#but those songs will be 'wildcards'

[wield-the-mighty-pen]

To cope with my writer’s block, I've decided that I want to do some drabbles!

To make this fun for me, I decided to do 'playlist prompt' drabbles. So, if you'd like, please send me a lovesquare pairing and a number between 1 and 144 and hopefully I'll write a drabble based on the corresponding song in my playlist to that number

My inbox is open, so please feel free to send requests!

[sanswstrk]

TO SANSA/JON FANDOM!

Hey everyone! I’m not sure how many of you remember this user, but lostlittlesatellites or batterydeaddotdot was a well-known Jonsa meta-writer in our fandom. Sadly, they deactivated, and as far as I know, we don’t really know why. A big chunk of their amazing work seems to have been lost, which was so sad for so many of us.

But here’s the good news: I recently discovered that some of their metas were saved on the "Way Back Machine" site! So, I put together a list of some of their pieces to share with all of you. My aim is to help preserve their contributions, spread the love within our fandom, and celebrate the incredible mind that has helped to shaped our fandom.

Quick disclaimer: I haven’t read every single meta, so I don’t necessarily agree with everything that’s written. My main goal is just to share this with you all. And I skiped GOT-related metas for this list. Enjoy diving into lostlittlesatellites/batterydeaddotdot’s work!

Some of their writings is already saved through some of those accounts: @/jonsameta & @/bookjonsa & @/esther-dot. Y’all can check! Here are the others:

BOOKS:

Sansa Stark: The Princess in the Tower

RLJ & Jonsa Payoff

Dragons, Snow and Armchairs

Can there be ONE ideal ruler?

Trojan War Literature influence on GRRM

The Red Comet: A Closer Look

Grey Dawn: Hour of the Wolf + Nightingale

To go forward you must look back: Dany’s tragic fall

Jon Snow as an Anti Hero

Val: A Subversion of BATB in Jon’s arc? + “something off about Val”

The Resurrection Problem

The Cost of Weaponizing Dragons For a Cause: Doran + Jon

There is Power in Living Wood: Bran’s role in the War

Valar Morghulis: Could Arya kill Dany?: Part 1 & Part 2

Stark Girls’ connections: To go forward you must go back

Fathers and Daughters

Sansa Stark: A Winter Rose?

Sansa Stark: A Girl in Glass

Sansa’s Fairytale and Myth allusions

The Blindspot of FPTP thread: Oversexualisation and overlooking age

Ask: Does “begging for a stranger’s kiss” foreshadow Sansa/Hound?

Deconstruction of BATB figures: He’s even uglier than the Hound

The Unkiss: The War Spilling Inside

Sansa’s repression of Jeyne

Alysanne: Paralleling Sansa + Contrasting Dany foreshadowing

A Song to Dodge A Kiss With a Blade (Part 1): Sansa/Hound and Jon/Ygritte ACOK comparisons

The Innocuous Nature of Jon/Sansa Foreshadowing

Snow: Lover’s Kisses

A Son by Marriage

1. Like a Lover; 2. Like a Kiss; 3. Kissed by Fire; 4. Burning Light and Dark Woods; 5. Intruders in Winterfell; 6. The Heart of Winterfell; 7. Fire: Hearth vs. Weapons

Dance of Dragons + Pact of Ice and Fire

Jonquils and Blue Roses

Horses and Flowers

Some Willowy Creature Who Sits Up in a Tower

A Union of the Old Gods and the New: Importance of understanding the Seven

Ask: Thoughts on Bridge4’s Video “There must always be a Stark in Winterfell”

Theories:

Bran as the Valonqar

History is a Wheel: Jon’s Rebellion

Jon’s Resurrection Repercussions

Dead Man with the Head of a Wolf: A Re-look

The Heart Tree of Winterfell: Tolkien influence

Complicating the Fantasy Battle: War Factions in the War for Dawn

Trail of Scrolls

Lady and the Ghost: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3

Shadowbinders, Death and Sacrifice

Sansa, the Vale and Mountain Clans: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4

Seasons of My Love

Jon’s Survival: Beginning of Subverting Westerosi Classism

Child of Flame and Shadow: Not a living child but a shadow child?

Shadowbinders, Death and Sacrifice: Dany with Mirri and Melisandre

A Potential Wildcard Advisor: Bronze Yohn Royce and the Importance of the Vale

Why Ghost is unlikely to like Dany: Melisandre and Val in ADWD

Others:

Jonsa: Tolkien influences

Jonsa: A Good Endgame

Jonsa is happening because it's how GRRM's mind works

Jonsa’s Hints: On how antis ignore Jonsa foreshadowing

POV’S: Heros or not

House of the Undying and Quaithe for Dany & Mythology

Dany criticism 

Other links: about asoiaf; asoiaf metas; asoiaf theories + part 2

Anyone who has some of their writing saved can feel free to share! I would be thankful.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

feeling a bit generous today, so for anyone who needs these, here are some tips for writing blue lock specifically (also some bonus facts at the end)

- right off the bat, don’t let popularity and likes on your posts be the only thing on your mind. when you write, make sure you’re also enjoying what you’re writing. doing this stuff only for fame and fans is a bit sad, but not only that, the quality of your work will decrease due to less passion.

- if you want it to get popular and fast, writing for rin, kaiser, or nagi is your best bet. they’re easily the most popular when it comes to this part of the fanbase, and people will eat up ANYTHING sweet when it comes to these nonchalant men.

- listening to music while you write can be helpful. i know it’s not for everyone, but listening to a playlist that matches the vibe of what im writing helps me lock in really well. here is a playlist for writing something fluffy and lovey. here is a playlist for writing something angst and made from pure sadness. here is a playlist for something obsessive and intense. here is a playlist for something that really makes you think about your life choices. (yes, i made all of these playlists, and these are the ones that i listen to)

- using the egoist bible to confirm information is immensely helpful. not only is anyone else who reads the egoist bible see those small Easter eggs, but adding those small hints about their character can also be cute and makes for better writing.

- use colored dividers. i get mine from this post (thank you to firefly graphics!!!), and make sure you use the colors in order with the characters. for example, i use teal for rin, dark blue for kaiser, and yellow for bachira.

- using song lyrics or song names as titles or inspiration is easy for ideas and for attention. many times, i will listen to a song and realize how much it matches with the blue lock boys or realize that it’ll make an incredible prompt for a drabble. for example, in no. 1 party anthem, there is the iconic “the look of love” part. for that, i made a post with the same title as the lyric and made it about how their eyes are when they are in love.

- putting 2-4 characters in a prompt drabble is the ideal amount. it gets you more popularity quicker due to more characters and more tags, but also, anyone who only started reading the prompt for a certain character can also enjoy reading about the rest of the characters.

- use as many tags as you can. if you look at the tags on my post, i use a monstrous amount.

- quality >>>>>>> quantity ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS. even a 100 word drabble can be more beautiful or impactful than a 1000 word fic if it’s worded better, has a better concept, has better character writing, and has better interactions.

- there are many tropes that work well with certain characters. for example, i always write kaiser with the childhood best friends trope, because not only does it match his character, but it also makes the best quality content. another example is karasu with academic rivals for obvious reasons, although im pretty sure we all already know that.

bonus facts!!!:

- i tend to have a hard time writing sae. he’s a difficult character to understand, which makes him all the more appealing to me but also just as annoying to write. because we have no idea what happened to him when he was in spain, he’s hard to write without being ooc or weird. before kaiser’s backstory, i also had a hard time writing for kaiser. (im an infp 4w5, if that helps)

- the only blue lock boys i can confidently say are green flags are barou, kunigami (pre-wildcard), yukimiya, and karasu. many of the others (isagi, reo, bachira, etc) are extremely close to being green flags but all have questionably toxic things that make them yellow flags.

- i wanna write for shidou so bad, but because the fandom mischaracterizes his so much, it’s hard to write for him validly without getting criticized. for example, shidou is NOT going to beat you up for no reason or be disturbing towards you for no reason. if you don’t play soccer or if you’re not particularly special, then he’s honestly just really chill. think of him like hisoka from hxh but less of a pdf file.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Real Love Pt 2

Summary: You and Carlos were just supposed to be a PR couple for less than a year but someone decided to catch feelings. Part 2

Song: Collide - Justine Skye

Part 1 Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 8.6k

MASTERLIST - F1

You lay snugly beneath the soft sheets, the golden morning light streaming through the sheer curtains of your bedroom, gently warming your skin.

You can feel the faint rhythm of Carlos’s heartbeat as he lies beside you, the intimate silence only occasionally punctuated by the soft chirping of birds outside.

The world feels as if it has paused, just for the two of you.

“Are you sure you won’t regret this?” you ask, pulling back to study his face, your heart racing.

This is the third kiss since you woke up an hour ago, a sweet closeness you never thought would come to this, despite the countless moments shared—the stolen glances during games, the playful banter after late-night training sessions.

His dark eyes search yours, a flicker of something fierce and protective igniting in their depths. “Mi amor, I could never regret this,” Carlos replies, his voice low, an intoxicating blend of affection and certainty.

“But what about the team?” you counter, slipping further down into the warmth of blankets, away from the weight of the conversation. “They’ll be mad about us breaking the PR contract.”

Carlos pushes himself onto his elbow, his hair tousled but framing his striking face perfectly. “I don’t care about them,” he declares seriously, leaning closer as if the intimacy of the space can seal your secret. “I only care about you.”

The words sit in the air between you both like a fragile promise. For a moment, you can’t breathe, your heart thundering against your ribcage as his gaze holds yours captive. With a deep breath, you let his confession wash over you.

“I want to do this…for real,” you answer, your voice scrunching down into uncertainty beneath the weight of possibility. It feels right but so precariously delicate, like the morning sun reflected through the rain-slicked leaves outside.

Carlos’s lips curve into a genuine smile, the kind that lights up every shadowed corner of the room. “Then let’s go for it,” he says, the playful twinkle in his eye returning. “Let’s make this our secret love story.”

You chuckle softly, the tension beginning to melt away. “Our secret? Like something out of a rom-com?” You raise an eyebrow teasingly as a grin dances on your face, allowing your own excitement to bubble beneath the surface.

“Exactly! Just without the horrifying misunderstandings,” he adds, chuckling and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer. You snuggle into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of him igniting something deep within you. The soft scent of his cologne mixes with the morning air—a heady concoction you want to bottle forever.

“Okay, Mr. Love Story, what’s the premise?” you ask, looking up at him with mock seriousness.

He scratches his chin, feigning deep thought. “A blockbuster soccer star falls for the journalist tasked with covering his team’s next big match, but they must navigate the storm of media scrutiny and a wildcard PR nightmare,” he finalizes, winking at you.

“Wow, that sounds…dramatic,” you laugh, shaking your head. “We’re not exactly in a movie, Carlos.” But even as you say the words, the thought isn’t entirely unwelcome. This does feel like a story freshly spun from the hearts of the fortunate.

“Do you not want to be in a movie with me?” he teases, leaning down so that his lips graze your ear, his breath hot against your skin, sending shivers racing down your spine.

