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miamierre · 7 months

Note

alonso+stroll. no.9. YOU GOTTA 😹 ( i mean you dont but i saw you saying sth so if u wanna practice i gotcha babe) 🩷

9: one night stand but the next morning you learn it's your CEO's kid

In hindsight, Fernando realizes it probably wasn't the best decision to take the kid home from the bar. Nothing good happens in Manhattan on a Thursday after 11pm, and especially not when the next day involves a quarterly presentation that his team has been scrambling to put together for months, now. If he were smarter, maybe he'd have called it a night after the last toast with his analysts. Hell, maybe he wouldn't have shown up at all.

The thing is, right after their row of chairs at the bar had cleared, Fernando had turned to look for one of the senior leadership teams and ended up with a face full of unidentifiable blazer--which had, of course, ended up being Lance. Lance, who'd apologized and introduced himself blandly but with a glint in his eye. Lance, who'd offered to buy Fernando a drink with a dark, raised brow that'd been urging him on.

Lance, who's now dragging him to the too-small bathroom at the back of the bar like his life depends on it. Fernando is far too many drinks in to protest such a blessing, this stranger and his big hands pawing at his belt like a desperate puppy: he'll just have to roll with it instead. "Easy," he chuckles, voice sounding distant to his own ears, "easy, princesa, this is my nicest suit." It's not, really, but Lance doesn't need to know that. They have to slow it down or he's going to make a mess of--well, of himself. It's been a long time since he hooked up with someone like this in a bathroom of all places. He's not 27 anymore.

"Really?" His companion's voice is breathy but clearly disbelieving, both brows now arched at his words. "It's not that nice." Fernando is too drunk to be immediately irritated, which works in his favor, because in a beat Lance's face breaks into a shit-eating grin, head thunking back against the stall carelessly, like he knows what he's doing. "I've wiped my ass with nicer."

Such an asshole. Fernando huffs a half-formed laugh, then thwacks his arm heavily into Lance's chest, knocking a little uff from him. "You talk too much," he counters, forcing his weight into Lance a little more. The low groan of approval he gets in return just makes him put a little more effort into it. "What, is playing with daddy's money not enough for you?" The younger man's eyes seem to glaze over at his tone. "You want to see what it is like to do real work, hm, is that it." Fernando's not going to bother trying to make this work here and now--he's going to drag this rich pretty boy back to his apartment on 57th Street, and he's going to fuck all this haughty, smug energy right out of him.

Lance goes easily, and the night passes all too quickly. The mess left behind when he scrabbles for his now-filthy blazer and all but disappears from Fernando's place before dawn is the only proof he'd ever been there in the first place. It's probably for the better, anyway: he's now working against the clock to put himself together and keep all of his Q4 talking points in relative order instead of think about the noises he'd ripped from that stranger sharing his bed all night.

He's going to secure that end-of-year bonus for his team the moment he walks through the conference room doors--

of course, that's before he sees Lance sitting in that same now-clean blazer at the end of the table, seated next to Fernando's CEO and picking at his nails uninterestedly.

Side by side, the resemblance is uncanny.

"Oh, fuck."

#EVERYONE BE NICE TO ME I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE EITHER OF THESE MEN #thank you akira ily #strollonso #fic #romance prompt meme #ask reply #effervescentdragon #AU tag

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remyfire · 20 days

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tagged by @mxmorel :D

Rules: Pick a bunch of your WIPs and summarize them as badly as possible, then ask your followers to vote on which one they’d be most likely to read. Multiple/all/none options are completely optional.

Tagging anyone who wants to participate!! I can't currently remember who has multiple active WIPs :D

#i'm not very good at badly describing things but i had fun anyway #polls #my writing #ask meme replies

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bedlamsbard · 2 months

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POV

Natasha POV of the opening scene of Of Home Near! (Original version here.) About 1.1K below the break.

*****

Sometimes Natasha thought that Howard Stark just liked looking at Steve.

She had seen Tony watch Pepper when he thought no one else was looking, and there was a little of that in the way Howard watched Steve, his chin propped on one hand and his eyes going soft and pleased. Part of it might have been only that Howard had missed his best friend while Steve had been presumed dead and was more than a little afraid that Steve would vanish if he looked away, but if there was one thing other than how to kill people Natasha knew, it was how to read men.

She couldn’t exactly blame Howard for it. She liked looking at Steve too, and she was the one who was in his bed every night. She had the right to look, which was still a fairly novel sensation for her.

By the time they had been there for a week, everyone in the SSR was getting fairly stir-crazy due to the lockdown Howard had imposed. As far as Natasha could tell, no one was actively opposed to it; despite Howard’s attempts to spread a more mundane version of the story, rumors of Captain America’s dramatic return had spread and at this stage in the war everyone in the SSR was paranoid enough to understand the reasons for the lockdown. It just didn’t mean they enjoyed it. It also meant that they were running short-handed since Howard had instituted the lockdown in the middle of the night, when most of the SSR’s personnel had already gone home.

They were in Howard’s office, Natasha watching Howard watch Steve and wondering if Steve had any idea that Howard Stark was in love with him, when she heard the sudden silence in the lab outside. Steve cocked his head to one side, listening, then suddenly went white. Natasha looked at him in concern, then turned as the door opened behind them.

“Stark, you are aware there’s still a war on, aren’t you? We can’t drop everything to hop across the Channel just on your say-so.”

