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darling-i-read-it · 2 years ago

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Blue Paint

Dalton Lambert x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: spoilers for insidious the red door, spook spook

Author’s Note: my decade old crush on patrick wilson was not expecting to make any movement when i saw this movie. However, the much more age appropriate ty simpkins was there with long hair and brooding smiles and i had a moment of weakness.��ig up until this movie in my brain he was still 5 and i didn't realize he's older than me

Summary: You are rooming with Chris and are close friends with her and Dalton when he starts to mentally deteriorate rip

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“Dalton? Woah, woah.”

Dalton snapped his head off the table. Your eyes went wide as you watched him wake up, blinking aggressively. His fingers were still dipping in the paint but they had dried as he slept.

“What time is it?” he grumbled. His hair was sticking up. He must’ve been out.

“7. I just got back from dinner. I was gonna ask why you weren’t there but I guess we know the answer to that.” You looked down at the desk. Whatever he had been painting was now a smeared mess. His cheek had imprinted nothing but blue onto whatever the focus was.

“Fuck,” he muttered. ��I didn’t mean…” He shook his head. “Whatever.” He moved the canvas, starting to put things back as they were.

“Your face is blue,” you noted.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, now that his brain had caught up to him. You pursed your lips. You lived above him, with Chris. She was the reason the two of you had been introduced and then you ended up going to the same building for your early classes.

“Chris said something happened at that frat party,” you said. “I just wanted to know what went down from a reliable source.” He shook his head. He was still sticky on the face. Whatever he was using to paint didn’t dry as quickly on his face as it did on his fingers. You put down your bag and looked around for something to clean him with.

“Nothing happened.” You turned around, giving him a look. He let out a sigh. “I just mean, she was being dramatic.”

“Chris being dramatic? Now who would’ve thought.” You grabbed a dirty shirt off the ground. “You like this shirt?” you asked. He looked at you, confused. He shook his head. “Cool.” You dipped it in the glass of water on his desk and then cupped his face with your hands. You started to rub off the paint. “I love Chris and I trust her. I just mean, she was saying some weird things.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” You sat on the unoccupied bed and leaned back. “Anyway. Tell me what’s going on.” He shook his head. He looked goofy, smeared with blue. If he didn’t have such a melancholy look on his face you would probably have laughed at him. “She said something about astral projection.” “It’s this whole thing.” His phone rang. It was on the table, beside the paint. He picked it up, looked at the name, and declined.

“Was that your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you answer?” “Listen, you’re asking me a lot of questions right now and I’m not necessarily equipped to answer a single one of them,” he said, exasperated. You nodded, taking the hint. Instead you sat back up and started to clean his face again.

“I have nail polish in my room that would help with this. Or, do you have rubbing alcohol?”

“You sound like my mom,” he muttered. You pursed your lips and narrowed your gaze. “She probably packed something like that.” He looked down at his bag, one of the ones he had left unpacked. You picked it up and put it on your lap. You opened it up and started to look inside.

“If not, we’ll find some. Or you can go to class in the morning all blue. It’ll really let everyone know how you’re feeling.” He laughed gently. Your eyes flicked up at him. There was something about him that you felt a fierce need to protect. There was a puppy dog aspect to his features, in his eyes. “Ah ha. Mrs. Lambert for the win,” you muttered as you pulled out some rubbing alcohol and a towel. You tossed the bag aside otherwise. And dumped some water on it first, then started to scrub.

“I can astral project,” he said slowly. You stopped rubbing, meeting his eyes. He was dead serious. “I think. That’s what Chris said anyway.” You nodded slowly, continuing your work. “You think I’m crazy.”

“No. I just think you stopped your sentence with no more details and I’m waiting for them.”

“I can see myself when I’m asleep and then I’m in this other world. Walking around, except no one can see me,” he said.

“This paint is gonna stain,” you grumbled. You sat back. “You haven’t talked to your parents?”

“No. Why would I talk to my parents about this?”

“I dunno. Maybe it was something you did when you were a kid and they would know about it. Maybe it’s genetic.”

“So what, are you like the astral projection expert now?”

“Dalton,” you said. “I’m just trying to help.” He let out a sigh.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “Do you really think it’ll stain?”

“Yes.” You winced. “Can’t imagine you can skip Armagan’s class tomorrow hm?”

“I’d rather face the embarrassment.” You nodded once. “I’ll take a shower. See if it cleans it off.” You nodded.

“Mind if I hang around? Cleaning calms me. For some reason I think I should be stressed.” He shrugged.

“Mi casa es su casa.”

“Sweet. Thanks D.” He dug around his bag for some clothes while you grabbed some more napkins. The door gently shut behind him as he left, leaving you alone in his room. The night light and his lamp illuminated the desk. You started to take the stuff off the counter, dumping piles of paint into the towel as you did so. You adjusted the light so that you could see everything.

As you went to move it, Dalton’s phone turned on. You glanced at it, seeing the face of a pretty woman who had Dalton’s smile. You would’ve known it was his mom even if there hadn’t been a name to go with her phone call.

You started to put it down, then glanced at the door.

Answering it would be weird.

You had never talked to his mom. Granted, you kind of hardly knew him. But clearly he was going through something and you were a strong believer that a mom could help figure anything out.

After glancing back at the door you swiped the answer on his phone and brought it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi…sorry is this Dalton’s phone?”

“Yeah! Yes, sorry. He’s taking a shower and I wanted to make sure it wasn’t pressing,” you explained, far too quickly. You cleared your throat.

“Oh!” She cleared her throat. “Are you one of Dalton’s college friends?” She paused. “Are you a girlfriend?” You laughed nervously.

“Oh Mrs. Lambert I don’t know-” You started to regret answering the phone. This was definitely too weird.

“No, sorry, that was a weird question.”