“You know I’m already in one,” you whisper back, your pulse quickening. “With the hottest player in the league, no less.”

His laughter vibrates through you, a melodic sound that rattles the silence and ignites the room. “Then let’s make this one a blockbuster, too.”

You chuckle but then grow serious again, those reminders creeping back in. “But what about the consequences? Our teammates? What if they don’t take it well?”

With a single finger, he lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Let them talk. You and I? We’re worth it. If we stand together, we can face anything. Right?”

Your heart swells at his confidence, your own self-doubt hindering but not extinguishing your burgeoning feelings. “Right,” you agree, your mind skipping back to the moments before this: how he turned from being just a teammate into something much deeper, something exhilarating.

Carlos leans in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “So, tell me, are you ready for a bit of adventure, then?”

You swallow, considering your response—because it’s no longer just an idle thought; it’s a leap you are willing to take. “As long as you’re by my side,” you finally say, honesty spilling from you. “I think I am.”

“Then let’s make it an adventure. Just us,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours, each kiss igniting embers of anticipation as if the world outside the walls had vanished entirely.

You close your eyes, feeling the cocoon of his arms—and the reality of your mutual promise—that no matter where this journey takes you both, you’ll face it together.

As the kiss deepens, you push aside your lingering doubts, giving in to the warmth that curls around you like a soft blanket. In this moment, nothing else matters except the two of you, wrapped in this intimacy, ready to rewrite your own story—even if it meant braving the chaos that love always brings with it. As dawn breaks fully outside your window, the slate is clean, and the sun just beginning to rise, a symbol of new beginnings, a notion that glows warmly between you.

And together, you choose to embrace the story—whatever that may entail—fully and absolutely. . . .

You stood in the kitchen, staring across the room where your boyfriend Carlos, racing superstar and current Formula One champion, was leaning against the counter, arms crossed and a playful scowl on his face.

His dark curls fell over his forehead, making him look both infuriated and irresistibly charming. The kitchen was buzzing with activity; friends and family had gathered to celebrate his latest Grand Prix victory, laughing and raising glasses of champagne in a toast to his success.

But all you could think about was the tension crackling between you and Carlos, a palpable energy that felt wholly out of place amid all the jovial noise.

“Carlos,” you whispered, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, “you can’t seriously be thinking about that right now. Look at everyone!”

He stepped closer, the sound of laughter fading away as he moved in, eyes darkening with mischief. “I’m serious. You’d better get rid of everyone in this house or I swear to God, I’m gonna fuck you on the first flat surface I can find, and I know you don’t want anyone to know what you sound like when I’m fucking you.”

Your heart raced at his boldness, a heat rising to your cheeks. Gone was the charming boyfriend; now you were staring down the passionate, possessive man you adored, and a thrill shot through you. You glanced at the crowd of shared laughter and merriment that felt impossibly distant now. “What, you think I can just shout ‘party’s over’?”

Carlos stepped in closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe just suggest a drink outside? We don’t need an audience for this. I'm not joking, cariño.” His eyes bore into yours, filled with a fierce warmth that made your breath hitch.

“Heavens! How did I get stuck with such a needy boyfriend?” you teased, swaying your hip slightly as you pretended to survey the party, putting up a façade against his fiery gaze.

“Needy? You have no idea, love,” he said, stepping into your personal space, his breath warm against your ear. “I’ve waited all day for this.” The possessiveness in his voice sent shivers down your spine, leaving you torn between laughter and an overwhelming desire to pull him into a nearby room and shut the world out.

You motioned discreetly to your friend Emily, who was standing near the snacks table, her eyes twinkling with merriment. You gestured for her to come over. “Listen, I need you to cause a distraction. The kind only you can pull off.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, a smile dancing on her lips. “Are you getting interrupted by a hot F1 driver here? Because I can kick them out if necessary!”

“Just kick them out,” you whispered, trying to suppress a laugh. “I need some alone time with Carlos, and I don’t mean just to stare at him.”

With a knowing grin, she straightened and clinked her glass loudly against the snack table. “Alright everyone! Who’s down for a game of charades? Because I want to see if Carlos can act out the last lap of the race!”

The room erupted in a mix of cheers and laughter, and you felt Carlos’s arm slip around your waist, pulling you possessively against him.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against your temple. “Good job, mi amor,” he said, warmth flooding through you as he spoke. “Now let’s get out of here.”

The two of you slipped quietly through the back door, navigating the sprawling garden where soft twinkling lights adorned the trees like stars.

The noise of the party faded behind you, the cool evening breeze wrapping around your skin as you stepped into the intoxicating silence of the night.

Carlos didn’t waste any time. He turned to face you, his gaze heated, full of need. “Finally,” he muttered, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his body against yours, closing the distance in an exhilarating rush.

You giggled, both nervous and excited. “We really shouldn’t. What if someone comes out here?”

“The only thing I care about right now is you,” he said, lips brushing yours just enough to tease but not enough to take. “I want you to know exactly how much I’ve been thinking about you all night. It’s torture having you close and not being able to touch you.”

“Then why don’t you?” you challenged lightly, your own body tightening in anticipation.

Carlos smirked at your challenge, there was a dark promise in his eyes as he pulled you flush against him, capturing your lips with his. The kiss ignited something deep within you, a need that wasn’t just physical but pulled at your very soul.

He deepened the kiss, and you sighed into him, fingers threading through his curls, wanting more, wanting all of him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your lips, breaking away just enough to trace the line of your chin with his finger. “I’m lucky to have you.”

“Lucky or not, you’re not getting rid of me,” you teased, sweat and laughter alighting the air between you.

“I don’t want to,” he replied, his face serious now, eyes dark and earnest. “You’re the one I want, always.”

A rush of warmth flowed through you, and you found yourself caught between laughter and exhilaration. “So, where do we…?” you began, glancing around the garden, your heart pounding like the engines of the race cars he drove.

“There,” he said, nodding toward a flat stone bench nestled between the blooming azaleas. “Perfect.”

You couldn’t help but giggle again, and Carlos grinned that breathtaking smile that made your heart race even faster. Before you could respond, he swept you into his arms, holding you close as he placed you onto the cool stone surface.

Your body tingled as you felt the warmth radiating from him, the electricity in the air palpably changing as you pulled him back to you, lips crashing against his in a fervent dance.

“Just us now,” he whispered against your lips, and with a smirk, you could hardly believe the sense of freedom you felt.

Tonight, in this garden, when the whole world seemed to recede, there was only Carlos, only you. And the night seemed like it would stretch on forever. . . .

You had just settled comfortably into your cozy corner of your shared home with Carlos when your phone rang.

It was a sunny Saturday, far removed from the high-octane world of Formula 1, and you had spent the day reading and sipping on a cup of chamomile tea, looking forward to Carlos coming home after practice.

“Hey, Charles,” you said, trying to keep your voice upbeat.

You had always appreciated how close your boyfriend was with Charles Leclerc, but the more you got to know him, the more you were aware that he had a serious side, especially when it came to his friends.

“Hey Y/N,” he replied, his tone more serious than usual. “I’m at the paddock with Carlos. He’s not feeling well.”

“Not feeling well? What do you mean?” Your heart raced, your pulse quickening as you imagined the possibilities.

The last thing you wanted was for Carlos to be sick. Your afternoon suddenly shifted from a tranquil day to a worrying reality.

“He just collapsed after getting out of the car,” Charles said, his voice filled with concern. “I think he overworked himself today. You should come out here.”

You felt a rush of panic. “I’ll be there right away. Is he… can he stand?”

“Not really. I’ve got him lying on the ground. He should be okay, but he needs you.”

“Okay. I’m on my way,” you said, already gathering your things as you rushed toward the door. Anxiety pulsed through you as you grabbed your keys, your mind racing with thoughts of Carlos, imagining him weak and vulnerable on the ground amid the chaos of the paddock.

The drive felt eternal. You envisioned Carlos's laughter, the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about racing, and how his smile could banish any dark thoughts.

The thought of him ill gnawed at you. “Get it together, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

Arriving at the paddock, you sprinted toward the chaos, a whirlwind of mechanics and team members working frantically. Your eyes scanned the scene, searching for a familiar face until you spotted Charles, his brows furrowed with concern.

“He’s over here,” he said, leading you to a shaded area where Carlos lay on the ground, looking pale yet conscious. Your heart sank at the sight of him, but relief washed over you when you realized he was still aware of his surroundings.

“Carlos!” you called, rushing to his side. He looked up, his eyes trying to focus as a small smile crept onto his face despite the discomfort.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured weakly.

“What have you done to yourself?” you scolded, crouching beside him and gently brushing the hair off his forehead. “You scared me!”

“I just… pushed a little too hard today,” Carlos admitted, his voice hoarse. “I thought I could handle it.”

Charles chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. “I warned him, but you know how stubborn he is.”

“Don’t start,” Carlos groaned, trying to sit up before deciding against it. “I’ll be fine, really. Just need to catch my breath.”

You held his hand, feeling the warmth in his palm even if the rest of him felt cold. “Well, you’re going to take it easy for the rest of the day. No racing, no pushing boundaries.”

“Deal,” Carlos said, his smile returning to his lips. You couldn't help but smile back, relieved that he wasn't in dire straits.

“I’ll make you soup when we get home,” you promised. “Oh, and I brought your favorite snacks.”

Carlos's eyes lit up at the mention of food. “You really know how to win a man’s heart.”

“Just stay focused on healing first, and maybe I’ll share them with you later,” you teased, squeezing his hand gently.

As you all waited for the paramedics to check him over, Carlos leaned back on the ground, looking at you with admiration. “Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

“Always,” you promised, your heart swelling. “Just try not to scare me like this again, okay? I can’t handle it.”

“I’ll work on that,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. You could sense the underlying bond between you deepening, filled with unspoken emotions.

You lay curled up on the couch, a plush blanket wrapped around you like a cocoon, feeling every bit of the cold that had taken residence in your bones.

It was a dreary day outside, the skies painted in hues of gray, and you could hear the faint echoes of the Formula One race festivities happening just outside your front door.

Carlos was deep in the paddock, working on the final preparations for the race, but all you could focus on was the dull ache in your head and the scratchiness in your throat.

You glanced at the clock. It was nearly six o'clock; Carlos should be back soon. You had tried to muster enough energy to at least make him something to eat, but the thought of standing up made the fatigue swell inside you.

Instead, you settled back into the cushions, reaching for your phone to check if he had sent any updates. As if on cue, a message popped up from him.

Carlos: "Just finishing up here. Can’t wait to come home to you. Love you!"

You smiled weakly at your screen, your heart fluttering at the thought of him. It wasn’t long before you heard the familiar click of the door, followed by the shuffling sound of Carlos’s shoes.

He appeared in the living room moments later, his expression shifting from exhaustion to concern when he spotted you.

“Oh no, mi amor,” he said, rushing to your side. He knelt down beside the couch, brushing a thumb across your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Just a little cold,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant, though your voice felt raw and shaky. “How was the paddock?”