The speaker was a tall army officer with a weathered face, wearing a colonel’s insignia and SSR pins. There was a woman with him, mouth painted red and brown hair perfectly coiffed, and four years ago Natasha had seen both of their portraits flanking Howard Stark’s in an old SHIELD building in New Jersey not long before Hydra had blown it to hell.

Howard’s gaze flickered quickly to Steve’s still face before he straightened up. “I didn’t think this one could wait,” he said. “And you took your time coming back; I called you a week ago.”

“Because there’s still a war on,” the woman said. Steve shut his eyes at the sound of her voice, breathing hard, and Natasha closed her hands into fists. She might be sleeping with him now, might have his name and his borrowed ring on her finger, but she was under no illusions about where she ranked on a scale that included Peggy Carter. “Well, what is it?”

Howard looked at Steve again instead of responding. Steve breathed in deeply, then opened his eyes and turned around. “Peggy,” he said, then swallowed hard and added, “Sir,” to Chester Phillips.

Phillips blinked once, clearly startled, and said, “Rogers.”

Peggy didn’t say anything at all. She just walked forward until she could put her arms around Steve. Natasha bit the inside of her cheek as Steve hugged her back, his whole body briefly going slack with relief, like he had gotten something back that he had never expected to have again. Which he had.

When Peggy finally pulled back, she reached up for him, and this time Natasha looked away, belatedly aware of Howard Stark’s sharp gaze tracking the motion.

Steve said, “Peggy, wait – wait –” and Natasha looked back, startled.

Peggy seized his left hand, staring at the ring on his finger, and said, “You –!” Then she punched him in the face.

Steve staggered backwards and almost fell. Natasha and Howard caught him to steady him as he got his feet under him again, staring at Peggy with huge, hurt eyes.

“Well,” Howard said, releasing him once he was sure that Natasha had a good grip on Steve’s other arm, “at least she didn’t shoot you this time.”

“Thanks, Howard,” Steve said, touching his jaw gingerly. “That really makes me feel better.” He was trembling a little under Natasha’s hands, but his voice was even. Since she had seen him take a punch from a god without flinching, she suspect his reaction was more surprise than anything else.

Peggy shot Natasha a hard look that both took in the ring on her left hand and quite obviously found her wanting. Natasha met her gaze calmly, not willing to let herself waver and undermine Steve.

“Glad to see you’re in fine form, Rogers,” Colonel Phillips said, turning to shut the door on the audience they had acquired in the lab. He looked at Natasha and added, “Is this the lucky lady?”

“Natasha Rogers, Colonel Phillips, Agent Carter.” She let go of Steve and offered the colonel her hand. His grip was firm and dry; she saw him register her pistol calluses and nod a little, giving Steve a contemplative look that was probably at least as much evaluating his taste in women as gauging anything about Natasha.

Natasha felt the pistol calluses on Peggy Carter’s palm and fingers as the other woman squeezed her hand a little too hard, her expression suggesting that she would have liked to rip Natasha’s throat out with her teeth. Her gaze tracked the scar at Natasha’s hairline from the Battle of New York as well as the way Natasha shifted her weight after Peggy released her, one professional’s quick evaluation of another. She didn’t look at Steve, whose expression was miserable.

Howard and Phillips were both looking back and forth between Steve, Peggy, and Natasha like spectators at a three-way tennis match. Natasha let out her breath, then took Steve’s hand in hers, folding her fingers around his and squeezing a little to reassure him.

She had only been thinking about how Steve might react to Peggy Carter. It had never occurred to her to worry about how Peggy Carter might react to him. Or to Natasha, for that matter.

“You were able to bail out?” Phillips asked Steve.

Steve took a deep breath. “Not exactly,” he said. “I didn’t walk away from the crash, either.” He glanced at Natasha, who nodded a little in response to his unspoken question, then took another deep breath and looked back at Phillips. “I’m Steve Rogers, but I’m not your Steve Rogers – I mean, I am, I’m just not from 1945. Nat and I are from 2018.”

#miss marieanne #bedlam replies #meme response #of home near #cut scenes and concept writing #home behind the scenes #iw time travel concept

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stealingyourbones · 1 year

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Here are my wisdom teeth.

Adult Danny lives in Illinois because that is where vlad.co is based and that is the company that Danny inherited after Vlad got therapy. But he gets invited to a gala in Gotham around the time the Fenton ghost family reunion happens and that year his late cousin is hosting it in Gotham cemetery.

Martha and Thomas Wayne befriend a Fenton family member and the late Wayne family members join the Fenton's family reunion because they are small enough to squeeze in.

Jason rises from the grave while Danny, the Fenton cousin , Thomas, and Martha clean up the mess from the family reunion because they drew the short straws.

Danny pulls Jason out of the ground and helps him with the shock before asking the other people cleaning up if he can dip early to help someone. Martha and Thomas tell him that it is ok the Fenton cousin acts disappointed.

Danny convinces Jason to go to his hotel room to recover and eat food or something Jason follows Danny back to amity park After the gala.

This leads to some fun family hijinks and eventually a angsty reunion between Jason and Bruce.

This family get together has a bit more meaning than it usually does.

#they do the spiderman meme over the potluck table covered in various family's versions of tater tot hot dish #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc comics #writing prompts #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #bones replies #anon

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 4 months

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1, 3 and 7 with Discworld?

Hahah that's so vague! So I'm going for overarching stuff, as much as possible. Rather than character specific.

1. Canon I outright reject

Moist von Lipwig is not tall. I refuse to accept that. He should be average in all things: facial features, coluring, height. Deeply, deeply average. Mediocre, even. Nothing to write home about. You wouldn't notice him.

