#but for now my brain is fried so here it is

[softiejoon]

CLOSE TO YOU | KSM

pairing ; kim seungmin x reader

genre ; hurt/comfort, fluff + mild angst

tags ; idol!skz, established relationship!au

warnings ; mentions of food, lots of emotions, affectionate use of ‘pabo’

summary ; in which seungmin misses you so you surprise him with a visit OR seungmin can’t stand not being close to you

word count ; ~1.2k

a/n ; my first piece in a while! not sure i love how it turned out but hope you enjoy <3

☾ ･*˚⁺‧͙ :-゜・．

minho's gaze softens at the sight of the boy slumped against the sofa. seungmin fiddles with something in his pocket as he stares blankly at the walls of their rented vacation home.

"yah, kim seungmin." his voice is gentler than usual. seungmin drags his eyes up to meet his hyung's. "i have something for you."

minho moves to the front door as seungmin sighs, summoning his remaining energy to protest whatever stunt the members are orchestrating.

"hyung, i'm tired, i don't—" but his brain and mouth lose function when you walk through the door.

"hi puppy," you whisper.

seungmin blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. has he missed you so much he's hallucinating?

"surprise~" minho sings, shaking seungmin back to the present.

hyunjin and jeongin emerge from the adjacent rooms, grinning ear to ear, but seungmin doesn't notice. his gaze is fixed on you.

"y/n?" it feels like so long since he last spoke your name, though he whispered it to himself every night since he left for tour. he stands up, inching towards you.

"yes," you laugh softly. "it's me."

you step forward, taking ahold of seungmin's hand. a wave of relief shoots through him at the reality of your touch.

he grapples with a coherent sentence. "how...? i—what are you doing here?"

"couldn't let you have all the fun now, could i?" you turn to smile at his roommates, whose presence finally registers for seungmin.

"you were so quiet. quieter than usual," hyunjin explains. "we could tell you weren't going to enjoy the trip. so we talked to chan hyung and he arranged it with the company."

seungmin blinks, the tears in his eyes hot and resistant, and minho doesn't miss the gratitude in his gaze as he ushers the other boys towards the door.

"anyway, we're going to dinner now. let's talk later."

"you can join us tomorrow, hyung." jeongin sends him a wave.

with cheeky smiles, they grab their coats and disappear out into the evening, leaving you both alone in the house.

☾ ･*˚⁺‧͙ :-゜・．

"you're here," he says quietly, as if still unsure.

"i am," you affirm. dropping your bag, you do what you've longed to since you last said goodbye at the airport.

he feels something within himself collapse at the sensation of your arms around him, burying his head into the side of your neck.

the relief escapes him in muffled sobs, soft gasps that prick your heart and eyes, threatening to push you to the same.

"it's okay, puppy." you struggle to keep the waver from your voice. "i missed you too. so, so much."

you feel seungmin nod, tightening his arms around you – afraid to let go, to not be close to you.

you brush a hand through his hair, sweeping the bangs aside so you can glimpse his face. he looks back at you with red-rimmed eyes, full of fear and love.

you can't help but let a tear slip. "i'm not going anywhere."

.・゜-: ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　✧　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ :-゜・．

after your shower, you wander into the kitchen to find seungmin standing over the stove, stirring the contents of the pan.

"hey." you wrap your arms around him from behind. "you didn't have to cook."

seungmin shakes his head. "it's nothing fancy. we had the leftovers for kimchi fried rice."

you take in the scent of the food. "smells good."

after a beat, you pull away to help him dish it up and set the plates on the table.

it's a quiet, intimate dinner, just the two of you; you hardly speak, holding hands across the table as you eat, drinking in each other's presence. you smile at seungmin, rubbing your thumb over his knuckle, and give his hand a soft squeeze.

he's the first one to break the comforting silence. "i don't want you to leave."

you give him a soft smile. "don't worry, i only just got here."

seungmin shakes his head, expression solemn. "no...i meant ever."

your heart caves a little at that, and you try to suppress the lovesick look on your face. "so don't let me."

suddenly, seungmin retracts his hand from yours and stands up. at a loss, you follow, reaching for his arm.

"seung—?"

your call of his name falls short as he turns toward you and brings you close by your elbows. you can't place the look in his eyes and your heart stammers in confusion.

"y/n." the intensity in his gaze only amplifies the fear-studded rhythm of your heart. "i was being serious."

"min–?"

"i realised today just how lost i feel when you're not with me. i'd always been fine on my own, but now i constantly catch myself missing something – missing you – and it scares me so much."

you're scaring me, you want to say, but all you can do is stand there, eyes locked to his, as you attempt to tame the tremor creeping into your hands.

"i don't think i can take being apart anymore," seungmin finally says. he lets go of you and your heart drops. before your body can decide whether to laugh or cry in shock, seungmin falls to one knee.

"y/n, this isn't how i planned to ask you, but you're right – i won't let you go.

"the thought of losing you scares me because you are my best friend, my comfort, my home. please stay by my side forever...the only eternity i want to believe in is one with you."

you feel faint, and the decision your body tried to make earlier turns out to be a combination of the two.

tears are slipping down your face as seungmin asks, "will you marry me?"

somewhere amid the free flow of your emotions, you remember to nod, and seungmin engulfs you in a tight embrace. you are crying in the crook of his neck and he is whispering reassurances you can barely make out. when you manage to stop yourself from shaking, you pull back just enough to thump him on the chest.

"yah, kim seungmin!" you hiccup. "why'd you scare me like that?"

his eyes are watery too, but from a joyful overwhelm. he smiles his infuriatingly endearing puppy smile, teeth and all. "what do you mean?"

you give him one more thump for good measure and he laughs, then so do you. "i thought you were going to break up with me."

he laughs again, this time more akin to the menace you are used to. "what? you pabo." he knocks his forehead to yours gently.

"you're the pabo here," you murmur, keeping your foreheads pressed together.

"sorry if i scared you...i guess i was just nervous." his tone is soft, thoughtful. "i meant what i said, i don't ever want to lose you. and i know this isn't perfect but—"

"it is." you lean in and brush his lips with your words. "i love you, kim seungmin. i want nothing more than to spend forever with you."

he kisses you deeply, slipping in an 'i love you' and the ring from his pocket onto your finger.

you and the boys would have a lot to talk about once they returned from dinner.

~

© softiejoon | send me feedback | support me here

[trashytracktales]

Fade to nothing | CL¹⁶

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none of my works are available for reposting on other platforms.

