#Host is a cryptic boy

[livefromthedas]

That Time Flirting Accidentally Worked

By ClickClickBoom

(Also here on AAO3)

Chapter 2: The Pnemoix

Summary:

Rook Ingellvar, a dumpster fire amongst Mourn Watchers, manages to fall face-first into dating one Emmrich Volkarin.

Nice.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

It was a little hard at first, being surrounded by such opulence when Rook knew as well as anyone how sorely so many people were suffering in the same breath. Venatori had overrun the streets of Minrathos. Ancient artifacts of varying degrees of calamitous power were taking lives in Arlathan Forest, and the Antaam had an iron grip on the daily lives of citizens in Treviso. Never mind whatever brutish machinations the Evanuris were planning to unleash next.

But Navarra City stood strong, as bustling a lavish gem and the seat of their nation’s powerful elite as ever. Art and culture bejeweled the landscape in all directions. Even more so, the city dazzled at night, as bone-chillingly dark and cryptic as it was beautiful.

When questioned about their unusually quiet stroll from the Necropolis Eluvian to the threshold of the Pnemoix, from which, unsurprisingly, a line of patrons spilled out of the door patiently awaiting their reservations call, Rook admitted, a bit bashfully, her guilt over the genuine delight attempting to overtake the the degree of seriousness she knew their responsibilities entailed.

Compassionate as ever, Emmrich smiled. Gilded fingers gestured thoughtfully to usher her inside as the maitre d’ called for the reservation of one Emmrich Volkarin.

“My darling Rook,” the Senior Necromancer crooned at a volume meant solely for her, “If not for exactly this, whatever are we fighting for?”

——————-

The Pnemoix was Navarran pageantry at its finest. Part fine dining experience, part elaborate performance art, it was not entirely unlike stepping into a smaller, darker, more sensual version of the Fade. Spirits and the necromantic arts, live music and a whole host of finely dressed Navarran well-to-do’s mingled.

Rook, for once fully doe-eyed herself, couldn’t help but ogle the theatrics with an enraptured sort of joy, the small orchestra filling the space with notes as delicious as its menu. Wisps lit much of the venue alongside the palpable shimmer of magic that crackled in the air.

Emmrich had been grinning the whole while, clearly proud over just how breathless his company was over the experience.

“Wine for the both of us if you would, dear boy. Ah, and blood orange salad to start?” He shot Rook a glance, her favorite hometown appetizer still fresh in his mind.

Rook had smiled and nearly nodded to confirm as a menu was passed her way, when - - -

“…Professor?”

Emmrich’s brown eyes went wide in a rare moment of diffidence - Not for the first time where where Rook was concerned, she mused, thanks to a handful of less than subtle and a little more than crass flirts lobbed his way over the past many months - but his propriety was recovered as quickly as ever.

“Augustus Durchdenwald!” He declared with charming enthusiasm. The young man, who had momentarily frozen amidst passing Emmrich a menu and barely looked old enough to hold down a job, seemed to shake off some of the awkwardness of discovering his aging professor on a date by sheer will of the Senior Necromancer’s delight, “My dear boy, how are you? How has the semester treated you so far?”

“Oh… good, good. Thank you, ser,” The teenager managed, “I���ve been able to start field work a semester early, just this week.”

“Rook, darling, Augustus here was easily one of my top students just this past semester. Remarkably astute for such an early grade,” Emmrich boast.

Augustus went beet red and probably would have disappeared into his doublet if he could. It struck Rook in that moment that Emmrich seemed far more focused on assuring Rook herself felt comfortable in the situation than the young man squirming beneath such praise.

Rook stifled a chuckle, sounding not unlike the Professor as she afforded the boy a cordial nod, “Charmed.”

“The Shakshouka for me, if you would,” Emmrich was quick to order his meal, “Rook?”

“Navarran Curry,” Rook replied.

“Right,” Young Augustus scrambled to recollect his menus and gave a quick, courteous bow, “With you shortly. Good evening, Professor. Uh… Ma’am.”

The young master Durchdenwald disappeared as quickly has he’d stumbled onto the scene.

“Given the chance,” Rook teased, trying and failing to stifle a laugh in the moments that followed, “Do you think he’d have preferred death by a thousand cuts, or a public hanging over absolutely anything that just happened there?”

Emmrich’s eyes glistened with barely stifled bemusement of his own, “Dear boy. Let us hope his recovery is swift.”

His tone managed to be *just* serious enough to shatter Rook into a fit of laughter.

——————-

The crown jewel of the Pnemoix’s festivities for the evening was a sweeping gallery show featuring fine art - Mostly sculpture - that seemed to blur the lines between physical materials like glass and stone, and very real, raw magical energies. Built around the theme of dragon slaying and its integral importance within Navarran culture, each sculpture's energy illuminated its glass components like molten fire despite remaining cool to the touch, and its light undulated around the space like the auroras seen in the skies to the north.

Rook was enraptured with the display - She’d never experienced anything quite like it. It struck her that she spent so much time studying the ancient and the arcane of Navarra’s distant past, that she rarely bothered to poke her head up and see how creative minds chose to express their experiences today, and she mentioned as much to Emmrich.

“I had hoped you would enjoy it so,” Emmrich smiled, before adding with a sweet sort of seriousness, “If our journey together thus far has reminded me of anything, it is that one must remember to look up from time to time, my darling. There are boundless experiences to be had outside the comforts of solitude and books.”

“Professor Volkarin, did you just tell me *not* to read?” Rook couldn’t resist teasing.

“Oh, Never,” he assured, mischief glinting in his eyes. A warm gloved hand faell to the small of her back as he guided the pair of them along to the next luminous display of artistry, “Books tend to travel remarkably well, after all. Or so I’m remembering for the first time in a very long while, thanks to you.”

“This is a new leaf for me,” Rook grinned, wrinkling her nose in a way that she, only recently, realized made something about the spark in Volkarin’s eyes go just a hair shy of feral, “Rook Ingellvar - The *good influence.* I dare say the late headmaster would never believe it.”

At Emmrich’s raised eyebrow, she laughed, admitting, “I really did give that poor old man hell for a couple of years, there.”

“Your reputation did proceed you, if I recall,” he agreed, trying to look serious but once again failing just enough to bait a laugh from his lovely companion. “And it is remarkable, Rook. To see how far you’ve come.”

Rook went surprisingly somber at that, a tinge of shame worming its way into her typically unshakable confidence, “Emmrich, love… I’m less than a year off from what was essentially a soft banishment from the Necropolis. I’ve the destruction of two undead nobles on my record, and enough pissed off patrons to make sure it could take years - If I’m ever able to reintegrate into the order.”

“Yes, as you’ve told me,” Emmrich said evenly, “At length. And I maintain that between what you have explained to me in confidence, and based on the intuitive competency I’ve seen you display every step of the way thus far, that I have every belief you acted in a way best befitting the moment.” He slowed his pace to a stop, the pensive woman on his arm stilled with him, noting softly, “You are no longer a child struggling to find a place to be, my dear. Surely you see you are so much more.”

Rook found her hand fluttering to press warmly upon his chest. Something in his gaze just then made her suspect he’d needed to hear those very same words, once. Perhaps not that long ago.

It was unlikely to the point of absurdity that Emmrich would have dared kiss her in such a wildly public space - certainly not so soon, and not in a social gathering a stone’s throw from the Necropolis, where half a dozen patrons and the majority of the staff seemed to know him by name. But, quick and chaste, her tiptoes afforded her a kiss to his cheek before he ever saw it coming.

It was the first time Rook was quite certain that, despite the mottled light and deep shadows of their surroundings, she ever saw the Senior Necromancer blush.

Notes:

Shit, they're cute.

Also, Gallery shows making for a hot date is a hill I will gladly die on.

Thanks for reading, you beauties!

[f14fun]

pages and podiums (!author x op81) - chapter 2

synopsis: in which case y/n, an author hosts a signing and a read-out-loud of the final installment of her book series in new york city. oscar, lost in the big city, stumbles by the bookstore and is immediately intrigued by her (and her books).

prose (5.1K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | prev ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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Oscar had told me to dress nice.

That's all his text message contained. "Dress nice."

To this day, I cannot fathom why men simply lack the need to provide detail into the dress code of the night. It's as if they assume we can read their minds or that 'dress nice' is universally understood. Men seem to operate on a different wavelength when it comes to these things. While we're left deciphering cryptic messages like "dress nice," they seem content with the vague directive.

Maybe it's a test of our fashion intuition or perhaps they genuinely believe that 'nice' is a universally understood standard.

Either way, I found myself standing in front of the mirror, debating between outfits that ranged from elegant to casual, all while wondering if 'nice' meant dinner-date chic or something more formal.

Texting him a series of, "???" and a "Could you please be a little bit more specific, I'm (slightly) freaking out in my apartment right now 😭", he responded in a mere matter of minutes, while I was sitting on the stool of my makeup vanity, painting on my eyeliner to utmost precision.

Taking an absentminded glance at my cellphone while I haphazardly used a q-tip to wipe off excess mascara, he responded with, "Don't worry, you don't have to dress to the nines, just something that you are comfortable with."

His prompt reply brought a mix of relief and amusement, contrasting sharply with my frantic preparations.

As I smoothed out the edges of my makeup, I couldn't help but smile at the irony of the situation—here I was, meticulously applying makeup to look effortlessly 'chic and nice,' while he nonchalantly reassured me with a casual text.

It was a reminder of the different approaches we often had towards such occasions, him opting for simplicity and me, in a flurry of brushes and cosmetics, seeking clarity down to the finest detail.

But what can I say, isn't there a famous saying that goes, opposites attract?

Settling on a silky white dress with black trim around the neckline, I draped a white blazer on my shoulders. The wide neckline beautifully emphasized my collarbones, adding a touch of elegance to the ensemble. It was a choice that balanced professionalism with a hint of chicness, perfect for the occasion I was preparing for.

The silky fabric cascaded down in gentle folds, skimming over my figure with a graceful flow. Paired with the structured lines of the blazer, the outfit exuded confidence and sophistication. The contrast of white against black trim created a striking visual impact, drawing attention to the neckline and framing my face in a flattering way.

As I stood in front of the mirror, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility and lost in my thoughts—as I often am—a sudden ring shattered the silence. Startled, I couldn't help but chuckle inwardly, joking to myself that authors must have a knack for interrupting serene moments.

Curious to hear Oscar's voice after our earlier exchange, I answered the call with a smile, ready to continue our conversation.

"Hey Y/N," he answered in a low voice. There was just something about his greeting that exuded a newfound sense of confidence from the nerdy and dorky brown-haired boy.

"Hi Oscar," I replied, suddenly shy at the seemingly flirty intonation of his voice. I gulped. This was going to be a long night if I kept blushing like a school-girl every time Oscar spoke.

Not that I was complaining though.

I would love a long night with Oscar. (Dear reader, if you know, you know)

"I'm at the front of your apartment building," He replied.

