last days, maybe even a week because of how deep this damn lead was buried.

So, he’d managed to slip away in the middle of the day, en route to one of the shops in town where he could get a jacket. However, this jacket was for himself. As much as he loved his thick jacket, he would have to admit that you looked much better in it.

When he caught up to the team again, he acted as if nothing changed, even if you were paying attention to his new jacket, your heart dropping. You knew he’d end up freezing and here you were, selfishly wearing his jacket while he went out to buy a new one.

You felt like an ass, your brain not being fair by not reminding you that Aaron forced the coat onto your shoulders and how he practically begged you to wear it in order to avoid you getting sick.

Later in the night, you were gonna make it a point to go talk to Aaron, to return the jacket and tell him that you’d reimburse him the money for the jacket he’d gotten.

“Going to your boyfriend’s room, Y/N?” The words made you scoff, turning your head while making an obscene hand gesture at Derek. “Fuck off, man. I’m just going to return his jacket.” You huffed, unable to help the heat rising in your cheeks.

He was your boss and one of your close friends, although you knew that some part of you yearned to see Aaron in a less professional setting and a more intimate one. There was a delusional part of you that assumed that he’d reciprocate those feelings, that he’d want to be with you and give his all to you.

Vulnerability wasn’t easy for Aaron nor was it easy for you. The walls you both had up seemed impenetrable, even the toughest equipment not being able to knock them down.

That was what killed the hope of anything serious happening between you both. He was your boss anyway, you figured it’d be an HR nightmare in regards to filling out paperwork, fighting transfers, the lot of it.

After a brief knock against the hotel door, you let your hands hold the jacket close to your chest. Even in the hotel, it was freezing. You had on some sweat pants and a long sleeve shirt and yet you were still shaking, the socks on your feet not doing anything to shield your feet from the freezing tile floor.

Why did it have to be Alaska? It could’ve been in Florida, or maybe even Texas. At least in those states, you wouldn’t be freezing to death. You’d opt for extreme heat to combat the chill.

You were being taken out of your thoughts as soon as you heard two locks clicking and the door opening. What was behind the door though had your eyes nearly bulging out of your sockets. This man was shirtless with pajama pants that hung low on his hips.

“How haven’t you frozen to death yet?” You asked, dumbfounded. You were covered head to toe and you were freezing but this man didn’t have a shirt nor socks and he seemed comfortable.

“You’re being dramatic, Y/N. It isn’t bad inside the hotel at all.” He commented, the normal stoic expression being broken by a lopsided smile. “You wouldn’t find me like this outside though.” He chuckled, now stepping out of your way as an invitation to come into his room.

“What are you doing up? Not that I don’t mind talking to you, you just seemed exhausted.”

“Well, I uh.. I wanted to return your jacket. I noticed you went out and bought a new one, it bothered me to know that I made you freeze while I was comfortable.”

The words had his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I offered you my jacket because it bothered me that you looked like you were locked in a meat locker. I’d say we are even, hmm?”

“Aaron,” You let out an exasperated sigh. “I just want to return it.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“What?’

“You look better in it than me. I couldn’t wear it around the team again without them telling me that I don’t look near as good as you.”

The words made your heart beat rapidly in your chest. He thought you looked good in his jacket?

“Y/N, I’m serious. Keep it. It fits you nicely and I know for a fact that you’ll be warm. I won’t have to worry about you not having anything warm either.” Aaron had offered a smile before watching as you hugged the jacket without realizing, looking like you were going to faint.

“I don’t mean to be forward,” Those words made you feel like you were going to puke. “But I was just about to relax for the night. Wanna watch a movie with me?”

This was a dream. You’re dreaming. Aaron Hotchner asked you to spend time with him. One on one.

“Sure!” You said quickly while clearing your throat soon after. Smooth like crunchy peanut butter. “I mean, yeah. I would love to. I am freezing in my room anyway and yours seems warmer..”

The black jacket was being placed on the nightstand in the room while you approached the bed to sit down, Aaron nodding as he was seated beside you. “I’m sure it’s because my room is warmer.” There was a hint of teasing in his tone while he leaned against the headboard, holding up the blanket for you.

The minute that you were crawling beside him, you could already feel a warmth radiating from his bare skin.

Suddenly, you weren’t shaking from the air anymore. Your cheeks were pink, your hands on your lap as you stayed put beside Aaron. This seemed asinine. You never pictured him being the type to ask for company on a whim. If you were honest, you always assumed he’d be asking people to leave him alone instead.

It seemed silly because you’d known him for years now, however it felt like meeting him all over again. You awkwardly sat, gaze on the small television that was on some random channel just to fill in the silence.

“Y/N? You alright?” There was that concerned tone again. “I’m okay! Just.. Cold.” You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck, gaze falling on your close friend on the team as he was offering a small smile, his arm wrapping loosely around your shoulders. “Well, you can get a little closer, if you want. I really don’t mind. I’ve been told that I’m like a human furnace.”

Well, he was hot, kept you very warm, and he was able to make you comfortable. Maybe that really was the case. “You’re sure it’s not weird?” Although your body was already leaning against his, your head was unable to help itself as it rested against his shoulder.

“Not weird at all.”

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welcometothejianghu · 6 months

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Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 鬓边不是海棠红/Winter Begonia

Winter Begonia is the tale of the intertwined lives of a wealthy, westernized businessman and a bratty, dramatic Peking Opera performer as they navigate the historical landscape of 1930s China.

It is a slow historical ramble of a show, to the point where I couldn't really say it has a single plot. Events just happen in their lives, and the show follows them with a pleasant steadiness. Characters go away, and sometimes they come back. Interpersonal conflicts rise and then get resolved. Sometimes you just get to sit and watch part of an opera happen. The last third of the show develops a slightly more cohesive narrative, but even then, it's still mostly a loose constellation of events related to larger goings-on in the culture.

So if you're looking for tight plots and fast-paced action, you'll want to look somewhere else. But if you're the kind of person who likes to wrap up sometimes in a gentle warm blanket of a beautiful show, I have five reasons you should give this one a try.

1. Oh, they're in love

Perhaps the most notable thing about Cheng Fengtai and Shang Xirui is that they spend the entire show smiling at one another, staring longingly at one another, and/or making each other laugh.

A lot of danmei couples depend on having at least one partner who, if not outright tsundere, is at least stoically long-suffering -- which is romantic, sure, but also exhausting in real life. These two read about as married as any danmei pair I've ever seen because they make one another smile all the time. They're incredibly touchy and affectionate from basically the moment they meet. They're not just in love, they actually like one another.

Now, don't get me wrong: These two are both absolute exhausting gremlins who deserve one another so they don't have to be anyone else's problems. But they're good-natured enough about their respective gremlin natures that when one of them lets loose with his rascality, the other tends to think it's hilarious.

They don't even have the mandated danmei breakup! They're never mad at one another for more than the length of an episode. Most of the time they're just refreshingly normal about one another (or, you know, about as normal as two drama queens can be). And when they're being not normal about one another, it's because the circumstances they are currently enduring are not normal either.

They're so in love that by the time you get to the last episode, everyone in their lives is like, gee, those two sure are in love. For the main couple in a Chinese-censored BL adaptation? That's pretty darn in love.

2. The costumes!!!

Of course I have to gush over the costumes. Several major characters are professional opera performers, and their wardrobes are just stunning in complexity and detail -- and accuracy, apparently.

But they're not even where all of the wardrobe budget went! Everyone looks great, from the dapper upper class to the household servants to the street performers.

I also can't get over how everyone looks so cozy in their winter outfits. The show really wants to hammer home how cold Beijing is, and so most non-opera clothes are either heavily quilted or furry. Not a single outfit in this show is slimming (except maybe for some of the gorgeous gowns Cheng Meixin wears). It's all about conserving body heat, which means a lot of people walk around basically wearing mildly tailored quilts all the time. I love it. I envy it.

3. Oops! All bottoms!

This is a show of very soft men. It helps that very many of them have spent their whole lives playing female roles, but even those that haven't tend to be pretty darn soft.

(And I'm not even talking about the way people keep handing Cheng Fengtai babies and he loves it.)

Du Luocheng and Shang Xirui are absolutely what happens when you get two soft gay guys who are kinda into one another, but they're both too lazy to top, so they just become best friends instead.

Fan Lian stands as a testament to how you can be the only heterosexual in the show and still be soft as hell.

The old married gays. Softness level: off the charts.

Chen Renxiang's role is that of the opera frenemy, and he's incredibly soft about it. (This actor is also apparently in the Sha Po Lang live-action adaptation! Maybe someday it will be released...)

Opera underling La Yuehong hardens up later in the show, but even when he does, there's still a tragic softness to it.

Even the baddies are soft! Pretty much all the rival opera bitches fall into the "love to hate" category -- and nearly all of them win at least some sympathy from you before they leave the story for good.

There's one more soft boy whose presence surprised me, and that is Xue Zhicheng/Kujo Kazuma, a sympathetic Japanese character. Every other Japanese character in the show is sinister somehow -- not surprising, considering the drama is set during the brutal Japanese occupation of Beiping/Beijing.

But this little guy is a gentle, well-meaning opera fan who just wants to watch his favorite performers! When his actions cause trouble, it's only because he's so well-meaning that he couldn't see how anyone could disapprove of his attempts at cross-cultural undertanding. He even comes to the rescue a few times, at significant personal cost!

Moreover, the show uses him to make it clear that there's a difference between the Japanese occupying force and Japanese people and culture. In fact, the show is pretty critical of people who conflate the two and use interest in the latter as evidence of support of the former. That is not a level of nuance I've seen from other dramas set in this time period, and I was pleased to see it.

In conclusion, the critial war shortage in 1930s Beijing was not food or medicine or ammunition, but tops.