© trashy track tales, 2024

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𐙚 summary ──── Maybe the summer break on the French Riviera fried their brain cells, because they've finally decided to simply not care anymore if someone sees them together. But when she catches the wrong stares, she starts spiraling. Now, Charles has to switch her focus back on him.

𐙚 pairing ──── Charles Leclerc x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, secret relationship going public, fluff & smut, overusing French terms of endearment, descriptive language, mature/sexual content, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, lots of teasing, reader dealing with insecurities.

𐙚 word count ──── 5.5k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 10, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Foaming at the mouth, because I find it so very offensive that I don't have my own personal Charles Leclerc. Anyway 😤. As Daniel Ricciardo said, enjoy the filth. Wait, no. That's me 🤍🎀

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THEIR DAY ON the French Riviera begun in a golden haze. Hand in hand, they strolled through picturesque streets, enjoying every moment together. In public. For the first time.

They walked across the town like they were the only two people left on Earth, passing by quiet art galleries and stylish boutiques. For the most part, all she focused on was the pure excitement of being with him, holding his hand had, taking pictures and making memories. But as the day went on, her awareness of the curious looks she caught grew stronger.

The sun is now slowly setting, painting the horizon in a warm orange glow just as they return to Charles' boat. As though nothing could possibly bother them here, Charles puts his arm around her and guides her on board. Then, he offers her a gentle smile, his gaze full of warmth while telling her he's heading over to make some drinks.

The girl watches him for a moment, allowing herself to take in the serene comfort he exudes, and wishing she could absorb even a small portion of it. She always feels it when she looks at him, and this time around, nothing is different. On the contrary, somehow, it's as if everything she feels for him comes together in a tiny, small point, a singularity so powerful that it makes her feelings collapse on top of each other.

She rushes to the cabin to change, but her hands start to shake halfway through, and she can feel the doubts weighing her down. She keeps thinking about the subtle judgment she saw in their eyes, which serves as a reminder that many people might believe they jumped into this too soon and that she is only a fling — a stand-in for his previous relationship.

Even though she tries to push the thought away, the sadness comes too quickly, and tears start to well up in her eyes. Suddenly, she feels small, so out of place, as though she’s a visitor in his life rather than someone who belongs beside him.

Which sucks, because she really, really likes him.

She was always confident; she thinks that was one of the reasons why Charles noticed her in the first place. But now, it is as if all her confidence has evaporated under the gaze of some random people she doesn't even know.

They both agreed to keep the relationship a secret in the beginning, just as they both agreed that today they won’t care if anyone sees them. They've stayed hidden from the world for far too long, but now she wonders if they should have waited just a little bit longer because, all of a sudden, she starts feeling too unprepared for the wave that is about to hit, which sends her spiraling.

Because it takes her too long to return, Charles comes to check on her, finding her in the cabin, sitting on the edge of the bed, half naked and clutching one of his shirts to her chest. Usually, he's not the type to intrude, but the soft sound of her quiet sobs fills the small room, piercing through him like a sharp, unexpected ache.

Without a second thought, Charles sprints over, kneeling down in front of her, his gaze steady, filled with raw concern, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She feels his hand on her thigh, which brings her back to the present moment, way too fast. Her breath is slightly shaky while her hands try to instinctively pull away from his gentle grip to wipe her cheeks, in order to hide any trace of her tears.

Looking down at him, she manages to let out a choked word that holds so much weight for her right now, “Us.”

“Us?” Charles raises an eyebrow. “What about us, mon cœur?”

She smiles, pressing the shirt closer to her chest, wiping the tears again with the back of her hand.

“I want you to have it all,” she admits, “And I'm starting to think that, maybe, I won't be able to give you what you need.”

He wants to immediately deny her statement, because in the four months they've been together, she gave him everything and more.

“What? What do you think you don't give me?” he asks, taking the same hand she wiped her tears in his palm.

She shrugs, “I just think… I sometimes think you deserve better.”

Better. The idea twists in his mind, disbelief and frustration tightening around his heart like a claw. He lets out a small scoff — not to mock her, but because it's hard for him to believe that she's doesn't think she's enough for him. It breaks his heart, because she cannot be further away from the truth.

“Where is this coming from?” asks Charles in a quiet, but firm tone.

She shakes her head, wishing she would've never opened her big mouth, “I was just thinking,” the girl repeats, letting out a dry chuckle. “It's nothing, really.”

Charles’ eyes travel across her face, taking in every micro expression, “You're crying, mon amour, so it's not nothing. Where is this coming from?” he asks again, “How much ‘better’ do you think I deserve?”

Her fingers start fidgeting in his grasp, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder, “Everyone loves you, especially your fans. You deserve someone who matches that, someone who belongs in your world, without feeling so small next to you.” She pauses for a moment, the words weighing her down, “I saw people staring today,” she explains, “I know we’ve both agreed to not care about what they think or if someone gives a fuck about seeing us together, but I realized how out of place I must look beside you. That’s all.”

Charles needs superhuman powers to ignore the frustration that’s slowly creeping around his shoulders. His eyes are intent, fixed on her, desperate for her to see what he does. He knows that her feelings are valid and very real to her, but that doesn't mean that they tell her the whole truth. At the same time, he doesn't want to make it worse by explaining why people's opinions shouldn't affect her the way they do. Instead, he gently grabs her hips, pulling her down to sit on his lap, so she's now straddling him, their faces inches apart.

“Listen to me,” he says, his voice low, “You see me, beyond everything everyone else sees, and that’s why you are more than enough. You are the realest thing that has ever happened to me, do you understand? You're not just a phase, and I'm so sorry I didn't show you enough how important you are to me. Because you are, bébé.”

She bites her tongue in order to stop herself from contradicting her boyfriend. Deep down, she knows she’s flawed in ways she can’t easily mend, no matter how much Charles wants to reassure her. A part of her wants to believe him, but even now, wrapped in his warmth, she knows the doubts will find their way back.

Charles’ hands drop on her waist, resting there while holding her close on his lap. He feels her doubt, understanding that she's struggling with more than what she lets him to see — another dagger to his heart.

“I'm with you, love,” he adds, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on her bare skin, “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. Not if I have any say in it, is that clear?”

His voice sounds far too bossy, which makes her flinch a little, recognizing too late that he is far too blunt for the situation they both find themselves in.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“No, don't apologize,” Charles rushes to say, pressing her head against his chest. “I’m glad you told me, but I want you to care about what I say, and not what people might say.”

He envelops her completely in his arms, and it’s like he’s just now realizing how small she feels against him, her body fitting perfectly against his. She feels that, too — the warmth and steadiness of his arms around her, the way he grounds her, making her feel safe.