"Already?!" I shockingly replied. He had told me that he would be here at 6:30 PM. It was 6:15 PM. Over the call, I could here his faint laughed at my surprise.

"Wow, you are here so early," I said, "Kudos to your promptness, I'm impressed," I joked.

"Well, you know me," Oscar replied smoothly. "When there's a chance to see you, I'm always ahead of schedule."

His confident response made me smile. "I'll be down in a minute then. Just don't let all this early arrival go to your head, Mr. Punctual."

"I'll try not to," he chuckled. "But no promises. See you soon, Y/N."

"See you soon, Oscar," I replied, hanging up the phone with a grin. This night was definitely starting off on an unexpectedly fun note. I just hoped it would end with the same amount of vigor and flirtiness.

I hastily tucked my makeup pouch and phone into my purse, swiftly crossing the hallway of my apartment complex to reach the elevator. Tapping my foot nervously—and with a touch of impatience—I looked forward to seeing Oscar as I descended thirty-seven floors. This felt like the longest elevator ride of my life, each floor passing with excruciating slowness as anticipation built in my chest.

Finally, the doors slid open on the ground floor. Stepping out, I scanned the lobby, my heart skipping a beat when I spotted Oscar standing near the entrance. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly agape as he took in my appearance. I couldn't help but grin mischievously at his stunned reaction.

"Well, someone looks like they've seen a ghost," I teased playfully, walking towards him with a confident stride.

Oscar blinked rapidly, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "I... uh... I mean... wow," he stammered, clearly at a loss for words.

I laughed lightly, enjoying the rare moment of leaving Oscar speechless. "Cat got your tongue, Mr. Piastri?" I quipped, standing before him now, reveling in the flustered expression on his face.

He managed a sheepish smile. "You just... you look amazing," he finally managed to say, his eyes still wide with admiration.

"Well, thank you," I replied with a pleased smile. "You're not quite too shabby yourself, Mr. Piastri," I added, giving him a playful once-over.

Oscar chuckled nervously, adjusting his collar. "I... uh... well, thank you," he said, his cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

As we stood in the lobby, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation and a hint of nervous energy. People passed by, casting curious glances our way, but we were lost in our own little bubble of playful banter and mutual admiration.

"You know," Oscar began, his voice a touch more confident now, "I've been looking forward to tonight."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "And why's that?"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Because I get to spend it with someone as charming as you," he replied smoothly.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his unabashed flattery. "Smooth talker," I teased, leaning casually against the wall.

"Only for the smoothest writer I know," he quipped back.

"Touche, touche, I'll give you credit for that remark," I responded, my eyebrows raised at his quick response.

"I have a surprise for you," Oscar said with a mischievous glint in his eye as we walked towards his car.

"A surprise? I love surprises!" I exclaimed, curiosity piqued.

He chuckled softly. "Guess where we're going for dinner," he prompted, his tone playful.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Oh no, not this again. You know I'm terrible at guessing," I replied with a smirk, remembering the countless times I'd failed miserably at guessing his job earlier that day.

Oscar laughed, a warm sound that filled the air. "Come on, give it a shot," he encouraged, nudging me gently as we reached the car.

I sighed dramatically, pretending to ponder. "Hmm... Thai food? Sushi? Maybe a cozy café with gourmet burgers?" I guessed, each suggestion more outlandish than the last.

He shook his head, still smiling. "Nope, nope, and nope," he replied, enjoying my playful attempts.

"Fine, fine," I conceded with a grin. "Just tell me already."

Oscar paused for a moment, relishing the suspense. "We're going to an Italian restaurant," he finally revealed, watching my reaction carefully.

"Italian?" I repeated, surprised yet pleased. "That sounds wonderful," I admitted, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of pasta and candlelit ambiance.

He nodded, his satisfaction evident in his expression. "I thought you might like it," he said softly, opening the car door for me.

The ride to the restaurant was quite smooth, albeit we were stuck in traffic for around forty minutes but the drive was still pleasant nonetheless. Oscar distracted me from my imminent road rage as a New Yorker, and the fact that sometimes, I still felt overwhelmed by all of the bright lights and glamor that New York City had.

As we finally arrived at the Italian restaurant, Oscar found a convenient parking spot near the entrance. He held the car door open for me again, and I stepped out onto the bustling sidewalk, feeling a mixture of excitement and hunger.

The restaurant's exterior exuded a cozy charm, with warm lighting and inviting aromas wafting through the air. We walked inside, greeted by the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. A hostess welcomed us with a smile and led us to a corner table with a view of the twinkling city lights through large windows.

"This is perfect," I commented, settling into my chair and taking in the ambiance.

Oscar smiled, pulling out my chair for me before seating himself opposite. "I'm glad you think so," he replied warmly, picking up the menu and handing one to me.

"Are you hungry?" He gave me a cheeky grin. Before I could respond, my stomach growled loudly. Betrayed by my body at the worst possible moment, of course.

Turning a bright beet red, Oscar let out a laugh.

"Well, my stomach answered before I could so, enough said," I rolled my eyes, still embarrassed, the red heat on my face expanding to my neck.

Oscar chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I guess that settles it," he said teasingly. "Let's make sure we order enough to satisfy both of us and your hungry stomach."

"How nice of you to include my big back in the discussion," I joked.

"Always a gentleman," he rolled his eyes.

Taking a look at the menu, my eyes widened at the relatively expensive prices. I still had some debt accumulated from my four years spent at NYU. My job as an author didn't even cover all of that.

Oscar noticed my hesitation and leaned closer, his voice gentle. "Don't worry about it. Dinner's on me tonight," he reassured me with a warm smile.

I shook my head, a playful glint in my eyes. "Oh no, I couldn't let you do that," I protested lightly, though secretly touched by his gesture.

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. "It's not a problem, really. Just promise me one thing," he said, his tone turning teasing.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What's that?"

"Promise me a signed copy of your next book series," Oscar replied with a grin. "That's more than enough payment."

"Don't tell me you would betray me by selling those books on eBay," I say, mocking him.

Oscar gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "I would never! Your autograph is priceless to me," he replied, his expression mock-serious.

"Yeah, you definitely couldn't sell it if I wrote a heartfelt message on the front flap of the book," I replied. Immediately coming up with a way to embarrass him.

"Oh please, enlighten me with your plan," he responded, making direct eye contact with me as if to challenge me. Staring at him back, I responded.

"In the front flap, I could probably write, Dear my little Pookie-Bear Oscar Cutie-Pie,-" I say, and before I can even finish Oscar choked on the water he was sipping. Both of us burst out laughing at the ridiculous statement I just said.

"Yup, I am never, saying that ever again in my life," I shook my head in mock disbelief.

"But what if I wanted you to call me that," Oscar said slyly.

"Oscar, are you seriously into that," I said, raising an eyebrow as I tried to keep a straight face (hint, I was failing), the sides of my lips quirking up as I tried to restrain my gummy smile.

"Ocassionally," Oscar said, surprising me that night once more.

"Oscar!" I whisper yelled.

"Only with you, Y/N, only with you I promise," he smirked. Rolling my eyes and blushing, I replied.

"So you would be fine if I called you Oscar my Pookie Bear," I teased, fiddling with the golden ring on my index finger.

"Only if I got to call you Y/N my Cutie Pie," he responded, emulating the same vibe.

"Deal," I challenged him.

"Shake on it?" he asked.

"Shake on it," I responded.

He reached out for a handshake, and his hand fully enveloped mine. Despite his profession as a Formula One driver and his regular workouts, his palm had a surprising smoothness that contrasted with the slight roughness of his fingertips. It was a sensation that immediately caught my attention—a tactile reminder of his strength and determination, yet with a gentleness that made me feel oddly comforted.

As our hands met, a subtle warmth spread through me, and I couldn't help but notice the way our fingers interlocked naturally, as if they had found their perfect fit. We both blushed slightly, caught off guard by the intimacy of the gesture in such a public setting. His touch felt reassuring and strangely familiar, like coming home after a long journey.

Though extremely cliche (as an author, nonetheless), for a brief moment, time seemed to slow down around us, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background. It was just us, connected by this simple yet significant gesture. I stole a glance at Oscar and found him already looking at me with a softness in his eyes that mirrored my own feelings.

"Sorry," Oscar murmured, a hint of bashfulness in his voice as he withdrew his hand, but his eyes held a softness that mirrored my own feelings.

"No, it's okay," I replied softly, feeling a rush of gratitude for this unexpected connection. "I... I liked it."

Oscar smiled shyly, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Me too," he admitted, his gaze lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary.

The waiter returned to our table with a warm smile. "Are you ready to order?" he asked politely, holding his notepad at the ready.

I glanced at Oscar, a playful twinkle in my eye. "I think we're finally ready," I replied, turning my attention back to the menu. "I'll have the Fettuccine Alfredo, please."

"Excellent choice," the waiter noted, jotting down my order. He then turned to Oscar. "And for you, sir?"

"I'll have the Margherita pizza," Oscar said with a nod, handing back the menu.

The waiter nodded, jotting down the order swiftly. "Anything to drink?"

"I'll have a glass of red wine," I answered.

Oscar looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'll go with a sparkling water, please."

"Of course," the waiter replied, smiling warmly before heading off to place our order.

I turned back to Oscar with a grin. "Pizza and pasta—classic choices," I remarked teasingly.

He chuckled, a lightness returning to his demeanor. "Can't go wrong with Italian cuisine," he replied, his gaze meeting mine. "Especially when enjoyed in good company."

Are you saying I'm good company?" I teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Oscar's smile widened, a spark of amusement in his eyes. "I suppose I'll have to wait until after dinner to make that judgment," he quipped, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "But if this pizza is as good as they say, you might just have some stiff competition."

I laughed softly, feeling a pleasant warmth between us. "Oh, I see how it is," I replied with mock indignation. "Pizza versus my sparkling personality—may the best contender win."

Oscar chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "It's going to be a tough battle," he agreed, lifting his water glass in a mock toast. "But I have faith in both contenders."

"Speaking of pizza," Oscar began, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, "I once had a friend who insisted he could make the best homemade pizza. It turned out to be a disaster." He shook his head, feigning dramatic horror. "I think I nearly choked down every bite, trying not to offend him."

I laughed at the mental image, imagining Oscar's valiant effort to endure the culinary ordeal. "Oh no, that sounds like a true test of friendship," I teased, leaning forward with interest. "How did you manage to survive?"

"Well, let's just say I had plenty of water on hand," Oscar replied, his tone tinged with amusement. "And I made sure to praise his pizza-making skills as convincingly as I could."

"Ah, the sacrifices we make for friendship," I mused with a grin. "But you survived to tell the tale, so that's what counts."

Oscar nodded solemnly, though a playful glint remained in his eyes. "Indeed. And now, I can appreciate good pizza even more," he said, gesturing towards the restaurant's kitchen with a nod of approval.

Curiosity piqued, I leaned in closer. "So, who's this friend of yours? Anyone I might know?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oscar chuckled softly. "His name's Lando," he said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "Also known as my annoying and slightly older but slightly shorter teammate."