Because that's the point.

Oh - I refuse to accept that the merchant's guild was a relatively new creation (as per the timeline of the series). Ankh-Morpork is a fundamentally mercantile society - it makes no sense for it to be so recent an establishment.

Therefore, I reject TP's world building on that front because it doesn't fit the world itself.

3. Obscure headcanon

Not sure if it's truely obcure, but obviously I head canon Madam as Vetinari's mother rather than aunt. They just fudged things to ensure in the eyes of Polite Society he had ""Proper Parentage"" and wasn't the offspring of a sex worker and one of her favoured johns.

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

I'm not sure! Most people fit with their descriptions pretty well so I've not augmented much in my headcanons. I've just drawn things perhaps a little firmer?

I know fandom prettifies people, so I tend to try and make sure Vetinari isn't described as this handsome man but rather weird looking and Beauty is Very Much In the Eye of the Beholder with him.

I also like characters to have a bit of weight on them. Downey is in his fifties - people put weight on with age, for the most part. He's not going to be a svelte twenty year old. Same for Vetinari - he's in his fifties and he's less mobile than previously due to the gunshot wound. He's going to be carrying more weight in the paunch than when he was young. Ditto for Vimes and Boggis and Sybil and all others of a Certain Age.

I just like these people to have aging, changing bodies. It's important that their skin hangs a little loose, that there are squishy bits that weren't like that when they were twenty-five or thirty, that there's weight on hips/thighs/stomach/arms, that there are wrinkles and lines and skin pores and random black hairs that show up overnight and all that stuff that is part of the beauty and grace of aging.

-----

Thank you! <3 <3 <3 <3

#discworld #lord downey #vetinari #ask #reply #anon #ask meme #ask game #writing

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darehearts · 5 months

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good morning ! how does one actually organize their thoughts and write out a timeline for new aus asking for a friend 💀

#you know that puppy drawing meme where the pup says no writing #ONLY ✨IMAGINE✨ SKDJFKSJFJ THAT'S LITERALLY ME LMAO #like i can feel the vibes-- i know the feeling i wanna go for but lordie #the details! *shakes fist at the sky* THE DETAILS!!! anyway happy #friday glitter bombs. i cant wait to get off work. i hope you all are #doing okay! i'm focusing a bit more on my health lately than other #stuff. it's been helpful! alas no extra replies besides my queue tho #i appreciate your patience. MWAH! <333 take care!#tbd

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ruthlesslistener · 3 months

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7 and 8 for the ask game

Doing this for Hollow Knight!

7. your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

-PK being forced to deal with his regrets and what he did to his children and ALSO his entire lineage being just one step removed from being a totally wild nonsocial superpredator in comparison to the very human-like social beetles that they rule over, which he very much does not like to be reminded of and thus is just as fun to thrust upon him. I love him, he reminds me of myself, but I also hate him because he reminds me of the worst of myself, but I also love hating him because it makes me feel better about myself because at least I'm not doing whatever the fuck HE'S doing, and that results in me just. fuckin. grabbing him in my teeth and going brrrrrrrr like an alligator deathrolling their prey

I also just really enjoy writing inhuman characters to begin with, and the fact that Hollow Knight starts off at the baseline of the whole cast being inhuman is so so nice and fun to play around with. Hollow, PK, and Lurien are all fav povs for me to write because they show different angles of how inhuman beings interact with inhuman societies, and its just super super fun to finangle how they all perceive and interact with the world as a result

8. you hope more people will come to appreciate ___ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

-LURIEN!! Specifically, I'd love to see more stuff with Lurien being the Watcher and/or interacting with the other Dreamers + Hollow. I def. think that I artificially inflated the amount of Lurien content simply by virtue of being obsessed with him for like, 4 fucking years, but I also just really really like seeing different people's takes on him. He's kind of canon's biggest plot hole, and looking at the different ways that people work to fill that hole + comparing and contrasting how I did it to them is super fun (provided that there's actual thought put into it vs just cracking 'king beloved' jokes, ofc)

#gemisbored #hollow knight #ask game #ask meme #reply #hollows pov is the best imo. its why i wrote udsb #well. part of the reason- but its certainly a big factor as to why i enjoy writing it

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swaps55 · 4 months

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2023 Year End Fic Wrap Up

Tagged by @cr-noble-writes. Thank you!

Words written (published or not, WIPs totally count too!):

Published: 65,113 Unpublished: 41,773 Total: 106,886

It feels like I wrote a lot less this year than previous years, but I think it’s less about word count and more that my two big projects, Fugue and Mezzo, sucked up my entire mental bandwidth and I just didn’t have capacity to kick out one shots like I have in the past. I have a bunch of ideas for fun one shots, but not enough time or energy to realize them.

Also, this number is by no means accurate. My Mezzo Leftovers document is sitting at 11.3k, and Fugue finished up with a scrapheap of 28.3k. Gosh, it's hard to believe Fugue was actually 2023. It feels like years ago. Just writing it aged me 10 years. XD

Smut scenes written (if applicable): None. Did I daydream frequently and in great detail about how Sam and Kaidan reconcile in ME3? Yes. Could I write it in my sleep at this point? Also yes. Did I write a word of it? No.

New things I tried: 2nd person POV, Mordin POV, and EDI POV were all new and very scary things I tried, and think were largely successful (jury is still out on EDI and Mordin because only my beta has seen it, but I’m pleased with them).

