#i want to be the version of her that i’ve created in my mind

[velvetkisscs]

party 4 u, part of you knew

synopsis: you were an outcast, sunghoon was not. he was your neighbour, your childhood best friend, your first love. sunghoon didn't know that. on the last day of senior high, you decided to face your fears; go to the party and tell him how you feel. part of you knew that things might not end the way you want it to. still, you went.

"i shouldn't have gone to this party 4 u."

wc: 5.2k pairing: popular!sunghoon x fem!reader contains: angst (i tried), childhood best friends, secret crush, first love heartbreak, lack of communication, time apart, mentions of random characters, unexpected reunion, right person- wrong time, use of song lyrics, yn is kinda sad, etc. (let me know if i missed any) a/n: this story was heavily inspired by the "party 4 u" takes on tiktok. they've been flooding my fyp lately. these 2 tiktoks: [1] & [2] specifically. i strictly only listened to party 4 u - charlie xcx while making this.

this story is dedicated to my best babes, @sunoostripletriple <3 go give her a hug rn

i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i had fun writing it! i haven't written anything in a while, so idk if it gives what’s supposed to be gave? or however that saying goes. i do hope that it meets your expectations.

likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated <3

might contain grammatical errors as english is not my first language. not proofread.

you don’t belong here.

not in this dress and definitely not in this moment. but you do it anyway– sliding on the dress you picked– slowly, shakily. you’ve never been to a party before, nor were you ever invited. unsure whether the outfit you picked is too formal, you throw on your brother’s oversized jacket. the mirror reflects someone unfamiliar. perhaps a different version of yourself.

someone prettier. someone braver.

someone even sunghoon might look at. your room is littered with your own clothes, from your bed to the floor. you’ve been mulling over skipping the party for the nth time, uncertain whether this is the right choice. you can just wipe off your makeup, change into your (sunghoon’s) hoodie, crawl into the bed, and bury yourself under your sheets. pretend that the party doesn’t exist, that it’s just a normal night of you staying in.

but your hair is already lightly curled, you’ve done your makeup twice, and you finally convinced your mom to let you borrow one of her necklace after begging for what felt like an hour. you can’t really turn back now.

you hear a knock on the door. it’s your brother, heeseung.

“are you still coming?” he asks.

“i’m almost done.” you lied.

“i’ll wait for you outside.”

it’s too late. you really have to go. for the last time, you stand in front of your vanity mirror, rehearsing what to say to him.

“hey sunghoon. you look good tonight. i mean you always do.” you stutter over your words

“i’ve been wanting to tell you something. i like you. i always have. i think i might be in love with you.”

no. you thought that it’s too cheesy. it’s too much.

over the years, you’ve created different versions of this moment. what words to use, the tone of your voice, when the right time is, and even the outcome. you thought about how his eyes turn into crescent moons, the way his vampire-like fangs show up whenever he genuinely laughs, if he would tell you he feels the same, how you would feel when he pulls you in for a hug while apologizing for not realizing his feelings, and yours sooner. that maybe, you were always the one. 

he’s always been the only one.

but you know reality is never that kind. as soon as you meet his eyes, you fail to think of the proper words, let alone form a sentence that truly conveys your feelings. 

before you could even change your mind, your phone buzzes. heeseung is getting impatient waiting for you. so you leave.

it’s the last day of senior high. you two are going to different colleges. this is your only shot. tonight is your only chance. if things go south, if he ends up looking at you like a stranger– someone he hadn't spend his whole childhood and adolescent years with– you’ll have months, maybe even years of time and distance to forget.

you tell yourself that you’re not doing this for him, convinced that you’re doing this for yourself. that once you get the words out, once you let go of everything that’s been burning inside you, you’ll be free. 

but deep down, a part of you knew.

you’re going to this party for him, not for you.

the party is already in full swing when you arrived. the music is loud, the floor thumping as tangled bodies move in rhythm. not used to this kind of space, you stand still. you pretend to check an important notification from your phone, pretend to be waiting for someone. you’re stalling and you’re not sure what for. maybe for the annoying voice in your head to shut up and let you breathe. or to find the courage to walk up to sunghoon, finally telling him what you’ve been wanting to say.

this party felt foreign. people wear their confidence like perfume. compared to them, you’re a question mark left unanswered. your clothes felt too snug, shoes an inch too high, and your heart definitely too loud. you try to weave through the blur of entwined bodies, scanning the room for that one specific person.

then you see him.

sunghoon.

it didn’t take you long to find him. he’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a red cup in one hand, laughing at whatever jay and jake said. his v-neck shirt clung to his body, adorned with a sleek leather jacket. he drinks from the red cup, his side profile showing off his sharp jawline and his perfectly angled nose. 

his smile is genuine. familiar. unlike the room you’re both in. the smile you used to see everyday, back when he was still yours— well, not yours— but back when he was still closer. back when he’d throw small rocks to your window, asking if you’d want to go out for ice cream. back when you lost your grandpa and he invited you for a movie night in his room. blanket forts and popcorn, all set up by him. back when he used to call you “peach” because you once told him peaches were your favourite fruit, and that you always smell like one. he never forgot.

back when you were each other’s only friend.

back when you still mattered.

sunghoon is always the center of attention. it’s like a scene carved out of a coming of age film. he’s being bathed in the golden glow of overhead lights, the music slowing down. he’s the main character, and you’re just a mere extra passing through. he tilts his head back from laughter, and you see people form a semi-circle around him, orbiting him like planets to a sun. he’s the sun and you’re a rock. you can’t look away even if you tried.

you want to walk up to him. say what you’ve been wanting to say. 

anything. 

something. 

your hands tremble slightly at your sides. your fingers finding comfort at the hem of your dress, trying to anchor yourself.

as you take a step forward, she walks in.

eunji.

beautiful eunji with her perfect everything. her presence alone draws everyone’s attention. she makes a beeline to sunghoon like she’s done it over a thousand times. she knows she belongs by his side. you watch for sunghoon’s reaction, freezing for a second when he sees her. for a brief moment, something unreadable flashes in his eyes. is it nervousness? confusion? that the most popular girl in the school is walking towards him? 

from where you stand, you see eunji wrap her arms around his neck. then she goes for it, leaning in to kiss him.

and to your demise, he lets her.

your breath hitches. your chest tightens. you stand still, feet glued to the ground, unable to move or look away.

the noise of the party fades into the background, as if the person in charge of your life suddenly turned the volume of the whole world down. everything that was once so loud– the music, the chatter– is now barely a whisper. your legs won’t move, you feel stuck, like a statue that can see and feel everything.

in that moment, a hollow feeling blooms in your chest. you feel utterly alone in a room full of people. although surrounded with noise and laughter, you felt so small, so invisible.

your throat burns, a big lump forming. your eyes start to sting. you try so hard to do everything to ground yourself, you find your nails digging into your palm. you can’t cry now. not here and definitely not in front of everyone.

tragically for you– as if the universe is playing a joke– your eyes blur. mascara coated lashes getting damp with the tears you so badly want to hold back. and then–

“yn!” heeseung’s voice cuts through all the noise. and for once, you were thankful for your brother.

you hurriedly wipe your tears away, quickly turning towards heeseung. you put on a false front, smiling at him as if nothing is wrong.

on the opposite side of the room, sunghoon hears your name, his head snaps in your direction. he turns around, moving away from eunji, eyes scanning the crowd like he’s searching for something– someone.

you.

but you’re gone. you walked away.

the ride home is silent. you insisted that heeseung stays, that you feel lightheaded from the unfamiliar setting. that it’s best you go home. he buys it.

you look out to the window, watching the blurry headlights and streetlights pass like ghosts. the driver wondering why the party ended so early, so soon. you offer a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. the driver understood and doesn’t say a word afterwards. you were thankful for that.

your phone buzzes. it was a message from him. 

from sunghoon.

[sunghoon 🤍 10:29] hey, did you attend the party? i thought i saw you but i wasn’t sure.

you stare at the message, then his contact name. but you don’t answer. what will you even tell him? that you were there? that you watched him kiss someone?

that you’ve been in love with him since he hugged you under that blanket fort?

you open the reply box, then close it. but you open it again, typing out a “yeah, i was there.” but you erase it and you try again. “i was gonna say hi..” you delete it. trying to even out your breathing. trying to make the lump in your throat go away, the ache in you heart shrink, disappear. to pretend that it doesn’t matter. that it doesn’t hurt.

but it does.

in the end, you don’t reply. rather, you think to yourself. answering his message in your mind.

“party on, you party on.”

deleting his message, then his contact.

slowly deleting memories of him.

you convince your parents to let you move out to the city. telling them that it’s the best course of action. that it will help you get familiar with your surroundings once college rolls in.

 you leave town a week after graduation.

no texts. no goodbyes.

sunghoon messages you a few more times that summer. random things; things you two used to talk about. harmless things like “did you hear about the new ice cream place that opened up?” or a “come join us at the old arcade!”

you don’t respond.

you read them all. every word, repeatedly. but you let them sit there like messages from an unknown number. a stranger. a part of you hoped he’d try harder. that he’d make the effort to find you. ask you what’s wrong and give you a hug that will heal the very scar he stabbed into your heart.

but he doesn’t. somehow that hurts more than the kiss did.

you stop making blanket forts. stop eating peaches, stop using peach scented body wash. you stop checking his social media. all of the photos you had with him– from elementary to senior high– deleted. except one. a photo taken the summer before senior year. it’s hidden behind a locked album. a picture taken by your own brother, heeseung. you and sunghoon sitting on a swing, backs facing against the screen, ice cream in one hand, the sky a mixed of orange and pink hues, your gaze towards him. 

back then you were already wishing for something.

college is your clean slate. a mix of dorm rooms, group projects, lectures, expensive coffee, and new faces. you keep to yourself, studying every chance you get. you make friends, but not real ones. you don’t curl your hair. you store that necklace away. you don’t go to parties.

you turn yourself into a version that is easier to protect, invisible by choice.

time passes. slowly– painfully at first– you healed.

on your second year of college you meet someone. his name is kaito. he’s good to you. he has the kind of laugh that makes you feel fuzzy inside, hands that always know how to interlace with yours. he doesn’t make your heart race. but maybe, that’s not a bad thing. because hearts that race can easily break. a steady heart endures.

everyday he tells you he loves you. it’s the first thing that leaves his mouth in the morning and the last thing he utters before the day ends. you smile and say it back. and for a good while, you believe it. 

when kaito proposes it’s soft, pure. simple. a walk on the beach after a fancy dinner. he gets on one knee holding out a small velvety box, a ring tucked inside. it’s dainty, it’s precious.

somehow you hesitate. just for a moment. except you don’t know why. 

then you say yes.

not because you were certain. but because you want to be.

your parents are thrilled, his family adored you. everything is perfect. even you start to believe it. that love doesn’t have to be filled with sparks. that it didn’t have to be extraordinary. 

for once, you believe that the hole in your heart is patched up. that sunghoon is just a distant memory you learn to live with.

but memories always have a way of returning.

it starts slow.

a scent, faint and familiar. the kind that smells like cold summer nights and someone’s sweater draped over your shoulders. you catch it on a stranger passing by the grocery aisles. your heart stutters, it knows. for a brief moment, you close your eyes. it’s not kaito. not the steady love you said yes to.

it’s someone else. sunghoon.

it’s been 7 years, you thought. he can’t be using the same cologne. but you know that scent anywhere. he wore it throughout junior and senior year after all. ever since heeseung got it for him for christmas.

you shake it off. it must be a coincidence. 

except it happens again.

you’re at your local café, the one you’ve been frequenting to for group projects and late night cramming. you’re sitting down in a corner table, your laptop open and half a pastry forgotten on your plate. the song plays faintly through the speakers– she needs him by her’s– an indie track that used to be on all of your playlists. the one sunghoon would tease you about before admitting he kind of liked the band too.

your hands hover above the keys. you stare out the window, watching people pass by. maybe the song will finish quicker if you don’t pay attention to it. but it stays. long enough to remind you of the memories. long enough for the lyrics to cling to your skin like his sweater once did.

and then, kaito.

your sweet fiancé. kaito comes home with a new bottle of body wash and other travelling necessities for his upcoming business trip. 