I grinned, picturing the dynamic between Oscar and his friend. "Sounds like quite the character," I commented, amused. "Does he still try to impress you with his culinary skills?"

"All the time," Oscar replied with a laugh. "But I've learned my lesson. I stick to letting him handle the driving, and I handle the pizza orders."

"Smart move," I teased, swirling the ice in my water glass. "It's all about knowing each other's strengths and weaknesses, right?"

"Exactly," Oscar agreed with a nod. "And trust me, after that pizza incident, I've become quite adept at steering him away from the kitchen."

I chuckled, imagining the scenes that must unfold between them. "I bet he keeps things interesting though," I remarked, a playful glint in my eye.

"Oh, definitely," Oscar said with a fond smile. "He's the kind of guy who always brings excitement wherever he goes, whether it's on the track or just trying to cook dinner."

Curiosity sparked, I leaned forward slightly. "Speaking of cooking, do you cook?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oscar's expression turned comically horrified. "God, no," he replied with a laugh, shaking his head emphatically. "I leave that to the professional chefs that travel with us."

"Wait, you have professional chefs traveling with you?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "That's quite the perk."

"Yeah," Oscar nodded, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "It's one of the luxuries of the racing circuit. These chefs are like nomads, following us from race to race, making sure we're well-fed and ready to perform."

I couldn't help but be intrigued. "That's incredible," I admitted, picturing a team of chefs crafting gourmet meals in the midst of the adrenaline-fueled world of Formula One racing. "I guess it takes a lot to keep up with the demands of your schedule."

"Absolutely," Oscar agreed. "They're not just skilled chefs, they're also part of the team dynamics, ensuring we have the right nutrition and energy levels for each race."

As I absorbed this new insight into Oscar's world, I found myself more fascinated by the intricate details behind the scenes of Formula One. "It sounds like a whole different lifestyle," I mused, leaning back in my chair.

"Mhm," he said, looking up at my eyes, then looking down towards my cherry-red lips.

I couldn't help but laugh at his response (or lack thereof), a genuine smile spreading across my face. "Fair enough," I said, amused. "Are you as bad as Lando in the kitchen then?"

Oscar chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "I'd like to think I'm not that bad," he said, holding up his hands defensively. "But let's just say my skills are better suited to driving a race car than handling a spatula."

"Well, at least you know your strengths," I teased lightly, taking a sip of water. "And you're lucky to have Lando for the culinary adventures."

"Absolutely," Oscar agreed with a grin. "He keeps things entertaining, that's for sure."

"But when I do attempt to cook," Oscar continued, leaning in conspiratorially, "I try my best to learn new recipes." He paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "Key word being 'try'."

I chuckled, imagining Oscar navigating through a kitchen with the same precision he used on the race track. "I can picture it now," I replied playfully. "Oscar Piastri, the daring chef, mastering the art of... well, trying."

Oscar laughed along with me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Exactly," he said, shaking his head with mock solemnity. "Let's just say, there have been a few... interesting experiments."

"I'm intrigued," I admitted, leaning forward with curiosity. "Any memorable disasters you'd care to share?"

"Well," Oscar began, a grin spreading across his face, "there was this one time I attempted to make pasta from scratch. Let's just say it ended up resembling something closer to sticky dough than pasta."

I couldn't help but laugh at the mental image. "Ah, the joys of culinary exploration," I remarked, shaking my head fondly. "But hey, at least you're willing to give it a shot."

"And that's what counts, right?" Oscar replied with a wink. "Trying new things, even if the results are... questionable."

Our banter continued, punctuated by shared smiles and the occasional playful exchange. As we awaited our meal, the anticipation mingled with the easy comfort of our growing connection, creating a moment that felt both lighthearted and promising.

"So, what about you?" Oscar asked, his eyes curious as he leaned in slightly, genuinely interested in my culinary exploits. "Any culinary adventures or misadventures of your own?"

I chuckled softly, reminiscing about my past kitchen escapades. "Oh, plenty," I confessed with a playful grin. "There was this one time I tried to impress my friends with homemade pasta. Let's just say it turned out more like noodles stuck together in clumps than the elegant strands I envisioned."

Oscar chuckled, his expression amused. "Ah, the classic pasta mishap," he commented with a knowing nod. "It's tricky to get it just right."

"It is," I agreed, smiling at the shared understanding. "But you know, every mishap is a learning experience."

"That's the spirit," Oscar replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Did your friends at least appreciate the effort?"

"They did," I confirmed with a laugh. "Although I'm pretty sure they were just being polite."

"Well, that's what friends are for," Oscar remarked, his tone light and teasing. "To eat your culinary experiments with a smile."

Our banter was interrupted as the waiter arrived, balancing a tray laden with steaming plates of pasta and pizza. The enticing aroma filled the air, making my stomach growl in anticipation.

"Ah, here's the moment of truth," Oscar said with a grin, his eyes lighting up as he surveyed the delicious spread before us.

I couldn't help but mirror his excitement. "It looks amazing," I commented, taking in the sight of perfectly cooked pasta and the bubbling cheese on the pizza. "I'm glad we went with Italian tonight."

"Me too," Oscar agreed, reaching for his fork eagerly. "Let's dig in."

We both took our first bites, and the flavors exploded on our palates, confirming our expectations. I savored the rich tomato sauce and the tender pasta, while Oscar seemed equally pleased with his choice of pizza.

"Mmm, this is really good," I said between bites, nodding appreciatively.

Oscar nodded in agreement, his mouth half full. "Definitely hits the spot," he managed to say, swallowing before continuing. "I'm glad you're enjoying it too."

"By the way," Oscar said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "if my pasta-making skills ever fail me again, can I count on you to come to the rescue?"

I chuckled, playing along with his playful flirtation. "Well, I can't promise gourmet, but I'll do my best to salvage the situation," I replied with a grin.

"Good to know," Oscar teased, his smile widening. "Maybe we can turn it into a team effort next time."

I laughed, enjoying the easy banter and the hint of flirtation in the air. "Team cooking," I mused aloud. "I think we might just have a winning combination."

"Absolutely," Oscar agreed, leaning in a little closer. "You bring the charm, I'll handle the taste-testing. It's a partnership made in culinary heaven."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me at his playful words. "Sounds like a plan," I replied, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in my eye. "Just don't blame me if we end up ordering takeout."

Oscar laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Fair enough," he said, his voice low and teasing. "As long as we're having fun, that's all that matters."

"You know," I began, setting down my fork thoughtfully, "as much as I love writing, I also really enjoy cooking."

Oscar looked genuinely interested. "Oh? What got you into writing?" he asked curiously, his eyes focused on me.

I smiled, tracing the rim of my water glass with my finger. "It's something I've loved since I was a child," I explained. "Books were my escape, and writing became my way of creating worlds and stories that I could get lost in."

"That's incredible," Oscar replied, his tone sincere. "It must be fulfilling, bringing characters and stories to life."

"It really is," I admitted with a soft smile. "And cooking is another creative outlet for me. There's something about creating a dish from scratch, experimenting with flavors… It's like writing, but with food."

"I'm glad you think so," I replied with a smile, appreciating his interest. "Writing has always been a part of me. One of my favorite pieces that I wrote was actually a poetry anthology for a non-traditional poetry class I accidentally signed up for at NYU."

Oscar's eyebrows lifted in curiosity. "Accidentally signed up for?"

I chuckled softly. "Yes, it was one of those situations where I thought I was enrolling in a different class, but it turned out to be a wonderful surprise," I explained. "The anthology ended up being a collection of stories that my mother and grandmother had told me from a young age, stories infused with cultural ties and traditions."

"That sounds fascinating," Oscar remarked, clearly intrigued.

"It was," I continued, my voice growing more animated. "Each poem was written in different languages, reflecting the diversity of my heritage, and I included drawings and pictures alongside the text to capture the essence of the stories."

Oscar nodded thoughtfully. "So, it was a blend of storytelling and visual art," he summarized, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"Exactly," I confirmed, pleased that he understood. "It was an exploration of my roots and a way to preserve those cherished narratives in a creative and meaningful way."

"Did your family get to see the anthology?" Oscar asked, his eyes reflecting his curiosity.

"Yes, they did," I replied with a warm smile. "It meant a lot to share those stories with them in such a personal and artistic format."

Oscar grinned mischievously. "Well, I guess accidental enrollments can lead to some pretty amazing discoveries. Who knew you were a secret poet?" he teased lightly, his eyes dancing with amusement.

I chuckled, shaking my head playfully. "I certainly didn't see it coming, but I'm glad it happened," I admitted with a smile. "It opened up a whole new creative avenue for me."

Oscar leaned back slightly, his grin widening. "So, does that mean you'll be writing a poetry anthology about racing next?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow in mock seriousness.

I laughed, amused by his playful suggestion. "Poetry and racing? Now there's a unique combination," I replied, feigning thoughtful consideration. "Maybe I'll call it 'Odes to Speed and Asphalt.'"

Oscar chuckled, clearly enjoying our banter. "I can already picture it," he teased, leaning in closer. "Each stanza capturing the thunderous roar of engines and the thrill of the track."

"Exactly," I agreed with a playful wink. "I'll make sure to include a sonnet dedicated to the smell of burning rubber."

His laughter filled the air, blending seamlessly with the relaxed ambiance of the restaurant. "Now that's poetry I can get behind," he admitted with a grin. "You might just start a whole new genre."

"Who knows?" I replied, smiling back at him. "Maybe I'll revolutionize the literary world with my racing-inspired poetry."

"Only if you credit me as your muse in the introduction of your poetry book," he teased.

I chuckled, feigning reluctance. "Hmm, I suppose I could consider it," I teased back, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "But I'll have to warn my readers about your penchant for bad homemade pizza stories."

Oscar laughed, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eye. "Fair enough," he conceded, his smile widening. "But I expect royalties for every copy sold."

"Deal," I replied with a grin, enjoying the easy banter that flowed effortlessly between us. "Just don't be surprised if I dedicate a haiku to your pasta disasters."

"Touché," Oscar replied, his laughter echoing warmly in the cozy restaurant. "I guess every muse has their quirks."

As we settled the bill and made our way out of the restaurant, the city lights glimmered around us, casting a soft glow over our conversation. Oscar walked me to the entrance of my apartment building, where we paused under the night sky.

"So," he began, his voice warm with anticipation, "how about next time we take our creativity to your place? We can read and write poetry, maybe make some pasta if we're feeling adventurous."

I considered his suggestion for a moment, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of continuing our connection. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea," I replied with a smile, meeting his gaze with genuine enthusiasm.

"Great," Oscar said, his eyes brightening. "I'm looking forward to it."

Giving me a kiss on my cheek, not too flirty or scandalous, but just the right thing to end the night, he grabbed my waist and stared into my eyes.

"I'm not sure if I told you this tonight, but you look beautiful Y/N," he whispered. Blushing, I looked into his eyes.

"You did say that earlier," I lightheartedly joked during such a romantic moment (damn it me!)