Carlos stood up and grabbed a tiny towel from the kitchen, dampening it before placing it on your forehead. “The paddock was noisy and chaotic. You didn’t miss much, except for a few rumors about the team. But you? You’re the most important thing on my mind right now.”

You couldn’t help but smile. There was something so comforting about the way he effortlessly switched from race-mode to nurturing boyfriend.

“I’m just glad you’re back. I have to say, being alone while feeling like this isn’t the most fun I’ve ever had.”

He chuckled softly, his deep voice resonating in the quiet room, and sat on the edge of the couch, looking down at you with those intense brown eyes of his.

“I’m glad you’re resting, but I can’t leave you like this. I’ve got your soup from last time and some herbal tea I brought back from the paddock for you.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to go out of your way,” you said, feeling a warmth stir within you, annoyed at how sweetly he always insisted on taking care of you.

“Of course, I did,” he replied, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “Your health is my top priority. Tell me how you feel.”

“Like I’ve been run over by a car,” you joked, failing to hide a cough that erupted afterward. “And like I’m stuck in a room without food.”

“I can fix that.” He flashed a grin, and just the sight of it lifted your spirits despite the fog of illness clouding your mind.

He sprung up from the couch, his presence like a whirlwind moving through the kitchen.

You listened to the sounds of clinking pots and scrambling movements as he maneuvered around your shared home. The aroma of garlic and broth filled the air, a mixture that made your stomach grumble with unexpected hunger. You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, trying to ease the fatigue that weighed down your limbs.

Minutes passed, and soon enough, Carlos returned holding a steaming bowl of soup and a small cup of herbal tea. He carefully placed the bowl on the sofa’s armrest before handing you the cup.

“Here, drink this first. It should help your throat,” he said, watching you as you took a cautious sip. The warmth spread through your chest, soothing the discomfort. “How’s that?”

“Better, actually. You always know how to pick the right remedies,” you replied, sipping carefully as you looked into his eyes, feeling adequately grateful.

He smiled, pleased, and took a seat beside you, lifting the bowl of soup to your lips. “Now let’s get some nourishment into you. Open up.”

You let out a laugh at his silliness. “You sound like a parent feeding a child.”

“Well, someone has to make sure you eat,” he rebutted playfully, taking a spoonful for himself and nudging it closer to you. “Besides, I happen to be an excellent caregiver. Ask the team.”

You laughed but complied, allowing him to feed you. Each small bite of soup made your stomach feel more alive. “You really do care too much, you know that?”

Carlos’s eyes softened, a tender look sweeping across his face. “Caring for you is the easiest thing in the world. Look at you; you’re adorable, even when you’re sick. I can’t help but want to take care of you.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his words, and the drowsiness seemed to fade away momentarily. “You’re the adorable one, you know.”

“Is this a competition now?” he teased, feeding you another spoonful. “Because I’m winning.”

As the soup slowly diminished, laughter filled the space between you two, easing the sickly clouds in your head. The warmth in your chest was now anchored by his company, and just being near him felt like a balm to your aching body.

After the last remnants of soup were consumed, you laid back against the couch, your eyelids drooping. “Thanks, Carlos. I really needed this.”

“Anytime, mi amor,” he murmured, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Now let’s get you tucked in. You need your rest.”

“What about you? Aren’t you tired after all that?” you asked, watching him as he arranged pillows behind your head.

“I’ll be just fine,” he replied lightly, climbing onto the couch beside you. “As long as I’m with you, I’m always energized.”

Curled up under the blanket, you nestled your head against his shoulder, allowing the heaviness of sleep to pull you down into its comforting grip.

Carlos’s warmth enveloped you, and as his fingers lightly traced the back of your hand, you felt safe and cared for, even in your vulnerable state.

“Get some rest, and I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispered, voice low and soothing, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

In that moment, everything felt right.

And as you drifted away, you knew, without a doubt, that you were exactly where you were meant to be—with Carlos, the man who would take care of you, on and off the track. . . .

As you pull into the driveway of Carlos’ childhood home, your palms are a mixture of sweaty nervousness and anticipation. Carlos glances at you, the corners of his mouth twitching upward, and you can see the warmth in his eyes, reassuring you. “Are you ready?” he asks, shifting the gear into park.

You take a deep breath, glancing out at the modest brick house. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply, forcing a smile that barely conceals your anxiety. You’ve heard Carlos talk about his family countless times, but stepping into their world feels monumental.

Carlos nods, eyes shining with a curious blend of pride and fear. “Just be yourself,” he says, his voice steady. “They’re going to love you.”

You step out of the car, allowing the early evening sun to bathe you in warm light. As you walk towards the front door, the sound of barking draws your attention. A small, scruffy dog bolts to the edge of the yard, tail wagging furiously. “That must be Piñón,” Carlos chuckles, grinning. “Just wait until you meet him.”

You hunch down instinctively, and soon enough, Piñón leaps into your arms, showering your face with slobbery kisses. Carlos chuckles at the spectacle. “He likes you already!”

Laughter bubbles up from your chest, lightening the heavy atmosphere in your stomach. “I think I’ll keep him,” you tease, giving Piñón a belly rub as he squirms with delight.

Before Carlos can respond, the front door swings open with a creak, revealing an older man with a broad smile and deep-set eyes—Carlos Sr. “What’s this?” he booms, taking in the scene with amusement. “Are we adopting a new family member?”

You straighten up, releasing Piñón, who trots eagerly toward his owner. “Um, I’m actually here to meet the rest of the family,” you say, a hint of nervous laughter escaping you. “I’m—”

“Whispering sweet nothings to my dog, I see!” Carlos Sr. interrupts, wrapping you in a warmth-filled embrace before you can finish your sentence. “Welcome! I’m Carlos Sr. You must be the enchanting one my son has been raving about!”

“Dad!” Carlos playfully scolds, his cheeks flushing a subtle red as you smile.

You look between father and son, feeling the love radiate from both. “It’s lovely to meet you, sir,” you say, awkward but earnest.

“Come inside! Come inside!” Carlos Sr. gestures, leading you both into the cozy home decorated with family portraits. The living room is filled with the scent of something delicious simmering in the kitchen.

“Blanca!” Carlos Sr. calls out, and a moment later, a bubbly young woman appears, her hair cascading in curls as she flashes a wide smile. “Is that you, Carlos? And who’s this?”

You feel Carlos’ hand slip into yours as he beams proudly. “Blanca, this is—”

“Your girlfriend! I’ve heard so much about you!” she interrupts, wrapping you in her embrace before you can respond. “Welcome to the family!”

“Thank you,” you manage, caught between shock and delight.

“Where’s Mom?” Carlos Sr. asks, glancing toward the kitchen. “She should be here to meet the new addition!”

Just then, Reyes Vázquez de Castro strides into the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel, her presence immediate and commanding. “Carlos! You’re here!” she exclaims, her eyes sparkling as she moves past Carlos to envelop you in a warm hug. It feels as if she’s been waiting for this moment forever.

“Wow, I feel like I’ve been hugged by a whirlwind,” you laugh, stepping back a little. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Vázquez de Castro.”

“Just call me Reyes!” she replies, her eyes twinkling. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally meet you! I’ve heard all about you.”

“Only the wonderful stuff, I hope!” you joke, glancing at Carlos who is attempting to hide his amusement.

“Absolutely. Only the best,” Reyes laughs, giving Carlos a mock glare. “Now, come help me in the kitchen. Dinner will be ready soon, and I could use a second pair of hands.”

“Sure! What do you need?” Carlos replies, slipping away to help his mother.

You hang back, feeling the warmth of the family’s connection wash over you. Blanca sidles up next to you, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, how did you and Carlos meet?”

You share the story of the serendipitous meeting at the local coffee shop, how an accidental order mix-up sparked a series of events that led to your blossoming romance. Blanca giggles at the details. “It sounds like a movie! I can’t wait to see him in action when he tells it to all of us at dinner.”

Soon, the living room is filled with the aroma of a deliciously simmering stew, and the family gathers around the dining table. You sit beside Carlos, who reaches for your hand beneath the table, giving it a gentle squeeze as Reyes serves up generous portions of food.

The conversation flows easily, stories of Carlos’ childhood, Blanca’s mischievous antics, and heartfelt anecdotes from Carlos Sr. The laughter bounces off the walls, wrapping you up in the kind of warmth you’d always imagined family dinners would emit.

“Tell us something about yourself,” Carlos’ mom prompts, her approach direct, yet kind.

You look around, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but a swell of confidence rushes through you. “Well, I grew up in a small town too, with a family that loves to laugh over dinner. My parents would host big gatherings; it was chaotic but full of love.”

Carlos’ eyes sparkle with delight as he listens, absorbing every word. “I can see where you get your warmth from,” he adds, and the affection in his tone makes your heart swell.

After dinner, Piñón curls by your feet, and the family sits around the coffee table indulging in dessert—homemade flan. “This is amazing, Reyes!” you compliment, taking another bite.

“Gracias! I’m glad you like it,” she beams.

“Mom taught me everything I know,” Carlos adds, leaning back with confidence.

“Except how to clean up messes,” Blanca chimes in, laughter spilling around the table.

After sharing more smiles, Carlos leans closer. “So, what do you think?” he whispers.

You glance around the room, Your heart brimming with warmth and belonging. “I think I’m never leaving,” you reply, grinning. “You all make it feel like home.”

The evening winds down, and you help clean up amid playful banter. Carlos Sr. pauses at the sink, looking at you with sincerity that pins you in place. “You know, Carlos has been different since he met you. In a good way,” he says, and you can feel the weight of their approval in those words.

Your heart swelled with gratitude. “Thank you, Carlos Sr. That really means a lot to me,” you said softly, feeling the genuine affection radiating from the family.

He nodded, his smile deepening. “Just making sure you know—you’re not just a date. You’re becoming part of this family.”

As the night draws to a close, you find yourself holding Carlos’ hand tightly, feeling grateful for this family that had so warmly embraced you.

In that moment, with laughter and love resonating in the air, it dawns on you—you’re not just here as Carlos’ date; you’re becoming part of something special.

"Okay, enough mushiness! Who's ready for some card games?" Blanca interrupted, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I hope you’re aware that I’m the reigning champion and will defend my title fiercely!”

"Only because you cheat," Carlos teased, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Somehow, I always end up providing her with winning cards.”

You laughed, feeling that beautiful tension between them — a comfortable bond born from years of sibling rivalry and an unspoken love that filled the air.

As the evening wound down and the games began, you settled into the rhythms of the Vázquez de Castro household, needing no script to feel at home among them.

Hours melted away in bursts of laughter and competitive groans as you all settled around the dining table. Piñón sprawled at your feet, his tail thumping rhythmically against the floor whenever he caught your eye.

“Okay, okay. Last hand of the night!” Blanca declared, shuffling cards with a practiced flair as you prepared for what you hoped was a winning hand. Carlos leaned close, his breath warm against your ear, making you shiver in a pleasant way.

"You're going to win, right? Because I’m going to blame the loss on you if I don't.” He winked, his teasing masking a deeper affection that made you blush.