“This is a weird conversation.” You cleared your throat. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah. I was just calling to check in on him, he hasn’t called that much. Would you tell him to call? I worry. He’s a brooding guy and I just wanted to make sure he was making friends out there. I mean, I guess he is making friends, considering you’re close enough to be answering his phone.” She stopped for a moment. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah, he’s…” You glanced at the door. “Actually Mrs. Lambert, I did answer for a reason.”

“Renai. Please. And I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Why did you answer?”

“He’s been a little…off lately. I mean, everyone understands going to a new place and starting school and whatever. But he was at this frat party yesterday-”

“He went to a frat party?”

“I don’t have details, I wasn’t there,” you said, and had the heart to imagine him there and laugh. “He’s been acting kind of weird when he goes to sleep. Something about astral projection. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

Suddenly she was quiet. She was stammering and then she was silent again. You glanced back at the door again. You weren’t sure how long he would be gone.

“Can you tell him to call me Y/N?”

“Yeah. Is there…anything I can do to help him?” She was silent again. You could almost imagine her, biting at her nail, wondering what was going on, what she had done wrong. You wondered what the past had brought with this subject. What happened to earn her silence?

“No, I’ll talk to him. Thank you for answering and letting me know.”

“Of course. It was nice to meet you, Renai.”

“You too Y/N.” She hung up and the silence was more threatening now that the conversation was over. She gave you no real comfort. In fact, now you felt worse.

“This is for sure staining. Do you think Armagan will care? Maybe she’ll think it's an artistic expression.” You jumped at the sound of Dalton’s voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You still had his phone in your hand. He stared at it, confused, his eyebrows knit.

“What’re you doing?”

“I really think you should call your mom D.” He looked even more confused now. His hair was wet and matt against his head.

“Did you talk to my mom?”

“I know that’s super weird,” you admitted. “But she called and you didn’t answer earlier and I just got worried. I’m worried about you.” He narrowed his eyes on you.

“I’m fine.” You handed him the phone.

“She sounded worried when I mentioned you hadn’t been sleeping well. Maybe you should-”

“I appreciate your concern but I’m okay. Really.”

You handed him back his phone. You had managed to clean up the remaining paint but you hadn’t moved around any of his supplies. You bit your lip and gestured to them.

“I didn’t move this stuff, I wasn’t sure where you wanted it.”

“Thanks.”

“I think the blue is a power movement by the way,” you said. He sat down on the bed beside you.

“I think I’ll be okay in the morning,” he admitted. “Though I’ll get some weird looks. It might be a good topic of conversation.”

“For sure! I mean, I’ll for sure talk about it.” He rolled his eyes. “Chris will also talk about it.”

“She likes to talk.”

“She’s extremely funny.”

“She is, isn’t she?” You smiled gently and looked down at your lap.

“I should probably leave you to it then. You probably have to visit some other realm in the night, huh?” He half nodded, running his hand through his hair.

“What did my mom say?” You met his eyes.

“She thought I was your girlfriend.”

“You did answer my phone,” he countered. “That was on my bedside table.” You rolled your eyes.

“Out of concern!” You shook your head. “She wanted to know if you were okay and if you had made any friends.”

“So you told her I couldn’t sleep?”

“Again! Concern!” He chuckled a bit and pulled his legs up onto the bed. He leaned against the wall, looking over at you. You turned around, a playful smile on your face. You wiped it off. “You should call her.”

“I will, I will.” You started to sit up but he grabbed your arm, pulling you back down. “Where’re you going?”

“Back to my dorm. Leaving you to sleep or walk or whatever it is you do when the lights are out.” He stared at you. You tried to read his expression. Soft, needy, trying to be guarded but doing a bad job at it. “Or I could stay. We could have a slumber party.”

“I like slumber parties.”

“Me too,” you said, smiling. “Do I get to grab my pajamas or am I being held hostage?” He rolled his eyes. “Chris is gonna get jealous. She likes slumber parties too.”

“You can invite her down.”

“There’s only two beds,” you said, gesturing to the two.

“We can share.”

“These are twin beds.” Dalton smiled, a genuine smile. He shrugged.

“We’ll get close.” You wanted to hit him but refrained, just letting yourself blush. You stood up.

“I’ll be back down in a second.” You opened the door and then turned around, leaning against it. “I’m not gonna tell Chris.”

“I didn’t think you were.��

You shut the door behind you, taking a deep breath. Boys with long stringy hair were a downfall to the best of humankind. You couldn’t exactly deny the typical college girl butterflies.

You pushed open the door to your room. Chris was sitting on her bed, book open at her legs.

“I’m going out for the night,” you said. You reached for your pajamas.

“Where’re we going?”

“Daltons.”

“Sleep over?”

“Yes ma’am.” She raised an eyebrow. “Watching over him. Doing my duties as a friend.” She watched you as you walked around the room, shutting the door behind you so that you could change.

“In separate beds?”

“Yes Chris,” you said, looking down at her. Her stare remained.

“For how long?”

“Chris!” You threw your shirt at her. She caught it, laughing gently.

“Have fun but not too much fun. Make sure he doesn’t astral walk into this bedroom again while I’m sleeping. That was fucking creepy.” You rolled your eyes.

“Thanks for your support. You’re an amazing roomie.”

“Oh I know.”

#dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert x fem!reader #dalton lambert imagines #insidious imagines #insidious the red door spoilers

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twobeesornottwobees · 11 months ago

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I have many thoughts on Challengers (2024) and I need to get them out so here we go

First, the tennis.

This movie understands tennis better than any film, tv, book, etc. I have ever seen. You know exactly how the relationship between the three main characters is going to play out just based on how they play. The cardinal rule of tennis is you want to get to the net as quickly as possible. Playing from the baseline (the line that you serve at) is all well and good and it's a vital part of the game but playing at the net is where the action is. The quicker you get to the net, the more likely you are to win.