"And I'll say it over and over again," he said, resting his forehead against mine, as we both stood hugging each other, comfortable in each other's presence.

But soon, it was time to go. I had a day job, and he was still busy with Formula One.

We exchanged goodbyes with promises to text soon, and as I watched him disappear into the night, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected twist that had brought us together. The evening had been filled with laughter, flirtation, and the promise of new beginnings—a perfect blend of romance and creativity that left me eager for whatever the future held.

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taglist: @erin-odonnell04 @rorabelle15 @dramallama9 @yukimaniac

comment down below if you want to be added to the taglist! <3

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author's note:

ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾

(do you guys want a part three?)

[xgumiho]

(You got me) in the palm of your hand

"Fortunes told, futures unfold." The sign at the local ren faire looks tempting. After all, Steve is one year out of high school and has no idea where his life is going. Sometimes he wishes someone could just gaze into the future and figure it out for him. In the fortune teller’s tent, Steve has a run-in with his past. And if he doesn’t turn on his heel and leave, it has absolutely nothing to do with how pretty Eddie Munson looks in his costume, all gleaming jewelry and dark tendrils of hair spilling out from under a patterned headscarf. He lets Eddie read his palm, because why the hell not? It’s all bogus anyway! Except, as the summer goes on, Steve finds that Eddie’s cryptic predictions somehow, inexplicably keep coming true. As they keep running into each other, almost as if orchestrated by an invisible force, Steve can’t help but be intrigued with the other boy. He also can’t seem to forget how pretty Eddie’s eyes look in black liner, or the way his fingers feel on his skin, but that is an entirely different problem. Read the fic here.

Author: @just-my-latest-hyperfixation (tumblr) | just_my_latest_hyperfixation (AO3)

Artist: Yours truly @xgumiho (tumblr) | xgumiho (instagram) | jul2ja (twitter)

The other artist creating for this fic: @peachypurr (tumblr) | peachypurr (linktree)

Thank you @steddiebang for hosting Steddie Bigbang 2023!

Personal note!

I have already talked about this but I'm gonna say it again because I can!

When Steddie Bigbang fic excerpts dropped, I got HOOKED on Hype's fic immediately. I knew I just HAD to draw for this fic because I saw what I wanted to do in my mind's eye the moment I laid my eyes on the excerpt 🖤 I loved every part of this fic and I hope y'all will love it just as much!! Chapter 1 is now available and also make sure to stay tuned for the updates - you're gonna adore each and every chapter. Please don't forget to show lots of love for the author and leave comments under the fic 🖤

[review-anon]

//Alright time to talk about Project Eden's Garden Chapter 1 Class Trial. Spoilers as always are under the cut.

//I really hope flamethrower isn't the new poison in this game.

//Anyway so mystery wise I say this chapter was quite well done, since while I was able to figure out a lot of what happened, the whole pully system that was used with the car battery and extension cord completely took me off guard. And yeah Lithium is no joke, it causes massive explosions when mixed with water I've seen videos on Youtube the explosions get quite intense.

//Grace is totally like Miu in which while she doesn't say much and its often wrong, she is often on the money who the culprit is. Of course her reasons for suspecting Damon and Eva was because she didn't like them, to the point you cannot do her FTEs but maybe she will soften up by Chapter 2? Who knows.

//Everyone also contributes quite a bit to the Class Trial, as even Cassidy who I argue is one of the more stupider character, can have some insight due to hosting the Not-Melee Tournament and having good enough memory to recall past conversations.

//When it comes to Pathos statements I got worried I wouldn't know when to use them but the game makes it quite clear when you need to use either logic or emotions as you only need to use empathy bullets once and its very obvious when that happens.

//As for the new minigames, as I predicted we have 2 new minigames and they are oldies. The first is rebuttal showdown which is as typical as they come. And since Weoena was the first to object that means she is the Chapter 2 Victim/j

//Ulysee's Rebuttal quote cracks me up because when he butts in he says "Um AcTuAlLy" like he's in some internet argument or something. Then again seeing how he requoted the repeating history quote to be that if you don't repeat history, you look stupid online, means while Ulysee loves his books and all, he seems to be engaging in quite a few online discourse debates.

//And then there is this game's version of Argument Altercation which...yeah...we will get to that later.

//Of course now we get into the meat of the trial and let's go with the first shocking twist; the fact Diana was there when Wolfgang died and he attacked her. And that pretty much everything I theorised was right there.

//My man over here acting like he inhaled a bunch of Void Juice.

//So as a bit of context; Diana was given a letter to what she thought was from Wolfgang but in reality was by the culprit and came down to the Boiler Room since she thought Wolfgang had her blackmail, as he did a David and requested everyone to talk with the people they have the blackmail on. But when she saw Wolfgang he was behaving..odd...and eventually pulled out a knife to attack her, and was completely oblivious to what Diana was saying.

//It's later revealed that Wolfgang was injected with a hallogenic and he attacked Diana because he didn't actually see her but rather someone or something else that causes such a reaction. So who was it that Wolfgang saw instead of Diana? My best bet is that Wolfgang was seeing his father.

//Damon got Wolfgang's blackmail which at first seemed like he was married but aside from the different eye colour the date was in 2001, which while we don't know what year Project's Eden Garden is set in, appernetely 2001 was before Wolfgang was even born, so this must be a picture of his parents getting married. We also get a cryptic hint saying "Like Father, Like Son. Behind a Sheepish body lurks a Wolfish Mind." Which translated means that Wolfgang takes a lot after his dad, where he might appear kind and gentle on the surface but in reality he's much more brutish and aggressive. A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing if you will.

//But what Wolfgang was muttering, makes me reconsider that. As the fact he seems want to kill his "father" means that Wolfgang must have a terrible realtionship with him, and resent him for something. We also know he's a bit of a momma's boy and there he's his attiude towards women. Wolfgang always tried to act like a gentlemen to the ladies in the Killing Game, encoruging Eloise to come out of her shell, being supportive of both Grace and Diana, and appernetely Grace enjoyed his company so much that when the bunk buddy system was suggested, it was Wolfgang and Ulysee who switched their parnters with Weonoa and Grace.

//Its obvious why Weonoa and Grace wanted to swap roommates as both of them cannot stand each other and it was like a house on fire with them, but Wolfgang and Ulysee's reasons are unknown, as the latter refuses to elaborate. Maybe Wolfgang isn't very friendly with men, and Ulysee had to witness that and wanted out. Its not Yuri levels of hate as Wolfgang can be civilised around other men, but I do believe he is biased towards women. The only woman he doesn't like is Eva and that's because she spoke out against him by saying he's too naive.

//During the Prologue Class Trial Wolfgang got very heated during it and claimed that the worst thing a man can do is murder a woman, and he says this with a huge degree of intensity. So Wolfie has a gender bias, not the first for this franchise, but then what does he mean by the fact he could never be like his father?

//Its here that I decide to pull out a Review Anon classic dark theory and claim that Wolfgang's father murdered his mother and Wolfgang saw this happen.

//Yeah that's a bit of a yikes but there is quite a bit of evidence backing this up. It would explain why Wolfgang became so focused on law, because he wanted his father to pay. Maybe Wolfgang's dad was also a ace attorney, and thought Wolfgang was following in his footsteps. But while Wolfgang's father was a terrible person who was probably very abusive to women, Wolfgang by contrast probably tried to act like a shitty person around him, but in reality he didn't have the heart to do it.

//But then there's the fact Wolfgang is considered to have a Wolfish mind. This means you isolate and dominate over others to remain on top. We see traces of this with how Wolfgang treated Damon and Eva when they opposed him. Not only did he not like the way they spoke to him, but he encouraged the others not assiocate with them, this had various degrees but I don't think Wolfgang possessed actual malice towards Damon and Eva, he was more annoyed by them opposing his viewpoints.

//We also know Wolfgang took a knife to the meeting because while he's an optimist he's also not a moron and knows meeting someone in the boiler room sounds like a good way to kill someone. He'll give someone the benefit of the doubt, but it pays to be prepared.

//I do wonder what would have happened if Wolfgang and Damon did meet up due to Damon having Wolfgang's blackmail. Given how horrid his family situation seems to be, I imagine Wolfgang wouldn't react well to it, ESPECIALLY in front of someone he flat-out doesn't like.

//Overall, I do think Wolfgang isn't as sainty as he likes to paint himself as, but he's also not as bad as the likes of Tsurugi, Nikei, David and Ryohei have swooped. If anything, Wolfgang is more morally grey, which makes him more human. And let's face if his assault on Diana didn't result in him dying via Gender Balancing electrocition, and he regained his senses, he would be deeply horrified and apologetic to Diana for how he treated her.

//Speaking of Diana man do I feel bad for this poor girl. I always liked Diana as she's such a sunshine of optismism, which is why I REALLY hope she's not secretly the Mastermind, and while everyone and their mother didn't want to assiocate with Damon and Eva, she tried to reach out to them, as while Wolfgang might not like it, she believes everyone deserves a second chance. She acted nice to Damon and said she be a shoulder for him to cry on, and even offered to be Eva's roommate because she felt she needed a friend and was so lonely. Unfortunately for Diana, she was a farmer and both Damon and Eva were snakes as Eva used her for her murder scheme to be the first fall person and when after the Class Trial Diana vows she will take up the mantle Wolfgang left behind and try to help everyone, not only did her rousing speech fall on deaf ears as everyone was too apathetic to hear her...but Damon just got pissed off hearing her.

//No sugercoating it, Diana is gonna be the rival character in this game but for a different reason as our protagonist is a very cynical character whilst Diana is a very optismitic person. I would be very interested how Bubbles reacts to this since this is like Teruko's and Eden's dynamic but on a much more hostile setting. Plus she has a reptile motif like Damon as she's a chameleon while he's a snake. We don't get many female rival characters, if any so this is a very refreshing change of pace as if Damon is gonna be a Villian Protagonist, then Diana is the Hero Antagonist. At least this means she'll live until Chapter 5.

//Now time to talk about the culprit of this case, Eva Tsunaka. And remember how I said she was gonna do shit in this chapter since I never in a million years trust characters you first meet and befriend? Well Eva was vindication on the absolute extreme as not only was she the culprit of this case but while this isn't the first time our first "friend" turned out to kill someone, Eva is a FARCRY from Kaede who killed for sympthatic reasons and was doing the Class Trial to try and expose the Mastermind. Meanwhile Eva is actually a very selfish person who only cared about herself and has a very low opinion on the others.

//She also self-sabotaged her own group standing as its one thing to lie about your talent if its a dangerous one but Mathetic is a very harmless talent so claiming she's the Ultimate Liar just made her look worse. Yes some people mocked her talent, but they are the jerks. A lot of Eva's woes in the Killing Game was self-inflicted and she has only herself to blame for it. Its also something I noticed but Eva sounds a lot like Eve who is the first woman to commit sin, so there is a biblical reference to her being the first culprit. And man when Eva starts breaking down she gets UGLY.