4. A whole lotta ladies

Again, not even counting the fact that one of the two main guys, many of his buddies, all of his heroes, and several of the antagonists professionally dress as women.

The most notable of them is Cheng Fengtai’s wife, Fan Xiang'er. They've been married for years by the time the show starts, and they have a son together. Theirs is an arranged marriage that they've managed to make work so well that they've actually wound up liking one another ... most of the time. Remember what I said earlier about his being exhausting? She knows that better than anyone.

(Sidebar: If you are uncomfortable with a love story where one of the participants is canonically married to someone else, this may be one you want to skip. That said, there are several male characters in this show who have multiple wives and/or mistresses, so the metric of what counts as infidelity in this setting is ... loose.)

Beyond her, though, there are many more female supporting characters in this show, from all different socioeconomic levels, in all different kinds of situations.

A caveat: Some of the women (one in particular) are at times frustrating as hell because they're too often written as jealous shrews who believe all the terrible gossip they hear and act on it without having actual adult conversations with anyone first. I dislike this trope, mostly because it relies on making some smart women artificially very stupid for the sake of forwarding the plot. I have little patience for situations that could have been solved five episodes ago if somebody had just been willing to ask clarifying questions.

That said, I can't be too mad about that, because there are many, many more women who are not written like that. Some of them are good and loyal! Some are sneaky and self-interested! Some are callous and manipulative! Some are meek and traumatized! Some make terrible decisions! Some make terrible decisions but, like, you get it! You know, just like in real life?

The answer to better representation is almost always more representation. When a character is the only one of whatever they are, everything they do is kind of an indictment of that category, especially when that category has a history of stereotypical negative representation. When there are several others, the characters stop being representatives of that category and start being just plain characters.

5. It just feels good to watch

Don't misunderstand: This is not a happy fun time show where everything in sunshine and roses all the way down. There are plenty of tense and emotional parts. Not everyone we like makes it out of the drama alive. Not all love stories get a happily ever after. People disappoint one another all the time. Awful things happen when soldiers occupy civilian populations. Poverty is a bitch.

But the show itself remains a nice viewing experience. It's absolutely a feast for the senses, what with all the music and costumes and sets and props and old-fashioned cars and everything.

The story is very straightforward. It's never trying to do any complex schemes or mislead you before some big reveal. I imagine this could be a good show to put on in the background while you're doing something else. You're never going to be too desperately confused about what's going on if you zone out for a minute -- and if you are, just hang on for a bit, because by next episode, it'll probably be onto whatever storyline comes next.

I have not read the novel, and I cannot judge anything against its standards. However, my friend who has read parts of the novel tells me that the adaptation is much preferable, because in the novel, you get to hear everyone's internal narration -- and everyone's internal narration makes it clear they're all bratty, insufferable assholes. That is not the case here! Or, rather, they are often bratty and/or insufferable, but from outside their heads, it's a lot more charming.

Finally, it's legitimately a very good love story. Shang Xirui is the only person in Cheng Fengtai's life who loves him for who he is, not what someone else needs him to be. Cheng Fengtai goes from being enraptured by this beautiful little weirdo to basically wanting to wife him. They spend a lot of time taking care of one another, sometimes in the only ways they know how. They're capable of operating independently -- there are several episodes where their storylines diverge completely -- but they'd prefer not to. They've just each found their soulmate, and that's all there is to it. (The red thumbprint in the palm is about the most romantic thing I've ever seen.)

I'm a little surprised by how little I hear English-speaking fandom talk about this one, especially since (see below) it's a widely available, high-budget show that even has a Shang Xirui figurine, and there's no question about how in gay love these two are. But if you hop over to AO3, there's only 257 works total in the Winter Begonia tag, a scant 57 of which are in English, and if you've tried looking into the Winter Begonia tag on Tumblr, you know it's pretty quiet 'round here.

I can't be sure, but I'd assume that's partly because this is both a) a relatively low-stakes drama, and b) so enmeshed with actual historical events and concepts that you'd have to do at least a baseline amount of research before making any fan media. I would imagine that for some folk, this is a barrier to entry.

And it is 49 slow, gentle episodes long. I saw Tumblr posts asking which episodes are important, because the posters don't want to or can't commit to watching the whole thing. But the answer is ... all of them? none of them? There's no plot you'd be getting or missing with specific episodes. There are very few things I can think of that would even qualify as spoilers. It's just a walk through a couple very eventful years in the main pair's lives. I understand if folk aren't up for that, but if you are, this is really a gem.

Have I convinced you to give it a try?

I would say that Winter Begonia is perhaps the most easily watchable of any c-drama I've come across. Here's where you can find it:

iQiyi

Viki

Amazon Prime

YouTube

We watched most of it on YouTube, where the subs were perfectly fine. However, there was one episode where we had to switch platforms because the English subs were all out of synch, so we went to Amazon and they were fine there too. Other than that, I don't really have a sense of which translation experience is the best. Try them all!

(PS: If you feel like putting on a tinfoil hat, I'm just going to say, they look at one another like that in real life, too.)

#winter begonia #i made this #鬓边不是海棠红 #rec post

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barcaracing · 1 year

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lucky charm | mv1

summary: max verstappen has been your childhood best friend since the day he nearly knocked you over with his little go-kart, but some things about the dutch guy are still a mystery to you. like when he asked you to bring his dirty socks to the italian grand prix

pairing: max verstappen x childhoodbsf!reader

tw: cursing because it’s max verstappen. come on

a/n: first fanfic on this baby let's goooo

──────── 🏁 ‧₊°

It was the weekend of the Italian Grand Prix. Nerves were running high as the drivers prepared for Monza. You had been looking forward to this since the winter break, and it was finally time to pack your things and make your way to the airport. As always, Max had organised paddock passes for you to be his guest, but now that you were actually holding them in your hands, you weren't sure if you really needed to see fast cars go zoom again.

Max and you got into an argument at the beginning of the week and things were still left unresolved as they often were when it came to you two. Looking back, you couldn't even remember what the argument was about. Max and you were hanging out at your place, playing FIFA and talking about his last race when he suddenly sounded more irritated. You were used to this and didn't think much of it, but for some reason, he kept running in circles.

“You know, if you’d been there,” Max started, “you would’ve seen how shit the race was and I wouldn’t have to tell you about it.”

“I did see it,” you responded. “I texted you afterwards.”

"Yeah," he huffed, not trying to conceal his blunt tone. "I saw the text. Congratuling me on P3."

You furrowed your brows and glanced his way. "Something wrong?"

Max didn't bother to reply. His eyes were glued to the screen, fingers still moving on the controller, but the frown was pretty tell-tale.

"You're not–" You lifted your legs off his lap to face him. "You're not actually mad I wasn't there, are you? I told you months in advance that I couldn't make it to Zandvoort. You were okay with it."

Max continued playing, passing the ball around with no aim or reason. "Whatever," he eventually mumbled. Things got a bit heated after that. At some point, it was really just a question of who could piss off who until the matter ended with him slamming your apartment door and you storming off to slam your bedroom door for good measure.

As expected, neither of you made the first step to apologise. It was more of a peace offering, which entailed him sending a plain text asking if you wanted something to drink with your pizza and if 8 o'clock worked for you. You replied that you wanted a coke and that you'd be there at 8. That was it, really. You greeted each other with a hug and muttered quietly sorry to each other.

Now, you were sitting in your cab on your way to the airport, still unsure if Max actually wanted you there with him in Monza. Not that it was any different to any other argument you both had, but some pretty nasty things were said, including him telling you that you might as well not come to any of his races anymore if you didn't care.

You were still mulling things over when your phone rang in your hands. It was Max calling. A small smile swept over your lips as you answered it.

"Don't tell me you already crashed."

You heard Max let out a snort. "I love when you believe in me. Where are you?"

"In the cab. Why?"

"Oh." It was silent on the other line. "Can you do me a favour?"

"Yeah, sure.” You passed your phone to your left hand. “What's up?"

You could hear Max shuffle on the other side, closing a door before finally saying, "Can you bring me my lucky socks?"

You blinked. Two cars passed as you stared out the window. "Your what?"

"My socks. The, uh, white ones."

"You're joking." You let out an incredulous laugh. "You better be joking. You have like 50 pairs of white socks."

"But I need that specific pair," Max insisted, and you frowned.

"Verstappen, in all 20 years of knowing you, you have never worn a pair of fucking lucky socks."

"I did, I just never told you."

"Bullshit. Why would you not tell me?"

Max paused hesitantly. "Because I wear them all race weekend."

Your eyes widened. "Friday to...?"

"Friday to Sunday, yeah, pretty much."

"Verstappen." You shuddered. "That's disgusting."

He had the audacity to chuckle. "I'm a disgusting man."

"Gross. Downright vile."

"Proud of it." You could hear the grin in his voice.

“But you sweat so much,” you said, absolutely bewildered. “It’s abhorrent how much you guys sweat. You’re telling me you just leave those socks on for three days straight?”

“I don’t sleep with my socks on,” Max said defensively. “I’m not a psychopath.”

You pondered that. “Are they…mouldy?”

Max cursed through the phone. “Y/N, those socks just bring me a little luck when I’m racing. I never said they made me immune to fucking fungal diseases.”

“I still think you should get your feet checked.” You grimaced at the mental image of whatever was left of them. “And don’t ever take your socks off when I’m around.”

“Fine,” he huffed, and you could almost see him roll his eyes. "So can you get them for me or not?"

You watched another car pass. "You actually want me to bring you your stinky socks from Monaco to Italy."

"Yes."

You heaved a long-suffering sigh.

A couple hours later, you found yourself about to cross the pit lane, greeting a few engineers who were warming up outside. Your gaze wandered through Max's side of the Red Bull Racing garage, but he wasn't there. You made to turn and ask one of the engineers when your eyes drifted to Horner, who saw you and walked over.