“I never doubted you, you know,” she clarifies, “I was just thinking that, if I can't handle pressure, I don't think we should…”

He tightens his grip around her waist, refusing to let her finish her thought, his heart screaming in agony as she tries to move away. “Don’t go there, please,” he almost implores her.

“Why not?” she whispers.

“Because it’s not the case, I promise.”

“But—”

“Because you'd be so wrong. Because I love you,” he continues, as if it's the most casual thing ever. Like it is as obvious as tomorrow. As easy as breathing. As automatic as blinking. As if it's not the first time he ever says it to her face.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The words are ricocheting against her skull like he just put a spell on her. Of course Charles loves her. He showed her this through every little gesture along the way, and she knows he means it, because for the first time since they got back, she realizes she doesn’t want to run from this, from him.

She was so blind, but the next time she looks at him, her fingers tracing his cheek, she simply knows. Charles lets out a small sigh, leaning into her touch, then taking her hand back in his, pressing a gentle kiss on top of her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Tell me you see it,” says Charles, exhaling a heavy breath.

His gesture makes her feel warm inside, “See what?”

“That you are everything to me,” he answers softly, caressing her hand with his thumb. “That I want you exactly as you are.”

For a moment, understanding dawns in her eyes — the realization that they are real, in spite of what she might think — like a light that is breaking through the doubts that had clouded her mind for so long.

“You are mine and I am yours, and I won't have it any other way.”

She exhales slowly, nodding in his direction. Even though he's able to see the relief washing over her face, he still needs a confirmation, so he can anchor himself to it.

“Say you understand.”

“I understand,” she parrots, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.

He sees the hesitation, closing his eyes for a moment. “You understand, but you don't believe me,” Charles concludes, his voice full of wonder. He sucks in a breath while freeing her lip, brushing his thumb against it. His eyes lock on hers, “You really think there is someone else out there who makes me feel the way you do, hm? Who else is going to be this responsive, baby?”

To show her what he means by that, he pushes his thumb inside her mouth, Charles' soft voice sending shivers down her spine. She opens up more, instantly, gazing back at him, realizing how right he is. Meanwhile, Charles is slowly pushing his thumb further, watching her lips closing around it.

His mouth curls up into a smile, “That's it, mon amour. Oui, see that? I don't think there is anyone else out there who can be this good for me, so eager to submit to everything I do,” he laughs, “Hell, I don't even have to tell you what to do, you just know, baby.”

She closes her eyes for a split second, sucking on Charles’ thumb, her hands gripping tightly on his forearm. It makes him feel in control more than usual, which awakens something primal in him. He ends up caressing the side of her face with his fingers as he pushes his thumb deeper, pulling it out with a soft pop, before shoving it back in.

“So fucking good for me, and you think I deserve better? What’s better than this, mon cœur?”

As a response, she moans slowly around his deliberate, slow movement. He finds it so satisfying to see how easily she listens, understanding exactly what she needs from him in return — patience, kindness, reassurance, and trust.

Charles pumps his thumb one more time before pulling out, using it to leave a wet trace down her neck. His hand tightens around it for a brief moment, bringing her back to him. She opens her eyes, still under the spell he put on her earlier with just three little words. Her eyes are dark as she looks up at him through her eyelashes, the desire in her eyes sparking like fireworks.

“You need this, don't you?” he asks curiously.

She nods, which makes Charles smirk. It’s easy to notice the subtle shift in her energy — the way she presses her body closer to his, and the way her breathing deepens. Charles sees the vulnerability in the way she looks at him, but he knows is different now; she’s not hesitating anymore.

Something flickers inside of him as her hand lightly but purposefully caresses his chest; she wants him to take the lead. She isn't seeking power or domination, but asking him to guide them both through this. And Charles understands she’s giving him the space to be the one to move them forward, because this is more than just a physical need. It's about how she decides, here and now, that she trusts him completely.

They stand inches apart, the air between them heated and taut with silent yearning. Every part of their bodies is tuned to each other in a way that feels so delicate yet urgent, and Charles can feel her heartbeat synchronize with his, both of them pounding in anticipation. Her lips are slightly parted as her eyes glide up to his, a silent invitation he cannot refuse. The outside world seems so far away, as if all that remains is this common understanding that neither of them is willing to let go of.

The kiss begins shyly and slowly. At first, his lips are gentle against hers, a slight touch that seems to carry the weight of all they have been resisting. She reacts swiftly, her hand slipping into his hair, drawing him in and intensifying the kiss.

Then everything changes — the pressure grows desperate, almost vital as��the intensity increases. She melts into him, pressing every inch of her body against his as if she can't get close enough. It drives him wild, forcing him to tighten his grip on her. 

Slowly but surely, their make out session turns into a silent cry for something more profound, as her fingers tighten in his hair to pull him closer. Their chests heave and their foreheads rest against one another until they eventually split apart, panting for one more breath of air.

“Forgive me, mon amour,” says Charles, trying his hardest to regain his composure.

“Forgive you?”

“Because I made you doubt us. Doubt me, and how I feel about you,” he clarifies, breathing wetly above her skin. “Will you let me show you how sure I am about this?”

She nods again, smiling, her hands still resting on his chest.

He gets up to lay her carefully on the bed, positioning himself between her legs as he unbuttons his white shirt. Meanwhile, Charles’ eyes glide over her bare chest and the way her wavy hair spills over the pillows, making her look like an angel.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he leans over to kiss her neck, then going further down, sucking bruises all over her chest on his way to her stomach, claiming his girl with every flick of his tongue against her skin. He cups her breast in his palm, squeezing her enough to feel him all over her body, his lips reaching over her panties. “In case I wasn't dead fucking clear already,” Charles adds softly, almost like a promise, hooking his fingers on the lace material before pulling it down her legs, “I only want us. Like this. Always.”

She moans softly, anticipating his fingers to send her to another realm, far from any doubt. And her world does, indeed, change completely the moment she feels his tongue at her entrance instead. So hot and soft and warm against her, that her fingers curl instantly into his hair while his tongue slips between her folds, as if that is its rightful home.

“Charles,” his name comes out of her mouth in the form of a whine, sending little jolts towards his already hardened cock.

“Putain,” he chokes out, raising his head to look at her, “Nobody tastes like you do, baby. So sweet and wet for me.”

“Charles,” she whines again, her chest rising and falling with burning intensity. “Please…”

“Patience, bébé,” Charles chuckles, his voice vibrating hotly above her, “Let me worship you, so you won’t question me ever again, yes?”