“i thought you’d like this one, babe.” he says, placing it onto the bathroom counter.

“it’s peach scented. you like fruity things, right?”

you do.

it’s the exact brand you used to have in your old childhood bathroom. the one sunghoon would always tease you about whenever he’s over to play with heeseung. saying “why do you smell like a juice box?”

you stopped buying it after the party.

but the world likes to play a joke on you. the same body wash sits innocently on your counter. like time is just a concept, that it’s not real. like years haven’t passed. everything you tried so hard to erase is coming back. uninvited.

then a letter addressed to you comes.

a small pink envelope in your mailbox. you almost miss it, wedged between bills and packages. inside is a wedding invitation. heeseung, your brother. he’s getting married.

the card is beautiful– soft lavender coloured, adorned with bold calligraphy, a picture of heeseung and his fiancé, information and the dress code. 

lee heeseung and im seo-ah invites you to celebrate their wedding saturday, june 19th, 5:00pm at serenity garden

you stare at it, contemplating. there’s no rsvp option. you have to go.

kaito can’t make it. he calls the night before, apologizing every chance he gets. apparently there’s an emergency in japan. something about the budget and the investors. he promises to make it up to you when he returns. you tell him it’s fine. that you can manage.

you arrive at the venue. you wear a simple, ankle length dress with layers, coloured in different shades of blue, and a small scarf that came along with it. the dress is shaped like a flower, quite fitting for the theme of the wedding. you look like a woman who’s moved on.

but inside, you’re still the same quiet girl, heart pacing.

the sky is bright and clear. a gentle breeze flutters through the air, carrying the faint scent of lilac and hydrangeas. the sun casts golden streaks over the flowers and the white line-covered chairs. 

everything feels like a scene from a movie– too perfect to be real. soft jazz plays in the background, fairy lights hang between tree branches. it’s romantic. beautiful in a way that makes your chest ache. 

because it reminds you of your younger self. 

the one who curled her hair in her childhood bedroom. the one that carefully brushed eyeshadow on her lids. the one who felt like she didn’t belong. you’re watching someone else’s life unfold– someone who belongs into this moment, this life, better than you do.

and then you see him.

standing tall by the entrance of the venue in a perfectly tailored tuxedo. his face breaks into the biggest grin when he spots you.

“yn!” he calls, kindly weaving through the guests to get to you.

your heart beats rapidly.

he sweeps you into a tight hug. a hug so warm, so real, so grounding. 

“can’t believe you, out of all people, are married. you look amazing!” you say, pulling back from your brother’s hug.

he shrugs. “you clean up okay yourself.”

then his wife appears– seo-ah. she exudes elegant grace, the kind of woman who makes you understand why your brother fell in love so hard.

seo-ah greets you with a sweet smile. then a hug. you can tell she’s extremely nervous. “i’ve heard so many things about you!”

“and i’ve heard so much about you!” you reply. “all good things, i swear.”

later, during the reception, your name is called for a speech.

your stomach flips. you weren’t prepared. you didn’t plan much. you didn’t think you’d be asked. but it only makes sense since you’re the sister of the groom. 

every eye in the room is on you. something that never happened before. your legs feel like they will give out the second you make your way to the small stage. but you do it anyway. you hold the mic with both hands.

“hi.” you begin, your voice shaking. “i’m heeseung’s younger sister. surprising right?” a few chuckles ripple through the crowd.

“i basically spent most of my life watching him be the loudest person in every room. the first person to finish a whole box of ramen in a week, and definitely the worse person to share a bathroom with.”

more laughter breaks the tension. you exhale and continue.

“but i can assure you that he’s the most loyal person i’ve ever known. and i’m not saying that because he’s my brother. i remember when my first pet hamster died, he stayed up with me all night. he even bought me the candies i liked with the very little allowance he had. when i failed my physics exam, he made sure to tutor me until i understood the gravity of the situation.”

you catch heeseung looking a little flustered and you smiled at him.

“when he met seo-ah, he changed. not in a bad way, but in a real way. he became someone who listened more, someone who laughed a little softer, but loved harder. louder. and it’s all because of you, seo-ah. you truly bring out the best in him. i will never trade you for anyone else, you’re my sister now. thank you for taking him off my back. and good luck dealing with that.” another wave of laughter erruupts.

you pause.

“here’s to new beginnings. to love. the kind that grows with you. and the kind that feels like coming home.”

applause and glasses clinking fills the room. you feel like you might float away from sheer relief. that attention is no longer directed at you, but to the newlyweds. you don’t notice the eyes that were once watching you. 

but what you didn’t see is how a pair of eyes never looked away. a pair of eyes that never left your frame ever since you stepped up to speak.

his fingers curl loosely around a champagne glass. his chest rising, then falling. as if he just learned how to breathe. except you don’t see it. the way his expression softens with every word that leaves your mouth. a sense of pride in his gaze whenever you made the crowd laugh. a smile threatening to tug at his lips. you don’t see any of it.

not yet.

descending down the steps, you finally start to breathe evenly. that’s when it happens–

your eyes meet.

everything stops.

the music, the laughter. the chatter, the clinking of glass. everything goes silent.

it feels like you’re seventeen again. standing in a crowded room, but somehow alone. every memory you once buried, bursts to the surface. seven years of silence. of forgetting, pretending. all coming out.

he’s wearing a charcoal grey suit that fits like it was made for him. he looks older, more refined. he’s no longer the boy you used to love, but a man. however, his eyes stayed the same. soft yet unwavering. 

your eyes start to sting, a lump forming in your throat. you want to run. you want to leave. you have to. you need to.

but he’s faster. “wait–yn–”

his hand gently wraps around your wrist. it’s not forceful, but enough to stop you from leaving. enough to say please.

you stop, not turning around. you can’t.

“i didn’t think you’d come,” he says behind you, voice soft, yet unsure. the way that makes your throat tighten. “i was hoping you did. but i didn’t know.”

then he sees it. the dainty ring around your finger. but he doesn’t say anything. instead, he lets go and asks “how have you been?”

you don’t answer right away. closing your eyes, trying to stabilize your breathing. you turn around, forcing yourself to look at him with a smile. it’s way harder than you thought it would be.

“i’ve been good.” you look down at your hand. “i’m engaged.” showing him the ring kaito gave you.

he swallows, hard. “congratulations! are you happy?” now he’s the one forcing a smile.

“i am. it’s easy, it’s stable.”

“i missed you, you know.” he says quietly, voice cracking. “for years, i didn’t know how to reach you. i texted you, but i assumed you didn’t want to be bothered.”

you don’t answer him. and as if he understood, he nods.

there’s so much silence. it’s heavy, full of everything you never said. eventually, you say goodbye to him. then you go over to heeseung and seo-ah, giving them the gift and telling them that the wedding was beautiful. you hug them and promised to invite them for lunch. you walk out, the same way you did 7 years ago.

but that night, you find yourself in your childhood bedroom, back where everything started. your phone buzzes. it’s an unknown number. but part of you know who it is.

[unknown 11:10 pm] i got your number from heeseung. can we meet up by the lake tomorrow. just to talk and catch up. there’s something need to tell you.

the lake hadn’t changed.

maybe the tress were taller. the path was overgrown, used. the rope of the swing had frayed from the years and weather. but the lake itself– the still, glassy surface reflecting the colors of the sky– look exactly the same. the same as the last time you were here. unmoving, serene, quietly watching as if it had been waiting for you all long. 

your heart is stuttering in your chest, and there he is.

sunghoon sitting on the swing, hands in his hoodie pocket, just the way he used to be. his silhouette is outlined by the pink and orange hue of the sunsent. and for a second, it’s like time never passed. like you’re still seventeen, hiding away from the rest of the world, with him. talking about your dreams, too big and too small to name.

he turns around when he hears you, tension in his jaw, his shoulders– but his eyes remain the same. soft. the kind reserved only in your memories. only for you.

“you came,” he says, voice quiet.

you nod, words unable to come out. the lump in your throat is already forming, threatening to knock the air out of your lungs. you didn’t think coming back here would be this hard. or maybe you did. you just hope you were stronger now.

he gestures towards the swing. “sit with me?”

for a second, you hesitate. but you walk closer, the grass moving beneath your feet. your fingers graze the rope, then the wood plank of the swing. you remember the summers you spent here, pushing each other back and forth as high as you can. laughter echoing between the trees. it was your place with him. a secret you both kept from the rest of the world. a place where everything felt a bit easier.

sunghoon sits on the other end of the swing. for a few minutes, the only thing you hear are the sound of the cicadas, the wind, and the distant ripple of the water. the quiet feels loud. your heart that was once steady is racing. you wonder if the man beside you can hear it. and then he speaks–

“i didn’t know you left a week after graduation,” he says. voice shaky just enough to reveal his nervousness.

your head turns toward him. slow and hesitant. but you don’t say anything. you’ve always been the quiet one between the two of you.

“i mean… i found out eventually, as soon as college started. but not before that. not when it mattered, when i could’ve done something.”

you look down at your hands. the same hands that once held pieces of him. notes he’d pass to you in class, fries you used to fight over. the same ones that used to hold his own whenever you feel scared to walk back home. especially after getting scolded by your parents. the same hands that held your small secret. the hands that held your feelings for him. 

“i asked heeseung where you were,” he continues. “but he wouldn’t tell me. he said you didn’t feel like going out. i should’ve realized sooner that you didn’t want to be found. by me.”

it was true. you begged heeseung not to say anything. told him that it was better that way. that it was easier than explaining that his own best friend– your own best friend– broke your heart. 

sunghoon chuckles, but it’s bitter, empty. “i didn’t understand. i kept texting you. i kept hoping that maybe, you’ll show up with a smile on your face. telling me that you were sick and was bedridden for days. when i found out that you went to the graduation party, i thought i knew how to get you out of your room. so i threw so many parties. i told myself that it was for fun, for the guys, to blow off steam after exams. but it wasn’t.”

your vision starts to blur. that god awful lump in your throat is back. he looks at you, eyes shining in the low light. honest, unflinching.