//She throws Damon under the bus, which while I was expecting her to do that, its still brutal the way she does it, but fortunately nobody is buying it since Eva's relations are down the toilet. And this breakdown of hers as she's unravelled as the culprit is brutal as like most Chapter 1 culprits, Eva doesn't back down easily, and this leads to *sigh* the one minigame I was dreading to talk about. Argument Altercation.

//Its tradition for this minigame to be a thing when breaking the culprits down and normally its a rhythm heaven type game where you have to time your hits as you break down the culprit's healh before telling them why they are wrong. Super Danganronpa Another 2 also does this though my computer decided to act up, but Project Eden's Garden...goes a completely different direction and I will say this;

//I

//FUCKING

//HATE

//THIS

//MINIGAME

//This is the single WORST minigame within any of the Danganronpa titles I ever had the misfortune of playing. This makes Goodbye Despair's Improved Hangman's Gambit look like Scrum Debate by comparison.

//So what is so bad about this minigame? Well for starters its a Bullet Hell where you not only have to dodge Eva's attacks but also shoot her. Sounds simple right? Well unforunately, Eva seems to be a avid Touhou player since she BEHAVES like a Touhou boss, with swarms of bullets that guarantee that if you AREN'T a bullet hell expert you will die a lot, and you have SO few oppertunties to attack.

//The screen flips during the second phase and while it doesn't last long, its enough to get you hit a bunch and its also when Eva pulls out her Touhou style attacks where swarms of bullets fire your way.

//But if you thought things couldn't get worse...oh boy there's the third phase which doesn't always happen but if you get THIS screen.

//Then you are FUCKED as Eva will send crow shaped homing attacks at you which are borderline IMPOSSIBLE to dodge and if you haven't got a lot of health left you WILL die, even WITH the slowdown speed.

//And when you get to the finishing blow, there's barely any time to do the word sorting which gets you back to the final phase where you will 100% die and go back to the beginning.

//This no joke took me TWO FUCKING HOURS to do, now granted some of it was the fact I couldn't use the slowdown speed. But what worries me is that this is CHAPTER 1.

//The other culprits are gonna be like this and they are gonna be even harder so what is Chapte 5's culprit gonna be like this?

//But once I'm done I was so emotionally bent that I wanted Eva to die slowly and painfully. I don't know how much people hate this game and if its hated enough the difficulty might get toned down as a result.

//When Eva explained why she was the way she was...one on hand its the same old "Ultimate system sucks arse" we all heard but at the same time, people like Diana and Damon DID try to reach out to her and her lying about her talent was a self-inflicted wounded, so while sympthatic in the end most of what Eva did was things she brought upon herself.

//And then comes the execution and as per Danganronpa fashion its a brutal one which makes Eva really suffer for what she's been through before she literally burns in hell. I mean given how biblical this game is, I wouldn't be surprised by that.

//So my overall veridict is Project Eden's Garden is a good game which is worth checking out but I do NOT like Argument Alteraction.

//Now comes the golden question. Since I played Chapter 1, and sprites for Project Eden's Garden characters are available, plus Creeper was able to use Eloise in Survivor, will Project Eden's Garden Characters be on the Voidship?

//Well with Chapter 1 sprites not available yet, I want to wait until they are. But when they do become available I won't add the characters straight away, I did so for Despair Time once Timeline Anon gave me the greenlight since it was a option I was considering.

//But I feel Project Eden's Garden characters would not only clog up the Christmas Arc a bit, but also since I know certain people haven't played the game yet, I don't want to go into spoilers. For example Wolfgang and Diana would react quite badly to the news of Void Juice given their past experiences with drugs that cause you to face inner demons.

//However I'm not ruling them out since I have plans, you just need to wait.

//And that's all, don't know when Chapter 2 will come out but probably talk about it next when Bubbles and TA stream it.

[prema2018core]

HIII can you tell me more about your favourite rio ship?? and about that fic you're working on as well perhaps 😙😙

Well hello again my child, I'm glad you decided to ask again and welcome back to

RIO HARYANTO SHIPS SHENANIGANS

And I'm your host for this, prema2018core

Moving along to the first question: My favorite Rio ships that I had gathered are PasRio (Pascal x Rio), ValRio (Valtteri x Rio), StoffRio (Stoffel x Rio), Gutiyanto (Esteban Gutierrez (not the other Esteban) x Rio), and FeliRio (Felipe Nasr x Rio)

With some honorable mentions of JolRio (Jolyon Palmer x Rio), Eriyanto (Marcus Ericsson x Rio), SerRio (Sergey Sirotkin x Rio), RossRio (Alexander Rossi x Rio), PieRio (Pierre x Rio) and TehRio (Esteban Ocon x Rio)

I already explained the first two ships in your first ask so I'm gonna go ahead to slip to StoffRio now (and yes I'll be doing some more MPreg thoughts)

3. StoffRio (Stoffel x Rio)

I got the urge to ship these two when I saw their race winner photos together and boy...

Like... What do you mean this doesn't scream gay? It's literally giving Kimi no Nawa. Like the smile and idkejskdjw I love them your honor. Did you know that Stoffel basically congratulated Rio on his team radio when Rio got his maiden win in Bahrain and the fact that Rio was supposed to be in WEC in 2021 with Peugeot with Stoffel... Rio this is a call for help, please come back to motorsports your husbands need you.

MPreg thoughts: They have three children together, a singleton daughter and a pair of twin boys. Rio started crushing on Stoffel in 2014 and got close to him in 2015, they finally made it official in 2017.

4. Gutiyanto (Esteban Gutierrez x Rio)

The reason for how I got to ship these two are the same as StoffRio (and probably the other ships that I'm going to list here)

HELLO?! WEDDING PHOTOS?! AND THERE'S EVEN A CONTINUATION OF THIS PHOTO IN 2016?!

IT'S GIVING TEEN LOVE TO MARRIAGE KIND OF RELATIONSHIP AND I'M HERE FOR IT. Rio would definitely talk to him in Spanish and always ask Gutierrez if he said the things that he said are correct or not. Gutierrez calling Rio "mi corazon" will be the death for me and I'm fine with it. Their interactions in the junior series were just so cute that it might have given me diabetes.

Mpreg thoughts: Definitely teenage parents situation where they got drunk one night after the last round of GP3 2010 in Monza and they got freaky without protection. But it's a cryptic pregnancy so Rio doesn't even know he's actually pregnant. When the kid was born (it was a girl) they decided to do a shotgun wedding. When Rio got tossed aside by Manor, he went to Gutierrez for comfort and it turned spicy again which made him pregnant again.

5. FeliRio (Felipe Nasr x Rio)

Their interactions since Formula BMW was so natural I can't help myself to not ship this ship. A goofy Brazilian x Too Oblivious Indonesian, what's there more to ask??

Look at them, Felipe and his favorite ball of a sunshine Indonesian. I love em. They basically never leave each other's side during the driver's parade. Poor Rio basically clings to everyone he knows like his life depended on it.

MPreg thoughts: Even though they know each other since Formula BMW, I don't think they would go the teen pregnancy route. Rio is so oblivious to Felipe's pursuit that he just thought he was just doing his usual silly Felipe routine but no, Felipe was trying so hard to flirt with him. Rio got preggo after the 2016 season ended and it resulted in twins.

I'll go back to the ships (the ones in the honorable mention) if you ask for it as usual

For question two, I have two fanfictions cooking up one is an Mpreg fanfic of PasRio/Wehryanto that takes place in an AU where Rio got a seat in Formula E after his Formula 1 journey was a bust. The other one is actually a SeanNyck fanfiction with a touch of StoffRio added to it that takes place in 2015 Formula Renault 3.5 (SeanNyck) and GP2 (StoffRio)

ASK ME MORE SWEETIES!!

[smileymoth]

I have no idea what marble hornets is but the stuff your sharing looks super interesting and makes me wanna get into it. What is it exactly?

i'm letting @theslyvoid9 answer this because he's the reason i watched it and he's literally right next to me rn. so um. listen to him. he's a connoisseur and has been hounding me about this for months <3 . take it away boy

okay hiiii sly here! so um anyway sdkhufsk gonna keep this kinda spoiler free but in short Marble hornets is a 15 year old youtube horror series and one of the first video projects to use the slendermans character for a more detailed story. The full series ran for around 5 years and lasts roughly around 8-9 hours. The story was kinda hosted on two separate youtube channels, with the main marble hornets youtube channel posting the main entries and a side channel that posts more cryptic videos inbetween the actual entries for lore^tm reason. To watch both of the channels videos in order i suggest this playlist as a easy starting point! Link Storywise. it starts off with our main character Jay getting the tapes for an old project from a friend and looking through them a few years later and noticing stuff.....very wrong in some of the tapes and deciding he needs to investigate further and that leads him down a...rather not good path and drags several characters back into the trenches with him in the process. Overall the editing and sound design is the main scare factor in this series with jumpscares being kinda minimal. So if you like horror with a more building and suspenseful atmosphere then this is a must watch! The characters are lovely, the story is really interesting and the mystery in it is really cool to see unfold. Fair warning tho that the editing does involve a lot of glitching aka flashing at points and the story starts of a bit slow but it picks up in a very natural way! ANYWAY yeah....in short its a youtube horror series about slenderman and glitching videos and mental illness :D I personally really recommend it and if you have more questions idk hit me up on my blog! Anyway back to danny o/

YEAH I AGREE W HIM !!!!!!!! very good summary :thumbsup: (he's not holding a gun to my head to say this) i found the story very captivating, the characters are definitely unique in personality and i was just staring at their face shapes all the time....... it hurts you a lot btw the story i mean it hurts SOOO much . watch it. NJEOW if you like angst and pain and interesting video editing and convincing acting

[fruit-of-infidelity]

✒︎ DiaLovers OC Contest Entry: Sakamaki Ryuuto.

Theme: New Moon.

　✒︎ Character Summary:

　Seemingly only a cousin to the Sakamaki’s, Ryuuto shares a mother with the triplets. He is the assertive type who isn’t afraid to dabble in a Master-Slave relationship with the heroine. He takes pleasure in riddling others with his cryptic remarks and emits an aura of mystery wherever he goes. 

　He always demands to be treated like a Prince, even when relentlessly teasing his prey and manipulating them until they spiral into helplessness. 

Race: Vampire School Year: 3rd Year Senior High School Student, Ryoutei Academy Age: 18 Height: 178cm Weight: 63kg Blood Type: O Favourite Food: Cinnamon Rolls Hobby: Oil Painting

　In-Depth Character Profile: Found Here.

　✒︎ His Purpose (The Plot):

　Cordelia's spite for Karlheinz's second wife, Beatrix, and the announcement of her pregnancy is what bore Ryuuto, from her affair with Richter. Isolated from Karlheinz, his children, and much of the world, Ryuuto was raised almost exclusively by Richter. However, Cordelia's manipulation over Ryuuto saw him become heavily dependant on her as his only female figure in life, using him for her own entertainment.