"Y/N." Christian greeted you with a broad smile. "My world champion’s lucky charm has finally arrived."

"They sure have." You wrinkled your nose and held up an old pair of white socks. They had a slight brown, yellowish tint on the bottoms and the smell made you want to gag.

"Jesus." Horner stepped back and made a disgusted face. "Why are you– God, how did they even let you through security with those." He made a show of waving his hand in front of his face.

"Ziplock bag and duct tape," you said earnestly. "I just took them out because the bag was all fogged up and people at the gate thought I was carrying around roadkill."

"You tell me a rat died in those socks and I would believe you. God. Did you lose a bet again or what’s going on?"

Just when you were about to reply, a familiar voice shouted your name from across the pit lane and you excused yourself to go meet Max halfway.

"You came." Max wore a wide grin on his face. He went in for a hug, but before he could take another step toward you, you shoved the socks into his chest.

"Don't ever ask me to do anything for you ever again." You were glaring at your best friend as he stared down at his chest, startled. He took the socks from your palm and looked at you.

"You brought the socks?"

You stared back at him. "Is that not what you're holding? Give them a good sniff if you don’t believe me. Fumes are probably lethal."

"You brought the socks." It sounded more of a statement this time, and you had to shake yourself out of your stupor when Max started laughing.

"What's so funny?" You crossed your arms and watched as he couldn't seem to contain himself. Max bent over at the waist, one hand pressed to his stomach. He made to wipe away a tear and nearly choked when he accidentally breathed in the smell. He tucked the reeking socks into his suit, which was folded over at his hips, and stood up straight to face you, laughter dying slowly on his lips.

"Is this the part where you tell me I was pranked and I run you over with your car?" You deadpanned.

"Hmm." He pretended to think about it while taking a step forward. "Probably."

"This isn't funny, Max. We had to turn around the cab, and I had to go through your dirty laundry, probably caught a few diseases too, all because you wanted your stupid lucky socks, and I wanted to show you that I care because of course, I fucking care and–"

"Woah, wait," Max cut you off. "You were on your way to the airport? When I called?"

Annoyed, you nodded. "I was already in the cab."

Max's face lit up. "You were planning on coming?"

You gave him a look. "Well, yeah. I thought you wanted me to."

"I did." He nodded eagerly. "Didn't think you would."

You held each other's gaze for a moment. That was when you could see it all unfold in his eyes. It was a silent conversation, all told through your gazes.

"Look," said Max eventually and reached out to hold your hands in his. You cast a brief glance downward, registering how close you were standing to each other. "It doesn't make a lot of sense because I usually drive fucking great, but whenever you're not there, things always go wrong. Not just engine or tyre failure, but the car feels nervous and overtaking becomes a pain in the ass. Last week was shit because you weren't there."

“P3 is hardly shit,” you replied and Max gave you a pointed look. Your gaze softened and you looked away. "You could've just told me that on Monday."

He rubbed the back of your hands with his thumbs. "I know. I was just being a dick, to be honest." He gave you a shrug before clearing his throat. "And I guess, I was also too much of a dick to tell you that celebrating is just a lot better when you're there too."

You couldn't help the teasing grin that slowly took over your face. "Easy there, Verstappen. People might think you actually care about me."

He let out a scoff and pulled you toward him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to press a kiss onto the crown of your head. "Who cares what people think," he mumbled into your hair.

You hummed and wrapped your arms around his torso. "We can just tell them that you've ditched the socks because they were burning away your skin and I've become your lucky charm."

"Fucking hell, Y/N." Max laughed. "Don't you get it?" He pulled away and met your gaze with soft eyes. It looked like he was searching for something in them, so you gave the smallest nod and Max took that as his invitation to lean down and press his lips gently to yours. You felt him smile into the kiss and you realised that you were doing the same.

This was your first kiss together, and you couldn't believe it was happening in the middle of the paddock. But no one appeared to care. It was just you and Max as it always has been. You didn't want to think about what all of this meant. Like the fact that Max Verstappen actually liked you more than just a friend. At that moment, you simply wanted to kiss the guy who felt like home to you and not worry about anything else.

Pulling away, Max pecked your lips once more. You were pretty sure both of you were already grinning like the biggest idiots on the grid, but your smile only widened when he mumbled against your lips, "You've always been my lucky charm."

****

stay hydrated pals

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #mv1 #red bull racing #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fic #formula 1 fanfic

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danikamariewrites · 18 days

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Ours to Keep

Neris x reader

A/n: Happy last day of @polyacotarweek ! Everyone out such hard work into their amazing pics and I loved reading them. For the last day (like Eris week) I went with vampire!Neris. You can't deny that these two wouldn't make the hottest vamp couple out there.

Warnings: none

Exploring the castle you pull your shawl tighter around your shoulders. It was bone chilling inside the cavernous stone castle, but better than being left out in the months long blizzard ravaging your village.

When winter set in over two months ago your father succumbed to his illness. The same one your mother suffered from over a year ago. Losing your parents gave you a new drive to survive. With nothing left in your village you set out to survive somewhere else.

On your journey the blizzards arrived, slowing you down and forcing you to find cover earlier than you wanted. After weeks of hunkering down in caves and rundown inns the blizzard had cleared revealing a looming castle in the distance. Something in your soul told you to go toward it. You found it was the only shelter, the woods devoid of anything safe for what seemed like days. Reaching the gates of the castle you looked behind you to find the blizzard had picked up again.

Shoving your way through the heavy front doors it only took you three paces to be met with Eris and Nesta. Fae turned vampire. You piqued their interest, being just a human girl and made a deal with you. You could stay, untouched and safe, for two months. After that you had to choose between facing winter on your own again or staying with them forever to be their source for human blood, something they have gone too long without.

At first you distanced yourself from Eris and Nesta. But you were drawn to them which made it hard to stay away. You couldn’t help but be near them. Since the blizzard blocked out the sun they weren’t hidden away at all hours of the day.

The more time you spent with them the more you wanted to learn about them. Something that piqued your interest was how they became vampires. On an afternoon spent with Eris in his study you finally felt brave enough to ask him this question. “It was a punishment for us wanting to be together. Little did the people who forced us into this life know the carnage they were unleashing upon themselves.” The tale gave you chills. It was romantic and horrifying all at the same time, making you swoon for the immortal male.

As you come across an old portrait of them from when they were simply fae you stopped, staring up at them. They were so beautiful here. How have they become finer with age?

With immortality in mind you think about the deal you made with them to keep you safe. Would you join them? Beg them to make you into what they are? You had come to love them, even sharing heated stolen moments with the pair. Your almost kisses with Nesta in the library had heat rushing to your cheeks. Did they talk about you like that?

You need to make a decision soon. Your two months are almost up and you’re not entirely sure you want to leave Nesta and Eris.

Setting out to search for them, you find the vampires in the parlor. Eris was reading by the fire as Nesta softly played a classic piece on the grand piano. On near-silent feet you make your way over to Nesta, sitting next to her on the bench. Nesta smirked, her slender fingers never faltering as she continued to play.

Resting your head on her shoulder Nesta placed hers on top of yours. The cold from her body seeped through your thick shawl. It wasn’t a bone chilling cold like you felt while wandering the castle. It was a comforting cool. Like when you’re too hot on a summer afternoon and jump into the lake.

As the song comes to an end Nesta’s hand travels down the keys, dipping to gently hold onto yours. Bringing your warm fingers to her lips for a small kiss as she stared at you with those sultry silver eyes. You bring her cold fingers to your mouth, pressing kisses across her knuckles. “You’re so talented Nes. I could listen to you play forever.” You sigh out.

Eris watched from his arm chair with a predatory smirk. He beckoned you and Nesta over with a curl of his finger. Nesta dragged you over to the couch, snuggling you between her and Eris’s massive frame. “We wanted to talk to you, dear heart.” You give Eris a curious look.

Nesta cleared her throat, urging Eris to get to the point. “Your time with us is almost up. We wanted to know if you have given any thought to our deal.” You looked between the vampires and saw hope swimming in their eyes. They were tense. Scared you will choose to leave them.

Seeing them like this solidified your answer. “I-I want to stay. I like it here with you two.” Nesta and Eris let loose a relieved breath. Nesta wrapped her arms around your middle, pulling you closer to her body. “Thank the Cauldron,” she whispered. You leaned into her, holding her back.

Eris brushed a strand of your hair behind your rounded ear. “Lately I’ve been thinking about the future.” You admit. “I don’t think I could live without you two and wanted to ask if you’d be open to something?” Anticipation sparked in Eris’s amber eyes. Something in your gut told you he’s been waiting for this conversation.

He was. And Nesta had made him swear not to speak about it unless you brought it up first. Not wanting to force this life on you like it had them. She wanted immortality to be your choice.

“I want to be like you.” Hope shining in your eyes as you looked between them. “I want you to turn me into a vampire.” Eris cupped your face in his large hands, resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed at the comfort of his closeness. “Only if you are truly sure, dear heart.”

You nod vigorously. “I’m sure,” you whisper. You felt one of Nesta’s fingers run up and down the side of your neck. Pressing her lips to your heated skin you felt Nesta’s wicked grin. “I know exactly where I’m going to bite first.”

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sidekick-hero · 2 months

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(steddie | teen | wc: 790 | tags: established relationship, former jock Steve, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, in fact he's so in love he would do anything for love | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy (@forgottenkanji) | AO3)

At first glance, Steve and Eddie weren't meant to be.

At first glance, they were two opposites, one the antithesis of the other. While Steve was the sun, Eddie was the moon. Day and night, summer and winter, light and dark.