From the first moment we see Art and Patrick, Art is at the net and Patrick is at the baseline. Then we see Patrick serve. In the language of tennis, Patrick's serve is a crime against beauty. It might work well enough for him but it is ugly. Those two facts put together mean that when Tashi tells Patrick he isn't a tennis player, she knows what she's talking about. Art is not as talented as Patrick and neither of them are as talented as Tashi but Art gets to the fucking net. He understands what Tashi means when she says that tennis is a relationship.

Second, the framing of the narrative as a tennis match.

Patrick wins a set, Art wins a set, we're left looking at the tie breaker. Brilliant. Camera shots from far away steadily get closer and closer, just like if you were in a rally and you were moving toward the net. Tashi, in particular, always moves closer to the person she's talking to and she always wins the point. She goes towards the net.

Third, Tashi as a character.

I love her, your honor. She is in love with the game of tennis. She doesn't give a shit about anyone or anything else. When she says she would stab a child to have the recovery that Art did, she means it. Moreover, we know that the child in question could be her own daughter and she would still mean it. From the first night in the boys' hotel room, she doesn't care which of them gets her number, she just wants to see good tennis. She is unlikable and yet Art is right. Who wouldn't love her?

Fourth, Art and Patrick.

One thing about tennis: your teammates are also your competitors. They are the yardstick by which you measure yourself, the only people capable of making you better, the people that you most need to beat. The relationship between the two of them, even from the beginning, perfectly reflects this.

I would actually argue that not a single one of the three of them is a good person. But the narrative is completely uninterested in whether or not their moral people. All it cares about is if they're good tennis players.

Fifth, the background details.

Art is sponsored by Wilson, his rackets have their logo repainted on (normally, you get rackets restrung and don't get the logos painted back on, only the players that are sponsored get that done.) Tashi was sponsored by Wilson (and Adidas but only for her clothes). Art only switches over from Dunlop to Wilson after they get married. Patrick's racket is restrung, but no logo, he's not sponsored. But, his poverty is at least a little bit performative because you don't smash up a $300 racket unless you have money to spare.

The ad in the background of the parking lot. It still has both Tashi and Art on it while Tashi and Patrick are having sex but by the time the final match starts, Art's half of the picture has torn away.

Patrick's changed serving style. Only when communication is happening directly between him and Art, that Tashi has no way of understanding, do they start functioning well on a court together. Ironically, when Tashi is removed from the relationship she finally gets to see some good tennis.

Anyways, I love this movie.

#challengers #challengers spoilers #challengers 2024 #zendaya #mike faist #josh o'connor

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srawilson · 4 months ago

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I agree!!! Patrick Wilson is People's #SexiestManAlive 2025 @peoplemag #PatrickWilsonSexiestManAlive2025 #TheConjuring #aquaman #VeraFarmiga #PATRICKWILSON

I agree too, it's about time he was on the cover of this magazine🛐🛐🛐 @peoplemag

(Photos are not mine)

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solitary-bones · 10 months ago

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so dndads live show St Paul! idk how much of this is a spoiler for anyone else going to shows so I'ma cut here!

we had!

- so many gay people in the audience that as I was walking in to the venue I said to my friend damn this is like a pride parade and a bunch of gay people in front of me were like TRUEE

- a live performance of both! dead and gone and rocks rock! it was so incredible. Beth and Will both POPPED OFFF!!!!!! they were so cool oh my god. and Freddie fucking shredded it on the electric guitar it was so sick.

- silly St Paul themed dad facts plus Ron just uhh thinking all manual labor is called a hand job.

- the people royally fucking up the dice roll (not my fault I was in the balcony I cannot be held responsible)

- the people absolutely manifesting the complete improv prompt as the live show topic. and all of the cast going into mourning over it (will fell to his knees on the stage so dramatically it was so funny)

- the cast deciding to do a DND game with their characters! Starring: Will Campos as Henry oak as Mr Chris (later Dr Chris), by the book health inspector! Matt Arnold as Darryl Wilson as Darryl, ex football quarterback now accomplished priest searching to remember all 10 commandments! Beth may as Ron stampler as Nor Relpmats, doctor (the best health inspector of them all)! and Freddie Wong as Glenn Close as Glenn The Closer, weed enjoyer moonlighting as a health inspector relying on his gut! Anthony Burch as Patrick as Patrick the shit (among other characters)!

- the audience not being able to stop being horny when giving suggestions for what their location, bad guy, and theme were gonna be (bdsm dungeon, just a guy from the audience named Patrick, and a 10 commandments dildo)

- an abundance of flashbacks and one single flashforward

- butt spanking competition to get past the second door (it is a bdsm castle ig)

-mr Chris tests to see if the floor has been cleaned recently and thinks it hasn't. Glenn the closers gut says it's fine but Mr Chris says if he tastes some of what's on the ground he'll be able to tell better. Glenn the Closer bites his fingers and Mr Chris is into it.

- Mr Chris finding a dead cockroach on the ground and revives it using CPR and mouth to mouth (Anthony is the cockroach and also when will tried to fake the mouth to mouth yelled DO IT PUSSY so yeah they actually kissed like twice at least) and revived it to ask about the cleanliness of the floor and found it not very.

- none other than paeden bennets on the second level, who Darryl proceeded to obliterate with a holy football. I'm not lying (not before asking how Patrick the DM knew about their friend Paeden who was long dead and us getting a lively npc on npc scene by Anthony of Patrick meeting Paeden and getting punched in the balls and saying "I'll never forget you")

- Test by the health inspectors to see if the blood of paeden would get cleaned up. all of the soots from spirited away came in with little mops to clean it and cleaned all the party. Glenn rolled to see if he's into it and got a 9 but the crowd gave inspiration and he got a 6, which is 69 so he was and wanted to stay there forever with the soots. Henry as Mr Chris used his persuasion to get Glenn the closer to leave the soots by saying that whatever they're doing he could do it better. because apparently they're ex lovers now. (Anthony yelled something about Will wanting to kiss another boy)

- Flashback reveals that they were highschool sweethearts but were going to health inspection schools on opposite sides of the US and were talking about how their relationship would progress from there when Mr Chris' secret lover barges in and informs them that they're pregnant and he's the father! Glenn the Closer gets upset and asks what happened and Mr Chris proceeds to another, extremely graphic, flashback where Ron the doctor commentates the uhhh conceiving of said child. and Glenn is understandably upset at the graphicness of this explanation about being cheated on. They end with bitter words, stating they're now nemesis in health inspection.