He would have heard her agreeing with him, if Charles hadn't slipped his hands under her until his palms gripped her ass to pull her closer to his mouth. As a result, he hears her moan louder than before, smiling as he connects his lips back on her pussy, sucking on her clit with a newfound thirst.

His grip on her is so strong that even if she wants to push her hips further, she can't move an inch. Which drives her crazy, because his tongue works her with such frivolous movements, bringing her so close to the edge, but she still needs more.

“Baby,” she moans painfully, getting too agitated that it makes her get up, proppting herself on her elbows to watch him. “Fuck, Charles,” she adds, admiring how beautiful he looks between her legs, lapping at her with one goal in mind.

She tries to rock her hips back against the pressure again, which just reminds Charles of how good he makes her feel. The thought drives him mad and, even though it’s all about her right now, he can’t stop fucking his hips down so he can rub his aching cock against the bed, searching for any sort of friction.

“I feel you, baby. Don’t hold back,” says Charles, his voice sounding muffled between her legs.

His tongue is enough to make her come all over his face, he knows that, but he can't deprive her of his fingers when she needs him the most. So, he uses his hand to split her further under his mouth, making sure he touches her sweet spot again and again. And again, until a wave of pleasure hits her like a tsunami, shaking her to the core as she cums involuntarily. She tries to pull him out of her legs, because she knows how messy it gets when she comes that hard, but Charles drops his mouth back on her, driving her through her orgasm as his tongue finally stops at her entrance to catch the rest of her release. Then, he swallows her sweetness, letting his forehead drop on her thigh.

Their breathing is the only thing that can be heard in the entire cabin for a while, her palm resting on his cheek to caress him gently as they both recover slowly.

“So fucking hot, mon cœur.”

She sighs, still too sensitive from the pleasure that reverberates throughout her body, “Come up here,” says the girl, patting Charles’ head.

He pushes himself up, still half dressed and very much hard in his boxers. Charles lays his weight on her, exhausted, like he's came ten times by now. Gently, he rests his head on her chest while her arm wraps around him and his palm curves around her breast, pinching her nipple lazily between his fingers.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, enjoying the way she gets covered in goosebumps under his breath. “So perfect and so mine.”

She can't say anything to him without her voice shaking, so she gently grabs his chin, bringing Charles on top of her to kiss him. She feels her own taste as their tongues collide, causing her to moan softly into his mouth. Even if this kiss is much, much tamed than the previous one, just the thought that he was between her legs makes her pussy tighten, as if she's been set on fire from the inside out.

“Can I return the favor?” she finally asks in a breathy voice once their lips part.

Charles hums at the mental image of her mouth around his cock, but decides to push the thought deep into his mind, “Who said I’m done with you, mon amour?”

Charles' hand travels to her pussy once again, his middle finger gliding lightly over her wetness. Her eyes close in pleasure, while her arms wrap around his neck, before she realizes what he's actually doing. Her eyes snap at him as he reaches the letter 'R', Charles grinning proudly from above her.

Their faces are so close she can see the twinkle in his eyes, and their breaths blend together in a sweet warmth.

She laughs, “Did you just spell your name on my clit?”

His expression instantly lights up when he hears her. “Planned to do it with my tongue, but I didn't expect you to come that hard,” he admits, joining her in laughter.

She blushes at his statement, remembering how true it is. It's impossible for Charles not to notice that, but he loves it when her cheeks and chest become so rosy as a result. He also loves the sounds she makes when she's turned on, so he's not wasting any more time before teasing her wet entrance with his finger, pumping it slowly, until he feels her clenching around it. Just to make her forget the shyness, of course.

His flemish gaze sweeps over her entire body and, seeing her so vulnerable and willing beneath him, makes him want to run his tongue over every inch of her, to cover her in kisses and love marks until it's too much, so that he can come all over her pretty nipples just at the sight of her.

“Fuck, if you could see yourself right now,” says Charles, exhaling sharply. “You make me lose my mind, you know that? I almost forgot I still have to show you how mine you are. You want that, baby, don't you?”

“Yes,” she returns to whining, because apparently that's all she knows recently.

And she does it again, when his fingers pull out of her way too soon for her liking. She follows Charles, getting rid — fucking finally — of his shorts and boxers with a quick movement, poising himself again in his place, right between her legs.

She swallows hard at the sight of him, her mouth drying up in record time. She remembers the first time she saw Charles naked and how it didn't even occur to her that they would even fit. Of course, he made it work, because that's what a man with a huge cock does — it makes it fit.

The girl follows Charles as he wraps his dominant hand around the base, then runs his hand along its length, massaging the tip to spread the pre-cum. He made her feel so good, she didn't even take into consideration how torturous it must have been for him. But the little hums he lets out as he positions himself at her entrance are enough of a signal for her to push her hips against him.

Unfortunately, the man meant every word when he said he wasn't done, so he won't simply let her have it, just because she’s so willing to take him. She has to understand, once and for all, that this is it — she is it for him.

Slowly, Charles taps the head of his cock at her entrance, teasing mercilessly. It's almost like a punishment for thinking so low of herself, for doubting him, his feelings for her and what they've built together so far.

A lot can change in four months, especially feelings.

He lets out a shaky breath as he parts her folds with his tip, but instead of pushing inside, he fucks his cock up between the lips of her cunt. Once. Twice. Three times, until he's leaking on her clit, coated in her wetness. It is a sinful feeling that makes them both moan in unison, an ecstatic duet between two souls who found each other at the right time, no matter what people would say about it.

Fuck people. All of them.

She throbs against him, the feeling of skin on skin settings her atoms on fire. His hardness feels so good between her folds that she needs to anchor herself to something, and the sheets are far too fragile for her grip.

“Yeah, you feel that, ma vie?” asks Charles rhetorically when he sees her losing herself. “Of course you do. The question is, did you feel it before?”

“Charles…” she whimpers, pushing her hips against his length in order to find the sweet friction she craves. “Need you. Please.”

Her eyes are watering as she feels the knot in her stomach, waiting for a release that seems so far away — he’s not even inside, fuck's sake.

“So pretty,” hums Charles, ignoring her pleading. “You're gonna look so pretty taking me, ma belle. You always do.”

She raises her head only to let her eyes wander down Charles’ body, from his flushed face to his toned abs, down to where his cock rests hardened between her pussy lips. His eyes are locked on where they're making contact, the image so intimate and powerful it makes him want to scream. She realizes that this is a punishment for him as much as it is for her, but he enjoys it more since he's the one in charge.