But despite all the differences between them, they still worked. They complemented each other, creating a precious balance that made them both better. It's as if they only made sense with each other by their side.

There was only one difference between them that tested their love for each other: Steve's love of the outdoors and Eddie's utter hatred of it.

Steve, a former jock with a physique to match, found solace in the rugged beauty of nature. He relished the adrenaline of a challenging hike, the satisfying burn of muscles pushed to their limits, and the sweet exhaustion that followed a day spent under the open sky. Eddie loved that Steve's body was a true testament to his enduring love of the outdoors: the sun-kissed skin with constellations of beauty marks and freckles an invitation for adventurous hands and lips, his thick thighs and impressive stamina God's apology for Eddie's hardships.

Eddie, on the other hand, had always lived a different kind of life. A theater kid at heart, he thrived in the world of imagination and creativity. Dungeons and Dragons was his favorite realm, where he spun tales of fantasy and daring escapades. Physical activity, however, was a realm he hadn't quite embraced.

Early Sunday mornings were his sworn enemy, and the thought of a hike sent shivers down his spine. And yet, it was exactly what he had apparently agreed to do.

The soft morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room that Steve and Eddie shared. Steve, already dressed in his hiking gear, couldn't contain his enthusiasm for the adventure that awaited them. He leaned over and gently nudged Eddie, who was wrapped in the warmth of the blanket.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Steve whispered, a grin playing on his lips. "Time to rise and shine. We've got a beautiful hike waiting for us."

Eddie groaned, a muffled protest escaping from beneath the covers. "Can't it wait? It's Sunday morning, Steve. I need my beauty sleep."

Steve chuckled, his fingers lightly tracing circles on Eddie's back. "Come on, love. The early bird catches the worm, or in our case, catches the breathtaking sunrise over the hills. Trust me, it's worth it."

Eddie peeked out from the covers, one eye squinting against the morning light. "Can't we catch the sunrise from the comfort of our bed?"

Steve's laughter filled the room. "As tempting as that sounds, there's something magical about witnessing it from the top of the trail. Plus, fresh air and the sounds of nature – it's the perfect way to start our day together."

Eddie sighed dramatically, dragging himself into a sitting position. "You and your love affair with fresh air. I swear, it's a conspiracy against my cozy Sunday mornings."

Steve leaned in, planting a soft kiss on Eddie's forehead. "I promise it'll be worth it. And hey, I'll even let you pick the playlist for our drive to the trailhead."

Eddie's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Anything I want?"

Steve nodded, a playful glint in his eye. "Anything. As long as it gets us up and moving."

With a theatrical sigh, Eddie finally relented. "Fine, fine. But you owe me breakfast at that little café we passed last time. And I get to pick what we do for the rest of the day. Deal?"

"Deal," Steve agreed, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Now get dressed and let's make this Sunday morning one for the books."

As Eddie reluctantly began to accept the idea of leaving the warmth of their bed, he let the warmth of Steve's smile envelop him instead. It wasn't that he suddenly liked Sunday mornings or breaking a sweat for anything other than what he had planned to do with Steve once they were back here in their bedroom. He knew he would hate the burning in his legs and lungs every step of the way, but all that seemed like a small price to pay for Steve's joy and happiness. What was an early morning and the discomfort of working his untrained body for a few miles if it meant sharing moments with the person who made even the earliest of Sunday hikes something Eddie would look back on fondly.

So when they finally reached the top of the hill, Steve turning to him with sparkling eyes and asking, "Didn't I tell you? It was all worth it," Eddie couldn't help but kiss him, long and deep and sweet.

Everything was worth it for Steve.

#steddie #steddie fluff #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 29 #Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy #my writing

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covesdadappreciation · 7 months

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Games I think the Romanceables would play

Tamarack: I feel like when it's winter, she craves that autumn feeling, so she'll play games like these.

Stardew Valley (Has only one save in the game, and tries to make her farm look pretty but she's more focused on keeping a routine in the game)

Minecraft (Building a little village and having an army of cats or dogs. Has built many treehouses)

Sky - Children of the Light (The one who is actively looking for player to share a candle with)

....

Qiu: He plays games later when he's older. Middle school he's become slightly more reserved, so having a game to destress by himself always helps

Animal Crossing "What do you mean you don't wanna look at my island? Guys."

A Tale of Crowns He seems like the type to enjoy prince x knight and multi-choice stories.

Detroit Become Human The amount of times he's almost had a breakdown just trying to make everyone happy.

Cove: He prefers classic games, nothing too big or a waste of money.

Unpacking He cries

Tetris He stresses

Legend of Zelda, the Windwaker (my childhood fr) he's obsessed

Baxter: He doesn't play games, he claims. He's too busy going out and being busy, but if he ever truly had a rare moment or just by looking at him... he's choose these.

The Sims Self explanatory.

Hollow Knight He feels like he's one with the knight.

Stray Cats and Robots in a game? He's sold. Take his money.

Derek: Derek plays a lot of video games (a healthy amount), he loves it. I imagine he's played these games while you guys weren't together for a while :(

Until Dawn He got jump scared at least twice

Final Fantasy 14 if he has the time. it's a really long game. He plays either a Hyur or Hrothgar Paladin.

The Last of Us 1 and 2. He played the 2nd first though, and he was really upset at that choice when he finished playing)

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

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I've been dreaming of the Unrivaled Beauty.

O’ Beautiful Queen, your loveliness is eternal and unchallenged.

Steal center stage, and the hearts of those who gaze upon you.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

War is as much of an art as it is a brazen display of brutality.

For Vil, every performance he gives is war. His weapons: skill, grace, beauty. All of it meant to charm the audience. No substitutions, it no stunt doubles.

Today is no different.

He kneels in the snow atop a corpse. Not a real dead man, but a dummy with an eerie amount of detail. It had been prepared by experts in the prop department, made to resemble his character's sworn enemy in the film.

Crimson blooms upon white robes marked with ancient runes. The collar and neckline are daring, plunging to reveal a generous amount of the bare skin of the chest to the elements. The hair, a tangled mess of glossy raven waves, sticking from the moisture to cold skin. The skin, pale blue with frost, the eyes cloudy orbs.

The mouth, stained red with the blood of countless innocents, no longer moves.

In this scene, the she-devil Snow White is dead, and he, heir to the Witch Queen, has slain her.

Without hesitation, he plunges his bare hand into the dummy’s chest, fishing out a model heart. It is covered in a mixture of corn syrup, food coloring, cocoa powder, and starch to simulate bodily fluids. The thickened liquid dribbles down his own pale hands, staining them.

Lifting his trophy into the air, a joyous, defiant sparkle in his eyes. A throaty cry erupts from him.

“With this, the Eternal Snow will be no more, and peace shall return to my realm!!”

Vil’s explosive laughter fills the mountain. The snow shakes, the land itself shudders in his presence.

He has won.

Finally, finally, finally.

A gruff man’s voice reaches him.

“CUT!!”

In an instant, the scene falls apart and reality sets in.

Cameramen tend to their equipment, prop managers and stylists exchange whispers. Special effects mages tamp down their snow spells. The illusion is stripped away, revealing a balmy day set against a backdrop of mountains.

Staff in scurry in, offering Vil towelettes and lotion to clean and moisturize his hands. He accepts them, then waves the staff off, one ferrying the fake heart.

“Bravo, Vil-kun, bravo!!” the director gushes. “I knew it was the right call to cast you as the hero for this film. There wasn’t a flaw in your acting, m’boy!!”

“Thank you, sir.” Vil bows to the older man, keeping his reply short and simple. “It is an honor to be a part of your masterfully written story."

It is the tale of a beautiful demon locked away in a glass coffin, freed from slumber and set upon the world to shroud it in never-ending winter… The tale of a selfless noble and her huntsmen that stands in opposition to her and her seven sniveling imp minions. A tale of two fates intertwining—the noble whose bloodline sealed the demon away, and the demon who vowed revenge on descendent of the Witch Queen.

Vil's eyes cannot stop themselves from sliding over to his co-star, who waits in the wings. His lifelong rival, Neige LeBlanche.

He is dressed similarly to the dummy that had been swapped in for his corpse. Red ruins his pristine white gown, and his hair is wild—but off-camera, Neige lacks the madness of the villain he plays. Neige smiles sweetly at the staff, giggles like an innocent schoolboy.

Vil fails to look away before Neige meets his eyes. He waves shyly, and, out of courtesy, Vil returns it.

“You've all been working very hard to bring my vision to life," the director happily booms. "Let's take a 30-minute break. Hydrate, grab some food, whatever. Actors, hair and makeup retouches before stepping back on set!"

There is a collective murmur of approval, feet shuffling for the refreshments table. A staff member offers Vil a spot in the donut line, but he politely declines.

"No thank you, I've prepared granola and a light fruit yogurt ahead of time. If you'll excuse me."

He peels away and heads for his trailer. Once Vil is shut away—a well-trained peacock stepping into his gilded cage—he produces his phone and reviews his jam-packed schedule: the film shoot, an interview with a popular variety show, modeling for a magazine cover, practicing for a stage play…

He, cast in the spotlight of hero in every single one.

You are the fairest of them all, Mira would robotically recite. All the social media websites and news outlets were talking nonstop about him, and he knows it.

It's the Age of Vil, his manager would joke. Isn't this great? You're demonstrating your range. This will definitely net you bigger and bigger opportunities in the future!

They’re finally recognizing you for your cuteness and goodness, his father would tell him. That’s my son! I knew everyone would come around eventually.

On any other day, he might have scoffed or dismissed their comments. Today, he simply smirks, silently pocketing his phone.

Vil passes a large vanity on his way to the mini-fridge. A glimpse of his reflection reveals the elaborate jewel-toned ensemble he is fitted for, the makeup that highlights the highest points of his face. Shining, commanding attention—just as any protagonist would.