- Nor asks Mr Chris how long it's been since he saw his son Patrick. (not since birth lmao)

- they go up to the final level, find Patrick using the commandment dildo, on the 8th one I think, and upon seeing his absent father run in and ask "are ya winning, son!?"gets extremely turned off. he understandably asks what he's doing there after being absent his whole life. Mr Chris explains that he's finally ready to be back in his life, with his husband Glenn the closer, and his newfound belief in Christianity from Darryl the priest who's really good at football.

- Flashforward to Mr Chris and Glenn the Closer living together and apparently "they're bougie enough to have their own priest" so Darryl lives with them too. Nor comes to visit and we see the commandment dildo hanging above the mantle.

and that's that on that.

#this is incomprehensible #i guess thats what you get from improv lmao #it was so fucking funny tho y'all i had such a time #huge shout out to the entire cast for being so cool and coming to my state first #did i drive 4 hours to get to st paul and am i going to have to drive another 4 hours to get back tomorrow #yes #did i spend a lot of money overall on the tickets and the gas #you know what #it just be like that sometimes #dndads #dungeons and daddies #glenn close #darryl wilson #ron stampler #henry oak #glennry i guess???#i mean its also just the age old story of fucking your friends through dnd tho #also shout out to my friend who came with me having not listened to any of dndads besides the animatics ive sent and my rants about the plot #like it truly experienced so much with so little context

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sthefany16 · 4 months ago

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I need to read this 🛐🙏😍🥰✨🔥

Can someone write a smut fanfic where S/n is on a completely disastrous blind date, but luckily, Patrick shows up by chance and saves her from the situation by pretending to be her boyfriend, helping her escape in a charming and unexpected way?

The two of you start talking, and the night that seemed doomed turns into something incredibly wonderful. Deciding he wants to spend more time with you, Patrick invites you to see him perform at a show the next day and meet for drinks afterward.

During the entire performance, you can’t take your eyes off Patrick. You’re mesmerized and impressed by his skills — singing beautifully while playing both the drums and the guitar — leaving you even more attracted to him with every passing moment.

After the show, Patrick meets you backstage, and the two of you head out for drinks. The night flows effortlessly as you talk about music and laugh together.

With every second spent by his side, you feel yourself falling harder for him, your heart nearly stopping every time he looks at you with a gaze full of desire. The atmosphere between you becomes increasingly charged.

You know you can’t let the night end without kissing him. But before you can summon the courage, he looks at you, steps closer with that confident yet sweet smile that makes your knees weak, and whispers in your ear, “Did you know you’re the most interesting part of my night so far?”

Patrick then surprises you by pulling you into a passionate, urgent kiss, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all day. His hands explore your body, pulling you even closer to him. The kiss grows deeper and more intense, leaving both of you breathless.

Patrick makes it clear he wants to savor every inch of you, as though memorizing every detail. With each passing moment, his need for you only grows stronger. He presses you against his strong body, his intensity overwhelming, making you surrender completely to him.

You’ve never felt so desired until this moment, and you know Patrick isn’t going to let you

With kisses, hickeys, bites, compliments, slaps, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, M+F masturbation, M+F oral sex (Patrick knows how to satisfy a woman 😉), deep throat, hard sex, suffocation and everything else you want 😍🔥🫦🛐✨Pleaseee🙏🙏🙏❤️🥰 (you had more pleasure in one night with him than in your entire life✨🔥)

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doormatty3 · 6 months ago

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Blizzards and Beef Stew - Chapter 1 (Patrick Wilson x FOC)

Masterlist Ao3

Blizzards and Beef Stew Masterlink

Summary

[Patrick Wilson x Original Female Character] [Patrick Wilson x Original Character] Éléanor had always adored winter: its snow, its crisp air. But what she treasured most was retreating to her cosy cabin in the Swedish mountains. There, she could bake, sketch, and enjoy the solitude, far from the noise of the world. At least, that’s how it used to be—until a new neighbour arrived. Patrick Wilson was tall, charming, and with a smile that seemed to melt the coldest days. As they struck up a friendship, Éléanor found herself drawn to him, even though he remained oddly secretive about his last name and evasive about his work. But when a fierce snowstorm trapped them both, it became clear that Patrick might just be the warmth she needed in more ways than one. OR: Patrick uses his body to warm up Éléanor in the snowy mountains.

Wordcount: 3412

A/N: If you wanna be tagged for the next chapter - just let me know

Éléanor took a deep breath as she stepped out of her car, the crisp mountain air filling her lungs. Sweden was stunning at this time of year, with the snow-draped scenery stretching out before her like an untouched, pristine canvas. The snow shimmered under the midday sun, resembling a scattering of tiny jewels across the ground. Only delicate, winding animal tracks disrupted the thick, white layer that enveloped everything.

Tall, majestic pines loomed around her, their branches laden with snow, bending gently beneath its weight. Occasionally, a gust of wind would send a flurry of flakes tumbling from the branches. For a brief moment, Éléanor closed her eyes, enjoying the silence that enveloped her.

She focused on the sharp, icy air that bit at her cheeks and the gentle sound of snowflakes drifting down from the sky. A few flakes tangled in her hair, softly brushing her face before melting away. Éléanor smiled, savouring the tranquillity and the unmistakable chill of winter that she had missed so much.