You shot him a challenging look. “Well, if you lose, you have to dance with me later.”

“Only if you promise to lead,” he shot back with a smirk, clearly enjoying the playful banter between you two.

As the game progressed, the laughter only intensified, but it inevitably came to an end. With a dramatic flourish, Blanca tossed her cards on the table, victorious as expected. “Ha! And that’s how it’s done!” she exclaimed, holding up her winning hand.

“Fine, fine—the reigning champion takes her victory lap,” Carlos said sarcastically, rolling his eyes dramatically, which only made you laugh harder.

“Let’s do the dance now! I think that’s only fair!” Blanca prodded, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Carlos groaned, “I can't believe this is happening. You know, I can’t dance to save my life?”

“Oh, come on! Don’t let your reputation be tarnished! Besides, if you can’t dance, no one will know because I’ll be too busy saving my own ass over here,” you replied, your cheeky comeback earning you a sound laugh from Blanca.

The music began to play softly, and Carlos extended a hand to yours. “Alright, lead the way, my esteemed dancer,” he said, mock bowing as you both made your way to the living room.

With a playful shove, you took charge, attempting to lead him through a modified waltz. Each spin and turn brought stifled laughter as Carlos fumbled, stepping on your toes. "This isn’t a classical ball! You’re allowed to relax a little," you said, pulling him gently.

"Let it be known that I’m a terrible dancer," he said, and in that moment, your worlds collided, the laughter easing into a beautiful closeness.

When the last note faded, you both stood there, gazing at each other for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. You could feel the warmth of his hands lingering on your waist, his eyes searching yours for something you barely understood.

"Wow, I wouldn’t trade this night for anything," Carlos said softly, his tone shifting into something sincere and serious that drew you in.

“Me neither,” you whispered back.

As the night drew to a close, you settled with Carlos on the couch, blanket draped around your shoulders, and Piñón curled at your feet, snoring softly. The moments spent with them—filled with easy laughter and unexpected tenderness—made your heart ache with gratitude.

“I’m glad we stayed the night,” you said, looking up at Carlos, who was now reclining against the couch, his fingers brushing yours. “Being here really feels like home.”

Carlos squeezed your hand gently. “You’re not just a guest here. You really are part of this family already.” His voice was steady, and in that moment, you could see how he felt—how the walls you both wore were starting to dissolve, making way for something deeper.

The comfort of that sentiment wrapped around you like a warm embrace, yet the weight of those words lingered in the air. You leaned into Carlos, resting your head on his shoulder, and he moved closer, intertwining your fingers.

All of a sudden, you were no longer just his fake girlfriend or a visitor but someone who belonged—wrapped in the embrace of his family.

With laughter and love resonating through the home, you realized you were part of something special, and as you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were right where you were meant to be. . . .

[canisalbus]

Two things that are completely wildcards from eachother but

machete reminds me of the music artist giles corey especially the song "no one is ever going to want me" and "buried above the ground"

Also I had a dream he was almost supernaturally good at playing saxophone

Excellent recommendations, I added both to his inspiration playlist. Thank you!

Hah, I feel like saxophone is one of those Cool Person™ instruments, I highly doubt he has the necessary charisma to even lay a finger on one.

[deadonyouraccount]

Life Was Easy When It Was Boring - Gwayne H. x Targaryen!Reader

A/N: Hello I said I wasn’t writing but I did anyways bc @wicked-barbie inspired me now back to reposting on ao3, also the title is song lyrics from the police - darkness

Rating: Explicit

WC: 2.4k

Tags: PWP, 80’s corporate vacay, ARUBA!, I do get in the weeds about the au, Rhaenyra’s sister!Reader, Aemma lives, background Rhaenicent, bisexual Gwayne, I physically cannot go without mentioning Criston, dirty talk, oral m!receiving, f!masturbation, Otto argues w daemon while reading fiscal reports by the pool, Gwayne’s mannerisms are so very important to me

The soft din of breakfast being served drew you out of your thoughts. You scanned the room, seeing your sickly father— your mother rubbing his shoulders, a furrow between her brows. You were nineteen, Rhaenyra twenty-two, and set to inherit the family company. Aemma couldn’t have children anymore and now your father had cancer. Things needed to be tidied up considering her gender. Idiotic but whatever, she was intelligent and driven, you idolized your sister.

She was being courted around by the Velaryon shipping heir— you had a feeling she’d found a loophole. Your sister in a sarong, Alicent on her arm passed by, heading down to the pool to have breakfast, sparing no glance your way. You’d noticed Laenor certainly spent more time looking at men himself. A match was a match.

It was summer in the Northern Hemisphere. When the annual holiday to some destination most people couldn’t afford occurred. A neat bow for a two-week chance of expanding business. You went along for the ride, as was your duty.

This year it was Aruba. The Hotel Americana, sitting on lovely Palm Beach. You’d read about it in the Times. ‘Those who wish for familiar hotels with many resort amenities, nightlife, shopping, and gambling will like the scale and variety available.’

Hm. You had a feeling Otto was steering your father towards the economic boom of the United States right now. You went to University in Chicago, grateful for the warm weather. You were a bit shy and awkward, used to pubs and not clubs. Regardless, you liked the spa, courts, and the beach even if you looked like a ghost with that zinc-laden sunscreen your mother ‘offered’.

Not everyone had arrived yet. Uncle Daemon was to join with Laena, scandalously young, but she was strong and mature. Much like the women were in your family. You forked some eggs into your mouth, frowning. Laena calmed him, but he was certainly…chaotic. Daemon and Otto’s arguments were highly entertaining at the least.

Alicent was excited her brother was coming.

Gwayne Hightower was the enigmatic heir, a wildcard by all accounts, but he kept family ties. As a Targaryen looking in, it was expected of him to be ingratiated into the international conglomerate. Alicent was best friends with your sister, she knew all of you and held you as a baby.

The younger brothers who weren’t shucked off overseas in boarding school had their divisions to run and oversee. Where a Targaryen loomed, a Hightower stood in the shadow, pulling the strings, combing the pieces. Except Gwayne. He took off and moved to the States, you’d seen him in magazines.

“A male model, pah! He’s running from his birthright, he’ll learn once he arrives,” you heard Otto scoff to your father over breakfast, tossing a magazine out of his sight. You fiddled with your food, purple eyes peering out the large windows, scanning the bay.

You wondered if Otto held some hope for him. Alicent seemed to be doing just fine in his stead. Yet the idea of Rhaenyra becoming CEO ruffled feathers. Women in business…you certainly didn’t want it.

You thought about Gwayne again. He was handsome. Haughty, yet smiley with who he liked, a gleam in his eye like he held a secret, pretty teeth, and fine features. You were such an ugly duckling the last time you saw him. Baby fat, braces, pigtails. Horrid.

“You must be the other one,” he had laughed at some corporate dinner, earning some giggles and smiles. You smiled until you were alone and cried, watching your sister gleam, a shining star you wished to be.

The other one.

Perhaps you weren't too keen to see him again. Probably would bring a fellow model to strut around the beach with. Probably had a dumb smirk on his face, just like Criston used to. Probably would take a look at you and scoff about growing up and filling out.

You realized you were white-knuckling your utensil and carefully released your grip. You sighed, standing up to get dressed for the day, nodding at your parents.

It was always a flurry of neurotic dressing, comparing yourself to the willowy frame of Alicent and the athletic build of Nyra. Your therapist told you to dress how you wanted, not what you thought people expected. It was the age of athletic, leggy bodies— and you qualified for what felt like neither. Even if you played good field hockey back in school.

It’s not as if you were turned down often, but a bad relationship or harsh word left you insecure now and then.

“Curves, curves are pretty,” you muttered, tying on the top, a neon string bikini— one you'd bought on a whim shopping with your sister before the trip. The bottoms were cut high too, so you wrapped up in a big fishing shirt and slithered downstairs to hit the beach, a towel in one arm, a bag slung off your shoulder.

You walked out of the elevator, a clipped and haughty voice interrupting. They called, “Rhaenyra?”

You frowned. Not Rhaenyra. You turned to see the offender, lips set in a pout. Shock morphed your face. Gwayne Hightower, dressed in designer, his reddish hair all slicked and handsome, smug as you remembered. You blanched, blinking. Recognition flit over his blue eyes— a Cheshire smile upon his lips.

“Oh my, all grown up aren't you?”

He grinned, moving, holding you up as you tried to pass with a polite smile.

“Don’t you want to help a dear Hightower out?” He teased, followed by scoffing laughter. His bright eyes nonchalantly flicked to your face, then down to your tits and back. You would be lying if it didn’t feel good. You wanted him to look at you like that deep down.

What did you want?

You are supposed to be pissed off.

“I’m sure Otto has a whole itinerary for you, Gwayne,” you said coolly.

He shrugged, smiling to hide irritation, “I’m sure he does. I’ll see you on the beach, such a swan now aren’t you, no?”

You scowled, turning on your foot. He remembered the comment, the bastard had read your mind about the ugly duckling. You’d relax by the water and try to forget about his smug face, sharp cheeks, gorgeous blue eyes, and dark lashes- no!

“Fuck!” You hissed, scaring some old couple, ducking your head under your hat.

You’d been dozing under an umbrella, startled as the familiar voice of Gwayne disrupted your peace. He looked annoyed, a dismal look in his eye. The way his mouth pulled down reminded you of Otto and Alicent. You pushed back your hat, looking over at Gwayne lighting a cigarette in the adjacent lounger.

“Hello to you too, I take it you had a warm welcome?”

He scoffed, shrugging, “Oh, it’s always warm when Otto Hightower is in the room. Of course not, he wants me in the business, I want to live my life.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke, staring at the sand.

You mulled over his words, replying, “You could step down.”

“No. I’ll get there on my own time, I listen enough to not get routed immediately. I certainly didn’t come to this island to pour over reports,” he bit out, puffing again.

You hummed, knowing what he wanted. Gambling, girls, glamor. Flowing booze and powder. You saw the appeal, somewhat. Aspects. Perhaps you wanted to be the girl. You looked back at the waves in the distance, sighing, “Then why don’t you go and schmooze up over by the bar and beach volleyball, you’ll find Laenor down there.”

“Laenor,” he snorted, “Yes, playing slap ass I’m sure. He’s a fun time, I’ll admit.”

You pulled down your glasses. No man around you had ever uttered such things aloud. Gwayne laughed, grinning, eyes crinkling. He hummed, “You’re still so naive you know that? You’re a pretty little swan yet hiding out all alone. Men fuck men, it’s real and it’s quite pleasurable, darling.”

You fumed a little, he was tearing you to shreds with his mouth, and tossing the bits around with his hungry gaze. You sat up, glaring, blonde hair cascading down your shoulders. Your manicured nail jabbed at his Ralph Lauren-clad chest, soft voice growing sharp.

“You think you’re going to just waltz in and know everything? Tell me why you’re over here talking about fucking Laenor Velaryon with the spare daughter and not going to ‘enjoy yourself’ or whatever you said. Probably snorting and drinking up the nightclub and blowing your money on rummy. Trust me, I know the type, they just aren’t so blatantly ignorant!”