He stands straighter, holds his chest higher. Proudly flaunting his feathers, his numerous accomplishments.

I've worked myself to the bone to reach this point. I've earned every little bit of this.

Retrieving his snacks, Vil makes to join the crew on their break. Even if Neige will be present as well, he grimaces.

A shadow invades his periphery.

Vil pauses at the doorway and looks back.

There, sitting on his vanity, was a bushel of roses the color of midnight. A black envelope embellished with gold accents is tucked among the petals.

His brows knit together. How odd--he is certain he hadn't seen that a second ago, nor had he heard anyone entering to drop it off while he was briefly at the fridge. How could he have missed such an obvious gift?

"Perhaps it's from the director or producer," he muses, plucking the envelope free and opening it.

Inside, there is, as suspected, a letter.

Same black paper, same gold embellishments.

To Schoenheit,

Please accept this humble offering from myself. It was a joy to watch you perform to your heart's content.

I was very moved by the experience. It is not often that I get to observe Man in all of its peaks and crests in such a short span of time.

I will continue to watch over you and support your dreams from the sidelines.

Sincerely,

M. D.

Initials in the place of a name? Vil turns the paper over, expecting more on the other side. It's unlike his fans to leave out their full identity. (Half of the time, they include a list of their social media handles and beg for a follow back.)

But alas, the back is blank and yields no answers.

He frowns, facing the words scrawled on the front of the square again. The cogs in his head turn, arriving at a single logical conclusion.

I only know of one possible M.D., but... Is he truly the type to send notes of this nature?

Vil toys with the idea in his head, just as he toys with the letter between his fingers. Ego rises and colors his lenses.

"Fufufu, it seems that even great mages such as he are not immune to my beauty and talent." Vil chuckles, exiting the trailer. His adoring fans await.

He's right about everything, and he doesn't realize how wrong he wants to be.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Vil Schoenheit #Neige LeBlanche #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst countdown #twisted wonderland countdown #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #I've been dreaming...#book 5 spoilers #twst anni #twisted wonderland anni #twst anniversary #twisted wonderland anniversary

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hypnautic-cereal · 3 months

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I’ve shared about my Welcome Home au on Discord and TikTok, but not here yet

So, I introduce to you: the Wish Maker au!💫

A Welcome Home au of mine that spawned from a meme I thought of one time while I was in the shower. Essentially the WH crew in this au are able to grant different kinds of wishes, and strive to make any and all wishes come true for a more better earth

(Please note that I did each of these art pieces separately, so all the canon sizes are the ones up on this first one⬆️)

First of all, we have our Wally variant: Wally Starling💫

Wally is the newest neighbor to land on Planet Home, as he was recently born from the stardust of a recently died supernova. Wally is gifted the power to grant star wishes as well as a high/moon jump, and aspires to be Judy’s as great of a wish maker as his friends

Up next: Our spectacular star, Sally Starlet⭐️

Glowing wherever she goes, Sally Starlet is the leader and protector of Planet Home. Legends as true as wishes have told that a portion of Sally’s power was distributed among each of her friends. Who knows what power she could behold at full capacity?

Next on our list: Our lovable dog Barnaby B. Beagle🎤

It might not seem like it at first, but Barnaby B. Beagle is a dog of many cultures. Barnaby grew a swift and tight friendship with Wally Starling, even being the one who gave Wally his name when he first arrived on Planet Home! Inspired by 90s family game shows as a sign of his love for fun and friendship, Barnaby grants the wishes from different cultures (such as tanabata tags, and grapes from under the table on the new years countdown)

Next up, our dynamic duo: 🎂Julie Joyful and Frank Frankly📚

Always excited to celebrate any occasion, Julie is your girl to call for a party. Her partying expertise is always to serve for others happiness. With help from Poppy Partridge and Sally Starlet, there’s no party on Planet Home that won’t be ready on time. Once the birthday candles are blown, a dash of confetti from Julie’s hand will have the wish granted in no time

Although they’re always in a rush, Frank Frankly is the brightest/smartest neighbor on the wishful Planet Home. Any questions the neighbors have about anything, Frank is able to answer in various ways. His specialty lies in granted wishes found in nature (such as dandelion puffs or the first winter snow), as well as proofreading wishes to the wisher’s intent. With provided help from Julie Joyful and Eddie Dear, there’s no task to tough for our beloved brainiac

And last up: 🌙Poppy Partridge, Eddie Dear💌, and Howdy Pillar🐛

Looking over the dreams of those down on Earth, Poppy Partridge acts as a guide to those who don’t know what their hearts desire. A scent of lavender and lilac follow wherever she goes, as a sea of stars speckle her pillowy soft tail feathers. Her and Sally Starlet happily work side by side, making sure all goes right from day to night

Folk tales from the old west tell the tale of a person who retrieves the wishes that haven’t been granted so that they can be granted as soon as they can. That there is our confident yet clumsy and forgetful dreamer, Eddie Dear. With his Lasso of Limitless Length and Star of Time, there’s no limit to when and where ungranted wishes will be granted. He takes his job with pride, especially if Frank Frankly is by his side

Ever need that little bit of push when playing the lottery? Or need a wish from that coin you tossed into the well? Well, our terribly generous Howdy Pillar’s got your back. He’d be more than happy to grant you luck and fortune for whatever you might need for the day. He does seem to fall asleep quite often, even with all the energy he needs for the day, so he carries his pillow Benjamin in case he’s ever tuckered out (get it? Cause money…$100…Benjamin Franklin-). So, what Howdy’s Place deal are you looking for today?

JESUS OK FINALLY FINISHED WRITING ALL THIS😭

But yeah, I have a lot to share with you guys about this au, and I hope you all enjoy and stick around for all the stuff I wanna share for it! I even have a whole playlist for this au (as well as a discord server but that was made for the fun of it and doesn’t have any actual functionality lol)

#welcome home #welcome home fanart #welcome home au #wally darling #barnaby b beagle #sally starlet #julie joyful #frank frankly #poppy partridge #eddie dear #howdy pillar #wish maker au

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todayontumblr · 11 months

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Friday, June 16.

The Toad Who Never Made The Team

...and other important animal images.

Spare a thought for this poor little guy on this most Friday of Fridays, June 16ths. Because while most of us are winding down from school, university, or the workplace, and gearing up for a sunny weekend in June, others are not enjoying such a good time. Indeed, for some, they are heading into Saturday and Sunday left with no choice but two days to face one of life's hard truths, to ponder it—to look it square in its cold, uncompromising eyes. Take, for example, the tale of Toad who never made the team. This here poor fellow is one of a handful of stories from the rich tapestry of life to be explored in other @important-animal-images.

We've all been there: you set your mind to something with the utmost strongest of determinations. This goal is fixed to your thoughts as if it were written on little bits of paper, and stapled to your eyelids. From the moment you wake, you are out of bed, like a Rocky montage or a LinkedIn hustler bro's post, and swigging eggnog, jogging, boxing the air, putting one step in front of the other in pursuit of that dream. That was the case for Toad, who wanted, more than anything, just to make the team.

There were obstacles, sure, but he didn't let them stand in his way. For Toad, being an amphibian meant he was not the obvious pick for a (human) men's 11-a-side soccer team. The fact he hibernates each winter was also not ideal for a side that would be playing on pitches up and down the nation during the cold, dark winter months. The fact he was smaller than the balls that the players would be kicking for 90 minutes was also not in his favor. As the main prey of snakes, including Toad on a soccer team would increase the risk of serpent attacks mid-match. And mid-match serpent attacks are the last thing coach needs when in pursuit of The Championship.

Unlike others in their family, toads are only capable of a slight hop, and not jump, which leaves them at a serious disadvantage when it comes to heading the ball, whether in attack or defense. They also have lovably short legs, which, while endearing, is not a good fit for a soccer player. The fact Toad eats his own skin is, while not unhelpful for a budding athlete, per se, really kind of gross—and unlikely to win friends in the dressing room and fans in the stadium. But for Toad, it mattered not. He was going to kick balls, and score goals, or die trying, dammit.

And try he did. He hopped with everything he had and kicked as hard as his comical legs would allow. But it, sadly, mattered not. When coach blew the whistle and gathered his squad around the team sheet for tomorrow's big match, eleven names were listed. Toad's was not among them. He was crushed, his dreams shattered in an instant, and as he went to ribbit a most forlorn of ribbits, he stopped, paused, and fell silent. Because, he remembered, he is a toad. And toads do not ribbit.

When you try your best and you don't succeed..., he hums to himself softly, consoling his broken spirit with the soothing lyrics of Fix You, by Coldplay. We can only hope he gets back to the training ground, gives it all he's got, and that we may see a change in his fortunes next year. Then, perhaps, we will see a happier sequel to this in later @important-animal-images.

Better luck next year champ x

*P.S. It's not all so gloomy for our animal comrades, however. There's a rumour going around that this cat is having two kittens, and will need a hand or two in deciding on some baby names.

#today on tumblr #toad #soccer #team #coach #championship #practise #when you try your best #and you don't succeed #just try again sport #little toad #watching on #small round yet doesn't make a sound #because of the disappointment #poor toad

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witcher-and-his-bard · 1 year

Text

Love Letters

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): none Rating: general

Fic Summary: Jaskier writes down all his feelings in a letter he never expects Geralt to see - only for Geralt to arrive shortly after, snowed out of Kaer Morhen.

For @jackironsides 💜

My beloved Geralt

Dear Geralt

Geralt, my love

No matter what he writes, it sounds wrong. Too intimate, too casual, too... much in one way or another. Jaskier hasn't even gotten past the introduction and he already wants to give up on the letter. It feels so easy over the summer, when he and Geralt spend long, muggy days walking side-by-side. Jaskier sings and Geralt rides, and occasionally, Geralt will even sing along with whatever he's playing.