With another deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked towards her little cabin, nestled among the towering pines. The wooden retreat, with its dark timber walls, stood in stark contrast to the snowy landscape. Frosted windows reflected the sun's soft glow, casting a warm, golden light across the snow-covered ground. Over the years, this place has become her sanctuary, where she returns every winter. No bustling café to manage, no customers to serve—just the stillness of nature and the quiet flow of her creativity.

She knew it would be bitterly cold inside, but her trusty fireplace would soon take care of that. Pulling her coat tighter around herself, Éléanor grabbed her bags from the back seat and took in the familiar sight of her cosy cabin.

The snow crunched under her boots as she trudged through the ankle-deep powder towards the front door, mentally noting that she would have to clear the path later.

With a push, she opened the door and sighed in relief. Inside, the scent of aged pine wood welcomed her, and the warmth of the cabin sharply contrasted with the chill outside.

The place was small and rustic but perfect for her. A fireplace sat in the centre of the main room, with a plush armchair and a soft couch in front of it. To the right was a small kitchen that always smelled faintly of fresh bread. In the far corner, large windows revealed a breathtaking view of the snow-covered mountains.

She set her luggage down by the door and took a moment to take it all in. A satisfied smile tugged at her lips.

She was home.

After shrugging off her coat and scarf, she unzipped her suitcase and carefully pulled out two of her most precious items. The first was her sketchbook, its well-worn cover filled with memories of past trips, sketches of café patrons and fleeting scenes from her travels. She held it fondly, flipping through a few pages to find her latest watercolour drawing—an old cathedral from back home in France, bathed in the golden hues of a setting sun. Smiling at the piece, she set the sketchbook gently on the small table by the window, a spot she knew she would spend countless hours by over the coming days.

Next, she reached into the suitcase and brought out a small, carefully wrapped container. Unwrapping it, she revealed her beloved sourdough starter, Jacques, alive and well, despite the journey.

“You made it, mon cher,” she whispered affectionately, holding the container close as if greeting an old friend.

Jacques had been with her for years, travelling wherever she went, and every loaf of bread she baked carried a bit of home within it—he was an essential part of her café back home. She placed him on the kitchen counter and popped the lid off to let him breathe.

With Jacques settled and her sketchbook ready, Éléanor took the rest of her time to unpack, folding her clothes neatly into the cabin’s wooden dresser and laying out her art supplies.

Several days passed in peaceful solitude, just as Éléanor had wished.

Her mornings were spent sketching by the large window that overlooked the snowy forest; the light from the rising sun cast a golden glow over the snowy land, and she captured the way the rays shifted through the trees in delicate watercolour strokes. Afternoons were reserved for baking, as the enticing aroma of sourdough wafted through the cabin while she tried out various recipes, each loaf turning out more delicious than the last. In the evenings, she curled up by the fire with a good book, savouring the quiet and the crackle of the burning wood.

One evening, as she was tidying up after a long day of painting, her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. Wiping her hands on a towel, she picked it up and smiled as her best friend's name appeared on the screen.

“Bonsoir, ma chérie!” Virginie’s voice was bright and lively, a stark contrast to the quiet surrounding Éléanor. The sound of music and laughter echoed in the background. “Guess where I am!”

Éléanor chuckled, already knowing the answer. “In Spain, of course. How wild is it this time?”

“Wild!” Virginie exclaimed, nearly shouting over the noise. “I’m at this incredible party—everyone’s dancing and I’m halfway through my second bottle of wine! You should see it, Éléanor. How are you surviving up there in the mountains, all by yourself?”

Éléanor laughed, picturing her best friend surrounded by a whirlwind of music, people, and bright lights. “You know I prefer the quiet. Besides, the snow is beautiful, and I’ve got my art to keep me busy.”

“Sure, sure, your art,” Virginie teased. “Let me guess, you’re sitting there with your sketchbook, sipping tea like some brooding artist.”

“Not just that,” Éléanor said, her voice light. “I’ve been baking too. Jacques has been very productive.”

There was a long pause, and then Virginie’s voice came back, incredulous. “Oh my God. Don’t tell me you actually brought the damn sourdough starter with you!” Éléanor could practically hear the eye-roll over the phone. “You seriously dragged Jacques all the way to Sweden?”

Éléanor grinned. “Of course I did. I couldn’t leave him behind; he’d die.”

“Éléanor,” Virginie groaned, laughter bubbling in her voice. “You’re ridiculous. You brought a jar of bacteria to your winter getaway. No wonder you’re still single—you’re in a committed relationship with bread dough! You really need to get laid, ma belle.”

Éléanor burst out laughing. “Hey, Jacques and I are very happy together, thank you very much.”

“I’m serious! You’re too young to be cooped up in the mountains with Jacques. What you need is to be at this party with me, drinking wine and meeting someone who isn’t yeast-based.”

Éléanor shook her head, still smiling. “Maybe next year, Virginie. But you know I love it up here. The peace, the quiet—no distractions. Just me, my art, and my bread.”

“Ugh, you’re hopeless,” Virginie said dramatically. “But fine, if you want to keep having your mountain romance with Jacques, that’s on you. Just remember that I’m living my best life here! Next year, though, you’re coming with me. No more hiding away in the woods.”

“We’ll see,” Éléanor replied, though they both knew the answer. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Hm, I’ll take that as a maybe!” Virginie’s voice softened a little. “Don’t be too lonely, alright? I’ll be back in France soon, and we’ll catch up. Love you, ma belle.”

“Love you too, Virginie. Have fun!” Éléanor hung up, a fond smile lingering on her lips. Virginie’s energy was infectious, and their friendship balanced each other perfectly. While Virginie craved the buzz of parties and crowds, Éléanor preferred the stillness of moments like this—just her and the quiet comfort of the mountains.