His smug smile dropped, eyes wide. The man looked chastised. Now you felt bad, frowning. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. Gwayne said nothing, looking to the side, and ashing out his cigarette. You apologized, gathering your scurried emotions.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not easy, all of this,” you gestured vaguely.

He replied quietly, “I was being an ass to you, you had every right.”

A beat of silence enveloped the air.

“You don’t have anyone else out of the circle to go to do you, Gwayne?”

He nodded- that grim look upon his face. You wanted it to go away. You didn’t like upsetting people. Rarely did you speak so candidly. Granted, he was an ass but you hated this tension. You wracked your mind for a quick solution.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” You asked.

“W-what?” He spluttered, blue eyes going comically wide, spine stiffening.

You flushed, groaning at your inability to smooth things over. That was stupid. You should talk to your therapist about this. Thank God your mother let you pursue your career. You tried to speak, but your mouth was growing wet thinking about it. Sucking him off. The fucker hadn’t left your mind.

He cut you off, leaning in, voice husky, “So you're not that sweet little swan everyone thinks you are, hm? Using that pretty mouth, dating bad, bad guys like me. What else are you hiding?”

You whimpered, feeling exposed, the redhead looking around before gripping your waist and pulling you onto his lean thighs. He grinned again, eyes lidded as he watched your expression. Gwayne cooed, “Acting so shy, I thought you wanted to suck my cock baby?”

“I- I do, I just- I said it too soon. I was going to say I was holding resentments from the past against you and I'm sorry again for insulting you. Something is wrong with me? I think you're very, very attractive,” you rambled nervously.

He laughed lowly, stroking your hips and flanks, hands gentler than you expected. The heir nosed under your jaw, humming, “You’re so soft, God, you feel good.” He inhaled deeply, cock swelling and twitching underneath your weeping cunt, separated by thin swimwear.

“I should just sit out by the waves and take you apart, pretty girl, you want it, don’t you? As an apology, yes.”

You whimpered again, nodding, hands sliding his button up off his shoulders, ogling fair skin and a body he put work into. He wasn’t one of those overbuilt types you disliked. Gwayne grabbed the back of your head, meeting his lips with yours, slow and sensual, humming languidly.

Your left hand wrapped into copper locks, the other skimming his chest, a playful thumb sliding over his nipple. His breath hitched before laughing, “Cheeky.”

You resumed kissing him, growing eager, arching into his body, your hand sliding down to grip his cock, moaning softly. Gwayne’s tongue slipped into your mouth, your jaw widening some for better access, tongues gently rubbing on each push and pull. Your heart was thumping, Gwayne groaning as you squeezed his prick.

“I want it, let me let me,” you pled, lips swollen and hair mussed. Gwayne nodded breathlessly, hand on your cheek, the other grabbing a towel as he murmured, “For your knees at least.”

“There’s those manners,” you smiled, purple eyes flicking upward.

Pop. Gasp.

He snickered as your hands went up to cover your exposed tits. Yet not a soul was around and he was stroking his full prick through his swim shorts, handsome face flushed and smirking down at you. You slapped his outer thigh, huffing, “Just couldn’t take the compliment.”

He hummed lazily, “Mm- I just wanted the whole view, those tits and lips.”

Your lashes fluttered, cunt throbbing at his raspy tone. “Mhm, yes, you’ll get it all,” you murmured, easing down the shorts below his balls, Gwayne grunting in relief. Your eyes peered up at him, tying your thick silver hair up. He wrapped his hand around your ponytail, eyes studying you silently.

With a soft inhale, you lapped up the length of his cock, a hand on the tip, the other cupping his sack. You moaned along with him as you wet him nice and good, drooling on his flushed tip, pulling the skin back some. His head fell back with a sharp grunt, gasping your name as your lips enveloped the ruddy tip. You squirmed, thighs rubbing together as you began to bob your head.

His calloused hand got a handful of your breast, pinching and pulling at your nipple. You whimpered, sending vibrations down the length of him as he panted, thighs spreading. Gwayne murmured, hoarse, “Fuck, sweetheart, fuck, you’re going to make this end too fast. I’ll- oh god!” His hand wrenched into your hair as you circled your tongue around the tip of his cock, playfully flicking the salty pre oozing from the slit.

Gwayne tried again, snapping to get your eyes on him.

“I- I said I’ll make you see stars this week. Play with your pretty pussy until you cry, hm? W-want that? Do you want that baby? I’ll do it, I’ll fuck you good and hard, eat your cunt whenever fucking hell,” his sultry rasp peeled off into an anguished moan, throat bobbing as his cock pulsed and twitched.

He was growing close and you whimpered like a bitch in heat for it. Your fingers slid down to your aching clit as you suckled harder, rubbing in tandem, the soft whines and hums bringing Gwayne closer.

His blue eyes were shut tight as he babbled, “Close baby, so close, keep touching yourself for me, mmmfuck.”

Your amethyst eyes met his blue ones, debauched and messy— clumped lashes, mussed hair, your lips stretched tight. He blew with a long groan, gripping your hair again. You swallowed it down, gagging a little as he fucked into your throat in stuttering movements.

You pulled off, wiping your mouth, gasping for breath. Gwayne grabbed you with no qualms, grinning between his heavy breaths.

“Oh sweetheart, you didn’t come did you?”

[10piecechickenmcnugget]

(hi chat. i wrote a fic about oli cameo-ing in wild life. it’s about 1k words. lizzie jimmy and scar are in it. it gets a little sad. i hope you enjoy it)

Oli snickered at the absolutely dumbfounded expression currently being given to him by none other than Jimmy Solidarity.

“Hiya Tim. Did you miss me?”

Jimmy continued to stare with his jaw halfway to the void. “What- you- you’re not- how are you here?”

Oli just grins, sitting back and crossing his legs with what he hopes is an annoyingly smug expression. Judging by the way Jimmy’s eyes flash, it’s working.

“I’m just that special. Being practically god and all, I thought I should pay a visit to my sweet sweet boy.” Oli waves a hand, tilting his head. Jimmy looks cute when he’s confused.

“Does Grian know you’re here?”

Oli grins. “Who do you think invited me?”

If Jimmy wasn’t in shock before, he certainly is now. “Grian. Brought you. Here. To his death games.”

Oli swings his legs absently. “Someone had to write a song for that little trivia bot. 2 of them, actually. In one day. Not sure how I pulled that one off, not to mention the snails.”

Jimmy dissolves into a fit of nonsensical babbling, and Oli can’t help but it burst into laughter again. While Jimmy processes this, Oli decides it’s about time he takes a look around. He hops off the block he’s sitting on, spinning around slowly to take in Jim’s base.

It’s cutesy, he decides, and almost painfully familiar. The cherry theming, the hilltop location, the giant animal statues. It always comes back to death and canaries, somehow. Oli can’t figure out how Jimmy keeps getting away with this. He walks slowly, dramatically sweeping around to take everything in. Listening to cherry petals shift under his feet and trying to drown out the phantom sound of explosions in his head. Jimmy has stopped talking, and is staring at him as he wanders. Oli flashes him a smile. Jim just looks apprehensive.

Oli doesn’t blame him. He’s not supposed to be here, even by Grian’s standards. And mathematically, Oli has an infinite amount of kills per death games he’s been in. He’s not a player, and as such he can’t die. He’s immune to Grian’s wildcards and rules. He’s practically a god, in a way, which is not really something he’s ever experienced. It would be more fun if he was allowed to stay. Maybe he can write another song.

Deciding there isn’t much more to look at, Oli turns fully to Jimmy. It’s uncomfortably quiet. Oli is about to make another quip when the silence is broken.

“Oli? What on earth are you doing here?”

If Oli thought seeing Jimmy messed with his head, hearing Lizzie calling out for him is like a shot to the brain. Even so, he can’t help but smile as he turns around to meet her.

“Lizzie!”

She runs up the hill towards him, slightly out of breath, transparent wings twitching in an all too familiar way. She pauses a few paces away, shooting him a grin.

“I knew those stupid snails sounded familiar. Joel recognized you first. How did you even get here?”

Pretending the mention of Joel doesn’t make him want to explode, Oli just shrugs. “Grian invited me. Voiced some snails, made some songs, and thought I’d come by and cause problems before he kicks me out again.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes. “To be honest, I’m surprised he hasn’t.”

“Well, I am technically God now, so…”

“Is that right.” Smoothing out her dress, Lizzie moves closer, forming a small triangle with the three of them. Jimmy still looks befuddled and Lizzie has that same mischievous glint in her eyes she always does, and Oli is suddenly very homesick. Is that even the right word? Home is where the heart is, or something.

“Yep! 100%, genuine, certified, bona fide God. Can’t die, and my snails wreaked havoc like none other.”

“You’ve got me there.”

“So,” Oli claps his hands together. “This is your guys’s base? Very cherry-esque. Draw inspiration from anyone?”

Lizzie puts her hands on her hips. “Hey! Pink has been my thing since we were kids. Cherry biomes were made for me. I’ve been making cherry wood houses since before your stupid hog.”

“How dare you!” Oli gasps, putting a hand over his chest. “My hog was not stupid, he was magnificent. And pink was my thing too! I had pink hair for a while there, remember?”

“Yeah, cause of me! I’m the only reason you dye your hair at all! And besides, you don’t even die it pink anymore after-”

Lizzie cuts herself off suddenly, eyes wide, and Oli freezes in place. Jimmy looks taken aback by the sudden tension, looking nervously between the two of them.

After what feels like years, Oli exhales. “… Yeah. Alright. Pink is your thing.”

“Oli…”

Oli turns around suddenly, walking purposefully towards the large birds marking the front of their base. He adjusts the little green halo floating just above his hair, which is notably not pink. “These are cute.”

Lizzie, forever hyperaware of Oli’s incessant need to avoid his problems, just sighs. “Aren’t they?”

And just like that, it never even happened. Jimmy eventually realizes he’s never getting any answers, and joins in the banter, helping Lizzie take Oli on an official tour of their base. Eventually Scar returns, resulting in a 20 minute long argument that ends with Lizzie half dragging Oli down the hill and towards the cave BAM has claimed as their own. Lizzie bitterly shows him where her snail first made an attempt on her life, and Oli’s apology is ruined by the fact that he can’t stop snickering.

Eventually Lizzie drags him back up to the surface, and all too fast for Oli’s liking it’s nightfall. Scar unhelpfully comments that they’ll need their sleep to deal with whatever horrors will happen next session, and that Grian will probably be on Oli’s case soon.

Reluctantly, Oli says his goodbyes. And if he hugs Lizzie just a little too long, she doesn’t comment on it. And if his heart isn’t quite in the jokes he makes at Jimmy’s expense, no one says anything.

He doesn’t really know where he’s going. He’s not entirely sure how he got there at all, to be honest. He supposes he’ll have to track down Grian and ask. He doesn’t want to leave, he’s getting awfully tired of finally finding his friends just to lose them again.