Now, in the dark of his room at the academy, those feelings feel dull and distant. Not Jaskier's feelings, of course, but the potential reciprocation. These days, he finds himself thinking about Geralt's relationships with Eskel or Lambert, or even Vesemir. He wonders how different those relationships are to the one he shares with Geralt. Maybe those gentle things Geralt says to him in the comfort of their shared inn rooms are just things Geralt would say to anyone.

Ugh. Jaskier flops backward in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wishes there was an easy way to know these things, and for the first time in a long time he finds himself envying Yennefer. She could just read Geralt's mind, she could just know. And Geralt? He can smell emotions or something like that; at least, he always seems to know when Jaskier is upset about something. Maybe he took the wrong path in life. Maybe he should have tried to get into Ban Ard and become a mage. Surely there is some chaos in him, enough, at least, to be able to read minds.

Briefly, Jaskier considers contacting Yen. They've had a better relationship as of late, and she might be able to give him some insight, if nothing else. But he doesn't want to drag her into something that isn't really any of her business. Not because he's afraid to tell her, but because she might not want to know. She's happy now - travelling with Triss and Istredd last he heard - but there might be some leftover feelings there and he doesn't want to bring up Geralt in a romantic setting if he doesn't need to. Plus, he doesn't want to feel like more of a burden than he already does.

Jaskier looks down at the half-started letter in front of him and angrily crumples it up before blowing out the candle and shoving his chair back. He flops forward onto folded arms, looking out into the blue of the night sky, speckled with snow. Normally, he would take comfort in a view like this, but tonight, it just reminds him of how far away Geralt is.

Is it even worth beginning a relationship when they spend so much time apart? Would Geralt even be interested? Even if he was madly in love with Jaskier, would that be enough? What's the point when you have no one to cuddle with and watch the snowfall? But then maybe Geralt would want to visit some winters if they were more.

Gods, he wants that more than he can even properly comprehend. The idea of falling asleep in Geralt's arms feels like the height of romance. Already, Jaskier treasures the moments he falls asleep listening to Geralt's voice, even if he does feel a bit bad about it in the morning. Despite himself, a dopey smile spreads across his face at the thought. He misses Geralt more than he can say while they're apart in the winter. It's only a little into the season and already the long, dark winter feels endless.

Jaskier inhales deeply, sighs, and sits up to write. He's determined to finish this letter, even if it never reaches its intended audience.

Geralt,

I know it's barely been a month since we parted, but I find myself longing again for your company. Teaching is hectic as always, and my students love a tale of your heroism. I know you don't consider yourself a hero, but I do. Though lately, I find myself recalling different moments from our travels. I find myself thinking of the evenings after a contract has been completed and paid. I think back to the ale or tea and the stars hanging low in the sky. The way the firelight flickers on your face. I miss that. I miss the way your hair falls in your face when you take it down to sleep. I miss how stubborn you are about that awful headband. And I regret to tell you now that I've grown... rather fond of it, actually.

Rather rarely do I find myself at a loss for words, but they escape me when I try to nail down all the things I feel for you. I know I am a mere mortal, doomed to die years or even decades before you, but given the chance, I would happily live out the rest of my life at your side. Perhaps even in your arms.

I know love is not a word you use often, but the way I feel it could very well become something so all-encompassing. I can't promise that love is how I feel now. I find myself mixed up in a way I've never felt before. That's not to say that I don't love you, because I do. As a friend, as a companion, as something more. Perhaps one day, even as a lover. Even if you don't feel the same, I want you to know that you are deeply cared for in every way one person can care for another. I don't mind if you don't want to see me again, so long as it is your wish, and one borne out of intention rather than fear. Because although I've never spoken the words, I've longed for you for days and weeks and months and years, silently staying by your side. Perhaps one day you will have me there on purpose - despite, or maybe even because of, my feelings for you.

Until then, I remain yours, as always.

Jaskier.

Jaskier looks over the letter once more and, feeling an uncomfortable swell of emotion, folds it neatly and tucks it into an envelope that just reads Geralt. He's only just finished hiding the evidence when there's a knock at his door.

"Yes?" he asks.

"Sorry to interrupt so late," the voice on the other side of the door says. Jassa, Jaskier thinks, his assistant at the university. "You have a guest."

"A guest?" Jaskier asks, perplexed. Who on earth would brave this weather just to visit? The only guests he normally has are students or his fellow professors, either of whom would just come to his room and knock themselves.

"He says he's a friend. Geralt? I think," Jassa says.

Jaskier's heart somersaults.

"Right," he says, "of course. Send him up. I'll leave the door open."

"Certainly," Jassa smiles. "I'll send him right up. Have a good night, Professor."

"And you," Jaskier finishes, barely aware of what he's saying.

What is Geralt doing here? Of all the years they've known each other, he's never once come to visit over the winter, so why now? Jaskier turns around, leaning on the door, and is struck by the state of his room. For the last two days, he's done nothing but lie around and sulk, and it shows. He absolutely cannot let Geralt see his room like this.

Given he has roughly four minutes, maybe a few more if Geralt stops to talk to Jassa before coming up, it's not going to be easy. So Jaskier starts with the worst of it: the clothes and things laying all over the bed and floor. There is a surprising amount of mess considering Jaskier is the only one residing in the room, but he manages to get the worst of it tidied before the knock at the door. A final glance tells him only the desk and table are still cluttered, but that much is acceptable so he crosses to the door.

As he pulls it open, Jaskier is struck by Geralt's smile. He always is when they haven't seen each other for some time, but this feels more. Maybe it's because he's been considering his own feelings lately, but looking at Geralt, here and in person, makes his legs weak.

"Hi," he says shakily.

Geralt gives him an odd look, but it quickly turns into a half-smile and he steps into the room when Jaskier moves aside.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he says gently, "it's no trouble to find a room at the inn if-"

"Not at all," Jaskier interrupts. "I'd be happy to host you if you're staying.”

"I had hoped to," Geralt says.

"What brings you?" Jaskier asks.

"The route to Kaer Morhen was snowed over by the time we arrived in Kaedwen," he explains, "I thought this might be the best place to stay."

Part of Jaskier is delighted at the thought, though when he considers it further, Oxenfurt is further than any of the other places Geralt would be more than welcome to stay over the winter. There's no good reason for him to have travelled all the way to the coast, when surely Yen would have taken him in without question. Their relationship may not be romantic anymore, but Jaskier knows there is still a deep love between them. And he's happy for it, which makes it all the more confusing why Geralt is here. He thinks to ask, but reconsiders.

"Please," he says, remembering his manners, "make yourself at home. I can have a bath poured if you're tired? Was Roach properly cared for? Shall I call for supper-"

"Jaskier," Geralt says gently, "Roach is fine. A small meal would be nice, but there's no rush. Right now I'd just like to relax."

Of course, Jaskier thinks. He must have been travelling for weeks if he first attempted the path and then had to turn back. Jaskier had left him just north of the Pontar, between the mountain ranges, so that must have been-

"Jaskier?" Geralt asks, cutting off his train of thought. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Jaskier assures him. "Just wasn't expecting company and I'm not prepared for it- Not that you're not welcome!" he corrects quickly, and with a little too much vigour.

"Perhaps you're the one who needs a rest," Geralt says, half-teasingly.

"Just to get my head on straight," Jaskier assures him. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable and I'll go fetch something warm for you to eat."

Jaskier slips from the room, only stopping one he's far enough away that Geralt won't hear him. He stops and sighs, pressing a hand to his chest as if to stop the mad beating of his heart. Surely Geralt has heard it already and he’s given himself away, but he was hardly expecting to be visited like this out of the blue.

He takes another few calming breaths before continuing on down to the kitchen. He's close with the chef - with most of the staff if he's honest - and has more than once helped him out of a sticky situation with less-than-edible herbs, so his request for a private supper is granted with a smile. In the meantime, Jaskier makes his way back up to the room, holding his breath for a moment before opening the door.

Geralt is standing over the desk in the small room, mumbling quietly. As Jaskier approaches, slipping up behind him, he realizes Geralt is reading the poetry he'd been working on. Jaskier has never been so relieved to know how little Geralt thinks about his poems, as these ones are nearly explicitly about him, the only relief being that his name is not used. Wolf, he uses once or twice, but it's a metaphor and Geralt always says he doesn't care for flowery things like metaphors.

"This is... lovely," Geralt says, though he sounds a bit off as he does.

"Thank you," Jaskier says quietly, slipping around to Geralt's side to see which one he's reading.

"You- your narrator sounds sad."

"Ah, yes. Been a bit of a downer lately, I suppose."

Jaskier tries to laugh it off but Geralt turns to look at him, something like concern in his expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing's wrong," Jaskier assures. "I've just not been feeling myself."

"Can I help?"

Jaskier is taken aback by the blunt suggestion and his head jerks up to meet Geralt's eyes.

"I'm not sure you could, love," he says gently.

"If someone has hurt you-"

"No," Jaskier says quickly.

"You reek of heartache," Geralt says bluntly.

"Right. Well." He considers for a moment before deciding against lying to Geralt. "Unrequited love, I'm afraid."

"How do you know it is?"

"Unrequited?" Jaskier laughs, "oh, my darling, he'd have to be the stupidest man alive not to know. Or perhaps the most oblivious. I'm sure he would have said something if he felt the same."

"You haven't," Geralt counters.

"Right, well- He wouldn't want someone like me, surely."

"Perhaps he feels you think the same of him."

Jaskier had considered that option, but it seems unlikely.

"Either way, it's best just to tell him. I'm sure he'll be flattered if nothing else."