“i threw those parties for you.”

the words hit you with the force of a tidal wave. you can’t breathe. your chest caves around the weight of your heavy heart. you finally heard the truth you never knew you needed. the idea that he had missed you too. that he looked for you in ways only he knew how. in places filled with noise.

you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to steady your breathing. your sobs, yourself. but it’s too late. the tears come fast. they’re hot, heavy, unstoppable. the dam you spent 7 years building, crumbles without mercy.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble. words cracking like glass. “i’m so sorry, hoon.” and that was enough for him.

he moves. arms wrapping around you, pulling you off the swing and into his arms. he holds you like you’re fragile glass, like he knows how long you’ve been holding everything in. he always does. and that healed you. the scar you once had in your heart, fading away.  he’s been waiting to hold you for years. 7 whole years. 

you cry. until tears won’t come out anymore. 

you cry for the years you lost. for something that could have been. you cry for the girl you used to be– the one who was so in love, yet so afraid. the girl who was so sure that she will never be enough. you cry because the love you had for him never died. just buried beneath time and distance. you cry because you hate that he’s here, when it’s too late.

sunghoon doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t stop you from crying. instead, he wraps his arms around you, lets you bury your face into his shoulders. he lets you soak his hoodie with your tears. it feels like forgiveness.

his voice comes out low, almost trembling. “i looked for you in every girl i met. i tried to move on. i really did. but no one can replace you. no one knew how to make the world quiet down with one single glance.”

you want to say something. tell him that you loved him first. that you never stopped loving him. but the words refuse to come out. the ache in your heart is too big, the wound too raw. so you stay quiet.

and he understands, he always does.

for the first time in 7 years of being apart, silence feels like healing.

you stay like that, head resting on his shoulder, gazing into the horizon. until the stars begin to peek through the sky. neither of you move. neither of you dares to let go.

because maybe, just maybe, this isn’t the end. but a new beginning.

likes, comments & reblogs are appreciated <3

a/n: i wont lie, i cried while writing some of the parts. especially when that part of the song coincidentally aligns with the “sad” bits. that’s why it took me a bit to finish it. an empath lives a hard life… also because i was out for work and a date for with my bf <3

do not fret! there will be a second part to this <3 see u soon!

tags: @sunoostripletriple @yoizhrs @sievenderz @bookmarkstanley

line divider by: @strangergraphics

[hamiltonandpercyjackson]

i like to think that rachel would paint pictures of people she saw and all the book characters she read about

she would go to pottery places and paint monets on bowls to give to camp halfblood. and they would give her suggestions for what she could paint.

she would help the aphrodite kids bleach and tiedye their camp shirts, towels and sheets. they would teach her how to make natural paints and makeup from flowers and fruits

she would make murals on the sides of the training equipment with the apollo and hermes kids. she would help the demeter kids make clay handles for their gardening tools and paint them whatever they wanted.

she would be everyone’s best friend. even clarisse would secretly go to pottery with her

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Series discontinued- sorry my loves. Ik y’all wanted more but the good news is that I’ve seen several really talented authors picking up this idea and executing it wayyyy better than my sporadic mood writing ever could.

[theonottsbxtch]

PRIVATE | LN4

an: requested by @bhuijnbhuijn-blog this was so fun to make! it feels to good to make a smau after a few days of straight writing

fc: random girls on pintrest and isabel larosa

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thank you london and thank you to my beloved

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appartment in monaco

You were perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, barefoot, legs dangling as you watched Lando move around the open kitchen. The soft click of cabinet doors and the muted thud of a cereal box landing on the counter are the only sounds, apart from the faint music playing from your speaker. It was your calm playlist, just background noise, a playlist you curated 100% but one Lando pretended he created to wind you up. He didn’t mind—he hummed along sometimes, absentmindedly, just like now. The late afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm, golden hue over everything, making the moment feel even more private, more intimate.

Lando was shirtless wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. It was a version of him few people ever get to see. No fireproof suit, no helmet. No world watching his every move. Here, in this quiet corner of your shared world, he was just... him. And you loved him like this, more than anything.

As he fumbled with the coffee machine, you leant back on your hands, your fingers curling against the cool granite of the counter. The smell of coffee mingled with the lazy warmth of the afternoon. You were both settled into this comfortable rhythm of being together, the kind of domesticity that felt almost foreign when you thought of your lives outside these walls—your career, his racing, the flashing lights and the fans.

But here, it was different.

You’d been thinking about it for a while now. The thought had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks, and today felt like the right time to broach it. Or maybe it was just that the stillness of this moment made you feel brave. You took a breath, voice soft as you broke the quiet.

“I’ve been thinking…” Your words drift into the space between you, casual but with a certain weight that you know will catch his attention. Lando looked over at you, coffee cup in hand, waiting for you to continue. You smiled, trying to keep it light. “Maybe it’s time we go public… on Instagram.”

He froze for a beat, his eyes locking on yours as if he was trying to read your face, gauge how serious you were. Slowly, he set the cup down on the counter, his brow furrowing in that familiar way that meant he was already thinking too much.

“Public?” he repeated, like he was testing the word, feeling it out. His voice was calm, but you could sense the undertone of concern, the hesitation that came with anything that involves exposing more of your lives to the world outside. “You sure about that?”

You nodded, even though you knew he was not just asking for the sake of it. There was more behind his question than the words. It was not just a simple post to him—it was a line you were crossing, a step into a world he was all too familiar with, and not in a good way.

“I am,” you said softly. “We’ve been so careful, keeping things private, but… I don’t want to hide us anymore. I don’t want to pretend we’re not a part of each other’s lives.” You watched him as you spoke, searching his face for any sign of agreement, but he was still quiet, arms folded across his chest, his gaze drifting somewhere just past you.

Lando shifted his weight, leaning against the counter, his fingers drumming lightly against the granite, a telltale sign that his mind was working through what you’d just said. After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his curls, the kind of movement that let you know he was trying to choose his words carefully.

“I get it,” he said finally, his voice softer now, but there was still a trace of reluctance. “But… it’s different for you. Your fans, they’re supportive. You’re already used to the attention. My world… it’s not like that. It can get ugly fast. And once we put it out there, it’s out there. We can’t take it back.”

You slid off the counter and moved toward him, your bare feet silent on the floor. Standing in front of him, you reached for his hands, threading your fingers through his. “I know, love. I know how hard it can be for you. But I’m not asking for some big, dramatic reveal. Just something simple. A photo. Something that feels like us, something quiet.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the protective instinct he’d always had when it came to the life you’d built together versus the part of him that wanted to trust in your strength, in the fact that you could handle it.

“I don’t want them coming after you,” he said quietly, almost more to himself than to you. “I don’t want you to deal with the kind of hate I get.”

Lifting one hand to his face, cupping his cheek gently, your thumb grazed over his skin. “I’ve been in the public eye for years now. I’ve had my share of negativity, too. But we’ve got each other, right? We can handle it. I can handle it.” You paused, letting your words sink in. “And I’m tired of hiding something that makes me so happy.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to imagine what it would be like—the backlash, the media storm. But when he opened them again, there was something softer there, a quiet surrender. He still looked hesitant, but there was an acceptance in his expression now, like maybe, just maybe, he was willing to trust you on this.

“A photo,” he repeated, his voice almost resigned but not unkind. “Something simple.”

You nodded, your smile growing. “Just one.”

He chuckled softly, pulling you into his arms, his chin resting on the top of your head. “You really want this, huh?” His voice was a little lighter now, though you could still feel the weight of the decision lingering between you.

“I do,” you murmured into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him—clean and warm, like home. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it. Just something that feels like us. Something honest.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your waist. “Alright,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “But if it all blows up in our faces, you’re the one dealing with the PR disaster.”

You laughed, the sound soft and full of relief. “Deal. I’ll take full responsibility.” You leant up and kissed him, your lips brushing his with a gentleness that said more than words ever could. “Promise.”

landonorris

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enjoyed the final show of the break, time for austin

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maxfewtrell: sick hoodie where's it from

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userfour: i don't want to sound crazy but...

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yeah, my boyfriend's pretty cool but he's not as cool as me

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userone: NO WAY

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userfour: HER BOYFRIEND IS LANDO NORRIS

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appartment in monaco

It had been a few weeks since you had gone public, and the house felt the same. The kitchen still smelt like coffee in the afternoons, and Lando’s laughter still echoed through the rooms. But outside, in the world that wasn’t contained by these walls, things had shifted.

The first few days after you had posted that picture—a simple, candid shot of you two tangled on the couch, laughing at something neither of you can remember now—felt like a blur. Your Instagram blew up instantly, flooded with comments, some gushing, some not so kind. The had media picked it up, headlines spun their usual stories, and of course, his world—Formula 1, with its intense, relentless scrutiny—had its own opinions. Most of it was harmless, but some of it... wasn’t.

Lando was standing in front of the window, staring out at nothing in particular. You could tell from the way his shoulders were tense, from the way his hand kept moving to rub the back of his neck, that something had been weighing on him. He’d been quieter these last few days, not in the way that shut you out, but in the way that let you know he was overthinking, worrying about things he didn’t need to.

You were sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, pretending to scroll through Instagram, but your attention was on him. You watched as he checked his phone again, probably seeing another headline or some new wave of comments. His jaw tightened, and that was when you knew it’s time to say something.

“Lan,” you called out softly, trying to break the tension in the room. “Come over here.”

He hesitated for a second, like he was debating whether to pull you into his worry or let it be, but then he walked over, his feet dragging slightly on the wooden floor. He sank down beside you on the couch, letting out a long, tired breath. His arm came around your shoulders instinctively, pulling you closer, but his mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Talk to me,” you said gently, tilting your head to look up at him.

He didn’t meet your eyes at first, he just stared at the floor. “I’ve been seeing some of the comments,” Lando admitted, his voice low, as if he was trying to keep it casual but couldn’t quite manage it. “There’s a lot of hate. A lot of people saying… awful things. About you, about us.” He paused, running his hand through his hair. “I didn’t want this for you.”

You felt his arm tighten around you, like he was trying to protect you from something that was already out there, something he couldn’t control. It broke your heart a little, the way he carried that weight, like he was responsible for every cruel word thrown your way.

You shifted in his arms, turning to face him, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek. “I know,” you said softly. “But, darling, it’s not getting to me. Not even a little.” You smiled, trying to get him to see the truth in your eyes. “I’ve been in this business long enough to know that people are going to say whatever they want. But they don’t matter. You do.”

He finally looked up at you, his brow furrowed, still sceptical. “But some of it’s brutal,” he insisted, his voice tight. “They’re dragging you through the mud just because we went public. I didn’t want you to deal with this part of my life, the ugly part.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, and the sound seemed to catch him off guard. “Honestly? I’ve dealt with worse. You should’ve seen the comments I got after that one music video,” you teased lightly, hoping to ease his worry. “But this? This is nothing.”

He didn’t look convinced, but you could see him trying to process what you were saying, like he wanted to believe you but couldn’t quite let go of his own guilt. So, you decided to prove it to him in a way you knew would get through that thick head of his.

With a sly smile, you grabbed your phone and opened Twitter, your fingers moved quickly over the screen as you pulled up your account. He watched you, confused, until you glanced up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

You bit your lip, pretending to think about it, then you tilted the phone toward him so he could see the tweet you’d just typed out. In bold letters, it read:

"how i sleep knowing i get to sleep with this hunk of a man at night and you don’t "

Below the text was the picture you’d been sitting on for a while—one of him sleeping in the paddock last season.

His eyes widened as he read it, then flicked to the photo. “You’re not serious,” he said, though there’s a laugh hidden in his voice now.

“Oh, I am very serious,” you said, grinning at him as you hovered over the “Tweet” button. “If people want to hate, let them. But I’m going to remind them who I get to come home to every night.”

He stared at you for a second, then shook his head, a small, incredulous smile finally tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

You shrugged, your finger tapping the button before he could say another word. “It’s out there now,” you said, holding up the phone in triumph. “Let them come for me.”

He leant back against the couch, running his hands over his face, but you could see the way his shoulders had finally relaxed, the tension ebbing away. He laughed, a real, genuine laugh, and it warmed you from the inside out. “You’re actually insane,” he said, pulling you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

You looked up at him, beaming. “Sweetheart, they can say whatever they want. It doesn’t change anything. I’ve got you, and that’s all that matters.”

For the first time in days, the worry in his eyes faded completely. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly, his breath warm against your hair. “I love you,” he murmured, the words soft but full of meaning.

“I love you more.”

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haters gunna hate, anyway check out my new song x

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[katesimblr]

Spiral Stairs Not Working? Here’s How to Fix It!

Hey Simmers! 💛 You’ve downloaded beautiful spiral stairs but your Sims won’t use them? 😩 Lately I’ve received quite a few messages about custom spiral stairs not working correctly — so here’s a quick guide to help you out and make sure everything spirals just as it should! 🔧🏠

@cowbuild’s Functional Spiral Stairs (with mod)

Download the stairs here

These come in two versions:

🖼️ Decorative – for visual use only 🚶‍♂️ Functional – Sims can actually use it!