Fic I spent the most time on: Probably Mezzo, because I wrote more of it than Fugue in 2023.

Fic I spent the least time on: Probably Capriccio, because it was short and mostly wrote itself.

Favourite thing I wrote: Well…I wrote so little outside of the long fics, because they have sucked up all my time and spoons. Fugue is something I am so proud of, but Mezzo has been so fun.

Favourite thing I read: A Sip of Serenity was a Spec Recs Kaidan & Liara treat fic for me by @screwyouflightlieutenant and I love it with an unholy love. Also, Madrigal and Volta by @dandenbo are PHENOMENAL stories you should drop everything and read.

Writing goals for next year: Finishing Mezzo sounds ambitious, but I guess I can be ambitious in January. XD

Tagging...I don't know! Who hasn't done this? If you haven't, please do it and tag me, because I wanna see. @stormikins? @otemporanerys?

#mememe #2023 year in review #meme replies #how writing is written #i've been feeling Some Kind of Way about writing lately #not frustration or apathy towards WRITING #i am still loving the hell out of that part #but this general malaise and mental exhaustion that takes away my spoons to write is becoming something i really resent #if i could take a 2-3 month sabbatical and just...rest and write and recover from...[gestures broadly] this #i think i'd be a whole new person #but alas #capitalism and all #i think i need to just be more firm with myself that writing good stories take time #i don't do me or anyone else any favors by fretting about speed and schedule #if mezzo takes forever #people will either stick around to read it or they won't #it's more important i write the story i will be proud of #anyway i've had a lot on my mind lately #Deep Thoughts With Swaps #or something #it's just weird feeling creatively pumped up and also utterly demotivated at the same time #the spirit is willing but the Swaps is very very tired

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katyspersonal · 10 months

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Top 5 Elden Ring's demigods

Argh... Could you've given me any HARDER top to make? :') No matter who I put below 5th place, I will feel like a huge prick @_@ Because they all deserve some praise, and some love. It is just incredibly good writing. Well, fine then, let's try.

Five - Morgott!

I talked about him already. The absolute tear-jerker character, a member of oppressed minority, that is defending the very corrupt system that deems people like HIM worthless.... He made me cry (/srs ) more than once upon just this sentiment. He is very realistic, and very easy to sympathise with and feel bad for. He certainly radiates a giant soft spot, though (and not JUST because he has dad bod that is completely naked under his robes, hahaha). In a weird way, he reminds me of Asg0re, a character from my other fandom - a big "monster" King who did a lot of bad things on his way, and because of his mental wound, but in the end might melt upon a simple hug or be easily convinced. It is just not what a Soulsborne game would've let us experience, but... honestly, he has not only huge muscles, but also a huge HEART. I love this combination a LOT, it pulls the richest spectrum of emotions.

Four - Malenia!

She is such a beautiful and impressive boss.... ...that I never talk about her. x) I can't quite explain how my focus works, sorry </3 She scares me a little - and it is not even her fault, but the thing that casually claimed her body, because superior deities have nothing better to do I guess :/ She is holding up very well for someone who has to live in a constant struggle with the horror plaguing her very being. And for someone having to hold up as a warrior of her dear brother's interests despite her body rotting as she goes. And having to repeat 'I am Malenia, blade of Miquella' like a mantra, since Rot is infamous to destroy the memories, and she must not forget what and who she is fighting for.

"She deserved better" is an understatement, I'd say. Her personality shines through the 'influence' that has been ruining her quite well, I'd say. She is a strong warrior, very determined, but very full of honor and love at the same time. I say this in every other post about strong Soulsborne characters, yeah. True bravery is not lack of fear but going despite fear, true power is not being callous unbreakable wall but to still hold your weapon firm through struggle and pain, true personality is what you ARE and not what you are 'not', etc etc. It is always about the feelings.

Three - Godwyn!

I could not explain why he made it to this place very well, honestly. First, he stroke my weird spider-sense intuition. I was going into Elden Ring mostly in blind, and still keep whatever I can to be revealed as I go! Thus, I did not know anything about Godwyn besides the fact that he was the golden child (metaphorically and literally) that went down as sacrifice during Night of the Black Knives as one having his soul killed. And that he used to be a lovely person. But one day, as I was playing Elden Ring and progressing casually, from nowhere, for no reason, I started to think of this character. Again, for no reason, I was thinking of the 'Deep Sea' and imagining him becoming a mermaid (?), and healing/truly dying/letting new soul grow/whatever by returning to the sea. I even started crying, and I swear, those emotions felt like they were not even mine.

It felt very random, but you can't even imagine my surprise when that same day, I just coincidentally travelled to THAT location, and found him. And, coincidentally, he was posed like this with a mermaid tail. I take weird 'intuition moments' (dreams or waking) very personally as I have many of them (and funny enough, they always have to do with the 'sea' theme). No matter how I feel about this character in the future, but the weird "foretelling", "intuition" bond fixed my attention, so yeah.

He seems like a very loveable person, though... From narration standpoint, it does make the most sense that he of all people had to suffer this way. It just would not have had the same effect if someone less likeable/innocent had to go down. It is... sad, how much of this character is his tragedy alone. But, he befriended a dragon and bridged the gap between conflicting forces, and from what I gathered losing him specifically was what broke Marika, and Mohg named his new dynasty after himself AND Godwyn. Clearly, the guy was the best thing to ever have been associated with the Golden Order, and manifesting everything good about it within his personality alone. Whenever I bash the Golden Order as inherently corrupt thing, I just always think back on Godwyn as a confirmed exception from the judgement. And, of course, he would have enough "kindness" to spread death as new form of existence... despite the fact that his 'true' self would've probably dreaded to manifest living in death of all things.