The mere suggestion of it makes Jaskiers stomach turn and he nods slowly. Thankfully, at that moment, supper is delivered to their room and he is spared the thought of confessing his feelings - out loud - to Geralt.

His relief is short-lived as supper is finished shortly, but he makes an excuse about taking the dishes away and dashes out the door with them. Jaskier wants to cry. He can't believe he's gotten himself into a mess like this and he can only hope Geralt doesn't continue to bring it up.

He's so distracted thinking about it that it seems like seconds before he's standing back in front of his door. He hesitates before opening the door, keeping his eyes closed until the last possible moment.

When he opens his eyes, Jaskier's heart jumps into his throat. As Geralt turned to see him, a piece of paper had fallen from his hands and Jaskier can't take his eyes off it. He'd been so preoccupied worrying about the mess when Geralt showed up that he'd forgotten to hide the letter. And it was addressed to Geralt, he had every right to read it, but-

"Jaskier?"

Jaskier scrambles across the floor, reaching for the letter, but Geralt catches his wrist, holding him still.

"Is this just another one of your poems?" he asks quietly.

Jaskier shakes his head. There's no use denying it.

"It's… me. I'm the one you were talking about earlier."

Jaskier half wishes he could fall through the floor and never have to finish this conversation. Sadly, despite how hard he wishes, the floor refuses to open up beneath him. He nods.

"I want to hear you say it."

Jaskier's tongue feels heavy in his mouth but he manages, "I don't know what to say. I don't want to make any big confessions I can't live up to."

"Then how about this?" Geralt says.

He leans in, taking Jaskier's face in his hand, and softly presses their lips together. For a moment, Jaskier forgets to breathe and has trouble believing this is real at all. But when Geralt pulls back again, he's smiling, his cheeks a faint shade of pink. Jaskier's first thought is that it's quite a pretty colour on him before he presses forward and kisses him again.

"Yeah," he breathes, barely pulling away to speak, "I think that's a good start."

#rex writes #i just barely managed to sneak in a fic in January #first one of the year #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher

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seodami · 2 months

Text

The tale of the star and the ant | HHJ

Pairing: Idol!Hwang Hyunjin x non celebrity!reader

Genre: fluff & angst

Warning: heartbreak <\3

Word count: 1158

Hwang Hyunjin was an angel. An angel sent from heaven, caringly raised by Eleos, the god of compassion, and kissed by the goddess Aphrodite who gifted him ethereal beauty and the ability to love deeply. Hwang Hyunjin was a masterpiece in every aspect. He was the epitome of perfect.

The first time your eyes layed upon his, you knew he was special. He was so mesmerizing, a smile so kind and warm it made your heart melt a little in the coldness of the long lasting winter days. You knew from that moment on, you wouldn’t and couldn’t forget him.

By your definition, fate personally had decided to grace you with the opportunity to talk to Hwang Hyunjin, laugh with him and even one dance with him. It felt like a series of unexpected and unexplained events, only destiny could have gifted you. He was a bright star in the sky while you were the tiny ant looking up to him, wondering how a star so surreal like him could exist.

And Hyunjin was special. He really was. A star so grounded, so kind and gentle, it was impossible to stay away from. And he welcomed you with open inviting arms and a big smile on his face, letting you in on a well protected side of his. Allowing you to get to know him.

But knowing Hwang Hyunjin was a mess. There were days you wished you would have just stayed in the shadows the day you met him. To save yourself from all the consequences he brought along. But deep down, you still believed in fate’s calling for you.

Knowing him came with floods of messages from old acquaintances and unknown people. It came with intruding questions, uncalled actions and unprofessional behavior. It came with slimy people creeping up to your good side, empty promises and the feeling of loneliness.

But Hyunjin was the reason you stayed up until 3 am in the morning, talking about everything and everyone all at once in your living room, wine glasses swishing in your hands, bubbly laughter echoing through the walls of the dim room. He was the reason you couldn’t stop smiling in the train, at work, at the supermarket, even at the post office. He was the reason your stomach exploded with warm fuzzy butterflies, expanding in every area of your body, leaving you feel so vulnerable, so happy and giddy, so full of pure love.

Every second you spent with Hyunjin was magical. Like a dream. Even if you tried, you couldn’t stop your heart from drumming loudly, racing faster and jumping higher out of your chest. It could have been the lovesick smile he was showing only to you, his big dark eyes watching you full of genuine adoration or the way his fingers gently grazed your skin in every given occasion.

It were the little moments you cherished the most inside your heart, safely secured inside a treasure box with his name written on top of it. The soft kisses shared under the moonlight rain, your stupidly lovesick giggles inside his fancy big bathtub, his fingers playing with your earlobe, grazing your cheek and neck. It was the smell of his hair after a fresh shower, the hourless deep discussions you had in front of his fireplace inside his warm arms and his proud smile radiating pure happiness when he gifted you your own set of keys to his apartment. It was the way he openly invited you to spend Chuseok with his close family and the way he admired you sneakily while you played with Kkami and baked him his favorite cake after an exhausting day. How his beautifully plush lips adorned a teasing smile as he took his sweet time to draw a portrait with so much care of you while you were posing in front of him. How his adorable contagious laughters infected you when you tickled him as you tried to take a little peak at his unfinished work. And how he coyly showed you his more than perfected art piece, showing you just how ethereal you looked in his eyes.

You were so absolutely devastatingly in love with this man, wondering how a feeling so deep and so new could live within you.

But loving Hwang Hyunjin was dangerous. It was everything but it was also too much. Loving Hwang Hyunjin came with threats, wary warnings and shocking revelations. It came with a loss of privacy, paranoia and fear. And it most definitely came with disgustingly deep rooting hate, that seemed to reach no end.

It was endless, brutal and ruthless. Mean, nasty and disrespectful. Despite Hyunjins honorable and restless support and tries to put this behaviour to rest, nothing seemed to stop. People were following you constantly, spying on your every move, making you feel unsafe in your own four walls. It just never stopped.

Loving Hwang Hyunjin came with pain, pain and more pain. And even though your heart screamed for his love, yearned for his touch, longed for his time … it couldn’t get what it wanted. It never could in this world, where he was the star and you were the ant.

So why did fate made you suffer through it all? The pain was unbearable at first, so deep, so mind numbing. It felt as if a crucial part of yourself was torn apart from you. As if someone removed everything happy within you, around you. And with pain, there comes regret. And after that, even more pain … until it all vanished and leaves you with the sour aftertaste of bitterness on your tongue. You hated it with all your heart. What if…

But still loving Hwang Hyunjin despite the heartbreak was the worst. It was something small inside your mind, that would always lead you back to him like a broken record player playing your favorite song on repeat. Never moving on, always longing for the next part, wondering how the future may look like if it wasn’t damaged.

It came with bitter realization after a while. You were no match for him in this life even though your souls still longed for each other after all the pain.

Loving Hwang Hyunjin came with silent promises. Promises to meet at a different time, a different place and a different universe. It came with a reassuring smile and a soft farewell kiss mixed with the saltiness of tears streaming down both your faces.

Hwang Hyunjin was still an angel. He was still an angel sent from heaven, caringly raised by Eleos, the god of compassion, and kissed by the goddess Aphrodite who gifted him ethereal beauty and the ability to love deeply. Hwang Hyunjin was still a masterpiece in every aspect. He was still the epitome of perfect. And he was still the love of your life, your soulmate even if in this universe, fate did not allow you to be with him.

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Note

I am a desperate little gremlin (who’s brain is refusing to go to sleep for some reason), politely asking for your Oberyn hcs? Or really any GoT hcs?

Thanks for always indulging in my nonsense <3

SCOUT SCOUT SCOUT SCOUT SCOUT

I’m sorry for letting this sit in my askbox for so long, my hyperfixations drifted for a while 😭 BUT I’m back on my GoT bullshit (for now) with a few hcs for our favourite prince AND a little something spicy under the cut cuz I’m in a M O O D.

oberyn martell headcanons:

this man is SMART. like…we already know oberyn is well-spoken and witting and cunning (and a little too vengeful but that’s what fix-it fics are for) but he’s a sexy-level of intelligent. and he’s a bookworm!! he reads any and every book he can get his hands on, his head is full of historical facts and timelines and details of battles won and lost. he can recount full summers and winters and when his girls ask for a story late at night, when they can’t sleep, he’s more than happy to spin a tale that’s not far off from the colourful past.

he’s a hopeless romantic. yes, he’s a gigantic flirt and a devil between the sheets and yes, he has you wrapped around his finger in the blink of an eye, but he does it well. we’re talking flowers and gifts and poems delivered to your chambers in the middle of the night. walks through the water gardens and long conversation, not just winning you over with his generosity, but his personality, his admiration, his ambition. he falls for you just as hard as you fall for him.

dorne is beautiful, no denying, and I like to think that the sweet prince has many secret hiding places, mini oasis (oases? the english language is weird) with beautiful gardens he likes to tend to. he could spend hours amongst the greenery, the exotic fruits and the sound of birds. he enjoys the beautiful things, and finds solace wherever he can.

I was gonna say he’s adventurous in bed but….that pretty much goes without saying so I don’t think it counts as an hc 😂 (and see below…😏)

silk - oberyn martell x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: light bondage, teasing, oberyn comes with his own warning, dirty talk, idk what the fuck this is and it’s unedited so HAVE FUN 💕

“Ah, ah, ah,” he purrs, the tip of his nose dragging along the stretch of your inner thigh. “Not yet, my love. You are doing so well for me.”

You can’t help the whine that falls from your lips, hips lifting to chase his slick lips. The ties around your wrists pull taut, the headboard behind you creaking with your movement. You can’t see him, but you can feel him, hands roving around your hips and over your stomach, fingers dancing along your skin as he kisses your skin, nips your flesh between his teeth.