She moved through her nighttime routine with the ease of familiarity. Brushing her teeth, washing her face, changing into warm pyjamas, and braiding her wild hair to keep it in check. She took one last look at her sketchbook, then at Jacques, making sure everything was in its place before heading to bed. The cabin was quiet; the silence was only broken by the distant howling of the wind outside.

As she drifted off to sleep, the peacefulness of the mountains surrounded her, a comforting embrace that lulled her into dreams of soft snow and watercolour landscapes.

In the dead of night, Éléanor stirred, hearing the faint crunch of tyres on the snow and the sound of a car engine rumbling outside. She sat up in bed, her heart pounding in the sudden silence that followed. It was rare to hear anything but the wind and the occasional call of an owl this far up in the mountains. Curious and slightly wary, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the window.

Pulling back the curtain just a fraction, she peered out into the dark night and noticed the soft glow of headlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating the cabin beside hers.

A man stepped out of the car, tall and broad-shouldered, his face hidden beneath the shadows of the night. He unloaded bags from the trunk with practised ease. Éléanor’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t expected company up here. Most people avoided the mountains in the depths of winter unless they had a specific reason to be there.

Éléanor watched him for a moment, her curiosity piqued. The neighbouring cabin was often vacant during the winter, so it was unusual to see anyone here, especially at this hour. He moved quickly and efficiently without much noise. Maybe he was just another quiet visitor, someone like her, seeking solitude.

With a quiet huff, she pulled back from the window and returned to bed. She wasn’t here to meet strangers. Seclusion was what she’d come for, and that’s what she intended to keep—no matter who had arrived next door.

Still, as she drifted back to sleep, a part of her wondered who he was and why he was here in the same remote corner of the world.

_____

The next morning, she woke to a bright, crisp day. The sunlight streamed through the large cabin windows, illuminating the fresh snowfall that blanketed the landscape outside. The snow glittered under the early light, creating a world that looked almost magical, untouched, and pure.

Still wrapped in the warmth of her bed, Éléanor let out a soft sigh, listening to the silence that filled the cabin. It was the kind of quiet she craved—no sounds of cars or people, just the occasional soft creak of the old wood settling and the gentle crackle of embers from the fireplace. She loved these mornings. The snow had a way of making everything feel slower and more peaceful.

Stretching lazily, she threw on a thick sweater and made her way to the kitchen, her bare feet padding against the cool wooden floors. The familiar sight of her sketchbook left open from the previous night’s work, caught her eye, and she smiled as she passed it. The half-finished watercolour of the mountains stood stark against the white paper, still waiting for the finishing details.

She filled the kettle with water and began preparing her usual morning tea, humming softly to herself. The cabin smelled faintly of pine and the lingering scent of sourdough bread from the previous day.

Just as the kettle started to whistle, a knock at the door interrupted the stillness. Éléanor frowned, glancing at the door in surprise. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Cautiously, she walked over to the front door and opened it, the rush of cold air making her tighten her sweater around herself.

Standing on her porch was the man she had seen arriving last night—the one who had moved into the neighbouring cabin. He was bundled up against the cold, his thick jacket dusted with snow as his broad-shouldered frame filled the doorway.

She noticed his striking face: a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and a straight nose that gave him an effortlessly handsome look. Beneath the knitted hat that covered his ears, wisps of light brown hair peeked out, and a trace of stubble ran along his jawline, growing denser along his upper lip.

His breath puffed in small clouds as he smiled at her, his blue eyes catching the light of the morning sun.

Éléanor blinked, momentarily distracted by how impossibly good-looking he was. He looked like someone who should have been on a magazine cover rather than standing on her snow-covered porch.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a smile that was equal parts charming and boyish. “I’m Patrick. I’m staying next door.”

His voice was smooth, deep, and easy, with a friendly tone that instantly made her feel at ease. Despite the cold air biting at her cheeks, Éléanor couldn’t help but feel warmth spreading through her.

She hadn’t expected him to introduce himself, let alone in person. His presence felt oddly natural, though, as if he belonged in this quiet landscape. Still, it took her a moment to respond.

“Hi,” she finally said, offering a small smile in return. “I’m Éléanor. Nice to meet you.”

Patrick’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I was just shovelling the snow off my driveway,” he explained, nodding toward his cabin. “Figured I’d offer to do yours, too, since I’m already out here.”

Éléanor blinked, caught off guard by his offer. She wasn’t used to anyone offering to help in these parts—usually, everyone who came to the mountains was looking for the same solitude she was. But there was something in his demeanour that felt genuine and unassuming.

“Oh,” she hesitated, glancing at her snow-covered driveway. “That’s very kind of you, but you really don’t have to.”

Patrick interrupted with a light shrug. “It’s no trouble. It’s not like I have much else going on today.”

His easygoing nature and the relaxed way he stood there, his breath puffing in the cold air, made it hard for Éléanor to refuse. She smiled despite herself, her cheeks flushing—not just from the cold.

“Well, if you’re sure… then thank you,” she said softly.

He gave her a friendly nod and turned to walk back down her porch steps, heading towards his own cabin to grab a shovel. His movements were smooth and purposeful, and something about how he carried himself made it clear he was used to being in control. He moved with confidence but not arrogance—just a natural, effortless ease.

As he began shovelling, Éléanor couldn’t help but admire him from the warmth of her cabin.

His strong arms worked steadily as he cleared the snow, his shoulders flexing under his jacket with each movement. She was mesmerised by the way the light played off his sharp features, the concentration on his face as he worked, and the quiet determination in his posture.

Unable to resist, she reached for her sketchbook. She pulled it towards her and settled by the window, the natural light casting soft shadows across the page.

Her fingers quickly flew across the page as she began sketching his form — his strong, defined lines against the snow, the contrast of his dark jacket against the bright white. She sketched him from different angles, flipping through the pages and trying to capture every detail: the way he held the shovel, the curve of his back, and even the way the sunlight glinted off the snow in front of him.