Important: To make the functional version work, you need an additional mod by Cepzid & ThePancake1: 👉 Download the functional stairs mod

This mod enables true animated spiral staircases, allowing Sims to walk up and down in a realistic way.

⚠️ Without this mod, your Sims won’t be able to walk up or down the stairs of cowbuild!

@syboubou’s Spiral Stairs (Functional – Lift System, No Animation)

Download + Guide

Syboulette’s spiral stairs are also fully functional, but they use a teleport/lift system. That means your Sims will use the stairs instantly (no walking animation), similar to how elevators work in-game.

✅No additional mod required, but the actual version and correct placement is key!

How to Place Syboulette’s Spiral Stairs:

🧱 Build two floors

🔓 Use bb.moveobjects cheat

📏 Check wall height and use the correct stair version (⚠️ platforms don’t work!)

🧩 Place the bottom stair mesh on the ground floor

🎯 Align and place the top stair mesh exactly above it on the second floor (same grid tile)

✨ Optional: Add the railing and deco elements to complete the look

✅ Done! Your Sim will "teleport" up/down using the stairs

👉 Check the tutorial on her website if you want to be extra precise!

This version is perfect if you want functionality without the hassle of mods — just keep in mind it’s not animated.

My Greeny Collection Recolors 🎨

I created some recolors to match my favorite tones and builds. 💚 You’ll need the original meshes by Syboulette, but here are my versions:

Medium Spiral Stairs – Greeny Recolor

Tall Spiral Stairs – Greeny Recolor

Spiral Stairs Top Piece Only – Greeny Recolor

🛠️  Troubleshooting Checklist

If the stairs still aren’t working, ask yourself:

Do I have the right version (functional or decorative)?

For Cowbuilds stair: Did I install the mod by Cepzid & ThePancake1?

Are script mods enabled in my game settings?

Are all files updated and correctly placed in the Mods folder?

Do I have duplicate or outdated CC in my folder?

Happy simming & spiraling! 💫

Katelyn

[babydollmarauders]

TWIN HUGHES — LUKE HUGHES

part of the luke’s gf au !

dolly.notparton

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dolly.notparton life the past 9 months…. thank you for sharing your birthday @/jackhughes 🤍 pretty sweet of you

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jackhughes not like i had a choice, the twins were coming out whether i wanted to share a birthday or not

dolly.notparton i spent the last 9 months of my life making your presents, you could at least act thankful!

jackhughes do they come with a receipt?

dolly.notparton THATS YOUR NIECE AND NEPHEW YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, YOU UNGRATEFUL SWINE!

jackhughes wtf is a swine?

dolly.notparton god you should’ve gone to college

dylanduke25 TWIN! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!

dolly.notparton oh my god, they can say that and MEAN IT! DYLAN YOURE A GENIUS!

edwards.73 i don’t think anyone has ever said that about duker and meant it

dolly.notparton @/edwards.73 be nice to my dyl pickle

edwards.73 i’d be a lot nicer if you didn’t give me ammo by calling him things like “dyl pickle”

lhughes_06 so grateful for this little family we’ve created ❤️

dolly.notparton i l*ve you <3

lhughes_06 did you just censor the word “love”?

dolly.notparton maybe you would get the uncensored version if you hadn’t left your extremely pregnant girlfriend for hockey? idk, just a thought

jackhughes get him dolly!

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes stay out of this

_quinnhughes dolly and her dolls 🩷💙 i’m so happy for you guys. i know you’ll make amazing parents

dolly.notparton quinny, i love you tremendously. hurry up and finish in the playoffs so you can meet your niece and nephew 🤍

_quinnhughes i love you too but i’m not “hurrying” anything, i’ve got the cup in mind

dolly.notparton so you hate me and my children

_quinnhughes that’s not at all what i just said

dolly.notparton i can guarantee that’s exactly what you just said

lhughes_06 please don’t fight her on this, she’s tired and just pushed out two babies and i know she’ll find a way to be angry at me about this too

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 so i should fight her on this? heard. @/dolly.notparton check your texts

elblue6 my babies and my grandbabies 💗

dolly.notparton love you mama el!! can’t wait for you to come see the twins!

curtislazar95 god help us, they’re multiplying

dolly.notparton maybe i’ll make a whole hockey team of them

curtislazar95 20 sarcastic poodle haired bambi skaters with insatiable appetites

john.marino97 congratulations, guys! i’m happy to hear it was a happy and healthy birth story

dolly.notparton they’ll love their uncle johnny because he’s a twin just like them 🤍

john.marino97 i can teach them all about being a twin

lhughes_06

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lhughes_06 Milo Oliver Hughes; May 14th 2024, 3:16pm

Luella Grace Hughes; May 14th 2024, 3:20pm

tagged dolly.notparton

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dolly.notparton we made those

lhughes_06 fuck yeah we did! we did fantastic!

dolly.notparton and jack tries to say i can’t cook!

jackhughes because you can’t. you burned water. HOW DO YOU BURN WATER?

dolly.notparton @/jackhughes do you see what i cooked up inside of me?! you cried when you saw them!

jackhughes that was between us!

dolly.notparton @/jackhughes and now it’s between us and luke’s 185k followers and probably all of twitter! 🫶

user72 ARE YOU TELLING ME SHE’S BEEN PREGNANT FOR NINE MONTHS AND NONE OF US NOTICED?!

user93 OH MY GOD! LUKE’S A DILF

liked by dolly.notparton

markestapa SHOW ME THE BABIES!

lhughes_06 if you’d check the groupchat for once, you’d see the babies

markestapa oh

markestapa OH THEY’RE SO CUTE! YOU GUYS DID GOOD

lhughes_06 thanks stop sign! 🛑

edwards.73 congrats guys 🤝

lhughes_06 thanks eds 🤝

dolly.notparton this is a birth announcement not a damn frat party photo dump, you guys could add some hearts or at least a damn smiley face!

edwards.73 @/dolly.notparton no 🤝

dawson1417 congratulations! can’t wait to meet them next season!

njdevils gift basket coming your way! 👀congratulations!

user20 TWINS 🥹🫶

rutgermcgroarty swimmers be swimming

lhughes_06 🏊‍♂️🏊‍♂️

dolly.notparton do guys think or do they just do?

user85 so not only is luke the youngest hughes brother, but he’s also the only one in a long-term relationship and the first one to have kids… jack and quinn better step it up

user03 they kept this a secret for nine months and then really just pulled a “SURPRISE!” on us?! he played hockey all the way up until the birth— they dropped NO hints

nhl congratulations luke and y/n!

_quinnhughes proud of you two and how much you’ve grown ❤️ not little kids chasing each other around with bugs and porcelain dolls anymore, are ya?

lhughes_06 nope, all grown up. in the league with 2 kids now! thanks bro

dolly.notparton not my fault he was scared of my dolls! have i mentioned that he made me get rid of them when i moved in?

_quinnhughes @/dolly.notparton once or twice a day, yeah

dolly.notparton those were my babies 💔

lhughes_06 @/dolly.notparton i just gave you 2 new babies… the real kind

dolly.notparton luke, you genius! i can get luella porcelain dolls!

lhughes_06 @/dolly.notparton NO! THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT!

_quinnhughes @/dolly.notparton look in the attic when you get home 😉

lhughes_06 THOSE DEMON THINGS HAVE BEEN UP THERE THE WHOLE TIME?!

[hitomisuzuya]

bodyguard x overworked fem ceo reader person here lol

I’ve got a smut version I’d love to share

thinking of reader (who’s not overworked this time) to just have an amazing body. Like her body is the epitome of attractive, she’s js hot like that🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

she’s wearing tight fitting office clothes (blouse, blazer, tights, and ong the sluttiest little tight putting black pencil skirt.) and scara walks in seeing her bending over to get a file

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Fingering. Degradation.

This request😳 I'm sorry this took so long to get to😭

Scaramouche was on his way into your office with cups of coffee and hot chocolate for the both of you. He nearly spit out his bitter, black coffee when he saw you.

The sight of you bent over, reaching down to pick up a file you'd dropped next to the cabinet made him start to feel hard. Your ass looked defined and grope able. He swore that if he tilted his head a little, he could see a peek of your panties.

Your black stockings hugged your thighs in a way that was impossible for Scaramouche's greedy hands to resist. He set the cups down on your desk, his eyes trained on your ass as he walked over to you.

You looked so breedable bent over like that. Were you trying to tease him?

He reached out and groped your ass, smirking when he heard your shy squeak. "Scaramouche, it's still office hours," You said, blushing in embarrassment feeling his hand squeeze your ass again. It appeared he hadn't heard a word you said.

"Hmm?" Scaramouche purred, his hand travelling from your ass to your thigh. He hooked his fingers through the band of your stockings, snapping it back against your thigh.

Any other protests from you died, quickly being silenced as his hand cupped your cunt. He rubbed and teased your clit outside of your panties, quickly making you wet as you squirmed. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips watching you grind into his fingers, a string of shaky moans emitting from your parted lips.

Scaramouche took his time stroking your swelling clit, reducing your panties to soaked mess clinging to your cunt. Every sweep and stroke of his thumb made your clit throb, the fabric of your panties creating friction against it.

"What a slut I have for a boss," His eyes followed the moments of hips as you grinded into his fingers, "so wet and eager for her bodyguard's fingers," You mewled in protest when he took his fingers off your clit.

He bunched your skirt up around your hips, his eyes getting the perfect view of how wet you were for him. It made him lick his lips, not being able to resist smacking his hand across your ass. You yelped softly, your pussy clenching around nothing from his degradation.

You reached down with a shaky hand to pull your panties aside for him. He smacked your hand away, hastily pushing them aside with two fingers. Your toes curled as his connected with your clit, your legs shaking as he pressed his thumb in slow circles on it.

"Sc-Scara, please," You moaned needily, all rational thoughts crumbling in your mind. Your hole quivered around the tip of his fingers as he teased them at your entrance, gliding his fingers back up to flick your clit.

He knew very well he could make you cum by rubbing and playing with your clit, but he wanted to make you cream on his slender fingers.

A loud gasp of pleasure tore from your throat as he plunged his fingers into your wet warmth. They curled and nudged into your sweet spot. Your fingernails clawed into the wall, grinding your hips back into his fingers. Jolts of pleasure went straight to your throbbing clit, making you see stars.

"Fuck you are so tight," He groaned, scissoring your walls apart. He made sure you felt every drag of his fingers against your sensitive walls as they clapped around them. "You'd suffocate my cock with your slutty cunt."

Your orgasm curled tighter and tighter inside of you. His eyes were trained on the slick that oozed out around his fingers, squelching sounds accompanying your shameless moans.

The pace of his fingers increased, hitting into your sweet spot more firmly when he saw your body twitching and tensing with your approaching orgasm.

"Be a good girl, and cum like the slut you are," He pumped his fingers as deep inside of you as he could, sweeping them up to play with your clit before plunging them back inside of you.

You whimpered before crying out loudly for him, your body shaking as your orgasm tore through you. His cock was straining in his pants watching you twitch and make a mess on his fingers.