“L-lover,” you stutter out, “Oberyn, please.”

He clucks his tongue at you now, and you can almost see the cat-like grin as he moves higher up the bed, adjusting the numerous pillows and blankets as he goes. His shoulder hooks beneath your knee, spreading you wider, putting you on display.

You’ve been at this for hours.

It was like a game of cat and mouse, from the moment you opened your eyes. Every corner you turned, he was there, a mischievous light in those dark eyes, hands twitching when you brushed past. You teased just as hard as he did, hovering too close when you poured him more wine, swishing your skirts just the right way when he walked by. The look in his gaze had become something more feral, more intimidating, but you were more than happy to play along.

The sun had barely fallen when he’d summoned you to his chambers, the balcony doors wide open to let the warm Dornish air fill the space. The prince stood at the ledge, a glass of wine in his hand, his chest bare, that thick golden chain he favoured dangling from his neck. He held something in his grip as he turned to you, dark coloured fabric that shone in the torchlight. Silk scarves; he’d brought you one back as a gift from his last journey to Essos.

His lips twitched into a grin as the door shut behind you, the lock clicking shut when you sank against the wood. “My prince?”

“Do you trust me, my love?” he called, head cocked to the side. He set the glass of wine down, took the silk between both hands, slipping the fabric between his knuckles, watching it move like water through his fingers. “Would you let me try something we haven’t tried before?”

You weren’t one to deny your prince.

First, he had slipped the silk over your eyes, a loose knot tied at the back of your head, enough to cover your eyes. Once it was fastened, he turned you to face him, palms cupping your shoulders, and leaned in slow. You could feel it, the shift in the air as he came closer. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then let his mouth drag across the silk, the fabric catching on his lips.

He caught your chin next, a knuckle knocked beneath it, tilting your face up, your head back. “My beauty,” he murmured, thumb rubbing at your bottom lip, spreading your saliva along the pad. “Oh, how I cannot wait to watch you come undone.”

Oberyn laid you out on the bed next, sweeping you into his arms and carrying you across the room. You squealed when he swept you off your feet, clinging to him as he held you, burying your nose in his neck.

“I would not let you fall, my love.”

My love. My beauty. The possessiveness had you keening, even before he’d even started to touch you.

You stretched out as he laid you down, legs shifting beneath the thin skirts of your shift. He moved with you, hovering over you, your arms still latched around his neck, knees knocking wide for his hips to slide between.

He kissed you hard, tongue tasting of wine as it dipped into your mouth. You moaned, and he drank the noise, humming in approval when you buried your fingers in his hair, wrapped the short strands around your knuckles. When your hands moved, trailing down his shoulders, he struck, reaching for your wrists, pulling them away from his body. He held both in one big hand, tugged your arms over your head. You followed his lead, your eyes fluttering against the silk as he rolled his hips into yours as he manoeuvred you, and then you felt it.

More silk, looped around your wrists, pulled just taut enough to keep you in place, keep your hands from roaming his body. You bit back your whine at the notion of not touching him while he tended to you, but it was quickly replaced with another moan as he tugged your shift aside, lowered his mouth to your chest and took your nipple between his teeth.

Slowly, he touched you. Every skim of his fingers was featherlight, every scrape of his teeth just this side of not enough. Wherever his fingers moved, your body reacted, muscles twitching and limbs lifting, trying to get closer, trying to get more.

But he wouldn’t give it.

It was nearly torturous, the way he was dragging out your pleasure. Most nights, he’d bring you to that peak multiple times, pulling noises from your throat you didn’t think yourself capable of. This was different, the way he made you beg, the way your body did it willingly. He dragged you straight up to the edge, then left you there, waited for you to relax, before starting over, back to the beginning, your heart racketing in your chest.

And it’s been hours.

“Oberyn,” you keen, and he brushes the backs of his knuckles against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Every touch makes you twitch, and your spine arches when you feel his hot breath against your hotter core. “Please.”

“So sweet when you beg,” he murmurs, the feeling of his tongue flicking at your clit following a moment later. You gasp. “This pleasure, it feels incredible, does it not? I can see it, just below the surface of your skin. Like a fire, coming to life.” Another lick. “Though, I must admit, I do miss the feeling of your hands on me.”

“Let me—” you start, but you never get the words out completely. He licks at you, groaning into your very depths, every nerve in you sparking to life. Thick fingers spread you open, and even with the blindfold, you can feel his eyes on you, that heavy gaze raking over every inch of your body.

“Oh, my love,” he whispers, giving you another lick, the flat of his tongue a scorching heat that feels like it never ends. “We’re just getting started.”

#oberyn martell #my fics #silk #oberyn martell headcanons #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell fic #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader

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gainingfiction · 4 months

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Who is the hottest guy you have seen out and about recently?

Great question! Unfortunately I live in a small, somewhat rural town, and the selection of hot guys is not ideal. So I’ve been sitting on this ask for a while.

Turns out, my patience was fated. I just saw the very first guy I ever had a crush on. Like, one of those major, embarrassing boyhood crushes. It’s a tale as old as time; the nerdy, closeted gay boy fawning over the straight, popular jock. Nothing ever came of it, of course, and I moved on. It’s been years since I’ve seen him and I haven’t given him much thought. But guess what—he’s gained weight. Ex-jock indeed.

I was doing some (very) last-minute Christmas shopping at the liquor store, when a familiar (but somewhat rounder) face caught my eye. He’d always had a cute, handsome face, but it looked even cuter now, softened as it was. I mean, he has dimples! He was dressed casually, and his wavy dark hair was a bit tousled and shaggy. He was wearing grey sweatpants (God is good) and a baggy purple hoodie, but it was the sort of baggy that accentuated rather than disguised his new, rotund belly. And from behind, his puffy winter coat did nothing to minimize his obvious love handles.

He played on our high school basketball team back in the day, and had always been athletic when I knew him, but I expect he fell into a trap that entangles many men in their mid-20s (i.e., getting a little chubby). I'm useless at guessing weights, but if you forced me to speculate, I'd say he's up about 40-50 pounds from his fighting weight. And he's not particularly tall. Considering his wardrobe, I can’t help but think of Mean Girls (2004): “sweatpants are all that fits me right now.” Wishful thinking, maybe.

I don’t know if he’s the hottest guy I’ve seen out and about recently, but you never forget your first crush… I hope he has a great Christmas, and gets plenty to eat while he’s home for the holidays.

#asks #not fiction #weight gain #glad he didn’t catch me staring #I feel a little sketchy writing a lengthy description of a real person #but hey it’s better than creepy stealth pics you see floating around right?#gay #genuinely grey sweatpants are a gift to humanity and every man who wears them should be nominated for a nobel peace prize #i love answering asks so keep them coming!

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jovenshires · 3 months

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endless au edits: smosh theatre's seasonal lineup (1/4)

SMOSH'S SEASONAL LINEUP: A COMPLETE GUIDE by mac kahey smosh theatre, a musical theater company known for its diverse and inclusive productions, has just announced its show lineup for the year, and it is safe to say that fans are far from disappointed. starting off strong, the company kicked off its announcement with its winter showcase: a production of hadestown, led by stars damien haas and jacklyn uweh, and directed by none other than returning smosh co-founder, anthony padilla. padilla made his comeback to smosh a little over six months ago to collaborate with his fellow co-owner on their spring and summer musicals. this will be padilla's first solo show at the playhouse in nearly six years - and what a show to start off on. coupling this tragic tale of love lost with padilla's edgy direction style is a bold move, and fans are, rightfully, excited. the casting choices are also impeccable. the star-studded lineup includes previously-mentioned damien haas, an openly neurodivergent and queer actor making waves for representation everywhere. he'll be taking on the role of orpheus, a hopeless romantic, poet, and musician, and as someone who had the pleasure of sitting down with him for an interview last spring, all of these qualities describe haas to a t. this will be his first time leading a show with smosh in his near-six-year run at the company, and his first time working with padilla as a director. the actor shared the show to his instagram and expressed his excitement for the production, saying, "anthony is such a great director. it's been an honor to work with him and my amazing castmates." speaking of his castmates - his leading lady is none other than superstar jacklyn uweh. returning from her recent stint touring with the cast of spring awakening, she has rejoined the smosh cast for another performance that's sure to be amazing. the actress is known for advocating for women of color in theater spaces and never being afraid to speak her mind. she also, notably, has one of the most incredible singing voices of our generation. taking on the mysterious yet powerful role of eurydice will be no easy feat, but somehow, i think she has the power to manage it. just with this one casting, smosh has shown that when the perfect cast falls into their lap, they aren't foolish enough not to utilize it. the stacked cast doesn't stop there, though. playing hermes, the play's narrator and father figure to young orpheus, is ify nwadiwe, a booming comedic actor who has been known to feature in smosh productions. his fun-loving demeanor and natural swagger are sure to bring a natural carefree energy to this rendition of hadestown. he, too, spoke of the production fondly on social media, posting on x: "this is one of the greatest things i've ever been a part of. come see us next december to february at the smosh playhouse for one of the most incredible, f***ed up things we've ever done." long-time smosh player keith leak jr is taking on the role of hades, the rich, powerful, and egotistical king of the underworld, and his friend and partner in all things theater, olivia sui, will be beside him once more as persephone, hades's free-spirited yet suffering wife. watching these two together is always a delight, and i cannot wait for their dynamic to shine through the characters that they play. as far as the winter production is concerned, the community's shared high hopes for padilla's return may very well turn out to be grounded in reality. with an all-star cast and an incredible crew, such as returning stage head erin dougal, it is easy to see that padilla knows what he's doing. though only time will tell, i am confident that this production will be a huge success, and very well may be my favorite show of the year - although, i must mention the other productions first - because they all have incredible potential.

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