　After Cordelia's death, Ryuuto's immense distraught saw him swear to revive her, with his father's help. Realising his half-brothers were to blame, he vowed to get revenge, too. Appearing to Yui Komori* - who harbours Cordelia's heart - he intends to steal her away, and initiate the awakening to revive his mother. 

* Ryuuto's story begins during Haunted Dark Bridal, not unlike the other Sakamaki's, and continues on through to the current games.

　However, much like the other Sakamaki sons, Ryuuto is available to be romanced in a route of his own. If not selected, however, he will also appear as a minor antagonist in some of the other boy's routes (in their mini chapters, which are currently still being released).

　His Complete HDB Route: Found Here.

　✒︎ Ryuuto's Haunted Dark Bridal CGs:

* The limit for photos per post is, unfortunately, ten (10). However, there is a total of twenty-five (25) CGs available in Ryuuto’s route.

　✒︎ Drama CDs:

　In addition to his routes, Ryuuto also is featured in numerous Drama CDs - some of which feature full voice-acting. From the "nursing" series, to group drama, below is an example of one such CD: Character Song Vol.7: Sakamaki Ryuuto | Mini Drama: “Bloodstained Canvas”.

　Each Drama CD - in each scenario they present - replicates the canon material and themes through a fresh, unique character. These CDs aim to further incorporate Ryuuto into the DiaLover universe, and help establish better relationships, lore, and romance outside of the routes.

　Full Drama CD Mentioned: Found here.

Contest Hosts: @arleccine & @the-precious-sugar-chan ♥️

[camouflagedlove]

You mentioned wanting to maybe write some blurbs! For Stranger Things, I've seen a lot of fics of Will talking to Steve or Eddie about being gay or different. Do you think that conversation could ever end up happening with Robin?

thanks for this!! I've been wanting to write but have had creative block

here's a short thing of will bonding with Robin over being gay

Will was smart. He was a listener, and an observer and he saw a lot about the people around him.

In campaigns he'd observe Eddie's motions, some of them a dead giveaway that he had a surprise in store. He observed Nancy withdrawing from Jonathan but most of all, lately he'd observed something about Robin Buckley that was distinctly familiar.

Robin was more of a friend of a friend at this point. They're not super close but they know of each other, they cross paths a lot and when they did cross paths something about her made Will wonder.

She felt like him. It was something he couldn't really explain. She always seemed a little unsure of herself, in her wording, in her everything. Just like Will was.

Robin had this air around her like she was hiding something, something she felt was a big part of her. The only time he felt the discomfort emanating from her the least was when she was with Steve. Like perhaps he knew something only a best friend would know.

Will watched her for a bit. Saw the habit she had for staring at girls, mostly Nancy or a girl with short ginger hair that Will didn't know. Everyone looked at girls but Will had a certain way of looking that he'd always felt was different. He saw the way his friends looked at girls; Lucas at Max, Mike at El. It was the same way Robin did.

Something in him suspected, knew that Robin was like him. Not the same as him, but similar in a way that they wore day to day and yet hid from everyone else.

Steve had been hosting a pool party, he invited all of the kids and the teens. It was fun.

Robin seemed...uncomfortable.

She didn't seem comfortable around Nancy in her swimsuit, her eyes staying glued to the girls face. Robin also seemed avoidant of the boys. She barely looked at them like she was afraid someone would misconstrue it. It's a feeling Will was familiar with.

Lately, if he was within 5 feet of a girl they didn't know people would push him, encourage him. Like that was something that really mattered now, like that was something they knew he wanted. But he didn't. At least not with any girls.

"Robin," Will said, getting the girl's attention at the pool's edge.

She looked shocked but answered, "What's up, kid?"

"Could I talk to you?"

Robin shot Steve an anxious look before she ultimately nodded and stood to follow him. Will led them to the kitchen, away from everyone else.

"I don't know how to ask this..." Will started. He hadn't really planned this. Hadn't planned what he wanted to ask her. But he was sure she was like him. The excitement of maybe getting to know one more person stuck in this town pretending like him had made him forget to plan.

"Do you feel...different?" he settled on cryptically.

Robin shuffled uncomfortably. "Different how?"

"Like...like everyone expects you to want something that...you don't want? Like there's a version of you everyone created but it's not you but it's close to you so you don't want to disappoint them."

Tears were gathered at the bottoms of Robin's eyes, like she was holding them back.

"Like there's something inside of you, hiding, and you know it's there but you have to pretend it's not?" Robin asked.

Will nodded.

Tears fell from Robin's eyes and she threw her arms out. "Come here, I'm adopting you now."

Will laughed but went into the offered hug.

"I can be like your gay teacher, tell you all I know, which isn't a lot. Help you navigate, all of it."

"That'd be great!" Will said with a smile. "My brother knows but it's nice to be able to talk to someone who gets it on some level."

"Jonathan knows?" Robin asked, separating from the boy.

"Yeah, he's really supportive," Will said proudly.

"Good to know," she said with a smile.

"So what's the first lesson you want to know?" Robin asked rubbing her hands together conspirationally.

"How to get over your straight best friend," he answered

"God, couldn't have started easy," Robin asked with a laugh. "We'll work on that."

[geeknik]

31 Days of Halloween: Day 19, The Enigmatic Lemp Mansion of St. Louis

On the 19th day of our eerie expedition, we delve into the heart of St. Louis, Missouri, to uncover the mystifying tales enveloping the Lemp Mansion. This grandiose structure, once the epitome of wealth and success, now stands as a somber emblem of tragedy and the supernatural. As we journey through its haunted halls, we'll discover the entangled narrative of the Lemp family's fortune and downfall, intertwined with eerie apparitions and ghostly echoes from a bygone era.

Historical Background

The Lemp Mansion, situated in the Benton Park neighborhood of St. Louis, was once the residence of the affluent Lemp family, whose lineage traced back to Johann Adam Lemp, a German immigrant. The family's fortune burgeoned with the establishment of the Lemp Brewery, which introduced lager beer to St. Louis in the 1840s. Under the stewardship of William J. Lemp, the brewery flourished, and by the 1870s, the Lemp Brewery was a household name, synonymous with quality and tradition.

However, the prosperous epoch was ephemeral. The Lemp family faced an inexorable streak of calamities, beginning with Frederick Lemp's demise in 1901, followed by William J. Lemp's suicide in 1904. The advent of Prohibition in 1919 further plunged the family into despair, leading to the brewery's closure and a string of subsequent tragedies, including more suicides within the family.

Haunting Tales

The murky legacy of the Lemp Mansion is inexorably intertwined with the melancholic narrative of the Lemp family. The mansion is said to be rife with spectral activities, many of which are believed to be the unrestful spirits of the Lemp lineage. Among the most unsettling tales is that of the "Monkey Face Boy," an illegitimate child of William Lemp, who was allegedly concealed in the attic due to his Down Syndrome, and whose spirit is claimed to still lurk within the mansion's haunting halls.

Exploring the Lemp Mansion

For those with a penchant for the paranormal, the Lemp Mansion proffers an array of ghostly expeditions. The "Lemp Experience" is a notable event that allows intrepid souls to delve into the mansion's eerie enigma every other Thursday from December to August, with additional days in the fall months. Moreover, the Lemp Legacy Tour, dubbed "St. Louis’ Most Haunted Ghost Tour," guides guests through the mansion’s spectral spaces on Tuesday nights, revealing the cryptic chronicles encased within its walls.

Other chilling ventures include Halloween night ghost tours accompanied by Brick City Paranormal, offering a spooky exploration of the mansion's haunted halls while sipping on creepy cocktails. The mansion also hosts various paranormal investigations, séances, and ghost hunting equipment for those seeking a deeper encounter with the unknown.

Conclusion

As we conclude our 19th day of spooky sojourns, the Lemp Mansion stands as a poignant emblem of a family’s affluence turned affliction, veiled in an aura of mystery and ghostly whispers. The mansion invites the brave to traverse its haunted halls, to unveil the spectral narratives veiled within, and to experience firsthand the chilling tales that have rendered the Lemp Mansion a legendary haunted haven in St. Louis, MO.

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

(NO BETA) EXCERPT FROM MY SHIGADABI FANTASY AU, UP ON THE CLIFF:

“... Kurogiri told me earlier that you slept through most of the passage to the cliff. Should I trust you found it a peaceful ride?”

Still encased in nighttime dimness, Touya tried to decipher the tone floating down at him from the head of the table. He couldn't see its owner past the glow of the candles, the darkness that rained down on them from the vaults in the high ceiling. To compensate his lack of visual confirmation, he sketched the man there with his mind, faithful to the memory of how his host, the Count up on the cliff, had looked under the morning sunlight.

Touya remembered it all too well, how they had sat there distracted with their food or the noises of their companions. The Count's hair would flow down and sparkle against the raw terrain of his skin, making it all the more hard to not stare at his eyes of red turmoils and secrecy. The Count was fresh snow on an open wound and Touya thought the color was more common the closer he was to the passage, but not by much. On his journey to the valley, he had met barely a few of human refugees with a similar red in his eyes. Yet the Count's matched his cape and its collar, lined in white fur —it matched his hair.

That thought would've made him frown if spoken aloud. After all, he cared nothing if the Count had had the coat over his shoulders made to match him, if his scars made his all the more raw, if his was the name he hasn't known yet. Curious but trivial things did not matter and they shouldn't. Touya was only interested in the sensation of his mind already wandering, getting uncoordinated. It was the same case as before, when any thought of the Count would lead him into slippery slopes and Touya, or anyone else on that matter, would soonly forget why they were thinking about him at all.

“...”

Once more, Touya looked up to face the Count's silence, allowing the company to chitchat as they pleased. The times they talked were enough to be counted with the fingers of a single hand and, rare as they were, they would startle Touya, raising his attention of the ones sitting or resting beside him. The Count had the soft-spoken cadence of a man home taught by the best tutors money could buy, but his words lacked any politeness or fondness and instead came enveloped in direct orders or demands, cryptical than most, that the habitants of the castle would follow to the letter. Touya did call him a petulant child in the past, if he recall the accident shortly after his arrival. It had been easier back then, to insult him, to blame the anger and frustration he felt on the man that demanded his sacrifice. Touya hadn't known him yet and he did not know him still, which left him with the only other option available: to know himself better, his place in that monster town, his role in that castle. He could only decipher his own heart to set apart any alien feeling, any influence, any invasion.

As for now, it was as if they were not there. Touya had disappear alongside the Count to the world.

He risked a glace at Toga and the gecko boy, each by his left, but they were busy reacting to some kind of joke Jin was telling. Mr. Atsuhiro, by his right side, was not even looking at the table or his dessert, too busy gesturing at their butler as if explaining his excitement about what they had had for dinner that night. No one reacted to the conversation he was having with the Count. No one even looked his way o tried to pressure him to answer, not even the butler confirmed what the Count had said. Could it be...

Could it be that the Count was reading his mind?