[shorthaltsjester]

love (loath) this version of ‘empathy’ for characters that exists in fandoms that somehow means taking any articulation of the fact that x character is given responsibility and context by the story and that their poor choices lead to poor outcomes is actually a slight against the character (and implicitly somehow whatever oppressed group which they belong to or are alleged to belong to by sections of fandom)

to be clear this is something i’ve noticed in several fandoms which is why the beginning of this is general language but the pertinent example to my current frustration is liliana temult and the defence of her that lays on a claim that those who enjoy the narrative showing her poor actions leading to poor outcomes for her have somehow failed the empathy test is beyond incomprehensible to me. like even ignoring the very basic level understanding that fiction is a place to experience satisfaction in narratives that we cannot fulfil in non-narrative reality, it’s also like… holy fuck do I not want the kind of empathy that tells me it will all work out no matter what choice I make. it is actually imperative to human life that the choices we make have substance in the outcomes we arrive in, otherwise we would’ve long given up on the notion of free will. and to look at a narrative, particularly one built in the context of a ttrpg. a game notably influenced by the choices that players-as-characters make. and then see sections of an audience find it compelling and enjoyable that a character who has made categorically poor choices that have caused immeasurable harm to others is now dealing with the very obvious face-eating panthers consequences… idk man. if you see that as a lack of empathy i implore you to consider what role empathy is playing in your world.

like. if empathy to you is about comfort and stagnancy and not about growth and community, then sure i can understand how it might not be empathetic in your view to notice patterns and see their obvious outcome and acknowledge that . but as someone who has been in the position of making horrible choices with obvious outcomes, far more essential to my personhood was those who looked at me with careful but critical eyes than those who nearly babyed me into my grave. that’s actually why i love imogen’s choice to insist that liliana make her own choice and then quasi-encouraging her to stay, because it was a clear reminded to liliana that her choices have consequences, and one of those is that the terrible things she’s down in the name of her daughter have led to that daughter not being able to easily trust her.

and i think another thing that’s related that gets misconstrued with liliana (and as always unfortunately many such cases) is that the satisfaction of seeing her absorbed isn’t that it’s retributive harm done or some sort of punishment (at least not for me, skill issue if people in your fandom spaces are that cop-minded but, yknow, what can you expect from the thought-crimes capital of fandom spaces). the satisfaction is in the analogue (that i’ve seen well memed) to the face-eating panthers joke that liliana’s actions which have pushed an agenda that’s depended on the consumption and threat to her child and the children she specifically has aided in placing in danger via her choices, has led to situations where a) she’s ‘burdened’ by her care for imogen and the children (both of which she has played a hand in inviting into the context of danger) b) she is now the person in danger of being consumed after spending weeks simply shrugging off concerns about what might be consumed in the name of ludinus’ Just World™. like it’s not just ‘liliana does bad things, must be punished’ it’s ‘liliana has played a hand in creating a situation that is threatening to many including herself, it is narratively satisfying and engages in Common Narrative Tool: Irony to have that create situation negatively impact her directly.’

to that end that’s why the ‘if you’re like this about liliana you should also be like this about essek’ takes are beyond missing the point (without getting into the horribly built scarecrow that it is, understand that it’s actually undermining decades of feminist’s philosophical and political development to see a critique of a female character and go ‘well actually if she were a man you wouldn’t be saying that’ when it’s a provable fact that people Would be (and have been) saying that if she were a man. so not the feminist slay you think it is). like, as someone who Was just as interested in essek’s story having consequences as I am in liliana’s, there very much WERE consequences for essek that, just like liliana, were well contextualized and suited to the specific choices he made. they are ones that should be obvious even to the most surface read of the campaigns given that essek still appears in disguise years after the end of c2, should also probably be obvious in the rebuilding of relationships essek had to do with mn after they discovered his betrayal. like the notable difference between liliana and essek is not their gender, it’s that we’ve seen the end of essek’s story (in the sense of like. campaign containment, obviously his Story™ is ongoing) and have yet to see liliana’s— it’s entirely possible that liliana does get saved and goes on to repair her relationship with imogen (or goes on and is unable to repair it) or she just dies and part of imogen’s story is dealing with it; all of those are narratively satisfying. what wouldn’t have been satisfying, in the sense that would leave liliana feeling like a non-agent in a story dependent on her agency, is if her role was entirely dictated by imogen’s interest in reconciliation. because sure if you want to look very microscopically the current threat to liliana that exists is 1-to-1 caused by the fact that she’s been helping imogen, but taking seriously the story, the consequences bloom from all the choices that liliana has made leading to ludinus’ decision to trust her however far he does that made liliana’s choice a betrayal and affirmed ludinus’ strength and position so that he can do something like siphon someone’s life force away.

further the ‘why does liliana deserve to be funnelled and relvin gets off easy’ relvin doesn’t get off easy. once again the satisfaction of his narrative is that he did his best and it was insufficient and that cost him a relationship with imogen they both clearly wish for but neither can rectify. the consequence for relvin is that he’s in an empty house that is no longer home to the woman he loved or the daughter he was left to raise alone. surely i don’t need to unpack why i think someone who tried but wasn’t well equipped to raise a daughter with superpowers doesn’t need to evoke as ‘drastic’ consequences in their story as the stated right hand of the campaign’s bbeg for their story to feel complete.

and idk at least for me that’s the salient point; that the consequences that are happening feel like a plausible and suitable conclusion to the story we’ve seen of liliana even if she perishes at ludinus’ hand. it will be sad but it’ll be satisfying, and maybe i should have realized seeing the frequency with which parts of fandom have been campaigning to undo maybe the most weighty and narratively satisfying choices & consequence of vox machina’s story, but it’s truly confounding to me the amount of people treating the presence of any complex and non-traditional happy ending notion in a story set in a world defined by pyrrhic victories. like, empathy for vax isn’t saying he’s the puppet of a god that manipulated him into service, it’s acknowledging that he made a choice that he knew would have consequences and acknowledging that the consequences he demanded with that choice were pretty severe ones. that doesn’t mean i’m watching the end of cr1 seeing the characters destroyed by the loss of vax being like ‘dumbasses, they knew this was coming, vax chose this, these are his consequences’ it means that when i’m crying watching the end of cr1 it’s paired with my deep love for a story that takes seriously the weight of the character’s choices in the determination of their lives. idk man. maybe interrogate how much of your notion of empathy is dependent on individualism to the point of near complete alienation and get back to me on how empathetic it is to look at someone who has caused unarguable pain with their choices and say ‘no no it’s fine you didn’t mean to + you’re a woman :/‘ while the victims of those choices rot in their graves

[cherryblossomfairyy]

Bejeweled

Pairing : spencer reid x bau!reader

Summary : y/n finally breaks up with her boyfriend. He caused her to dim her light. Now single and feeling great, she goes to the FBI’s annual gala. Where she has her bejeweled moment and dances with Spencer. Maybe he will stay the night with her? Along the lyrics of the song "Bejeweled" by Taylor Swift.

Masterlist

You used to dim your light for him. Not on purpose—not really. It was more subtle, like the way the moon fades a bit when clouds pass by. You didn’t stop being you. You just got…quieter. Less “bejeweled,” as your best friend had so perfectly put it one evening over wine.

“You used to shine,” she said, swirling her glass with a pitying tilt of her head. “You were diamonds. Lately, you’re costume jewelry. Cheap stuff. Plastic. Why?”

You didn’t answer her. You didn’t want to say that the reason you’d dulled yourself was you (insecure) boyfiend—or more accurately, the way his behaviour made you feel around him. It wasn’t your fault, not really. You felt trapped and his promises made you feel better momentaraly. The man was brilliant, soft-spoken, and kind when he wanted to.

"Baby love, I think I've been a little too kind."

The clock ticks. Rain hums outside. You stands in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped tightly around her. James lounges on the couch like he’s already over the conversation.

y/n quietly said, with silent tears in her eyes “I just want to talk about what happened at the party. You completely ignored me all night, and when I tried to say something, you laughed in my face.”

“Jesus, you’re still on that?”James answered her, without looking up.

“Yes. Because it hurt. And you still haven’t acknowledged it.”

He sighs dramatically before speaking. “You’re too sensitive. I was talking to people. Networking. You want me glued to your hip all night like a child?”

y/n, shocked by his reaction, trying tos peak calmly. “I never said that. I just wanted to feel like I existed to you.”

James let out a big laugh, still not looking at her. “Wow. Drama queen much?”

A frown appeared on y/n’s face.“Why do you always do that? Make fun of me when I try to be honest?”

“Because you're always making up these stories in your head. You twist everything into some attack. It’s exhausting.” James tells her, fort he first time looking up from his phone.

"Sadness became my whole sky."

“I’m not making anything up,” she said, voice firm but shaking slightly. “I’m telling you how I feel.”

He crossed his arms, his tone turning cold. “No, you’re making a scene out of nothing. Again. You do this all the time — create problems that don’t exist just so you can play the victim.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare call me the victim. I’ve put up with your gaslighting for months, and I’ve tried to make this work.”

He let out a laugh, dripping with mock innocence. “Gaslighting? Oh my god. You really think you’re being abused just because I don’t agree with your little fantasy version of things?”

“It’s not a fantasy when I live it every day,” she snapped. “You lie. You deflect. You deny things that I know happened. I bring up real issues and you make me feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“BECAUSE YOU ARE ACTING CRAZY RIGHT NOW!” he shouted, voice booming. “You’re blowing everything out of proportion! You always do this when you don’t get your way!”

"Baby boy, I think I've been too good of a girl."

Y/N spoke calmly, almost too calm. Like she was used tot his type of reaction. “And now you’re screaming. Again. Like that’s gonna fix anything.”

“I’m screaming because YOU DON’T LISTEN!”

The sound of bruising knuckles echos throught the living room as James slams his fist into the wall.

“I’m fcking drowning here trying to keep this together, and you just—walk away from everything like it's nothing!”*

She stepped back, her expression unreadable. “Wow. There it is. I finally see it. You don’t love me — you just love having someone to blame everything on.”

Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t flinch. “I don’t even know what we’re doing anymore. Every conversation turns into a fight.”

He threw his hands up, frustrated. “Because you keep picking at me! Every little thing I do becomes a problem.”

“I’m not picking,” she said sharply. “I’m asking for basic respect. Like not disappearing for two days and then acting like it’s completely normal.”

He fell silent for a beat. His chest rose and fell, shallow and fast. His jaw clenched. There was rage in his eyes — but something else too. Desperation. Fear.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re emotional and paranoid, like always. Go take a walk or something. You’ll come back and realize you’re overreacting.”

She stared at him, calm and certain now. “No. I’m not coming back.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh please. You say that every time. You’ll be texting me by morning.”

“Not this time,” she said, voice soft but solid as stone. “I finally believe myself more than I believe you.”

She grabbed her keys. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her hands didn’t shake. He didn’t move. Just sat there, watching her like he still expected her to sit back down.

“So what,” he said bitterly, “you’re just gonna walk out like everyone else? Coward.”

Y/N with a deep sadness in her voice, but staying strong. “No. It takes strength to walk away from someone you love who keeps hurting you. You want to scream and blame me? Fine. Scream into an empty room.”

She grabs her coat from the hook, hands trembling.

James voice breaking as he realised that this time she’s serieus about leaving him

“y/n… wait. Please

After a silence that lasted no more then five seconds, his anger came roaring back.

“You’re nothing without me.” He muttered.

As y/n paused in the doorway, she said, in a low, final tone “I was nothing with you.”

“No, wait—y/n, don’t do this. Don’t you dare—”

She shuts the door behind her. And for once — she doesn’t look back.

"And by the way, I'm going out tonight."

________________________________

The whole team knew of your difficult relationship with him. They offered their help and advise, but you didn't want to hear it back then. You told them little lies, about how you two were doing better now and that they didn't have to worry.

"Didn't notice you walking all over my peace of mind."

But Spencer had a knack for seeing through things—especially you.

Spencer saw how hard you tried. How often you dressed up, hoping maybe one day your boyfriend would notice how great you actually were. You were always just a friend. A teammate. The girl he wanted to ask for dinner, but was too afraid.

But tonight was going to be different. after a short screaming match, only him. You officially broke up with him, now he's just one of your exes. No longer a man that slowly started to break you down.

Tonight was for you.