Soon enough, she added watercolours, bringing the scene to life with soft washes of blues and greys to reflect the snowy landscape and the warm hues of his complexion.

Before long, Patrick had finished, and the driveway was now clear of snow. Éléanor watched as he wiped the back of his hand across his brow, exhaling a puff of visible breath. She watched as he took a step back, admiring his work for a brief moment before glancing back toward her cabin.

Éléanor snapped her sketchbook shut, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. She had just spent the last hour drawing him without his knowledge, and she wasn’t sure how he would react if he knew.

Deciding to thank him properly, Éléanor brewed a fresh pot of tea and poured two steaming mugs. She bundled herself up and stepped out onto the porch, her boots crunching on the freshly cleared snow.

“Patrick!” she called out, holding up one of the mugs. “I made you some tea. Thought you might want something warm after all that work.”

Patrick glanced up, a smile tugging at his lips. He wiped his hands on his jacket and made his way towards her. As he took the mug from her, their fingers brushed for a moment, and Éléanor felt a tiny, unexpected spark shoot through her. The casual intimacy of the touch caught her off guard, and she couldn’t help but steal a glance at his hands.

His hands, though warm from holding the mug, were still slightly reddened from the cold. They were large and strong, with well-defined knuckles and carefully groomed nails. Éléanor quickly looked away, hoping he had not noticed her lingering gaze.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip of the tea. “Perfect timing.”

They sat down on the porch steps together, the steam from their mugs swirling into the cold air. The world around them was still and silent. The only sounds were the distant wind and the crunch of snow underfoot as the snow-capped mountains glistened under the sun.

“So,” Patrick started after a few sips, “what brings you up here? You live around here, or are you just visiting?”

Éléanor shook her head. “No, I’m from France originally. I run a café back home with my best friend, but I come here every winter to take a break…It’s kind of my personal retreat.”

Patrick raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely impressed. “France, huh? I would’ve guessed Europe from your accent, but I didn’t know where exactly.”

She chuckled softly, her cheeks warming. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty noticeable.”

“Trust me, it’s not a bad thing,” he replied, his eyes meeting hers briefly, and the sincerity in his voice made her blush a little more.

The sunlight caught his eyes as he spoke, making them an even brighter blue—like the sky on a perfect day, clear and inviting. Éléanor found herself momentarily lost in them, wondering how a man could have eyes like that, so sharp yet kind.

“What about you?” she asked, turning the conversation back to him. “What brings you to these mountains?”

Patrick shrugged, taking another sip of tea. “Same as you, I guess. Needed to get away, clear my head. It’s hard to find this kind of quiet anywhere else.”

Éléanor found herself nodding along, appreciating the easy flow of conversation. Despite his rugged, handsome appearance, Patrick didn’t seem to have the air of someone looking to impress or be impressed. He was easygoing and comfortable in his own skin, and it put her at ease.

“So, what do you do when you’re not shovelling strangers’ driveways?” she asked, giving him a teasing smile.

Patrick chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “I’m in… entertainment, I guess you could say,” he said vaguely, his tone nonchalant.

Éléanor didn’t press further. She didn’t have much interest in prying into someone’s life, especially when she had come here for peace and solitude. For now, Patrick was simply a kind man who had helped her out—and, as it turned out, was excellent company.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their tea and gazing out at the snowy landscape. Patrick’s broad shoulders were relaxed as he leaned back slightly, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the fabric of his jeans hugging the strong lines of his thighs.

As their conversation drifted back to light topics—the weather, the beauty of the mountains—Éléanor couldn’t help but wonder about the man sitting next to her. There was something familiar about him, something that tugged at the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t quite place it.

But she let the thought slip away. For now, it didn’t matter.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, warming the porch ever so slightly, Éléanor realised just how much she was enjoying Patrick’s company.

“You know,” Éléanor said thoughtfully as she glanced over at Patrick, “I’m not used to having company up here. But… this is nice.”

Patrick looked at her, his expression softening. “Yeah. It is.”

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ormymarius · 10 months ago

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I will forever stand by the fact that Orm is one of the best comicbook movie characters of all time because:

he had a tylosaur as a mount — just fucking cool

slicked back blond hair when he was a villain but with an atlantean twist to it

also just a great villain in general… patrick wilson killed it playing orm, very comic accurate

CUNTY OUTFITS (ocean master fit you will always be famous)

got tortured for 4 years straight in prison so he has lots of angst to utilize

the regular old family issues but his family never truly gave up on him and they supported his desire to change

the tragic backstory of his childhood was offscreen for the most part (for good reason) but we still get the implications of what happened and it played a huge role on why Orm was the way he was

was possessed by an ancient evil king so again with the angst

ate a roach and another roach in a burger later

can’t run but learned how to run better than most people in quite literally 5 seconds

“I don’t even know those words” whenever Arthur opens his mouth

dynamic with everyone in the aquafam is great and complex, especially Arthur and Atlanna

willingly had a redemption arc + happiness in the end

and finally:

• mlem

I’ll miss him forever, he was too good and the world wasn’t ready for him

#I can’t get over him so I brought out this list #sorry to everyone who has shitty adaptations of their fave it can’t be me #long post do I care no? you will read #orm marius #aquaman #dc comics #dceu #dc universe

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all-pacas · 4 months ago

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chase looks more like a patrick. or a matthew. maybe a thomas. but he is absolutely not a robert.

i do think the sort of… formal first name makes sense for him. we know his name was robert chase from the original pilot script, when he was written as 35 and american: he's described as being "blond," and "old money"; he's still a nepotism hire (and a 35 year old who needs his dad to get him a job is… interesting, especially since the pilot also says wilson and house are 38). from all that, it's pretty clear chase was meant to be a preppy, WASP type. cameron is described in the script as beautiful, foreman as black, but chase is blond and rich.

and robert is a good name for that character. it's very prep school. very new england elite. (originally, the show was set in boston, not princeton.) but yeah, the much younger expat chase we got…

i can see him as a rob, or a robbie (very prep school, to be honest, to go by a little kid nickname in your thirties and forties), but yeah, the full name doesn't suit him at all. it implies a level of seriousness that chase never even gets close to, imo. he couldn't pull it off if he tried.