She gasps in surprise when Charles grabs her thighs, her head falling back down on the pillows. He pulls her closer as he leans over to seal his lips with hers, having no intent to be soft this time, the passion that burns between them pushing him so close to the edge.

Charles’ tongue tastes her in a rush as he pushes forward, his cock pressing deliciously on her clit, making her break the kiss with a pathetic whine.

So predictable.

“Can you, please, fuck me already?” she says, frustration evident in every word she utters.

Her pleas are so close to get him, wanting nothing more than to bury himself so deep inside her, until he feels her coming on his cock all over again. But Charles groans loudly, hovering above her chest to take one of her nipples in his mouth, biting her gently.

At that, her frustration only grows bigger, forcing her back to arch against him.

“Charles,” her tone is demanding now, motivated to make him understand she's done playing.

“Don't worry, I’ll fuck you so good, baby. Turn over for me,” he replies, anticipation tugging at the edge of his patience.

She does as instructed without saying another word, feeling his hands grabbing at her waist to pull her against him. Then, Charles pushes his palm gently between her shoulder blades until her face is buried between the silky pillows. She lets a muffled moan while his knees are pressing down into the mattress on either side of her thighs, his cock resting hard against her ass.

“Did I mention how pretty you are?” he asks, not expecting an answer in return, while he finally guides himself toward her needy cunt. He pushes in, slowly at first. Deliberate and calculated, as if their initial contact is meant to gather as much data as possible, so he can choose the perfect setup for what's about to come — the position, the angle, the pace. “Such a pretty girl,” he adds with a tamed moan, “Opening right up for me. Every single time, baby. Taking me so well.”

She tries to get up by doing a weak push-up, but her head drops heavy between her shoulders as she fucks back against Charles' length, the pleasure overwhelming her.

The feeling of having him like this makes her squeal, failing to find a single thing worth more in this world than Charles thrusting from behind.

“Oui, have my cock, baby, like that,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss on her shoulder, managing to hit her deeper from this angle.

Charles' touch is still gentle, though, like he's testing the grip, desperately wanting to find the perfect balance as he eases into a rhythm made just for them. He takes every gasp and every shiver of her body as signals, relearning what makes her pulse race and using everything in their favor.

She turns her head to the side when Charles leans over to clasp the edge of the mattress, his knuckles whitening with the force he's putting into it. The veins on the back of his hand look like they're about to pop at any moment, bulging from his skin and snaking up his forearm, finally out of her view as they reach his elbow.

He's so hot and she is so turned on that she could come again just by looking at his arms.

Charles' pace begins to build, the intensity in his breathing growing more labored with every thrust of his hips. Each one is bolder than the last one, like he's reaching the apex of a corner, pressing into her just enough to feel the thrill without losing control. As a response to his movements, she starts breathing in short spasms, the world around them becoming a blur.

“That's it, bébé. You're so fucking good for me, I'm not… fuck,” his voice almost gives out, feeling how close he is to cum from fucking her like this, so he decides to pull out completely in order to prolong the feeling.

Charles learned from an early age that every race is unpredictable, so he has to adapt to any condition.

It makes her cry at the emptiness, her pussy clenching wetly around nothing while he looks down, curious too see how bad she needs him.

Her head falls back between the pillows for the hundred time, too exhausted to scold Charles any more. So, she guides her hand between her legs, firmly massaging her clit, feeling her thighs start to shake. However, the pressure is not nearly as good, which makes Charles chuckle at her weak attempts.

Patiently, he grabs both of her wrists to keep them pinned to her lower back as he uses his free hand to rub the head of his cock against her throbbing hole.

“Chaaarles,” she whines loudly, pressing her cheek deeper into the silky fabric under her, mind too numb to protest further more.

He buries himself back in with a strong thrust, making her gasp at the fullness. Somehow, it feels so much better than before, her body so sensitive in all the places they make contact.

With every shift in pressure and pace, Charles reads her reactions as if they are telemetry data on his steering wheel.

“Please don't... Don't stop again, please,” she lets out another cry, feeling her walls clenching so sweetly around him. “You feel so good, fuck, I… I'm so close.”

He knows that. That's why he stopped in the first place. But now he's ready to give her exactly what she needs, freeing her wrists as he watch them fall next to her body as if they're lifeless. Charles then grabs her waist with both hands, thrusting into her so hard that the sound of their bodies slapping together drowns out both of their moans.

“Want to fuck you for the rest of my life, amour. Please, let me fuck you for the rest of my life,” he implores, panting aggressively.

“Oh, yes,” she agrees, squeezing her eyes in pleasure.

Charles pulls out again, making her grunt at the loss. But before she gets the chance to protest, he flips her over, shoving his cock back in while searching for her eyes, a smug smile hanging from the corner of his mouth.

She moans in relief, pulling him closer, wrapping her hands around his neck to bury her fingers in his messy hair.

“I almost started barking at you,” she admits, rolling her hips with his.

“I know, baby. Just wanted to see your face,” he explains, finding his pace once more.

“Oh, yes. Yes, feels so good,” she begins to moan uncontrollably under his weight, just as Charles leans down to rest his forehead against hers.

“I know, I know. I've got you, my love,” he kisses her again but it doesn't last this time.

Their mouths remain parted, breathing heavily against each other as she comes around his cock, gazing into each other's eyes as if they could see what shape their soul have. Seeing her face changing in pleasure, makes Charles fucking into her faster, following so closely after her.

His moans sound so melodious in her ears while he rides their orgasms, that she starts believing honey is dripping from his lips, because he cannot be real.

Charles is about to pull out when she stops him with a hand on his lower back.

“I only want us, too. Like this. Always,” she repeats his words from earlier, more determined than ever. “And I think I love you a tiny bit more,” she continues, running her hand up his spine. “That's why I was so scared.”

Charles shivers under her gentle touch, “You still scared?”

“Terrified,” she replies, giggling, pulling him in to capture his lips in a loving kiss.

The kind that makes the rest of the world fade to nothing.

thank you for reading!

reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

[zhuoyichenpretty]

ep 24 commentary (brain fried edition)

my head is a little empty after ep 24 tbh!! brain is not braining after all the zyc hurt no comfort (-:

some scattered thoughts here and there, painstakingly corralled like cats out of my vacuous brain and into a list (spoilers):

ZYZ is really emo this episode poor dude like he is having a hard time keeping it together it seems. Every other word out of his mouth is depressing as shit, which is saying a lot considering how depressing he usually is already (': I kind of wanted this episode to pick his brain more, give him room to emote in the aftermath of all that. But it almost feels like the character refuses to be alone, like he might spiral if he has too much time to get in his own head. I'm still so curious to know, though, what he thinks about the state of their promise in light of how far ZYC went trying to save him. “He has us,” ZYZ said to WX. When the time comes, I wonder how he'll reconcile that with what he’s asked of ZYC.