You slipped on the dress you’d buried in the back of your closet. The one that shimmered like starlight and hugged you like it missed you. You painted your lips red and lined your eyes with defiance. You slid on heels that clicked like a warning.

You were going to the FBI’s annual gala looking like the woman you had once been before you started hiding behind subtle smiles and quiet loyalty.

You were going to sparkle.

''Best believe I'm still bejeweled."

"When I walk in the room, I can still make the whole place shimmer."

The room was full of light—chandeliers glittered overhead, and the BAU looked stunning in tuxes and gowns. You caught JJ’s eye first. Her jaw dropped. “Y/N…you look incredible.”

You smiled. “I know.”

"What's a girl gonna do? A diamond's gotta shine."

Confidence wasn’t cocky. It was truth. And you had earned the right to own it.

You passed by Hotch, Rossi, even Morgan, all of whom gave you compliments or double-takes. And then, finally, you saw him.

Spencer.

He was at the bar, nervously twirling a glass of soda water in his hand, wearing a deep navy suit that made his brown eyes darker, more intense. His tie was crooked, of course. You always liked that about him.

He turned—and stopped.

His eyes widened.

“Y/N…” His voice was soft, almost reverent. “You look…”

You raised an eyebrow, lips curved. “Bejeweled?”

"I can reclaim the land."

He blinked, caught off guard. Then he smiled, and it was slow, shy, and so Spencer it almost hurt.

“Yeah,” he said. “Exactly that.”

But you didn’t stop. Not yet.

You walked past him, hips swaying to the rhythm of your own self-worth, giving him a wink as you grabbed a glass of champagne. You chatted with Luke, laughed at one of Penelope’s wild stories, danced with Morgan to a song that had too much bass and not enough subtlety. You lit up the room.

The music pulses through the floor, low and heady. Colored lights spin lazily over a packed dance floor. You’re standing by the bar, laughing at something Penelope said, when two guys, agents from a different branch, approach — confident, smooth, probably a little too charming for their own good.

One leans in with a grin. “You look like you’re having a boring night. Wanna change that?”

You arch a brow, amused. “Depends on your definition of fun.”

The other nudges his friend. “We’re not bad dancers, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You glance toward the dance floor.

So you smile. “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The music shifts to something sultry, bass-heavy. They’re decent dancers, easygoing, clearly trying to impress. One twirls you around. The other steps in too close, then laughs it off. You laugh with them,

"And when I meet the band. They ask, "Do you have a man?" I can still say, "I don't remember"

And Spencer watched.

It wasn’t until the fourth song in—a slow, sparkling tune that sounded like it had been written by stars—that he approached you.

“May I?” he asked, holding out his hand.

You hesitated, just long enough for him to worry, then took it.

"And we're dancin' all night."

His touch was tentative. But his eyes? They were clear. Finally seeing you. "Diamonds in my eyes."

“You know,” he murmured, swaying with you, “I think I’ve been waiting for too long.”

You tilted your head. “You think?”

“I’ve always known you were beautiful,” he said honestly. “But tonight… I see a version of you i have missed for so long. The real you, the one who shines. A friend told me to stop hiding from my feelings.”

And you smiled. Because you weren’t doing this for your now ex-boyfriend. Not anymore. But for yourself. It felt good to be seen again. And it felt right that it was him.

“You should’ve told me sooner,” you said.

“I know,” he replied, and his voice cracked just slightly. “But if you’ll let me…I’d like to start making up for that. One dance at a time.”

You let your head rest against his chest, just for a moment.

Because tonight, you were glowing.

Not for anyone else.

Just for you.

But maybe, just maybe, you’d let him bask in the light too.

The car ride back to your apartment was quiet. Not awkward—just thick with unspoken things. Spencer sat beside you in the backseat of the Bureau-issued black car, his hands folded neatly in his lap, eyes flicking to you when he thought you weren’t looking.

But you saw him. You always saw him. The difference now? He knew it.

When you reached your place, you expected him to say goodnight. But when you turned to do the goodbye-smile thing, he just said:

“Can I come up? Just for a little while?” "And you can try to change my mind."

You hesitated—not because you didn’t want to. God, you wanted to. But you weren’t sure if your heart could handle Spencer Reid in your space, with his hands maybe brushing yours, with that look in his eyes that said this is new, but I’m not going to pretend anymore.

But you nodded.

Upstairs, you kicked off your heels and dropped your clutch on the entry table. Spencer lingered in the doorway until you waved him in, watching him as he scanned the apartment with those observant eyes. He took everything in—your books, the throw blanket on your couch, the framed photo of the team—but it was you he looked at the longest.

You moved to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses of wine. When you turned back, he was closer. Not touching. But closer.

“You’re still glowing,” he said softly. “Even in this light.”

"I polish up real, I polish up real nice."

You let out a breathy laugh, taking a sip of wine to steady your nerves. “It’s just makeup and good lighting.”

“No, it’s not,” he replied, setting his untouched glass down. “It’s you. It always has been.”

"Sapphire tears on my face."

Your eyes met his. He didn’t flinch away this time.

“I feel like I missed out on you,” he continued. “Like you dissapeared and I didn't know how to help and I… I was too wrapped up in my own head.”

You walked toward him slowly, standing close enough to smell the faint scent of cologne and vintage paper—Spencer always smelled like old books and warmth.

“You didn’t miss it,” you said. “I was just hiding.”

He looked down at you, hands still at his sides, every inch of him buzzing with restraint.

“You don’t have to hide anymore.”

You reached up, fingers grazing his tie to straighten it—a habit you’d always wanted an excuse for. “So what now, Spencer?”

His breath hitched. “Now I stop pretending I don’t want you.”

Then he kissed you.

It was slow at first—hesitant, testing. Like he didn’t believe you’d kiss him back. But you did. And then you did again, deeper this time, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging gently until he groaned against your mouth.

He backed you into the wall, hands cupping your face like you were a piece of something sacred. It was messy, breathless, years of wanting packed into each desperate brush of lips and teeth.

When you pulled back, your lipstick smudged and eyes hazy, he whispered, “Tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t.

Instead, you took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

And once the door shut behind you, there was no more hesitation.

He undressed you like he was solving a puzzle—carefully, reverently. His hands memorized the shape of you, his mouth tracing a soft path along your collarbone, down your chest, making you gasp and arch and feel. You watched his brain click into overdrive—not analyzing, just worshiping.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured between kisses. “I should’ve told you every damn day.”

You pulled his shirt over his head, pressing your palms to his chest, fingers splayed over his heart. “Then start now,” you said, voice breathless. “Make up for it.”

And he did.

With every touch, every moan, every whispered I see you now, he rewrote the silence you’d endured. You weren't just shining—you were on fire, and he let himself burn in you.

Afterward, tangled in sheets and sweat and laughter, he whispered something against your bare shoulder.

“I don’t want to go back to the way we were. I want to know you—every part. Not just when you’re glowing. Even when you’re dim.”

You turned in his arms, touched his cheek, and kissed him slow and sweet.

“You’ve got me now, Spencer. All of me.”

And in the soft light of morning, you weren’t hiding.

You were bejeweled—and finally loved for it.

[dimalry]

Second you in loving depressed, dark circle, chronic insomniac Azriel with demonic possession undertones. I feel like often he’s portrayed as very soft uwu baby or dark daddy dom when really he’s a workaholic grouchy introvert with a fucked up sleep schedule.

Do you think he has any connections to Hel in the larger Maasverse? I’ve had a theory for a while that he’s a descendant of one of the princes which would explain how he ended up with Truth-Teller.

Anyway, just want you to know that I picture your version of both Az and Gwyn when I write in canon, so thanks for the inspo!

Yes, absolutely! Though I’ve never thought of what kind of connection Azriel might have to Hel until now. Your ask got me to think…

What if Shadowsingers, rare as they are, were actually created by one of the Princes of Hel? I wish Truth-Teller wasn’t Gwydion’s twin, but rather a long-forgotten weapon once wielded by a long-dead Prince of Hel. Azriel could have discovered it eons later, feeling a strange connection to it, as it was the very weapon responsible for birthing his kind.

(Excuse my poor attempt at drawing shadow- soldiers/beasts. This is basically what I had in mind. This too)

Let’s say Shadowsingers were once a single shadow entity. But over time they split, with shadows becoming just one part of a person rather than their whole form.

A good number of them remain in Hel, but they've transformed into strange, nasty creatures. In Prythian, there are hardly any left, and Azriel may be the last. There are a few in Throne of Glass and Crescent City worlds, but they differ from Azriel.

It is very difficult to find any information about Shadowsingers. No one knows where they come from or how they came to be.

Who gave them the title 'Shadowsinger' anyway? What if it was simply a fitting name given by a mad scholar who first encountered someone with dark, shadow powers? What if these soldiers originally had a different name, given to them by the long-dead Prince of Hel?

And let’s give Shadowsingers the ability to shapeshift. I’ve always found it strange that Azriel is considered the best spymaster in the world, yet everyone knows he’s the Night Court's spymaster, which defeats the whole purpose of being a spy. It’s like imagining a Russian spy working in an American office, and everyone there knows he's a Russian spy. (Lol)

But what if Azriel could change his identity through his shadows? That would truly make him the best spymaster. He wouldn’t need to go through the trouble of creating fake identities; he could simply turn himself into one of Beron’s personal guards. People might know who the Night Court’s spymaster is, but they’d never know when or who he’s pretending to be. Additionally, he could winnow through his shadows instead of using the typical method. By commanding his shadows, he could transport himself anywhere, making him even more powerful than Rhys in terms of winnowing. He wouldn’t need to pause for breath like Rhys; he could take 10 people with him effortlessly.

Connect that to the shadow soldiers from Hel. They used to transform into whatever they liked (like this) and winnow with ease, which is why the war went on for like forever. The prince’s army was incredibly difficult to take down.

Shadowsingers still speak the language of Hel to this day. Azriel uses it to communicate with his shadows, and only Shadowsingers can understand this language—no one else. They don’t even have to learn it.

Okay, wait—can we consider that the winning side was the mother, leading her own army? That Gwydion was wielded against the Prince of Hel? Thus, the Maas universe was forged from the remnants of that eternal war ages ago.

And while Gwyn isn’t related to the sword like Azriel is to the dagger, nor to the soldiers who fought for the mother, as a priestess who worships her, she does have that little connection.

It would be quite amusing for the Fates to pair a descendant of those Hel creatures with a priestess who worships the Mother as mates.

Good god, I somehow pulled this out of my ass. Now I have to incorporate that idea into my story cause it‘s kind of awesome.

Anyway, I’d Iove to read your fic. It makes me happy to know that people use my art as inspiration 🥹

thank you for the ask! Have a lovely day 💕

[cupidsbow00]

Hii! Love your fics! For a request, maybe being friends/coworkers smth like that, but fans keep making edits and theories abt you two dating or being in love or something? Honestly, idk if I want it to be more fluff with a soft love confession or some hurt/comfort where one of them denies it (unknowingly hurting the other one) and with a dramatic love confession - it's up to you to decide cause I literally can't choose.

No rush! You can absolutely write it whenever or not write it at all!❤️💐

I gotchuuu <3 thank you for your suggestion !

Canon now, actually

Bbno$ (Alex Gumuchian) x reader

Female reader, slight angst and fluff at the end, friends to lovers

A/n: I’ve been getting a lot of requests for a friends to lovers fic so here’s my version of it! I’ll probably write another one with more angst and slow burn but please enjoy this one for now and I have more fics coming out soon <3

You had always been there — before the world knew his name, before the streams and sold-out shows and absurd viral TikToks. You were there when he was still in his “let’s see if this music thing works” phase, helping him with shoots, hyping up his worst freestyles, laughing at his chaotic sleep schedule and even more chaotic outfits.