Two - Rykard

I talked about this guy since the day ONE I've picked even remote interest in Elden Ring, isn't it so? @_@ Well, I still stand by what I was talking about. Tanith is absolutely justified for being obsessed with this guy. He is like uh... Aldr1ch but executed much better, or rather, in more sympathetic light? I for one honor the narrative of a character who has the GUTS, the S P I N E to sacrifice a lot, their morals included, to just get OUT of the corrupt (!) way their world works. And I have a feeling that so does Miyazaki. x) I think it is a twisted sort of bravery that we are lucky to never experience and only perceive through fiction. But, unlike Aldr1ch, who revels in his corruption and the horrible things he has to do, Rykard, 1) has a loving family and 2) hinted to have or have had sympathetic traits and simply lost his way from.... heheh.... biting more than he could chew... xd heheh... :drum emoji because I am a comedy genius:

But, in either case, ya'll are lucky that the guy is happily married. Ya'll would not survive the intensity of my thirst otherwise. It is just my rule to not touch married characters. I still admire the guy though. Not to mention the fucking UNREAL AWESOME FUCKING DESIGN, one of the best I've seen ANYWHERE, and him having my favorite theme in entire Elden Ring. Like, it was legitimately hard to live down the crisis of him being "taken", because this guy is really loveable, both as a man and as a monster.

One - Ranni!

Honestly, I always liked the mysterious aura, the clairvoyance and the uhhh... I guess, machiavellianism of this character? "Ends justify the means" character who does some unforgivable things but believes there is no other choice, and the grander purpose is more important. But, she has so many layers. She stepped away from her mother's teachings yet still created a badass illusions to protect her and clearly loves her forever, she has trust issues but in the end needs true friends and true kindness (something even an idiot like Seluvis can see!).

You could see it hurt her to do all that, but whatever freedom could be was worth it. She is just a very complicated character, that goes above and beyond. Letting her own body be killed is badass but understandable, since her body was inextricably tied to the Golden Order, as an Empyrean. Letting her somewhat-brother who was a genuinely good and radiant and loveable person be killed? That's a bit... more drastic... And so on. Indeed, she IS like Rykard in how far she had to go, and how much she had to sacrifice, but nonetheless I uh... would not say she lost clarity of her mind like him? It is interesting how by Dante's Divine Comedy though, Herecy is associated with fire but only on 6th level, yet it is treachery that is considered to be THE sin of sins, and it is the lowest level, and associated with ice, like her element. I am thinking about this very often @_@"

-------------------------------------------

Honorable mention - Radahn!

Sorry, but I love the guy, despite lack of deep discussion (and becoming a mascot of the most toxic fans). This is ADORABLE that he learned Gravity Magic just so he could still ride Leonard. He appears to be such a goofy dumbass, wholesome person in the "wrong" way, opposing a character that is actually likeable and loyal to the things and people that arguably never deserved it?

But you know I am a huge fan of Rom Bloodb0rne, right? He gives off the exact same 'person that seizes and conceals the horrors of the cosmos from humanity, although their personality and intellect are gone' vibe. It is just... that same vibe of a "silly" character, the comic relief, that turns out to either face a tragic fate or reveals a much deeper personality. He is simple and complicated at the same time! And, well, him having been such a legendary and impressive warrior that so many people gathered just to give him honorable death. This is somewhat impressive. He was actually a very close tie with Malenia.

#elden ring #ranni the witch #rykard lord of blasphemy #godwyn the prince of death #malenia blade of miquella #morgott the grace given #starscourge radahn #ask replies #ask meme #use later #no seriously ya'll would not survive the raw cataclysm had rykard not been taken #all two of you who heard me simp for Aldr1ch thought THAT was bad? you don't know what IS 'bad'#good family though him and tanith hella deserve each other /pos #but yeah this is the hardest 'top 5' i've done yet because i can say good things about everyone #even mohg lol #it is just the magic of fuckin awesome writing skills #thanks for the ask!#lol i have mixed feelings talking about 'telepathy trips' as i call them (like with godwyn)#because i swear i can foretell what i will learn/feel few hours before it happens for SOME reason #but it is so weird that i don't know what to make out of it besides 'time is a social construct anyway' sfdhfdhfhds #at least it was not as bizarre as my dream about golden tree before I even LEARNED of ER let alone played #*X-Files music bass-boosted and deep-fried*

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write-it-motherfuckers · 8 months

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From going through your fmk tag, I've learned that you definitely have a type and it's definitely large men with long(possibly fluffy) hair.

Shhhhhh! It wasn't a secret but shhhhhh!