PSJ and Ying Lei bonding! shenanigans! I did laugh thank you guys. Also, not that the team didn't operate separately before, but I really get a sense of how much ZYC held things together with how apparent his absence is. It's obvs heartwarming seeing how hard everyone is working to save him (PSJ especially for me bc I love their mutual tacit trust and respect and all the ways they're alike and different), but ultimately it's still so angsty (':

Kind of love the couple instances where ZYC has been referred to as fragile/weak/of delicate constitution (depending on how you wanna translate it) like that's a very interesting quality to assign to basically the tank of your team. Even if the comments are made facetiously, it just reminds me of how often we witness his mortality, and of course how everything about the styling, aesthetics, and content of the flashbacks to his childhood reinforce a characterization of vulnerability at the very heart of him. I saw someone mention how the Cloud Light Sword responded to ZYC's tears and to that vulnerability rather than brute strength, and I totally agree. I love how this "fragile" characterization plays into the whole fate weapon deal. ZYC's strength is (imo) unconventional, and it is his sensitivity, his compassion, and his deep capacity to feel that the sword acknowledges, resonates with, and empowers. Almost like it protects his tender heart rather than making it something he needs to overcome to get stronger.

One thing I will never get over is how incredibly they styled TJR as baby!Yichen, adult ZYC, and Bingyi. What do you mean this is all from one drama and not three separate productions. Insane. I'm out of my mind with how gorgeous every change in costuming is.

A tangential note is I've seen people mention (paraphrasing very much here) ZYZ's demon form being nicely subtle in its eerie inhumanity and tbh I have a similar feeling even just about human adult ZYC imo. Especially when his hair is down and he's got that thick eyeliner on and we get a close up of his contacts, if you told me from the start that he's half-demon half-human or something I'd believe it. Along the same vein, baby!Yichen reads completely human to me, and Bingyi of course completely demon. Something something the Cloud Light Sword bridges the gap something. This point is unintelligible and not narratively based but I had to make it because I've been thinking "wow ZYC elven" for days now.

Saw a tag about yuanyi getting us through some dark times but man they are PUTTING me through some dark times rn help?/

Been trying to put off talking about the baby Yichen scenes because wow I cried immediately. Well, no, I was like "yay! I love seeing baby Yichen!" and then they crushed me into demon dust lol. And then WX had to tell that absolutely precious story about when she got sick and ZYZ had to go like "actually ZYC was probably lonely as fuck" and yeah that's fine I didn't need my heart anyway.

Ending on this point so I can put a pretty screencap here: There is so much gravity to just the short scene of Bingyi removing his mask and dropping to his knees with that anguished and fatigued expression. TJR's acting is the gift that keeps on giving (me angst).

so sorry if anything here didn't make sense, i currently have the same thousand-mile-stare as Bingyi the more i think about how this all might end and how long I'm gonna have to wait to find out.

[torakowalski]

Swimmer Steve - Part 11

And we're back! Where have I been? No clue. Well I've been right here but my ability to make words has... not. So we're starting slow, easing into it and hoping they don't notice me creeping up on them.

(part one | part ten)

Steve's part of the Olympics lasts six days, then he turns up at Eddie's door, lays his three(!) medals down on Eddie's dresser, crawls into Eddie's bed and falls asleep for ten hours.

He wakes up, eats some fried chicken that Eddie went out to buy, then goes back to sleep for another four hours.

Eddie, usually never ever able to stay still, discovers that lying on his belly next to Steve, watching him snore softly is way more soothing than any of the herbal teas Wayne likes to press on him.

"Morning," Steve says, blinking sleepily at him at like, ten at night.

"Morning, doll," Eddie says. "Sleep well?"

Steve yawns. "Hm, kept dreaming I was at the Olympics." He blinks around himself, exageratedly. "Well, what do you know?"

He looks so sleepy and smug that there's nothing Eddie can do but scoot over and kiss him. Steve makes a happy noise and hooks an arm around Eddie's neck, pulling him closer.

Steve stripped down to just his boxers before he fell asleep the first time, so Eddie's got nothing but smooth, hot skin under his hands. He still mourns Steve's chest hair, but maybe Steve can grow it for a while now and Eddie will get to experience it, at last.

"Did I dream it, or did we have the best friend chicken ever, at some point?" Steve asks.

Eddie would be more offended that Steve's thinking about food while Eddie's making out with him, but the poor guy has been living the high protein, low carb training diet for way too long now.

"You didn't dream it, but it was only maybe the third best fried chicken I've had here."

Steve's eyes light up when he grins. "You've gotta take me sightseeing before we go home. I want to see everything you've seen and eat everything you've eaten."

"Then your wish shall be granted, good sir," Eddie promises.

"Yeah, talk nerd to me," Steve says and hauls Eddie into another kiss, which Eddie happily gives him until Steve bites his lip, pulls back, and says, "Hang on, I need to piss."

Eddie laughs, rolling off him and flopping backwards onto the bed. "That the kind of romantic way you speak to all the girls, Harrington?"

"No," Steve says. "But I don't feel like I've gotta pretend with you."

Well shit, Eddie thinks, as Steve climbs off the bed and heads for the bathroom. Who knew Steve was gonna be sincere?

He lies on his back, watching Steve's ass unashamedly as he makes his way to the bathroom. He leaves the door half ajar, while he's peeing, because first and foremost: jock.

"I'm gonna shower," Steve calls. "Wanna join me?"

Eddie feels a laugh punch out of his chest. Hell yes, he wants to join him, but he's pretty sure Steve's joking.

Then he remembers that, wait, Steve doesn't have to worry about the Olympics sex curse anymore. Maybe he does mean it. Eddie's half way to sitting up, when Steve pops back into the room.

"No?"

"... Can't tell if you're teasing me," Eddie admits.

Steve looks at him then looks over at the dressing table. "Remember what you said the first time we kissed?"

"Was it oh my god, am I dreaming?" Eddie asks, racking his brain to try to work out what it actually was.

Steve grins at him. "You said you'd shower with me, if I brought home a gold medal." He reaches over and picks up the one gold, sitting it between his two bronzes. He takes a second, seeming just to need to look at it, then holds it up. "I know it was for a relay so I only won like, a quarter of it. But does this count?"

Holy fuck, Steve does mean it. Eddie always gets a little hard when they make out, but now he's hard hard and it maybe robs him of his ability to breathe. Or to answer questions.