You knew him as Alex, not bbno$. He was just your best friend. At least, that’s what you tried to remind yourself.

But somewhere between late-night FaceTimes and stolen glances during studio sessions, something shifted. He’d show up with your favorite coffee without asking. He remembered every inside joke from years ago. He called you when anything remotely funny happened because, “It’s only funny if I tell you.”

And then the internet noticed

---

It started small — a comment on a TikTok:

- “Are they together or is it just me?”

Then came the edits. Little montages of Instagram stories, him looking at you mid-laugh, hand brushing yours, casual flirty banter. His fans were convinced you were a secret couple.

- “He’s so in love and it’s obvious.”

- “The way he looks at her? That’s not platonic.”

- “She’s his muse. I’m calling it.”

You couldn’t lie — it made your heart race. Even if it wasn’t real, it felt real. The way his hand lingered on your back. The way he called you “dude” and “babe” in the same breath. The way he talked to everyone, but really only looked at you.

But then came that stream.

You weren’t even watching live. A friend sent you the clip with a laughing emoji and a “rip the shippers.”

You clicked.

There he was — in his usual streaming setup, hair messy, glasses slipping down his nose, sipping from that enormous bottle of water he never left without.

A fan asked in the chat:

- “yo be honest. are you and y/n dating?”

Alex read it out loud, grinned, and shook his head.

“What? No way,” he said, laughing. “We’re not dating. She’s just my best friend. Chill, y’all.”

He moved on like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to you.

You sat with that clip playing in your head on repeat. The way he said “no way.” Like it was ridiculous. Like it had never even crossed his mind.

Maybe it hadn’t.

---

After that, you stopped texting as much.

Not because you were mad — but because it hurt. Because you realized maybe you were reading too much into everything. Maybe you had built something in your head that didn’t exist in his.

You needed to let it go. So you tried.

You answered slower. Called less. Didn’t stay on FaceTime with him until 2 a.m. talking about everything and nothing. You told yourself it was healthy. That you were creating boundaries. That he wouldn’t even notice.

Except… he did.

---

It was a week and a half before he showed up at your place, completely unannounced, hoodie up, hair messy, and that look in his eyes like he’d been pacing around the city just to figure out what to say.

You opened the door in surprise. “Alex?”

“Okay,” he said, breathless. “What the hell is going on?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been weird. Like—like ghosting me weird. You barely text. You don’t call. You didn’t even like the pic I posted yesterday. It was me with a cat, dude. You love cats.”

You crossed your arms. “Maybe I’ve been busy.”

“No, see—no. That’s my excuse,” he said, stepping inside. “You’re never too busy for me unless something’s wrong.”

You looked away, trying to keep your composure. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Then why does it feel like I lost my best friend without warning?”

Your throat tightened. “Because maybe you did.”

He froze. “What?”

You finally looked at him — really looked at him. And it all came out.

“You said ‘no way’ like it was insane,” you whispered. “Like the idea of dating me was laughable. And yeah, I know we’re not dating. I know we’re just friends. But hearing you say it like that… it just made me feel stupid. For thinking this was ever something more.”

Alex looked like he’d been hit by a train.

“Wait—wait. You felt something too?”

You hesitated. “I thought I was imagining it.”

“Oh my God,” he said under his breath, running a hand down his face. “I’m so dumb.”

“You’re not dumb. You were honest. And I needed to hear it. That’s why I backed off — because I needed to stop hoping.”

“No,” he said, voice suddenly shaking. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to disappear because I said something dumb on stream. I thought I was protecting us. I didn’t know you— I didn’t know you felt it too.”

He took a shaky breath, eyes meeting yours.

“I love you, [Y/N]. Like, not in the ‘haha you’re my bestie’ way. I love you in the ‘I can’t go a day without thinking about you’ way. In the ‘you’re the only person who makes the noise in my head quiet’ way. In the ‘I see those edits and want them to be real’ way.”

Your heart was racing.

“I love the way you talk about things you’re passionate about. I love your stupid playlists. I love how you take care of people without even realizing it. I love you,” he finished, voice soft but certain.

You stood frozen in place, tears in your eyes.

“And I didn’t say it on stream because I didn’t think I deserved to say it out loud. I was scared. But losing you — even just a little — that scared me more.”

You stepped toward him slowly. “You mean it?”

“I’ve never meant anything more.”

He opened his arms like a silent question.

You didn’t answer with words — just stepped into him, wrapped your arms around his hoodie-clad torso, and held on like your heart had finally come home.

He kissed your forehead first. Then your cheek. Then, finally, your lips — slow and careful and full of everything he hadn’t known how to say until now.

And when you pulled away, forehead resting against his, he smiled.

“So… can I say it on stream now?”

You laughed, and in that moment — in his arms, with the weight of everything lifted — you knew:

The edits were right all along.

[cheriladycl01]

My love, is mine all mine - Max Verstappen x Norris! Reader x Charles Leclerc Part 6

Plot: Norris' Twin sister is also a driver in the 2021 line up and is in her rookie era. Not only do the commentators struggle to now talk about the pair in the race, but they also struggle to talk about talent. What happens when two drivers find her eye-catching.

A/N: I've brought Luisia into things because of the timeline and it being 2021. Don't hate on her, or the fact that i've brought her into my writing please!

After the shit show of a party, you woke up earlier than everyone else and left the docked boat. You caught the earliest flight back to the UK. You were so pissed with your friends and brother that they’d just up and left you in the club.

The whole flight home, you pondered whether you just really needed to grow up about ever situation in your life.

Lando and the clubbing group leaving you? They were drunk and probably saw you with loads of other people and assumed you were safe and good.

Charles admitting his feelings for you? You arguably needed to focus more on your career that you’d worked so hard for, you didn’t have time for boys and if Charlie really did care for you like he said, he would understand.

Max sleeping or dating your best friend? Good for him, he should be happy.

You needed to not be bitter about all of these minor blips in your life and just get on with it.

Little did you know that this would create a version of you so far from her normal bubbly self that even people who hadn’t spoken to you in years would be able to tell something wasn’t right with you.

Max and Charles had both tried to contact you through texts and phone calls all which had been ignored, you knew it was for the best to just let it all go and leave it at a what could have been. You had responsibilities far greater that you needed to focus on.

When it came to after the summer having left your brother and gone travelling on your own, updating your Instagram and family group chat whenever you managed to get wifi, you were back and raring to go for your home race.

Lando had sent a text to the family group chat asking who would be coming. He wanted to invite Luisa and only had two passes to give out. So that would mean one for Luisa and one for his dad.

Lando - Can you give your paddock passes to mum and Flo, Cisca can’t make it because of Uni

Y/N - Kinda awkward i had someone in mind i wanted to bring :(

Lando - come on its mum and your little sister Y/N don’t be rude and give up your pass to some random dude you met in Bali …

You ignored it, before going to McLaren and begging Zac for a spare paddock pass. You gave your original 2 to your mum and Flo, but your next one went to Nathan Bishop, he was a goalkeeper for Manchester United and you’d met him on a trip you’d been doing in Bali and he immediately knew who you were and you guys got talking and one thing led to another and you were inviting each other to your sports.

In the time you’d travelled he’d became a really good friend and you didn’t feel as lonely as you had since starting in F1. It was really refreshing.

You met him before, driving him to the paddock in your McLaren and pulling up into the Silverstone car park together.

“Thanks for the pass, I’ve never been to a race before so this is actually really exciting for me” he smiles waiting as you grab your bag from the back seat.

“Always welcome!” You grinned back.

“Mmmm and I’m excited to see if you are really as good as you say you are!” He teases elbowing you as you swipe your pass through the paddock scanners.

“Hey! I am a good driver! I got you here safely didn’t I?” You smile and he just nods, you point out various bits of the paddock talking about all the hustle and bustle and all the different teams and the workers running around fitting last minute bits to the motorhomes.

“Oh come on! We need to get you some McLaren team merch!” You grin pulling him to the quiet fan zone thanks to the early time it was and going to the merch stool.

“Hiya! Oh Y/N! How are you?” The worker smiles noticing it’s you.

“Hey! I’m really good! How are you? It’s hot today, make sure you drink lots of water! Radio through and ask for top ups yeah? And don’t forget sun cream!” You chide knowing sometimes the workers forget that they are humans and will push themselves till breaking point!

“Thank you! Really and I’m all good” she says flashing you the large icy bottle of water she had behind the stand with her. “What can I get for you?”

“Any chance we can get the Y/N number hat?” You grin turning to look at Nathan who just rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile that comes into his face.

“Sure! We have lots on stock today, as you know it’s home race! Good luck by the way! I know you’ll do great!” She smiles and hands you the number 42 on the baseball cap. You place it on Nathan’s head who just laughs at your antics but keeps that hat on before paying the lady for it in cash.

“Hey! I was gonna pay for it! I’m the one that got you to buy merch!” You exclaim in horror.

“Mmmm but it’s my hat … so I should pay for it!” He explains with a cat like grin.

“Argh fine come on! I want to show you round the garage and do track walk with you!” You say gently taking his hand and pulling him through the growing numbers of people in the paddock.

You showed him all around the garage and even let him sit in your car which he was really impressed with how low to the ground it felt, and how much the halo restricted vision. After showing him the pit wall and all of the engineers working and running around before free practice you took him out onto the track to do a walk.

The sun wasn’t as harsh anymore and it had started to cloud over a little bit meaning that the track walk wasn’t as strenuous as you anticipated it would be.

You guys walked around talking about the season so far and how it felt being a rookie along with Yuki Tsunoda.

Afterwards it was time for you to have a team meeting and you didn’t want to leave Nathan on his own so you walked him to the hospitality suite to find your parents.

“Mum Dad! Hey this is Nathan! Can you just watch out for him while I’m in the car please!” You ask kindly showing Nathan to a seat with your family.

“Of course sweetheart! Hi Nathan, I’m Adam, this is my wife Cisca” he introduces standing up slightly and leaning forward to shake the younger gentleman’s hand.

“You gonna be okay?” You ask, unsure if you should just bring him to the garage and find him a seat and headphones and leave him there.

“Yeah - I’ll be” he starts only for commotion behind to stop his words.

“Sorry, I’m running late. Oh … whose this?” Lando asks looking over to Nathan, someone he didn’t think would be around his family.

“This is your sisters guest, hence the hat” your mum explained pointing to the hat still on Nathans head.

“Right … yeah I just came here to drop Luisa off. Please look after her and … you know don’t be weird” he begs as Luisa starts to talk to both Flo and Nathan.

“We’re never weird! Now you both have to go get ready!” your dad grins forcing you both away.

You start to walk together to the garage in an awkward silence until Lando breaks it.

“So you brought a boyfriend with you?” Lando scoffs looking towards you.

“And what if I did?” What’s it to you, you brought Luisa!” You say looking to him confused why it was such an issue you’d brought a guy (who wasn’t anything to do with you romantically).

“Because your playing with a lot of hearts here Y/N and it’s not exactly fair. First Charles, then Max, then Charles again and then Max and now this guy? Max and Charles are my friends Y/N and I can’t help but feel like your going to go one step too far and ruin all of this …” he complains and for a second your stunned into silence not knowing what to even say.

“How am I toying with Max and Charles when Max is off with my best friend and Charles … is so hot headed that I don’t know if I can take the heat of him yelling at me for an overtake every race weekend! So how am I the one playing with hearts when it’s feels like mines the only one being toyed with, even by my own fucking brother!” You cried out frustrated with him, but that was Lando. He always spoke before he thought about what he was saying. Both a blessing and a curse.

You started to hurry off no longer wanting to entertain this conversation.

“Y/N wait … I didn’t mean it like that” Lando admits speeding up after you and walking in step with you trying to slow you down.