Maybe Grian will add him to the next season.

[mirisss]

Stray Kids Poly Headcanon

Wordcount ≈ 600

Warnings: talk about food, clinginess, I think that’s it let me know if I missed something, 

Pairing: Stray Kids OT8 x gn! reader 

Thank you for the request @kai-lee08, hope you like it!

If you’re a STAY you know how close the members are. I mean they’re pretty much glued together to each other. The same thing will happen with you, their partner/girlfriend/boyfriend. Some people have emotional support animals, SKZ has an emotional support partner. All eight of them love being close to you and if two days go by when they don’t see you, they become anxious. They feel incomplete without their partner by their sides. 

Dates are often executed in pairs or trios if they involve going out. Movie dates are always all of you together. Some date pairs/trios: 

Shopping dates always include Jeongin, he’s the fashionista of the relationship after all, and often times Hyunjin too. The two love going out with you to look at clothes and see how good you look and also being able to buy matching outfits for all of you. Changbin joins every now and then, and the times that he joins, don’t you dare try to pay for anything, he will be offended if you even think of paying for your food, clothes, whatever. The same goes for Hyunjin and Jeongin, if they reach for their wallets, Changbin will glare at them. 

Café/picnic dates include Minho, Felix, and Jisung. If it was a café date, Felix or Jisung would have spent hours searching for some cute café that’s sort of hidden away from the public, then they would order every cake, cookie, and everything that the café had so be prepared to be there for hours. If it’s a picnic date, Felix and Minho will have spent a couple of hours in the kitchen baking and making food for the date. Felix will make brownies and cookies, and Minho will prepare any food that you mentioned you wanted, sandwiches, salads, pasta, pizza, whatever it was he fixed it. Jisung and you were in charge of choosing the location and fixing the blanket for the date. As long as the weather allowed it, the four of you would stay out for hours. Playing games like hide and seek because why not? 

Bang Chan and Seungmin are sort of wildcards, they can do whatever as long as it is with you. While the two often work they love having you around. If Bang Chan is busy working on making songs for the group, he would love it if you surprised him by showing up with lunch and then staying with him, sitting beside him, or just in the studio, he might not be able to talk too much as he is so focused but knowing you’re there helps him, he becomes more inspired and suddenly the song he struggled with was finished in a few minutes. Seungmin takes his job very seriously and he always schedules extra vocal training sessions during which he is very happy when you decide to join him to listen to his silky warm voice and get lost in the sound. During the breaks that they take they always give you hugs and kisses, thanking you for being there with them. 

Your favorite dates are those spent at home with all eight of them though. Choosing movies, ordering food, eating snacks, snuggling close on the couch to them, the hugs and kisses, the hand holding, the innocent touches, the not-so-innocent touches, the deep talks, just everything with them. Let’s just say that being in a poly relationship with SKZ will be fun, filled with laughter, and you will rarely be alone because Stray kids have separation anxiety.

[lvndrdaaze]

OKAYOMAYIJAY IK YOU JUST DID DILUC BUT UH UH UH if you can do another head cannons (cause the way you wrote it was so beautiful) I'LL SING LE FESTIN FOR YOU

ajdhaksja alright alright here's my wildcard for him, god I love Diluc sm <3 better start practicing the song bestie

(gn!reader, suggestive but not explicit? No minors anyway pls)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Whilst Diluc isn't always the most outwardly playful person, he does still have a sense of humour. It only tends to show once you've been together for a long time, but once he gets to that point, he has a secret weapon that he likes to use on you occasionally when you're least expecting it. You see, working the bar at Angel's Share, he's heard his fair share of terrible pick up lines, and he'll use them to catch you off guard. He'll sidle up behind you slowly whilst you're getting ready for bed, a barely noticeable smirk on his lips, and drop a line like "You look like you're low on vitamin D. Mind if I give you some?" or "I can't predict the weather, but I think you'll be getting a few inches tonight." Something about those words coming from his mouth, in that stoic, prim and proper tone, shocks a laugh out of you. He adores the sound of your laughter and the fact that he can elicit it from you, despite the public perception of him as a deadly serious nobleman, and it also gets his intentions across quite nicely at the cost of a shred of his dignity. But, he thinks it's worth it to see you smile.

Feel free to request more NSFW/SFW alphabet headcanons! More info in my pinned post ^-^

[squigglebug]

playlist is happening

I've started with just a few songs, one for each member of the gang, though I do plan on adding some more.

Silas Flint: Big Iron by Marty Robbins

I really considered this for Delacy, since he did literally win a shootout against a villain. But ultimately, I think the character of the ranger is far more similar to Silas. Even since his break with the law, Silas is motivated by justice and his desire to do the right thing. I really do see him as someone in the fight against those who hurt others.

Most fitting line: "Oh, he might have went on livin', but he made one fatal slip / When he tried to match the Ranger with the big iron on his hip"

Nate Jansen: Hey Mister by Poor Man's Poison

Nate's a wanderer. He doesn't have much of a direction or goal, but he knows he needs to keep moving. Johnny described this whole wildcard thing as basically being Nate's retirement project, but I think becoming Harrowed and now having this supernatural entity to contend with has added a new layer of haunted-ness to Nate's existence. He's no longer living on the borrowed time of old age, but he is in a constant struggle for control of his own soul.

Most fitting line: "The devil's been on my back now for quite some time / Yeah, it's just been me and him, and the whispering wind / And it's, it's time to find a little peace of mind"

Delacy: Gun Song by The Lumineers

I realize it's a tad ironic to give Delacy a song that repeats the line "I don't own a single gun," but hear me out. I considered this one for Garnet due to the references to a father, but ultimately went with Delacy because wanting to live a life different from that of his parents is the whole reason he's out here. Rooster represents freedom, change, and a new life for him, and I think that matches the song perfectly.

Most fitting line: "And one day, I pray, I'll be more than my father's son / But I don't own a single gun"

Edie Valentine: Raise Hell by Brandi Carlile

There's a lot of love in Edie, but beneath that sweet exterior is also a lot of strength. Not that strength is the opposite of love in any way-- Edie's love for her brother, for her friends, for the people she needs to protect is what makes her strong. She's kind and she's fiery, she's sweet and she's determined. She knows the path she's on isn't an easy one, but she'll be damned if she lets anyone talk her off of it.

Most fitting line: "You have a mind to keep me quiet, and although you can try / Better men have hit their knees and bigger men have died"

Garnet Munroe: The Hand That Feeds by The Crane Wives

Garnet is a tough one, because we don't actually know all that much about her. We know that she was raised by her father, and he seems to have been the one who taught her how to play cards, though it's unclear if he also had Garnet's hex-slinging abilities. What we do know is that the relationship had a significant effect on Garnet. In fact, as far as we know, it's the most significant relationship of her life. I decided to go with a song that reflected that.

Most fitting line: "My papa taught me how to howl / How to bare my teeth and growl / He taught me that the hand that feeds / Deserves to be bitten when it beats"

[larrylimericks]

23Mar23

We’re feeling some internal friction At silver screen Louis’ depiction; All the world is a stage But it’s hard to engage When plot lines combine fact and fiction.

I get really rambly below the fold. Proceed with caution if you’re over the discourse already.

I debated seeing All of Those Voices in theaters. I didn’t see either of Harry’s films in theaters — Harries are too much of a wildcard, and I refused to sit through hours of squeals and gasps and reactions, not to the movie but to “omg! Harry’s going down on someone! omg, Harry’s bum!” So I was already tentative about seeing Louis’ film in a shared space, outside the protective silos of tumblr. But I bought a ticket, because I want to support him and because I was genuinely curious what story would be told. Then we got the trailer and I hesitated again, not wanting to watch a propaganda film. But, I’ve lived through all the other Bullshit moments, so I figured I could live through Bullshit on the big screen.

My theater crowd was great — pretty neutral aside from an amusing row of politely excitable Larries I was in secret solidarity with. And I pretty much loved the film. Well, 92% of it. I look forward to watching it again when it streams. I mean, it was an hour and a half of content featuring this fascinating creature we’re all obsessed with. I didn’t want to blink. I hung on his every word (when I could understand them). How cool to get, essentially, a long-form interview, where he’s not promoting an album and we’re not getting the same sound bytes. Louis is wonderfully open and vulnerable, and the story of his life (heh) is inherently compelling. The cinematography is beautiful. The behind-the-scenes are delightful and delicious. I can’t wait for the AOTV gif sets once we have it in high-def.

But it has some plot holes as wide and deep as the ones in Don’t Worry Darling.

First, there’s the confusing (to the uninformed) absence of a love interest. Louis is asexual, as far as the film goes. There’s not even a ghost of Eleanor, with whom he’s cumulatively spent a decade and who is supposed to have inspired so many great love songs and with whom he is supposed to have survived a pandemic. Props to E for living her best life now: going to see Scream on AOTV opening day, enjoying full custody of the pups, publicly supporting her assumed partner — sorry you got Kiki Layned from the film, but I’m guessing you weren’t even written into the script. (It’s not like the film was conveniently re-edited in the months since their break-up. Her stunt tapering was intentional.)

Then there’s the glaring absence of a baby mama (thank god; that family would have been even more insufferable). We’re cruising along for 45 minutes or so and then, wham, Dad!Louis enters the chat with a fully formed 6-year-old child. The kid just magically appears with no backstory — just like in real life ... twice (the first time with the pregnancy announcement and the second time with the revival of Dad!Louis after several years of dormancy, right in time for documentary filming. Just like Harry stunted with his co-star during filming and production, Louis stunted with his.)

The kid is cute, and faultless in this. The scenes are objectively sweet (as they were designed to be). But Louis, who normally keeps things very close to the vest, is all of a sudden an emotional spigot you can’t turn off when it comes to these scenes. It seems quite out of character. Which brings back to mind that this Louis *is* a character. The Freddie scenes just didn’t seem to have a point in the plot other than: Louis is a dad. And that role isn’t integral to the film’s story.

He’s incredibly emotional with Freddie, but the movie doesn’t tell us why. The storytelling gets lazy here. The lad/dad plot seems wedged in. The movie would be perfectly complete without it. I felt like it could have been integrated a few different ways: Louis experienced tragedy after tragedy after tragedy — loses 1D, loses his mum, loses his sister ... and then impending fatherhood either becomes another trial he must reluctantly face (in the surprise pregnancy narrative) or it helps him navigate the grief of losing his sole parent, his closest confidante. OR, Louis, not wanting to be like the absentee father he had, shows up for his own oopsie baby despite the unexpected circumstances. But there’s no exposition or rising action. No footage or photos from the first few years of the kid’s life that we haven’t already seen. Just an immaculate conception.