Steve grin starts to fade. "But totally no pressure," he says, hand curling tight around his medal. "Sorry. Stupid joke, or well, not a -"

Eddie rolls up onto his knees and holds his hands out demandingly. "Give me my prize, Harrington."

Still with that half-grin only, Steve's eyebrows draw together and he lifts up the medal like a question.

Eddie nods. He can breathe now, but it's coming fast, and he feels hot all over.

Steve steps forward and loops the ribbon around Eddie's neck, murmuring, "Congratulations," like Eddie really is winning a gold here. Let's be reasonable though, if this is going the way Eddie thinks it's going, he definitely is the one who's winning.

[koiffee-lioden]

Finally finished my new CSS for my main account <3 It'd been so long since I last did it that it was a rollercoaster trying to remember how to ^^; But now that I've gotten the hand of it again, I'm considering perhaps offering den CSS commissions for GB? I don't really know, is it something people are interested in?

[campbyler]

how are you guys doing?

honestlyyy we have both been going through it for a minute which you guys probably have picked up on from our very unplanned absence on here 😗 our work schedules have just been so crazy and we have had some personal stuff going on at both ends so we have been existing in a kind of default state of complete and total exhaustion for like a month i fear. but we are now 1. medication twinsies which is so silly of us actually and 2. getting therapized on the regular so hopefully we will both feel more normal soon and get our creative energy back and be more active online again 🥳 (thea is also actively being blown away by the hurricane right now so everyone please manifest that she stays safe and dry and doesn’t end up floating away down the gulf because i would miss her and be so sad.) thank you for asking i hope you’re doing well! 🫶🏽

[jadelemonadee]

so i made a hamilton shipping chart……,

either tag me in it or reblog this post with yours if you do it!!!! ^_^

[cashmere-caveman]

read a post about there being next to no record abt the historic edward little again (we dont even know what he looked like!!!) and now im thinking a lot about how he died in uniform again.

hes far from the only character to die in uniform (the marines die in uniform! franklin dies in uniform!) and he isn't even the only lieutenant to do so (gore, under his slops, was in uniform; fairholme, too presumably; irving famously wore his coat that hickey steals later; george wore something that used to be his uniform when he got eaten but imo atp he did not wear it as A Uniform anymore that were just the clothes that he had on if that makes sense) but at the end, he is the only one where i still felt that it was an active choice to wear it.

almost everyone else sheds their layers along the way or turns into something else, but ned starts in uniform and he stays in uniform and that's it.

fitzjames famously sheds his vanity and dies in his shirtsleeves, without any of the pomp and pizzazz of his uniform.

jopson, another character who is to me really connected with a certain mindset of holding up appearances, dies in his shirtsleeves, believing himself abandoned by the very person that was his reason to even wear a uniform at all.

goodsir as a doctor/assistant surgeon doesn't really have a uniform in quite the same sense as many others but when he dresses himself before his suicide it is not as an affirmation of his role, or at least not a positive one. he has sworn to do no harm, but he was forced to do it anyway and now he will add a final evil to his toll of sins in the hopes to balance the scales at least somewhat and for that to work, he must wear his outfit as always. he ends up with all pretenses stripped bare anyway.

tozer, a man so proud of his uniform in the beginning, again, dies in his shirtsleeves, no rank left, betrayed by someone who had convinced him to give up everything and yet! reduced to nothing but an ordinary man, he tries again where before he had given up. he cooperates, he coordinates, he even calls crozier captain again, he tries very hard to do the right thing in what looks like a no win scenario from the get go!! and he fails, of course, but he tried.

almost everyone else also ends up either dressed down (bridgens, armitage, dundy, des voeux etc) or somehow transformed (blanky, to some extend silna with her patched and bloody furs) or in hickeys case, both (iconic underwear & greatcoat combo). little never changes. he sometimes has a little scarf, theres the bandage for his headwound for a bit, he sometimes wears the full parade uniform with epaulettes and sometimes just the regular one, there are at least two different uniform hats and ofc you can tell that he loses weight by the way his shape chages under all that wool but he is always. in. uniform.

and maybe this is just my mind making up dots to connect but i think he might even be the last character that crozier ever gives an order to in his official function as a captain (in the tuunbaq seduction/boss fight scene he has been stripped of his rank, at least according to e.c.).

before his final scene, all we get is little arguing over the orders they are given, and how to interpret them. and he is still wearing his uniform!!! wait hold on im not gonna check but maybe he might only wear a jumper in the tent where dundy lauches his soft mutiny actually, so maybe this whole post is crumbling like a domino line but!!! ignoring this. moving on. (even if it is a jumper i remember him wearing sth dark blue aka Uniform Colour so im claiming it doesnt even matter bc spiritually that hypothetical jumper still is a uniform. im not going to let anything like "accuracy" and "real details" fuck up my post smh 🙄. im joking. however! Moving On as i said) (edit: i rewatched the scene and it IS his uniform actually, just v rumpled. going insane btw)

he doesnt even dress up for carnivale! the only other characters that are not in costume are jopson and crozier and they were literally too busy keeping crozier from dying to even begin thinking about joining the communal arts and crafts session! little is atp the acting no2 of the expedition so u might say he was busy but fitzjames has the overall command and still finds time to have a little gender moment in private and the imperialism-approved version of it for the Big Crowd!! (u could ofc argue that fitzy Always has time for a gender moment and who would i be to argue but my point is: i have no doubt that man was fucking busy preparing carnivale & beginning to prepare the walkout and there still was time to Express Some Character!! so how come ned didn't do anything?)

the one other scene we get where we can catch a small glimpse of characters out of their element before it all unravels (pre tuunbaq attack on the camp) is the scene at night when morfin gets shot. it shows lots of characters in various states of undress (silna big blanket burrito i love you) that allows us to see them differently, like their costumes at carnivale did, but in an entirely opposite direction. while carnivale was about putting on masks, this scene is about taking them off. and it drives me insane because i know that little must be there. he is somewhere in the crowd when morfin gets shot but so far i havent been able to make him out and i need to know what he is wearing so bad. it is actually for science (my own curiosity) ! i really need to know. and i cant help but feel that maybe it is intentional that he is just ~somewhere~ instead of In Front of the Fucking Camera because, well. that would be just ned little, wouldnt it? and we dont even know who that is.

[prettylittlcresources]

(PAID PACK - $5 USD): In the source link is a Payhip link containing two zip files with 3,168 gifs (mostly 280x210px) of Madeline Ford in music videos, TikToks, Youtube videos, and tv shows/movies. All of these gifs were made by me. Please read the gif rules linked in the pinned post on this blog before using the pack, thank you!