“We have a meeting to get to. Let’s not waste anymore time” you say coldly, so coldly it actually caused Lando to shiver as he never had heard that tone of voice or anything remotely close come from you.

Briefing for what it was, was pretty boring only talking about the upgrades they’d brought to this weeks Grand Prix. Lando had the full package and you had half, the others to come next week in Hungary.

You were in the garage after changing into your fireproofs, your race suit hanging down off your hips talking to your engineer about strategy for Silverstone, but it was always changeable depending on the track temp and the weather.

FP1 clearly showed Landos new flashy upgrades and how much quicker it made the car placing him in P2 in between Max and Lewis, the two battling it out for the championship this year.

As for you down in 9th you’d just been testing the track and were on different tyres to the top few people, wanting to test out the hards.

As the weekend progressed and the less you concentrated on all of yours issues and just had fun while concentrating on the race weekend you got better. Ending up starting in a decent P6 for the race and getting points in the Sprint that was held earlier on in the day.

“Okay Y/N, it’s looking like Plan B. Reports of rain on the radar for the last half of the race” your engineer says as you pull up into your P6 stop, next to Lando both your Orange McLarens locking out your row.

“Okay, do we have a pit plan?” You ask knowing you were on mediums in hopes they’d last long enough to get you onto Intermediates or Wet if it’s due to rain that badly.

“We’re checking now, looking into stuff with Lando too and seeing what the other teams and looking at doing, but looking like Pit Plan E”

“Yep, copied” he grit out unhappy that they are already prioritising your brother.

“Well Y/N let’s get racing for you first F1 home race! Lecelrc and Bottas in front of you and Lando, Alonso and Vettel behind you and both. And then Max and Hamilton front row” he explains, you knew you had to get a good start to overtake your brother and possibly Charles if there was an opening so as you were driving round the formation lap, you cleared your mind of everything but racing.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[redthunderstorm]

i think it’s time to share my zakuro thoughts…before you read HERE IS A DISCLAIMER!

⚠️These are interpretations/hcs! not the actual canon, do not take what i say as truth!! i am playing with my toys i like having fun.

with that said i don’t expect anyone to agree with me!! we all have different ideas for our favorite characters and that’s what makes the world go round. i hope u enjoy the read and maybe understand what i’m going for!

what really intrigued me is that every numa has some sort of personal problem with themselves or each other, and if they aren’t outright shown there’s certainly something you can dig for. i’ve noticed zakuro is a bit underrated when it comes to this. i’m here to prove to you that she can be as complex as every other character if you look in the right angle. hold my hand, let’s create meaning out of nothing!

i assume zakuro’s clones are canonically hinted as a hive-mind. i personally like to interpret it the opposite! zakuro’s clones are direct copies of her, yes, but they are capable of having their own thoughts and memories. so every zakuro are unique internally. no zakuro will have the same interaction or react the same way as the other, but that doesn't make her any less zakuro! it is simply the many versions of her emotions and personality shining through. like how one talks to themselves in their mind, i imagine zakuro and her clones are the personified equivalent of that. it’s the simplest way i can explain it! i feel with this interpretation, it has room to make her a more emotionally compelling character! without completely erasing her canon-self. a lot of internal and external problems can come out of this immortality of hers that she has been gifted.

let’s agree she had this ability all her life, as time goes on perhaps it has the potential to evolve. this could be a pro and a con! sure she can have more stable control, her clones becoming more sentient and soon direct copies of her. but it evolving is also something that’s out of her control, her body changes! looking more monster-like compared to her peers. almost like her body is returning to it's “roots.” mimicking what's around her. they are not human after all… they are monsters. internally, she could feel more alienated from her friends.

did she ever felt like she's littering the world with her copies? so many of her, that she became an afterthought to her friends?

even though past MO games aren’t canon anymore, her friend’s reactions to her got me thinking... i can’t help but latch onto these ideas, even if they're jokes! perhaps deep down it bothers her. something has been wrong from the start! zakuro and her friends are a little more considerate in mo4. i’d say it’s a time in her life where she has accepted her fate and deals with it now. she loves herself! no doubt!

she enjoys her role in the end. but can you blame her when she wants to try to be a part of something more?

tl;dr i hc that the cloning ability is her external / internal problem! it prevents her from reaching out for deeper connections and it slowly erases her sense of self.

this is not all i have.. there's so many ideas i've explored. like how she seems to copy her friend’s behaviors / life, death, and willing sacrifice could be a common theme for her / is the original zakuro still alive? and so forth.

maybe those will be their own posts! maybe not! i feel it’ll ruin the fun if i kept on rambling though. this is simply me reaching my hand out inviting you to think about her more dramatically with me... cause it's fun!

art is the answer. let’s stay curious! one of the few numas with immortality? yes! much to think about 💭

[chillygourami]

💌 you pulled: Cheerleader Yulia! + vignette

+ background-free version at the end

thanks to @cheerleaderman for hosting this amazing event! 💜

tried to write a vignette to show off her character a bit 🎲 please read and enjoy!

You are walking next to the gymnasium, immersed in your thoughts. 

???: One, two…

???: …Three! Agh, wrong one. Starting again… again.

Yulia: Ah. Good day.

Yulia rolls the sleeves of her shirt, preparing to start the music over again. 

You: … What exactly are you doing? 

Yulia: … It’’s a bit embarrassing to admit. 

Yulia: Crowley said he’d get bonus points for the best cheerleader performance.

Yulia: But I couldn’t exactly keep up with others, so I want to practice our moves until I get in sync. 

Her moves were looking almost pathetic, honestly. 

…

Yulia: What’s that look for? 

She frowns lightly.

Good luck to you, really.

Yulia nods. 

Yulia: Since class is over, would you mind counting in rhythm for me? My head cannot stand another round of music. 

Fine, I have a bit of time. 

What do I get in return?

Yulia: I’ll buy you a bun from the cafeteria. 

Gymnasium. Evening.

You: And… five! 

Yulia: Let’s… take a break… huff. 

She sits on the floor, carefully sipping from the cola bottle.

You: Are you sure you want to perform? You look worn out. 

Yulia: Of course. 

Yulia: It may be exhausting, but it’s nice to be a part of the group too. At least sometimes. 

Yulia: Besides, Idia bet I won't survive all those "extrovert activities". If I do, he will do our cheerleader dance as a support for our class.

Yulia: Aren’t you performing for your class too? 

No, I’m participating in contests. 

Yulia: Oh! So you’re the sporty type.

Yeah. 

Yulia: I’m looking forward to our class beating yours, then!

Yulia: I’ve been wondering. Why do people love things that have rhythm to it? Like music and cheerleading activities. 

Yulia: It seems we are striving for some sort of order in our core. 

Yulia: Then I thought “If so, how come abstract art exists?”

Yulia: But it is another form of order, isn’t it? 

Could you elaborate?

I don’t really understand what you mean. 

Yulia: Sorry. I’ll clarify. 

Yulia: Let’s suppose the definition of order is a state of an object which has a firmly established structure. 

Yulia: For example, the very basic transistor. The order for it is having a few terminals of semiconductors. 

Yulia: Or, moving to art. Academic art has an order of certain rules like anatomy, shadows, lighting… etc.

Yulia: So, let’s suppose abstract and futuristic art itself defies those rules in favour of human psyche reflection.

Yulia: But creating something opposed to whatever already exists is creating another set of rules which is just a logical negation.

Yulia: Hence, order still exists, because we have an established set of rules. And that’s why we perceive such art as beautiful. 

Yulia: And even the statement “No rules” is a rule itself.

Yulia: Of course, that depends on the definition of aesthetics. Those thoughts are based on the belief that beauty is an order in some sense. 

Yulia: So… how would you define aesthetics?

Thank you for reading all the way down here 💜💜💜

[linderosse]

Super valid question that doesn’t really have a set answer.

The Wisdomverse definitely started off as an LU spinoff, since it was always planned to progress in parallel with The Secrets We Keep.

But since then, I’ve changed quite a few things to fit the story I want to tell. These changes largely stem from actual Zelda canon, or certain fan canons that have been around in the LU fandom for some time. Back when I began planning this AU, many of these things hadn’t been confirmed for LU yet, and fans had their own theories. I chose the ones I liked, and also ones that maximize emotional damage (😇) and better match the stories I want to tell.

Spirit and Phantom are not Wind and Tetra

The FSA manga is canon

FSA takes place directly after FS

Legend and Fable are siblings

All relevant characters remember Hyrule Warriors (if they’ve already fought in the War of Eras)

Echo is Aurora, not Fable. Cadence of Hyrule is canon now, and is Echo’s second adventure (AoL is her third).

Smash is peripherally canon and some characters can remember it.

As I go on, I’ve sort of been viewing this more and more as its own thing that is also compatible with the LU Links. I’ve been using tags like #wisdomverse, #wielders of wisdom, and #wis sun or #wis echo for a while now, to differentiate the Zeldas from the potential LU versions.

That said, I still don’t mind folks tagging this as Linked Universe content when applicable, and I’m still going to be keeping the crossover going with the paired arts and The Secrets We Keep. This really still is an AU of LU, even if it’s also its own thing.

Essentially, full credit to @linkeduniverse for the awesome Links-meet idea that I’ve taken my own spin on. Mad respect to them; I’m a huge fan of their ideas and content.

And shoutout to the rest of the LU fandom for the Zelda names (Sun, Lullaby, etc). I continue to stress that, though the personalities, characters, stories, designs, and profession-titles (founder, rogue, etc) of Wisdomverse are either motivated by canon or a creation of my own, the Zelda names in particular were created by the LU fandom as a whole, and I’m using them as a tribute, and to maintain consistency with LU.

Tl;dr: Wisdomverse started off as an LU AU, but it has since sort of evolved into its own thing. The LU Links are still going to be in TSWK and crossovers, and I don’t mind folks tagging LU when relevant. Though some of the details may not match up anymore, I still think of these Zeldas as compatible with the core personalities and adventures of the LU Links.

Masterpost

[aruanimess]

Baby's 1st bday!!!

It’s been one year since By Each Crime and Kindness (I’m bound to you) made its debut on ao3.

The writing of this story started, of course, earlier, in late October of 2023. I had binged Attack on Titan that same month along with my partner and had been holding back my love of the AruAni ship, lest I be called a delusional romantic (not in so many words but you know what I mean). But then we got to the second part of season 4, and I first beheld Armin kneeling, repentant, in front of Annie’s crystal, begging her to speak to him, and… well… I couldn’t be contained anymore.

I scoured the depths of ao3 for fic, started stalking blogs here on tumblr, desperately searched for fanart and meta about these characters. My obsession inevitably led me to create. 

The initial inspiration for this fic was reading @flailingkittylover's Paranoid in one go, absolutely devouring every detail and, after finishing it, immediately thinking: “This was great. I need fifty more fics just like this one injected directly into my veins.” Sadly, there weren’t fifty more fics of this kind, so as you can imagine (be the change you wanna see in this world and all that), I decided to start my own. 

Of course, the story changed significantly from this early conception. I had the advantage of hindsight and was more than happy to include more and more details that would tie the later storylines of the series with its beginning. Cadet Armin and Annie became more fleshed out into my mind, my version of them shining brighter the more I wrote, brainstormed and outlined. By the time I published the first chapter, I was confident that I had put my own unique spin on the characters and the plot (despite it still being very reliant on the source material). I was uncertain about whether the fandom would enjoy it, but I knew I wanted to share my joy with the rest of you no matter what.

Since then, I’ve met many lovely people, read countless other stories, had many insightful discussions and overall enjoyed myself more than I could possibly have imagined in my wildest dreams. The AruAni fandom taught me that fandom is, first and foremost, a community built on love, something which I knew but hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing in the past. For this reason (and many more), I’ll be forever grateful and beholden to each and every one of you.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you 💜