Touya made to grab his glass, emptying his mind so violently he felt a snap in the back of his head. However, as soon as he extended his left hand the room started spinning, the smiles of the pictures framed by the walls getting more loopsided by the minute, the food balancing left and right over the tablecloth, a waltz of dresses and coats and hats and spiders—

“Calm down.”

Touya tried to blink it away. There was a solid grip on his chest, tugging to get the nod on his lungs undone. He allowed the unknown pulse to had him as he concentrated on keeping his face clean of panic; not thinking, not allowing anyone else to know how altered he wasat the moment. It took him a lifetime, the type that is condensated in a minute, before the room settled and he was able to hear.

“ —ust like that. Good,” Touya blinked again and again towards the direction of the voice, one, two seats past Mr. Atsuhiro, noticing what he thought was a faint smile hovering on the air and a pair of watchful red eyes on him.

Touya heard it again, this time realizing the Count was not moving his lips, not even vacillating on his strange and curious expression:

“Did I spook you, Dabi?” when he only narrowed his eyes in response, he was allowed to appreciate how the Count huffed with amusement, looking down at his plate, “A-ah. Don't be angry. It's not my intention to read your mind, nor am I doing it at the moment.”

Confusion accumulated on his brow, driving him closer to the table as if he could figure out what the Count was talking about by sheer proximity. He was not talking, was he? Touya could see how he lifted a cup to drink of the wine, responding to whatever Spinner had asked him a second ago.

“I am projecting the words to your mind, that is. I asure you it's a one-way road. Unless...”

For the first time since his arrival, Touya saw the mouth of the Count tilt at the corners with what could only be mischief. It was hard to admit, even harder to explain, what the motion did to him and how it activated his competitive instinct. From his time training with his dad, Touya could recognize a challenge with eyes close, hands bind, deaf to any sound. It was in the air, in the gentle swept of the candlelight, the smooth inclination of the host shoulders until his elbows were resting fully on the table, hands intertwined ao he could rest his chin.

He reminded himself of the original question, the one that started this whole conversation. He had slept, sure, but it jad been due the strange magic that had surrounded him that evening. Memories of his family had seized him as their car climbed downhill, images of his childhood on the Himura state, of Sekoto Peak, of his siblings and cousins running in the distance as he chased butterflies in the hidden fields past the family greenhouse. He doesn't know when he transitioned from merely reminiscing to fully dreaming. The distant howls woke him near the butler's tavern, some hours past midnight, maybe.

When Touya glanced at the Count, he was almost bored, playing with the rim of his cup while gecko boy showed him something on his hand. It could have been a spider, but Touya didn't care. He had an hypothesis to prove, a host to impress, a dare to win.

He pictured himself opening his mouth, forming the syllables with his lips, tasted the sounds of every vowel and sent them crashing to his host pretty ears.

Touya thought, “unless I talk back?” and stared satisfied at the Count as his eyes left the gecko's hands to look at him, red so bright he thought the world had caught fire. The Count waited, moving his fingers against his cheeks as if telling Touya that now he had his attention. “I slept on the ride here influenced by your butler's dark magic, but you knew that. You asked him to use his magic and put me to slumber. Your question, it was not politeness nor politics.”

The Count lifted his cup, drinking the last of his wine as Touya organized his thoughts.

“You wanted me to talk to you this way.”

It was the longest conversation he had had with the man since he arrived at that wasteland. The fact dented Touya's pride. That he had allowed the Count to treat him like a prisoner for so long, that he had allowed the Count to ignore him, his existence, if not for his presence every morning during breakfast and more recently on dinners, where he would not address him at all and leave as soon as the meal was over. He did not ached for his company or validation. He didn't want him to treat him like the rest, with similar silence that always ended on a well though inquiry, maybe a few words of encouragement, disguised by his position as the count so they wouldn't sound very vulnerable. The Count had talked to him before, but always through others, or just a phrase, just a nod. He had sent him a trained dog to guide him through the town, so he wouldn't get lost. He had offered to took him back to his village, ordering a car to wait for him every evening by the gates of the castle. He had gave him the key of his room, accepted him as Dabi and only referred to him as that, despite knowing the truth. Had had Dabi's meals made specially for him as to not upset his stomach, gave him a room specially acclimated to accommodate his wronging sickness.

Everything he knew about the Count, he knew it for his actions and never his words. And it had been enough for him for an entire month now. He had found it comfortable enough to walk and talk and act among them without much fuss. Touya only demanded answers or respect when it was either about his mission to unlock the mystery behind the demon sickness that afflicted him or when it was about his freedom to roam around doing whatever the fuck he wanted. He didn't care about the games the Count wanted to play with the rest of them.

He almost missed the moment the Count stood up, the legs of his chair scratching so subtly the wood of the floor. It was their signal. The meal was officially over.

He thanked the gecko boy —Iguchi— for showing him the cards of a new game he was crafting and nodded once, a gesture meant to acknowledge everyone in the room in a brief goodbye, before he walked out the room and left behind only the trail of his coat disappearing around the corner.

Touya followed the rest, his dessert intact on the plate as they took the dishes to the kitchen to be magically cleaned by the staff. Jin invited them to play cards, an offer he denied without explanation and that Iguchi and Toga immediately latched to. Mr. Atsuhiro had only crossed his arms and let out a single sigh, deciding he could play piano to make them company or supervise the progression of the game, in case it got... Complicated.

Dabi sent them to the game room with a shake of shoulders. They could do as they wanted too.

He didn't want to know.

On the hallway up to his room, he stopped along the way once, in front of the window walls. The moon had partially came out, clouds rolling low over the forest and mixing with the fog. The air was chilling, cold kisses on his bandaged wounds. He extended his pointer finger to touch a pale ray of moonlight, admiring the absence of heat and the silver stiches that differentiate it so much from its daylight equivalent. Beneath it, the edges of his burns became a deep purple, his skin taking and unnatural blue glow. Back at home, they had told him several times that his eyes would get the more scary at night, when they would shine even brighter than the moon or any fireplace made by human hands. He would laugh and smile, big, big enough to show all his teeth, and the kids would run and call for help and their mothers would call him a monster, a zombie, a walking grave.

Then came that sensation to his chest and Touya squished it, set it aflame, reduced it to ashes. He stepped back and turned around, not stopping until the door of his room was locked and his body was resting on his bed, curtains close, his clothes changed and wounds freshly bandaged.

He had felt red eyes on him. That sensation. The tug, the weight, his finger touching the glass of the window. Touya didn't want to know. He didn't want to know if what he had said was right or if it was wrong, if the Count left becuase he left or if he left because of him. He didn't want to know if the others were having fun, sitting on the carpet, fingers touching one another as they laid their cards down.

The night had inflicted irreparable damage on him. He shouldn't had allowed the Count to talk to him like that, through his thoughts, direcly to his mind. Touya shouldn't had fallen so easily for the Count's twisted games, craving the excitement of a new discovery, a challenger to beat, a rival to show off to. Something had been taken and given in return that night. The full moon was whispering of trades and Touya sat by the fireplace, burning piece of paper after piece of paper, until his rage had subdued.

« you want me to talk to you like this. »

Touya threw an entire book to the fire.

He didn't want to know.

[panie-wanie-dean-bean]

And ur both totally right my mistake, It is important to be respectful of ur boys' schedules when u wanna pamper them, so why not commission a dark cloak, a plague doctor mask, and put on ur finest gregorian cryptic chants on ur blutooth speaker to hand deliver a letter to ur goth boy. You could cryptically say "9 Days. Prepare Yourself." and drift away.

And in the letter it says 'Pamper day! I luv you :3c' in cutesy pink bubble lettering, bc plague doctor masks r gothic and dom right?? :3c he must think MC is so cool!

I wont say i want it to be canon, but the idea of Nick being adopted months if not years before the others and they each witness something like that and ask Barry whose been here longer than them what it was. Barry also gets his personalized pamper day letter delivery (his is sailor themed bc ducks) but ofc he's a fucker so he only briefly looks up from the newspaper he's reading to think about a lie before delivering it. "Hm once every blue moon Master chooses a hybrid at random as a host for a dark twisted ritual i think"

And the others just nurse a cigarette and a coffee for a week and a half, wondering wat the fuck they got themselves into and planning a prison break, before Nick just casually strolls down the stairs the day after, with brighter skin, shinier/fluffier hair and feathers, and clears the air.

The Hybrids figure out Barry is an asshole and Barry could care less bc he's MC's "special little guy 💕"

Everyone has their quirks and the hybrid bois can do no wrong in her eyes, not even Barry unfucking-fortunately

-🖤 anon

Ok, Nick is in fucking tears from how hard he's laughing after he reads the note. Like you might have to get him his inhaler

Also, Ian was adopted first so he's just all giggles when he sees you dressing up to deliver someone their first spa day note

And dressing up as a sailor for Berry's day? Oh my fucking god, I love your brain dude! Berry's just a silly little guy who can do no wrong

[ladykailolu]

I wanna talk more about Blondie

I feel like she and Mela would get along, they’re both total queens and Blondie also likes to dance, she also loves hot chocolate, ballet, flute music, smooth jazz and classical music, fashion* and fashion design, and afternoon tea parties

*she’d get criticized at her job because instead of wearing a police uniform she’d just walk around in her designer clothes with her badge in her coat or something

(once her name starts to really get out there, she gets quite wealthy, and she usually spends it on clothes or charity stuff, as she does believe in reformative programs preventing crime)

I can see her hanging out with the gang including Godot, cause like, one of them copes with his trauma and sadness by being cryptic and bitter, while she deals with her trauma and sadness by being a little silly

Black Coffee guy and hot chocolate with rainbow sprinkles lady

Home girl and coffee boy are both working in the prosecutor’s office late and as a kind gesture, she makes him a cup of extra dark hot chocolate, cause she thinks he’d like it [she doesn’t know how to make coffee cause she doesn’t drink it, as she’s an insomniac]

“Just something to help get through the night from one late shifter to another”

but I actually ship her with Franziska,

Cause it’s like the sun lesbian* + moon lesbian (*bisexual but whatever)

U know opposites attract

Franziska is this uptight, formal, thin and sharp young woman, who’s secretly cute

Blondie is this bubbly, soft and curvy, quirky slightly older** lady, who’s secretly a badass

** she’s like in her early to mid 30s

And both have near perfect records

Blondie can be Franziska’s pet detective (like got Gumgum is to Edgybaby)

Nah but really they’d be an interesting crime fighting duo, and make great gfs

They both classy hoes (hoes in an endearing way)

What do u think?

I was immediately picturing Blondie making a dirty chai latte or dirty hot chocolate for Godot in that there's coffee in it and she tries to make it dark and bitter to his tasting. And she might even bake him bagels with cream cheese to go with the coffee (or maybe that's just me projecting lol)

She sounds like the generous person who brings in sweets and the like to be enjoyed by the whole detective team, and Gumshoe is just taken by those gestures and has to stop himself from eating the whole thing.