Madeline Ford is an American model and social media influencer, mostly known for her TikToks.

If you live in a country where the currency's USD conversion rate is unreasonable (examples: Brazil, Turkey, Argentina, etc etc), please dm me on the main blog connected to this account in order to work something out (linked in my pinned post along with my rules); just be aware I'm currently a full time college student and I will not always respond right away - please have patience with me.

TWs: Food and flashing lights off the top of my head, this is over a year worth of giffing and I cannot remember all the tws off the top of my head.

[katyspersonal]

i saw your post about your predictions for messmer and they're all interesting, so do you think Messmer would be one of those fromsoft "irredeemably villains" or he would have shades of grey like Martin's main characters ? if i am not mistaken Myazaki said something about Messmer being one of the characters GRRM wrote for the game.

Thank you for the compliment @ first anon! And yeah, I assume that Messmer counts as one of the characters that Martin wrote, referring to the bit of interview @val-of-the-north helped me to find just yesterday!

( x )

Miyazaki and Martin really write their 'villains' differently, huh? My observation is, Fromsoft style is more along the lines of "Yeah this character done shit beyond the very scope of how us simple humans can even define a sin or crime, but also allow us to present it all in such a confusing, existential, grand scheme manner that you'll doubt whether character is truly in the wrong. Heck, is ANYONE in the wrong? In fact, what if the worst people are the best? What if no one has the real choice anyways but to pick their own poison? What if the most atrocious decisions are actually the most heroic? What if-

YEAH YEAH whatever shuddup. Martin really feels more common "This character having been a victim doesn't excuse their crimes but also this character's crimes don't make bad things that happen with them right". And so far I've noticed that Elden Ring's writing of the 'bads' falls MORE on Martin's side, even if some previously familiar tropes are there!

I'll use Mohg as volunteer! Mohg is presumably a sex offender, towards his half-sibling too, but you can't help but feel bad for him being raised in the severs and alienated from his family as abomination save for his twin brother that expresses results of such oppression differently, but you can't really excuse anything! If Elden Ring was a pure Miyazaki's creation, no Martin's involvement, execution of his "morality" would go more like: when Mohg was trapped in the severs he saw a dream that actually revealed the true meaning of this world to him and now he knew only one way to end the pain like he and Morgott experienced and fix the world to the better existed, which was to get into a system Greater Will set up and become a consort for the only available Empyrean, was he REALLY in the wrong to choose one crime to end many ooooo something something train dilemma maybe he'd be a way worse person if he learned of the one way to fix the world and still did nothing clinging to a morality that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things OR MAYBE DOES IT OOOOOOHHHH

Basically the latter vibe is not something I am seeing in the big bads of Elden Ring as much! They ARE morally grey, justified or not justified not by some transcendental existential matters but by combination or their very close, very realistic circumstances and how they've reacted to them! The debate on whether character is redeemable boils down to how much agency one can have in this or that situation more than the "horror of knowing your choices"! So, I expect Messmer to be "morally grey"! Maybe whatever he did, under assumption that he DID do something bad, came from his own flaws but he'd have a point in his own way. Or maybe he was done dirty in his life and:

As for whether he'd be worse than Mohg? I think he COULD be! Mohg kidnapped Miquella in his stasis and is now worshipping his "dead" flesh in his madness. The only worse thing to do would be to like, annihilate Miquella, which I CAN see Messmer potentially doing! He spoke with a disdain towards being devoid of Grace from how I've interpreted it, which Miquella did do:

Okay, okay, maybe we will NOT get a dramatic scene of him obliterating Miquella just before we got a chance to do anything, that might be a stretch! Let's HOPE that won't happen! But there could be an attempt, or he could be holding him hostage like @alma-amentet said. AND there could be a general sentiment by Messmer having a very...... awkward position regarding existence of those he deems less worthy or unequal (by being devoid of Grace in this case) that passes beyond the level of simple oppression, let's JUST call it that fsdhfhsd

And, again, there of course would be some "reasoning" behind that attitude that'll leave space for debates! Like maybe Marika herself hardcore trained him to be this way before leaving, and he had no real means to reconsider being in isolation from the 'real' world! Whatever made him this or that way, as a bad/worse person is not a result of Eldrich madness or sense of the world ending anyway, but something very understandable and human. Sympathetic, even! I can already imagine the "he had no chance for a perspective change or more information, but it is still what it is, so he is still terrible even if not willfully" sentiment! Or something close!

_________________

Okay thank you for the asks, but I must admit, it's been 8 years since I touched Martin's writing and my memory might be failing me with some specifics! And, of course, the difference between Miyazaki-only writing and Martin being involved is not that drastic, I've just tried to maximise it to actually make a point! It is still a collab, and I am betting more on Martin-style approach with Messmer; this is just my version of what his critical flaw could be if it WILL happen!

[salon-maiden-anabel]

i need to work on the multiple aus in one bigger picture thing again

[quietlyblooms]

guess who has to make herself ready for a water park tomorrow :' )

[cubedmango]

(walks in w tattered clothes and soot on my face) i survived the triple comphet attack

[a-snowpoff]

Dad bod Prunsel, requested by @duskyskye

[wasabikitcat]

Has anyone in this Olympics women's boxing argument ever stopped and thought about whether it would make any sense for women to be more susceptible to being injured in boxing than men? Like sure, it's a fairly common assumption that men are physically stronger than women, and therefore a man would have an advantage at boxing because he can punch harder... But how would that make you more resilient to being punched in the nose? Like I would think the assumed advantage would be that women can't hit as hard and therefore would require more effort to take someone down, but what everyone is arguing over is a woman having her nose broken from a punch to the face, when a man's nose would be just as broken from the same punch. Women don't have like, daintier and weaker facial bones or something. Being punched in the face "by a man" when you're a woman is literally no different than being punched in the face by the same person as a man. If we are to assume that men (note: the person being debated about here isn't a man or even a trans woman, she is cisgender, but I digress) are so Herculean that their punches are just too dangerous for women, then men's boxing should be banned outright because it's just too dangerous for men to be punching each other with that strength when a punch to the face is exactly the same for a man as it is to a woman.

[secretsofthewilde]

Me: I know I started watching Deadloch because Pamela Rabe was in it (and heard there was a queer lead character) but I'm actually really loving the show in general and I'm probably gonna forget she's in it bc I'm so invested in Dulcie's story

Also me, whenever Margaret is on screen: oh my god it's Pamela Rabe (!!!)