#write-it-motherfuckers #mod speaks #ask #asks #askbox #ask box #inbox #answer #answers #reply #response #tag meme #ask meme #meme #tag #fmk #suggestive #i came out to have a good time and i'm honestly feeling so attacked right now

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eirianerisdar · 6 months

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humor is the only way i can cope with chapter 19

FASTER THAN THE RB19 WITH AN AFTERBURNER

No seriously why are these so good I just spent a solid five minutes scream-laughing with @wafflesrisa

I think my favourite is the Carlos and Max one and the one with me tipping the readers into a pit of pain and misery

And getting to the end with the crying smile scene-summary meme just SENT ME

You receive Danny whump in Icarus and I recieve memes indeed

#you’re the meme whisperer #how are these all so accurate do you just have a library of meme templates in your head #f1 #Icarus #Maxiel #max verstappen #Daniel ricciardo #f1 fanfic #f1 wingfic #f1 wing au #my post #replies #writing

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miamierre · 7 months

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Fake Dating w piarles 👉👈

22. Fake Dating

Ferrari sits them both down on a Thursday and tells them the truth: the team is going to shit. Which--Pierre could've told them that in the first place, if he's being honest. It's not like they're not competing in the MotoGP sphere, but even on two wheels, Red Bull just seems so much god damn faster, and try as he might, he can't make up the ground he needs to for a championship with this bike. He loves Ferrari, he does, it's just...

It hasn't exactly been their year. Sitting beside him in the chair, Charles' body language tells him that it's the same in the F1 paddock too.

"We are bleeding money," Fred says flatly, "and we're going to break cost cap if we try anything on our engines." Which isn’t exactly the most reassuring start of a conversation to be having with your boss. “So we need to figure this out off the track.”

“What do you expect us to do,” Charles deadpans, unfurling a little in his seat. Pierre, admittedly, is a little shocked—he doesn’t really know Charles all that well, outside of the occasional PR events the whole Ferrari organization is required to attend, but from everything he’s heard, Charles Leclerc is a soft-spoken, mild-mannered driver who just turns the energy on out in the field. This is not soft-spoken at all. “We are drivers, Fred, not cash cows.” Pierre bites his tongue. Charles is right, of course, but he’s—he’s not going to stick his foot in his mouth by actively agreeing with him right now.

Fred just levels him with a tired look. “I know that, Charles. And I am doing my best to get you a better car—” he turns to Pierre briefly, “and you a better bike,” then back to Charles, “but in the meantime, we have to make due.” He sighs, then grabs one of the folders stacked neatly on his desk. “Public Relations had an idea.”

The idea is for them to date.

Not for real, of course, Fred had stressed the importance of that: it’s only in public, and they don’t need to really do anything besides appear together close in public. “It will drive the tabloids in Maranello crazy,” he’d said, “and it will hopefully give us some financial buffer between now and the end of the season.” It’s definitely an out-there plan, but honestly, Pierre has been so frustrated with his racing season that he’ll do anything to get himself a better, faster bike for next year.

Including this. Charles apparently feels the same, because there’s no argument over the plan once it’s laid out—they sign off on the paperwork from the PR department, listen to Fred make an endless slew of promises about swimming in champagne by next year, and then.

Well, and then they leave the building as boyfriends. Pierre doesn’t think he’s had more than two conversations with Charles before this moment, so as they reach the front doors of Ferrari’s headquarters, he stops in his tracks. Charles, blessedly, notices. “What?”

“I…” Pierre shakes his head. “Are we starting now?” The afternoon has gone overcast, clouds threatening rain all over the otherwise-warm summer afternoon.

Charles shrugs. “Why not?” He gestures outside, to the surprisingly-empty square out front. “No one is here, so we can at least…practice.” He hums. “See what works.” It feels like too awkward of a conversation to get into right now, all things considered. Maybe Charles is right.

“Makes sense,” Pierre agrees after a slightly-too-long beat. “So do you…?” He’s not sure what he’s asking, really, but he extends a hand to Charles anyway.

Charles, who nods slightly, then takes Pierre’s hand in his own. He’s warm. His hands are soft. Pierre tries not to look into why he shivers when their fingers slowly interlock.

The idea goes off the rails with six races left to go in the F1 calendar.

Pierre had expected it to happen sooner, if he’s being honest—but not for this reason. When they’d signed off on their PR forms and clauses, he’d had an inkling that he and Charles wouldn’t mesh well, which would make the fake relationship that much harder to maintain in front of all the cameras surrounding them both on-track and off. The spotlight of Ferrari and all that. It’s one thing to be friends with someone in your team, but it’s another thing entirely to pretend to date them, and Pierre’s no actor.

Yet here he is, standing in Charles’ garage on the paddock with the Ferrari-branded headset and Charles-branded sweatshirt, and he’s finding that this whole pretend relationship thing is going off the rails because the moment Charles hops out of his car at the end of the practice session, he makes a beeline right for Pierre and all but crashes them into the back wall with the force of his kiss.

This whole thing is going off the rails because Pierre goes with it so easily it’s like breathing, not a second thought in sight. Charles is soaked in sweat, he can feel it seeping from his race suit into Pierre’s street clothes, and there are balaclava lines etched deep in his face, but Pierre doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, which means when he winds his arms around Charles’ shoulders to urge him closer. Charles takes the hint easily. He surges forward with the next kiss, pressing Pierre so forcefully against the back wall of the garage that he thinks he’s going to have some marks of his own.

“Don’t you have a debrief,” Pierre manages when they split for air, foreheads still leaned together. Charles huffs a laugh, shakes his head a little. Droplets of sweat cascade from his hair onto Pierre’s face.

“Had to see you first,” is the answer he gets, and Pierre can’t swallow his reactive moan. Two weeks ago in Barcelona, Charles had said the same thing in Pierre’s driver’s room after MotoGP’s qualifying session before giving him the blowjob of his life behind closed doors.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. “Yeah,” he manages in reply after a beat, “bet you did.”