I think the most compelling narratives of the film are these:

Louis’ overcoming adversity after adversity after adversity. Holy hell. I lived through 1D ending, through the devastating news about Jay (god, I remember the shock and sadness of that day — it was incomprehensible), through the heartbreaking news about Fizzy, and then when you think Louis is gonna get his moment of victory with his first solo world tour, coronavirus pulls the rug out. (That sequence was well done: where we keep seeing the dates get closer and closer to March 2020, and we all know the villain that’s coming, but it’s still such a blow.) I lived through all that in real time, but seeing it in such a concentrated sequence really highlights the shit he’s been dealt, and hearing him open up about so much of it ... that’s the character development relevant to the film’s denouement. And getting to see Louis get what he deserves, finally, and hearing him acknowledge that he deserves it, was a lovely ending.

Louis’ journey to find his footing and his confidence as a solo artist after unfathomable success as part of a group. But, in a sort of plot twist, he’s not really solo, is he? The film gives a lovely introduction to his band now — and in their own words, reveals that they’re not just a backing band, they’re a *band* band. Louis has let them in. He’s forged a new brotherhood. *That*, for me, was the heartwarming story. I loved those scenes, loved seeing Louis in his element, which is in a collective, where he is both king and jester at the same time. (Or perhaps Oli’s the jester. Thank fuck for him, man. Oli is the standout. The breakthrough performance. The comic relief. I want a spinoff series.) It’s easy to miss 1D and glorify those short years and think nothing will ever top it, but Charlie’s storytelling of the LT Band is remarkable. We’re left looking forward, not back.

I know Louis’ dedication to his fans and his fans’ dedication to him is a huge focus, but I don’t really enjoy watching commentaries on fandoms I’m a part of. I’m living it. I don’t need outsider context. And in a fandom as fractured as Louis’ (and 1D’s) there’s not a universal experience. The film depicts dedication as sleeping on streets for rail, hopping from country to country and draining bank accounts — because that’s the kind of “superfandom” that gets easily turned into a marketable freak show. Show me the documentary on the fans who organize the light projects, who run the fashion accounts, who curate livestream sources on show nights, who have turned giffing into an art and science, who help promote Louis in the absence of a competent marketing team, etc., etc. I also thought the interview with the American(?) girls talking about LATAM shows was shortsighted. And showing the rainbow factions but not addressing them? What a missed opportunity to talk about songs like Only the Brave becoming a queer anthem. Straight artists can have gay fans, you know.

But the film doesn’t make the kid relevant to any of those storylines. He could have been worked into the first, but wasn’t. It was like a standalone narrative, with footage from a narrow set of days. I was at both those L.A. shows. The energy was so different from night 1 to 2. And in retrospect it’s clear Louis was performing the first night so Charlie could get the right shots. More like a choreographed play than a rock concert. It makes sense now why the Clarks weren’t in the VIP box with Freddie — couldn’t have them cluttering the frame or distracting the actors. Just, everything about the Freddie scenes is heavy-handed. Make a sign for your dad! Draw his logo in the sand! Fly a kite at sunset! He’s the spitting image of Louis! (Len does all the heavy lifting.) And all the maneuvering it had to take to get all those shots from the L.A. show?! In the VIP box from behind (and from the front, and when he just happens to be mouthing along to Two Of Us), side stage watching Louis end the show, on-stage watching Louis approach Freddie after the show, on-stage catching the moment Louis gives the lad a shout-out ... Charlie had a shot list. But sure, nothing was set up, it was totally organic.

I’m still unsettled by how heavily Charlie laid it on at the first premiere press conference — *he* was the one to bring up the kid, and was weirdly emphatic that nothing was staged, nothing was forced. It had the same energy of the “It’s. Not. Real” thrown baby doll moment, only it’s Charlie insisting that It. Is. Real. Thou dost protest too much, me thinks.

And of course, the lack of interaction between Louis and Harry remains, as ever, the biggest tell. We get poignant post-1D Nouis and Lilo moments in the film, but no Larry. We’re spoon-fed these Very Emotional Moments between father and son (“love you,” “Darling,” mouth kisses), when the real story, the real emotion, the real connection is in just a few seconds of furtive glances between Harry and Louis in the backstage footage of the last 1D performance. Christ, the way Harry’s eyes bore into Louis — chin tilted down, eyes glancing up from beneath a furrowed brow, lips tight, disguising his attentiveness with a hair flip ... they mastered so many forms of silent communication. The quiet call and response, the depths of love and care and concern and protection contained in micro-expressions. Fuck, give me 90 minutes of that. Just a silent film of Louis and Harry looking at each other.

Anyway. Sorry this sounds so grumpy. I did really love most of the movie. But I haven’t made sense of why this film was made. I don’t know its purpose. Maybe the introspection forced by the pandemic lockdown is to credit for this glut of music docs (“docs”) lately. Maybe nine minutes frees him up for nine more months or nine more years. I dunno. He obviously wanted this story told in this way.

Seeing a movie requires the willing suspension of disbelief. You have to ignore critical thinking in order to enjoy the story you’re being told. You tune out your knowledge that everything is fake for the sake of being entertained. We know that Superman can’t actually fly, but we still buy tickets to the cinema. But, a documentary shouldn’t require us to employ this semi-conscious perceiving mode. Yet here we are. I’m just not sure how much more or how much longer we can suspend our disbelief to enjoy fandom.

[lettersfromyourvalentine]

THE NINE DELIGHTS

The secret to health & happiness lies in collecting as many of these delights as the day will allow without exhaustion. To live is to revel, to hunger, to savour, to ache for more.

Author’s note: If ever I cease to romanticize life, know that I have already perished.

TO ERR & TO ROAM – Wander without purpose, without urgency. Shoes against pavement, head adrift in the ether. No destination, only movement—only the quiet communion of fleeting glances exchanged with strangers. The art of drifting, of surrendering to the pull of elsewhere.

TO GATHER & CONSPIRE – Whispers in the dark, hands that lighten burdens, laughter spilling between sips of cider. Friendship as sanctuary, as covenant. The solace of finding those who speak your language, who know the weight of your name without needing to ask. Your kindred, your coven.

TO TASTE DIVINE INDULGENCE – A mouthful of something exquisite. The first sip of coffee in the hush of morning. Sugar dissolving on the tongue. Lips stained red with wine, fingers sticky with something sweet. The very first quarter of citrus - a moment so decadent it borders on sin.

TO TRANSCEND – The quiet thrill of becoming. A shift in your bones, an ember catching in your chest. The veil thinning, the universe pressing its lips to your ear. A song playing at the perfect moment. Dancing to it in your kitchen until your feet hurt. The shiver down your spine when you know something great is coming. 

TO BE DELIRIOUS WITH MIRTH – Laughter so reckless it borders on ruin. Breath stolen, ribs aching. Hands clutching at friends as the world tilts and you fold into one another, undone by joy. That aching, gasping, stomach contracting, howling kind of euphoria.

TO ENGAGE IN CARNALITY – Bodies entwined and tangled in heat. Fingers sinking into skin. Teeth at the throat. The kind of desire that leaves bruises and marks. A demonic appetite you do not fail to answer. To touch, to take, to unmake. (To fuck.)

TO OBSESS – To vanish into something vast, something all-consuming. Hours lost in a feverish spiral. To be swallowed whole and not spit back out the same. To surrender to the glorious ruin of devotion.

TO FORGE – The alchemy of creation. Hands shaping, refining, sharpening. Muscles aching. To make something from nothing, to carve yourself into something unbreakable. To emerge—razor-edged, gleaming, more. TO EMBRACE A WILDCARD – The whisper of the unknown. A secret joy, a reckless impulse, something forbidden, something sacred. The kind of change that tastes like freedom. A delight known only to you. One that stares down into the void, unstumbling, unyielding, and that proclaims - I fear no bones or reapers.

[rriavian]

may I propose for December Prompts "starry night" for Morpheus x Lucienne or "hot chocolate" for Morpheus and baby Orpheus? :)

A small foot stomped. 

“No sleep!”

“Orpheus.” Dream said, unimpressed at even such a bold declaration of war, unmoved by even such defiant vehemence. “It is time for bed.”

This was not accepted as an adequate reason for Dream’s interruption of Essential Activities—the four hours Orpheus had spent playing his new favourite song on the lute—so opposed was his son to it that his announcement was immediately rejected by no less than five head shakes. The response made it clear that not only was Dream’s reasoning inadequate, but that it was actually an insane suggestion bordering on the ludicrous.

His sons small face had become one of determination, fixed in a set expression of horrified disgust. “No.”

Time for a wildcard.

“Then you do not want hot chocolate?”

This seemed to stump Orpheus quite completely.

The offer of hot chocolate proved to be a most compelling rebuttal, one his son had not anticipated, the proposal revealing an unexpected vulnerability in an otherwise flawless defence. Attrition was slow though, capitulation still not guaranteed, small fingers fiddling with the hem of a raven patterned pyjama top as this new contender was assessed. The frown turned thoughtful rather than angry, tension softening as Orpheus paused to consider this new argument for what it was worth, evidently taking the time to review every possible angle.

The silence stretched.

In terms of a game face it was quite impressive; Orpheus gave no sign as to which way he’d fall, and yet this silence at least confirmed a bribe was not yet off the table.

After a minute or so he blinked but otherwise remained impassive. The dark eyes—so like Calliope’s, so beloved—quietly considering, remaining so even when a deep breath was taken. Perhaps to steady the impulsive actions encouraged by a rush of anticipation, though who could be sure?, because when it came the question was merely curious.

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yes.” Dream confirmed the offer, set the scene for what could be attained, allowed a small pause and then continued in a tone soft and the slightest bit sly. “It is good for encouraging drowsiness after all. Though if you do not want—“

An excited interruption.

Orpheus had skipped closer. He’d wandered within touching distance—a dangerous prospect when he’d so recently felt at risk of being scooped up and delivered to his room—grabbing Dream’s hand and blurting out his question. “May I have some?”

Dream smiled. “Will you go to bed?”

It was important to name one’s price before agreeing a trade.

There was still a gamble in mentioning the apparently dreaded topic that was 'bedtime', but Dream believed he’d weighted those odds far enough in his favour to be safe. There was a caveat in this bribe after all, an exchange to be made, an agreement to be reached. It was polite to make the terms certain even as success was already within his grasp; Orpheus only tightening his grip on Dream’s hand in response, for all he was taking his time to answer he was also now tugging him towards the kitchen.

A decision had clearly been made. Orpheus seemed unwilling to risk the loss of hot chocolate even if there was a sacrifice to make in return. “Can I take it to bed?”

Still negotiating though. 

Dream pretended to think about it while allowing himself to be led. “You may.”

“Can I have a story too?”

Further requests? 

This deal certainly required a lot of sweetening. Dream’s smile only widened.

“Always.”

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

Character Q&A - Mallory & Wil - June '24

Hey peoples!

Over on Patreon, members can submit questions for poll-winning characters to answer in-character. The current hotseat belongs to Mal and Wil simultaneously. Since the answers are public, I figured why not post them here too. Enjoy!

For Mal:

Q: Mal, is there a look you feel the most comfortable in?