Despite being a dark and bitter cryptid, Godot finds himself smiling more when Blondie's around. The coffee she makes is....well, there's always room for improvement 😊

God just imagine Blondie and Mela getting together over tea and confections, and Mela starts explaining about all the silly, shameful things one of her cousins has been up to. She spills the beans of Gyro's failed love affairs and the mess he's made of them, and Blondie has to stop herself from laughing or she'll get the hiccups. They just roast tf outta him and it is glorious lol!

But how does Blondie react upon seeing Gyro's little bastard girls? I feel like Sadie-Mae might like her. Maggie would like her because she seems fun and nice (much, much nicer than her father, that's for sure), and Paxe is a bit disinterested. As a side note, give Paxe a whip and she'd become a little Frannie lol

I was imagining that Mela would purposefully kick out Caesar and Gyro from the house for a day so she could host a little girls-only get together with Gyro's daughters, her gf Jodie and Blondie. There, Mela dances with Blondie and teaches her this Spanish dance she recently learned. And Blondie makes hot chocolate for the kids.

[inabadancedcrazy]

[Link to previous part]

[Link to next part]

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

Surviving was something Ichika often thought about. It was tough for a girl who wanted what she did to be taken seriously in a world like this. Needing to mingle with strangers, engage in “networking” to even have a hope of getting ahead in the world. She didn’t like meeting people. She liked doing her job, and she liked being good at it. She looked away from the conversation she was having yet not paying attention to, and instead she turned her attention to the brown haired boy who had come to this place with her. Masaru laughed at some joke, unaware of her plight.

It didn’t feel like this for Masaru. He didn’t have this horrible gnawing in his gut, this desire to hide himself. He never looked caught off guard, he never let comments about his appearance get to him, even if he only ever got flattering ones. On some level, deep in her soul, Ichika felt this was maliciously unfair. Being a host meant that he was used to high energy, emotional kinds of places. This club was practically baby stuff for him. He could wine and dine with every girl he saw and always charm the pants off of them. Not literally, usually. She knew Masaru was better than that, and she knew that he was never actually serious when he put on his work voice to get them a free seat or a ticket into some movie. It was just how the world worked for him. Play up the role, get what you want.

It wasn’t like that for her. If she had any sort of charms, she had no clue how to weaponize them in the way Masaru utilized every single one he had. And so when she turned back to re-integrate herself in the conversation she had been tuning out, the person she had been talking to had already been replaced by someone else. She was so bad at this whole social thing that she couldn’t even keep one person engaged in conversation without them running off. The replacement, a guy with way too revealing an outfit than she was prepared for, spoke up.

“Hey, you alright there?" He didn't wait for a response before continuing. "Looks like that guy actually ditched you. Man, this really ain’t your scene!”

“I guess, haha...” Confusion won out over indignation in this case. She didn’t feel like it was a laughing matter, but he was still smiling anyways, scrounging through his pocket for something. The last thing she wanted right now was to be chatted up by some strange foreigner.

“Hey, if social anxiety is what’s got you down, try this.” The man took out a notebook and handed it to her. “It’s all tips and tricks on how to beat those pesky nerves. I’m about to go on stage soon, and that book’s the kind of thing that kept me motivated to keep my eyes on the prize.”

“Oh, uh... Thank you?” She looked through the book, seeing that it was indeed full of advice on how to topple her anxiety. The goat on the front was a little freaky, but otherwise it seemed like he just wanted to help. In a weird, obtrusive, kind of aggravating way, but still. She went to thank the man more earnestly, but he was already gone. Just like the last one. That was two for two, Ichika. “Oh, okay.”

“Yo, Ichika.” Masaru left whatever girl he was charming and jogged towards her. “Look at this. Some cryptic blond guy gave me a book of pick-up lines. Can you imagine? Me! Needing advice on how to pick up girls! I don’t know what the scene is like in America, but I’m the best around! And besides, the whole thing is in English! Do I look like I can speak English!? This is like... Unbelievable!”

It took an ungodly amount of strength for Ichika to not roll her eyes. “It’s a horrible insult.”

“Exactly! It's an insult, right? He should- Hey, what’s that you got? Some spooky American give that to you too?” Ichika remembered at that moment that the stranger had handed a book to her as well. Was it just... normal in America to give books to strangers? "Maybe it's a holiday thing? Or maybe they fell in love and thought that books were the best way into our hearts, huh? Hey, let’s see if we can find anybody who knows English! See if this thing actually has anything good in it.”

"I thought you weren't interested in those pick-up lines?" Ichika pointedly ignored most of what he said and focused entirely on the part about actually reading what was inside.

"Hey, it's always a learning process! The ladies'll love if I incorporate a little English into my vocabulary. A little spice, you know?"

"Of course. You'll knock them out."

He was already off before she could even finish speaking, so she just followed along behind him like usual. Honestly, this night couldn't end soon enough.

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

[jonahgarland]

STATS

name: jonah garland age: twenty-six occupation: former journalist / staff @ haus (spa host/receptionist) position: bottom // submissive leaning top kinks: being dominated, roleplay, body worship, daddy kink, praise kink, toys, cum play, roughness, marking, experimenting face claim: nico greetham

BIOGRAPHY

As far as he could remember, Jonah’s life had always been filled with questions, unsolved mysteries he strived to find an answer to. As a child, he was the type to ask questions all day long until his parents would get tired of hearing it. From the mundane (Why can’t I eat ice cream for every meal?) to the weirdly philosophical (Why is there war in the world?), Jonah’s mind questioned everything he saw and experienced, and yet it took him a few years to ask the question that really would be central to his life: The question of who were his biological parents. It had been no secret to him from the start that he had been adopted, but there was little information he had about his genetic origins. His adoptive parents were unable, or unwilling, to share much; supposedly it had been a closed adoption, and nobody actually knew who it was that had given the boy away in the first place. It was a loose end, an unanswered question that would bother Jonah for a long time, much more than he first realized.

Overall, his childhood was happy - sheltered, and a bit quiet maybe, but happy. The town his family lived in was small and sedate, their house modest but at least offering a roof over their heads. In school, Jonah did well, despite showing slightly hyperactive tendencies at times, his curiosity and thirst for knowledge led to decent grades overall. Nonetheless, he lacked a clear destination, missing a goal and purpose in life, and found himself at a loss when it came to applying for college. In the end, it came as a surprise to nobody that he pursued journalism, matching his curious nature and the tendency to ask way too many questions all the time. He did well throughout his studies, eventually settling in a just slightly larger town to work for a local newspaper. A new place to maybe find answers that would make him feel less lost, less incomplete.

However, Jonah never found the answers he truly was looking for - instead, one day they began to find him. He received a letter, unexpected and unannounced - a letter from a lawyer, informing him about his biological father’s passing. Curiously, no name was mentioned in this announcement, just the expression of regret the man had felt over never getting to know his youngest child - a wording that made Jonah take notice. Not only had his unknown father contacted him from beyond the grave, but also left him with one important bit of information, despite how cryptic the latter was: He had a sibling. All of a sudden, the need to find closure on all the unanswered questions about his heritage resurfaced, and Jonah began to do some research.

Trying to keep his own name hidden from whoever he was looking into - assuming his sibling(s) did not know about him yet -, the journalist hired a private investigator to look into the case. It turned out to be surprisingly hard to find the intel on who his biological father actually had been; even after weeks, the PI had not come up with a name, but managed to track some of the money that his father’s lawyer had been sending out for his now deceased client. The most interesting transaction was a fairy impressive sum, sent regularly to a facility calling itself the Haus of Perses - a transaction that was still continuing on, despite his father’s apparent death. Clearly the lawyer was managing the whole family’s account, and it was likely his unknown brother that was sending money to the Haus. The PI followed that lead, reporting to Jonah that the Haus offered men a place to explore their fantasies, a fascinating location that peaked the journalist’s interest even regardless of his own personal connection to one of their clients.

He tasked the investigator with finding a way for him to get invited into the Haus himself; quickly it became clear that becoming a client was a privilege reserved for the rich and famous, and Jonah was neither. So instead, a plan was devised. The PI successfully tracked down one of the Haus’s scouts, and Jonah threw himself head first into a personal mission to be hired. It wasn’t quite an undercover mission, as technically he seeked out the man and the job as himself, though he left out his journalism background or the fact that his brother was connected to the place. Instead, he fully stepped into the world that he was about to enter, trying to let go of inhibitions and embrace the kink. The plan worked; the scout approached him about working for the Haus, and after feigned hesitation, Jonah agreed. He wasn’t quite sure what he was getting into, or how exactly he was going to figure out who his brother was, but the first step had been done, and he was determined to get some answers.

[joyffree]

★✩★ NEW RELEASE ★✩★ Big Booze Boss Hot Billionaire RomCom Such A Boss Book 2 By Jessika Klide Genre: Contemporary Romance | Billionaire | Rom-Com | Inked bad Boy | Baseball Hosted by DS Book Promotions

He’s an inked baseball bachelor with a bad-boy reputation. The groom’s brother. And my unexpected and unwelcome cabin roomie in the Montana boonies.

I didn’t know bridesmaid responsibilities were cryptic for meltdown prevention, but if my best friend needs someone to live on location for her dream wedding to go off flawlessly, I’m down for the task.

Even if it means living in the Montana boonies for the summer.

Even if the host ends up being Blaze Malone, the groom’s brother, the bad boy baseball bachelor, and my secret crush for, well, forever.

Even if Blaze isn't supposed to be there, and we have to share the only bed in the one-bedroom cabin, which might just prove to be too much for even me.

Not only does he push my “on” button effortlessly, clearly thinking clothes are a waste of time in the heat, but he’s bottle-feeding an orphaned foal, and he insists on sharing his delicious catered meals with me, mostly by candlelight.

But why is the bride still on the verge of a meltdown?

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

★✩★ COVER REVEAL ★✩★ Big Booze BOSS

A Hot Billionaire RomCom

Such A Boss #2 By Jessika Klide

Genre: Contemporary Romance | Billionaire Romance | Rom-Com | Inked Bad boy | Grumpy Sunshine | Forced Proximity

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/139688807/

Release Date: July 30

Hosted by DS Book Promotions

Amazon: Preorder

BLURB: 𝑯𝒆’𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅-𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎’𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒔.

I didn’t know bridesmaid responsibilities were cryptic for meltdown prevention, but if my best friend needs someone to live on location for her dream wedding to go off flawlessly, I’m down for the task.

Even if it means living in the Montana boonies for the summer.

Even if the host ends up being Blaze Malone, the groom’s brother, the bad boy baseball bachelor, and my secret crush for, well, forever.

Even if Blaze isn't supposed to be there, and we have to share the only bed in the one-bedroom cabin, which might just prove to be too much for even me.

Not only does he push my “on” button effortlessly, clearly thinking clothes are a waste of time in the heat, but he’s bottle-feeding an orphaned foal, and he insists on sharing his delicious catered meals with me, mostly by candlelight.

But why is the bride still on the verge of a meltdown?

Why does Blaze hide for hours on end?

I have no idea what’s up with them, but I know one thing.

When I find out the answers, everything will change!

*This is a Standalone novel*

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