#malpractice posting #robert chase #it would be deeply cringe but i actually CAN imagine him introducing himself as bobby. no one would call him that. but he might

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anamoon63 · 7 months ago

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RL and Sims update post + a thank you note

(Warning: long post ahead, read at your own risk).

I wrote this post to thank you guys for all the likes and comments you keep leaving on my posts, even though, as you may have noticed, I can't be here as often as I used to. Real life has taken over almost completely, as I think it should. There are too many things going on, with me, my family, my country, even my sims and other games, lol.

I'm not going to bore you with daily life problems, much less with sad and depressive stuff, or with previews of a story I don't know when/if I'll ever finish, the only thing I can tell you is that I'm still busy with a lot of work, (fortunately) and family stuff; plus, I (finally) started going to therapy (yes, at my age). So right now, I'm juggling even more things than I already was.

And so I wanted to thank you for sticking with me, for continuing to read the chaotic stories of my wacky characters without judging them; thank you as well for each and every message you have sent to my inbox, be it questions, or flowers and love; and to all of you who continue to tag me both on sims stuff and cute games, knowing that I most likely won't be able to answer you, really, thank you for continuing to think of me. Your messages soothe my heart in difficult moments, and I wish to answer them all, I just don't know when I will be able to do that, hopefully someday.

Now, my sims story. For those of you who might remotely still be interested, I'm currently revising the next few episodes of Time Traveler which I wrote earlier this year. To be honest, I don't know when they will be ready, I just know the story goes on and as soon as I have reviewed these episodes, I'll start taking the pictures. When will they be published? Frankly, I don't know. It could be early 2025, but no promises, as I don't have much free time on my hands now. I manage to write in the evenings, but in-game photo shoots are quite time consuming and have to be done in peace and privacy, of which I don't have much at the moment. So, if I do decide to publish these episodes, it will likely be early next year, and at a rather slow pace.

About my gameplay, in Sims 4 we will continue with the Wilsons until the end of the season (coming soon), and then we will take a small break. As for The Sims 3, we just finished Patrick's story in Bridgeport, so now we'll go back with The Cho Brothers. First, we'll take a brief trip to Lucky Palms with Terence and Cynthia Cho; then we'll spend a rather long time in Hidden Springs and Starlight Shores, to see what has happened with Tyron, the eldest of the Cho brothers. And last but not least, we'll go back to Uni with Dale and Kelly, who I hope will FINALLY graduate this year, hahaha.

Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I am not gone (yet), that if one day I decide to retire I will make a special post about it, I won't leave without saying goodbye, but that day seems far away at least for the moment.

Now, regarding Inzoi…

I admit Inzoi has captured my interest. As usual, I'm late to the comment party, but I still want to put my two cents about this amazing game. Seeing the trailers and all those beautiful Inzois created by other simmers got me so excited, and at the same time, terribly frustrated to see that the demo didn't contain any gameplay. I need to actually play the game to give an opinion on it! So far it looks beautiful, though I must say that the character creator disappointed me because the sliders are Sims 4 style, which I've always found a bit complicated, I'll forever prefer the Sims 3 sliders, but hey, I had a lot of fun creating my own Inzois.

Hopefully the graphics and gameplay are as good as seen in the previews and its developers won't “break” it into multiple or turn the into a malfunctioning cash cow like EA did with The Sims 4, and to a certain extent, also with the Sims 3 in its time. I hope with Inzoi they'll go for a complete game, no matter if it's expensive, if I consider it is worth it, I'll give them my money as soon as it comes out.

That being said, it is important for me to clarify that I will not abandon The Sims 3 (or even Sims 4 though I don't play it much) for Inzoi. Ever. Neither do I plan to recreate my sims OCs/games in it, because my sims are exactly that, sims. If I ever get to play Inzoi it will be with entirely new characters, although I confess, I did try to reproduce two of my most beloved sims (a boy from the future and a college girl who is a model *wink*) and they turned out pretty well, but nowhere near as adorable as they look in The Sims 3. Plus, the environments in which those two OCs currently move could not be reproduced in Inzoi, at least as far as I know.

Okay, enough of Inzoi. In short: I'm not gone, I'm still here, I'm still reading all your stories, only at a much slower pace, two or 3 simblrs per day at the most. I'm going to read them all, just bear with me, and forgive me again if I don't always comment. Sometimes I don't even have the time or the energy for that. Believe me, 2024 has been an intense year in every possible way, sometimes I really need a break, but I try to be around and will always find a way to keep in touch, even if at times it seems like I'm nowhere to be found, I'll get back to you at some point.

That's all, thanks for reading this far! Have a nice and beautiful start of the week. 💗

P.S. I wrote this post three days ago, wish I had published it earlier, that way I probably wouldn't have gotten a notification that some Simblrs Community 'removed my membership'. When I clicked in said Simblrs Community icon, it said the community was 'private'. I don't know if that's some kind of automatic Tumblr thing, if there's a committee that decides about this, or if it was just a glitch in the matrix; whatever it was, I'm so sorry I wasn't able to be here to keep said membership. I didn't even know Simblr was a private membership. For what it's worth, it wasn't neglect or lack of interest for my part, just lack of time. I hope one day to be able to qualify again and be worthy of this membership. At any rate, I thank you for thinking of me and admitting me in your community in the first place.

#text post #real life update #sims update #simblr #the sims 3 #the sims 4 #my apologies #wall of text #tldr

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