#hey uh. um. i. i might actually want to um. you know. write this. uh. hm #piarles #10 x 16 #fic #romance prompt meme #ask reply #teamnick #AU tag

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remyfire · 29 days

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uhhhhh for the kink prompts i think some beejhawk and praise would be delightful 👀

(prompts now closed) (Anon I promised I tried to go for full praise kink here but it went a bit softer than that and I hope you can forgive me and enjoy it all the same!!)

"Christ, Beej, the way you take cock, it's so..." Hawkeye digs his teeth into BJ's trapezius, muffling a shaky growl. As BJ scrabbles at the headboard like he's trying to find some kind of purchase, it triggers a response inside Hawk to keep him closer, fuck him faster. Hawkeye wraps an arm around BJ's waist and squeezes tight enough to make him cry out. He feels like a feral creature—not human, not animal, but possessed by an entity who would stop time to live in this moment for years.

They've been at it for hours, honestly. It's their first shared pass to Seoul since the dams broke and sent secrets, lust, and need spewing through the cracks, and there's no more trying to steal five minutes in supply or an hour in the Swamp with their sounds muffled and the door locked. No one's going to interrupt them, and honestly if they tried, Hawkeye would throw them out the window before he let them get his hands off of BJ for longer than thirty seconds.

Hawkeye has let BJ have the control since they got here, of course, as is their usual rhythm—he's never seen a man quite so frenetically compelled to perfect sexual acts in as short a time as possible, and they've only checked off a few things that Beej has groaned out a desire to experience—but the moment that Hawk woke from a twenty-minute nap to find his lover grinding his ass against him, he'd rolled him over and snatched the power right out of his grasp.

Hawk may have spent over a decade devoting himself to sex, but it has never been more necessary than in this moment. If nothing else, Hawkeye needs BJ to leave this room knowing the unfathomable depths that this adoration reaches.

He drags his palms up hot skin and soft, lush hair until he cups BJ's pectorals. His fingers pillow into them as he drapes his body over BJ like an umbrella protecting him from the storm. He's not sure what there is to protect BJ from here besides the ferocity of what Hawkeye wants to give him, but even still, he holds him here, nuzzling between his shoulder blades with a hum. "You know how good you are?" Hawk prompts, barely waits for an answering wordless whine before he shifts his angle just a hair to fuck more directly up into him, right over that sweet spot that has Beej punching the headboard just the once to shake his energy out. "God, you take it so well. Like you're made for it. I've never fit this good in somebody before, you know that?"

When BJ covers his mouth and muffles his moans, something flickers through Hawk's head, and he knows it's stupid, and he knows he's courting danger, but the last thing he needs is for Beej to hide himself like this while Hawkeye's filling him with cock and praise alike. Hawk grabs both of BJ's wrists and pulls back on them, holding BJ's body as taut as a drawn bow while he picks up his pace. "Fucking beautiful. Hot, tight..." It's never even once been said that Hawkeye is quiet during sex, but he struggles to let the words pour out of him now, careful to hold certain ones at bay, things he's not sure BJ's ready for.

BJ lets his head drop onto Hawkeye's shoulder, his mouth lolling open. Every thrust shoves a moan out of him like lava bubbling out of a volcano, like he doesn't know how to stop himself either. They're feverish fuel, each goddamn one of them, something for Hawk to put to good use.

"I-I gotta tell you more often," Hawk manages to grit out. "When you, when you look at me, I just..." His tongue goes thick in his mouth as he forces himself to slow down, to keep himself from cramping up. He wants this to last. Wants to remember what it feels like to be buried so deeply in him that he's forgotten how to break free. "How'd you put the fucking stars in your eyes, Beej? How'd I get lucky enough to find you?"

"H-Hawk," he whispers, a thready tone that's barely audible, but though Hawkeye waits for more, BJ melts into wordless, pleading sounds of pleasure.

As Hawk hooks his chin over BJ's trapezius, he gets the prettiest picture of Beej's hard cock, flushed and weeping for him, just for him. It's painfully erotic to see how it jolts with every thrust, how when Hawkeye releases his wrists, his hardness twitches, seems to curve more sharply toward BJ's stomach. The sheer physicality of this man feels more potent than any substance on the planet. It's unreal that so much sensuality could be contained within him, but from his broad shoulders to his powerful legs, he ripples with it all the same. Every lift of his hand, every step that he takes, they're a fluid kind of dance, hypnotic to watch and impossible to look away from.

He thinks sometimes that he could be content just to sprawl back on his cot and watch BJ go about his normal routine while stark nude. It'd be greedy, really, an opportunity to study the flex of his gastrocnemius, his jutting scapula, even visibly trace every rippling tendon in his neck as he turned his head.

The permission to stare. To know he never would have to look away.

"I love that you let me have you," Hawk breathes. He traces the tip of his tongue along his throat and groans at the taste of sweat. As BJ cranes his neck as an offering, Hawkeye's eyelashes flutter, and he nuzzles right against his jugular like a wolf preparing to go for the kill. "You feel so... The way that you..." There's too much to say. I love you. I can't imagine life without you. Words more lethal than poison. They'll taint this fragile moment and make it lose its strength with every second until it collapses, spent, unable to be revived.

BJ's skin vibrates when he murmurs, "You make me feel priceless," a dream of a sentence that nearly brings tears to Hawk's eyes.

"You are." His heart kicks up, urging him on. When he rocks forward, BJ grabs the headboard again and clenches around him hard enough to make Hawkeye squeeze the base of his cock. Not yet, not yet. Instead he zeroes in on the shape of his other fingers around BJ's waist. "You're a dream come true."