A: Sorta? It's more like, there's a range I prefer staying inside. I don't like being too tall or too short, I like keeping the toned bod. I'd have glasses a lot more if they weren't a pain in the ass with a mask. Usually prefer not being too masc or fem, but that depends. It's a comfort thing. Oh, and I don't like changing ethnicity. I dunno how to explain it but it feels, like... yeah I dunno. Lying isn't usually a problem for me but that kinda deceit makes me feel not okay.

Q: When did you first discover you could do what you do?

A: I was like nine or ten and I was screwing around in the kitchen. I think I was trying to microwave dirt or something? I was a little shit when I was a kid. Anyway I picked up my toasty dirt and my hand kind of just melted and I'm freaking out and thinking I invented acid dirt. Luckily mom was there and ran in and she kinda knew what to do, so I put my hand back together and started changing skin colours. Red, blue, orange, all kinds. Then I got grounded for microwaving dirt.

Q: What's your idea of a good date?

A: Hm, good question. I like to switch things up, but I'd rather be doing like, an activity. I get kinda restless with sitdown stuff like dinner or going to the movies. Would rather curl up at home if we're gonna watch something. But yeah, like, going to the club, dancing, just doing things in each other's company, and if we can go home and cuddle or uh, more, afterward, then even better. I mean that's not essential, touch is just a thing for me.

Q: What do you think of the new members?

A: Teddie needs to lighten up. I know his power is a shitty hand, but the grouchy act gets kinda old when you're trying to work as a team. Kay's fun, though if she sticks with this career she's either gonna wise up or she's gonna get burned hard. Still, it's nice having someone around who gets gender stuff. I like Wil but I don't think he's cut out for this line of work. Just a feeling. Guilty conscious, you know?

[MC] is interesting. 'lil bit of a wildcard. Definitely holding a lot back, but who isn't? There are deep wounds there, and I mean deep. I dunno. People with nothing to lose are dangerous, and I doubt [MC] has much.

Q: What kind of movies / TV shows do you like?

A: I'm an unrepentant lover of trash. Give me shitty reality TV and direct to DVD movies. Musicals, too. Just, uh, hope you don't mind hearing all the songs over and over the next few days cause I'll be singing them nonstop.

Q: Did you ever think of being an actor?

A: Nah, not for me. Only two things I ever wanted to be. Still working on those.

For Wil:

Q: Wil, what's your idea of a good date?

A: A good date's one where everyone enjoyed themselves. The actual activity could be almost anything. I love taking people to concerts, though. Not big ones, I'm talking the kind that you get at a bar or maybe a smallish performance centre. There's just something special about it.

Q: What do you think of the group?

A: I don't like that Dion kept things quiet until we'd already committed ourselves. I'm all for giving the government a big fuck you, but Dion held it back on purpose. Makes it harder to trust him. The group as a whole is alright, I guess. Get along okay with everyone. Little surreal to have coworkers and friends as a villain. Hanging out with buddies in downtime isn't something I ever pictured villains doing, you know?

[MC] worries me a bit. There's this... haunted air, and that doesn't happen out of nowhere. I kind of hope there's something I can do to help.

Q: What music do you listen to?

A: K-pop and country.

*cracks up*

Okay, that was a lie. Yeah, I'm absolutely predictable. I like punk and metal, bit of alt rock. I have a pipe organ album, too.

...what?

Q: How did you meet Teddie and Kay?

A: We were all younger. Their powers were both already a thing, mine weren't. They used to hang out a lot in this one neighourhood next to the Parks which is basically the Parks minus one percent, and I happened to work at a coffee place there. They came in now and then, got the impression they couldn't really afford it very often. Exchanged a few words here and there, hadn't really met them until they staggered in one day all bloody and bruised. I guess I was the nearest person they vaguely thought they could trust?

Anyway that's how I wound up getting introductions while fixing Teddie's broken nose.

[rose-of-oz]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐗

❝ Morvant Bellatrix, otherwise known as the Siren of the East Blue, was one of the most known - and feared - pirate captains on all four seas. And even before that, she’d been one of the world’s most known, and feared, assassins. The captain of the Fatale pirates, the world’s only all-female pirate crew who sailed on the ship Belladonna, Bellatrix had been committing crimes and taking lives ever since she was a child; orphaned as an infant and taken in by a couple who had trained her to fight and kill with almost every weapon imaginable, she had been infamous across the seas from the young age of fifteen. And once she had come across and eaten a Devil Fruit, one that gifted her the ability to make a person feel incredible pain with only a few notes of a specific, haunting song, her danger had only increased, and so, too, had her reputation as a deadly fury that was never to be come across.

Of course, that was mostly in the past, or at least the killing of others for profit was - Bellatrix had made sure of that when she’d killed her adoptive parents and run away - but her terrifying reputation certainly wasn’t. Along with her crew of Fatale pirates, she was one of the most feared names across the East Blue, almost on the same level as one warlord named Dracule Mihawk… who, incidentally, Bellatrix had known since her assassin days, and happened to know very intimately. Every pirate sailing this sea knew of the Siren and her so-called “furies” or “harpies,” and they knew not to cross or engage in a fight with them unless they were very, very stupid.

And of course, Bellatrix had no interest in picking fights with or really interacting with the other pirates at all, desiring to just carry out her business of pillaging and plundering in relative peace with her crew… until she meets a young, eager upstart pirate with a rubber body and his small ragtag crew at an upscale restaurant, and the notorious swordsman she’s been sharing nights with for years almost kills his his green-haired first mate. Suddenly, Bellatrix has taken an actual interest in another pirate crew for the first time in her career, hopelessly endeared by Monkey D. Luffy and his motley group of friends, resolving to do whatever she can to help them along and make sure the bouncing, smiling boy achieves his dream of finding the legendary One Piece and becoming King of the Pirates.

But of course, nothing is ever that simple in a world such as this, a world filled with vengeful pirates and strange powers and cruel Marines hellbent on capturing every seafaring dreamer they come across, and if she truly wants to help Luffy and his Straw Hat Pirates, Bellatrix will have to rely on those around her like she isn’t at all used to, including her crew, those few other pirates who might be willing to help the Siren of the East blue and a group of young wildcards with amibition… and even the mysterious secret romantic of a warlord who just might start to mean a lot more to Bellatrix than just a few years of shared nights. ❞

One Piece Taglist: @auxiliarydetective, @starcrossedjedis, @xoteajays, @oneirataxia-girl, @supermarine-silvally.

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag.

[thenerdofthegroup]

And if I said Agatha fits ‘the family jewels’ album by marina and the diamonds perfectly?!?!? Then what

Are you satisfied- obvious. Always wanting more. Wanting to be the best. Be perfect. Seen as a freak by others due to wanting control

Shampain- Agatha is a metaphor for addiction. This song is all about the terrible side of drinking and addiction. Perfect again

I am not a robot- one of my personal favs (I know I’m autistic don’t). But this perfectly goes with a few scenes where Agatha… she isn’t the same as others. It’s very clear that even in moments of vunerability she can’t switch of that survival. That non human emotion does not come naturally but she does try. The campfire scene where she awkwardly chuckles, still one of the best scenes ever imo, proves this. She is an outside to everyone. Women, witches etc she is outside. Like a ‘robot’ looking in

Girls- right now. Agatha is not a good person. She mocks women. She uses their insecurities and their trauma against them to get what she wants. This whole song is about mocking other women and the societal expectations on them. Agatha doesn’t give a shit. And she will mock anyone that does. If someone thinks she’s ugly, dead. Someone thinks she’s fat, torture. They don’t matter so seeing others feel it is another digging point for her to get under others skins. I know what I’m trying to say but I don’t think it’s working… let’s just say we all know what I’m trying to say

Mowgli’s road- indecision. At every point she could choose to connect and to finally trust others again or keep down the path of ‘survival’. It’s also a very childish and ‘Disney like’ song, which you could link to her childhood. At 18 she had to decide whether she could keep taking abuse or finally kill. Which path to take each time…

Obsessions- the much darker side to her. I personally feel she has a few… mental quirks and this song is about depression, anxiety, ptsd and ocd. I think a lot of what she has been through and exhibits in the show can be linked to these or other mental disorders. But under the charm and bubbles there is a deeply broken person who never wants to feel it. Rio is right. She is a coward. And she runs away from those feelings. Obsessed with perfection and power to escape them

Hollywood- this song is about idolising people. I think this can be applied to both power and her always reaching for it OR about people like Wanda, Billy and Rio. She can never reach their levels of power but she wants it. She needs it. She wants to be them, wants to have that control. She doesn’t idolise them personally say but she wants to claw her way to that pedestal of power

The outsider- I mean… this is obvious. She is THE outsider. She doesn’t fit with witches, humans, gods etc. she is outside of it all. The campfire proved it to me. The Nick flashbacks made it obvious. Always alone, always the outsider. Note my favourite line is how she screams ‘I’m a fucking wildcard’ and Agatha would scream that too. So yes this song to me is one of the closest related

Hermit the frog- her going absolutely batshit insane. But on a more serious note it’s about her becoming worse and worse and spiralling in a terrible relationship. Now, some people argue Rio was this for her, and maybe you’re right. But I don’t see it that way. Agatha was going to kill. They are evil mistresses together. There are nuances to it that I do agree with but this isn’t about that. This is about the darkhold. She moved from one relationship (her and Nicky) and sunk into the darkhold out of pure grief and was abused by it and her mind became worse. That’s at least what I headcanon. That her mental health got dreadful. But it was a toxic pull. She knew it was bad for her but she couldn’t stand the pain and dealing with it alone without a buffer anymore (again guessing because the show with fake title of DARKHOLD DIARIES DIDNT SHOW HER AND THE FUCKING DARKHOLD) *cough cough* anyway. Nick could also be her ‘glass balloon’

Oh no- terror of failing. That’s obvious. This whole song like satisfied screams her. Because she’s a perfectionist. She cannot fail. Failure is the worst thing for her. This song just screams Agatha to me. “Because I feel like I’m the worst so I always act like I’m the best”

Rootless- disconnected from everything. It’s about relocating and that’s what she does. She has no ties to a place, people, anything. She has nothing to connect with (apart from Rio). She is isolated from everything because she has nothing to connect to.

Numb- and if I said Agatha is depressed and masks it with about 1000 masks… but really this whole song is about being numb to everything. And that’s what she is. She feels nothing to death (the action… have to specify now), numb to pain, numb to a lot. Or at least pretends to be mostly. But I think she is numb to a lot due to all the pain she has been through and this song definitely encapsulates that

Guilty- this songs about killing a dog… soooo. Just kidding it’s about family issues. Perfect. To single out one line perfectly “I was just a kid and all I really wanted was my father” swap out father with mother and boom, sad Agatha childhood

Family Jewels- Agatha to a tea. “Ooh, don't you find it strange? Only thing we share is one last name. Did I beat you at your own game? Typical of me to put us all to shame” I can even imagine teenage Agatha screaming this at her mum. Abusive parent who hates her and pushes her away? Tick. The child taking and having to live with the shame of being the stain in the family name? Tick.

God I could write essays about this, most will wood songs and so many other songs that relate to her. My god…

She is just perfect

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Here is a photo of ghost Agatha doing laundry for listening