With a shudder, BJ lets his head hang between his supportive arms. "Don't stop, Hawk. God, don't stop..."

He could ask Hawkeye to do the impossible right now and he would. Anything. Anything for you.

Hawk drives himself now. Chases BJ's pleasure. He wants to go drunk on this man, madder than a maenad. It almost seems necessary to dull his own ecstasy, but that's a laugh. There's not a universe in existence where just getting to hear BJ breathe wouldn't thrill Hawkeye to the depths of him. Harder, harder, harder, pounding, skin slapping, gasps rising up and barely audible over the sound of the thudding headboard.

When BJ slaps the wall with a choked sob, Hawkeye covers his hand, slams into him, then stills. He reaches to feel along BJ's jaw, his chin, his cheek, finally coaxing him to turn his head so Hawk can see his face. Hawkeye holds him there, leaving kiss after kiss that makes his lips burn from the stubble, gently rutting against his ass.

"I wish this could last forever," Hawk admits. The words are too raw, too real. He buries his face in BJ's neck and picks up a lazy rhythm. He's intentional with the angle of his hips, rolling them as smoothly as he can manage even as his thighs ache and his abdomen clenches from his focus. It can't, of course. Even if he could somehow last physically, there's a world beyond these walls and an immutable future.

"Hawk?"

He expects censure. He shouldn't have hinted at that, shouldn't have—

"I want you to come," BJ whispers. "Want you to hold me. Wanna wake up in your arms, just like... Just like we're home, okay?"

What? Hawk's throat burns. No, there's no way he heard that right. But there's nothing else those words could've been. They were crystal clear. He sniffles, hates himself for not being able to hide his equal measures of hope and grief.

"And we're gonna do it again. And again. And it's not gonna stop. It's not." The certainty in his tone is unfathomable. Hawk's never met somebody who can lie to himself like BJ can.

But he admires that determination too. They've still got two days. Yeah, they're gonna have to eat eventually, take showers, maybe even drag themselves outside for a breath of fresh air, but forty-eight hours is a hell of a long time. He'd rather be doing this than fifty hours of straight surgery any week.

"It's not gonna stop," Hawkeye agrees, grinning despite himself at the pleased sound that rumbles through BJ. "I'll fuck you whenever you want, Beej, you just say the word."

"Will you..."

That isn't a question. Hawkeye can all but read this man's mind; picking out the nuances of his voice is easy. "Will I what?"

BJ whips his head around so Hawk nearly gets a mouthful of his silky hair. "It's stupid. Don't—" When Hawk brings his hips to a sudden stop, BJ tries to fuck back on him, but the angle makes it tricky. "Don't stop," he whines.

"Tell me." Hawk puts his lips right against the shell of his ear and breathes the words softer than a prayer. "Let me give you what you want, Beej."

As he curls his fingers around the headboard until his knuckles go white, BJ sucks in a deep breath. "W-Will you, uh... Goddammit, Hawk." The little laugh is more nervous than the bright humor that Hawkeye is so addicted to. "Make love to me?"

Time freezes. The words drift down like the gentlest snowflakes. And then a thunderous storm overtakes him, pressurized, making Hawkeye whimper as he locks his arms as tightly around BJ as he can. They fall forward until Beej is on his knees and forearms, until Hawkeye is rocking inside of him with deep, desperate strokes. "Oh, Beej," he whispers. He can't breathe. Can't even see or hear anything but the man who had him at Coleman Hawkins. "God, Beej, yes, yes, anytime, always, let me do that, huh? Let me love you."

"You sure?" So much is buried in two little words, and he hears it all—are you sure I'm worth it? Are you sure you want to deal with all my bullshit? Are you sure you're not going to change your mind if it gets harder? Are you sure it'll last?

"All of it," is all Hawk can find the ability to say. Maybe it's senseless but maybe BJ can hear what he means too. I'll give you everything.

His orgasm isn't transcendent, isn't pleasure striking him harder than lightning, but when he lets go, Hawkeye feels as though he rips his ribs open all the same and lets his bare beating heart rest on BJ's skin. As he noses along two vertebra, his tears drip, fall, leave long marks that dry cleanly. But as Hawk reaches around and takes BJ in hand, his frantic whispered words—"Ohh, yes, Hawk, like that, that's perfect, you're perfect."—tattoo themselves on him, invisible but not impossible to forget.

Hawkeye only has a moment to wipe his hand on the blanket before BJ rolls them back over and almost crushes him. "Jesus," Hawk snaps, trying to complain, but he can't stop himself from laughing either. "You wanna kill a guy or something?"

BJ flops on his back beside him, then drags Hawk into place, chest to chest, forehead to forehead. And as Beej caresses his cheek, he grins and his eyes shimmer, sapphires that gleam only for him. He opens his mouth as if there's something he wants to say, something that has Hawkeye holding his breath. But at the last moment, BJ gives his head a little shake and draws him in for a kiss that tells Hawk everything that he needs to know. One day, it'd be nice to hear the words, something to obliterate the fear that he can never quite dispel about what comes during infinite tomorrows. All the same, he can feel it, that if he's slipped his heart inside of BJ's chest, then he's protecting his lover's inside ribs of steel, and he dares someone to even try to take it away.

#anyway hot men wildly in love having hot and affirming sex just like they deserve. this is my kink.#hawkeye pierce #bj hunnicutt #beejhawk #hawkbeej #hunnihawk #my writing #ask meme replies

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