#she enjoys sherlock

[spooksicl-e]

shco milf lestrade you are real 2 me

(edit: mar’25 old vers under the cut)

[holmesunenthusiast]

Lowk wish Watson’s hand woulda slipped and gotten Rucastle instead… Violet’s with me.

[one-awesome-beetle]

she/he/they sherlock what do we think chat

[fbfh]

do you still write for jj?

ooooh not only do I write for JJ but I kiss you on both cheeks for giving me an excuse to talk about one of my favorite obscure JJ thoughts. JJ x ballerina!reader (gn so technically ballet dancer reader, but you do dance pointe and in a more feminine style in pas de deux so do with that what you will)

They thought you were a kook for the first few summers since you clearly went to school off the island. It turns out you're not, you're just a scholarship kid to whatever fancy school you go to (something that Pope LOVES to pick your brain about since he's dying for a scholarship to his dream college)

at some point or another, there's a hurricane. you end up sticking it out with the other pogues. that's when they notice how... weirdly flexible you are. especially JJ. mostly JJ. it started off small, with you stretching a little while you guys are hanging out in the aftermath since the day after a hurricane is always a free day. JJ looked away from you for like two seconds and you just fuckin... dropped into a perfect split. he's surprised by this obviously, but he's more surprised when you seamlessly shift to a split on the other side, then a center split, bending and moving with impossibly flexibility. then a moment later, you're asking him "hey can you grab my leg?" as you stand up and stretch into a scorpion/needle pose. soon you're dragging him out of the room to "help you with something else." he FULLY thinks yall are about to hook up, but instead you put on this beautiful, artsy, erratic piano music, kick off your sandals or sneakers or whatever, and begin moving like a fucking vision.

you're rambling to him while you dance like it's nothing, but his jaw is on the fucking floor.

"This is the solo I learned last semester," you chuckle while spinning like a little figurine atop a music box, or something in a snow globe, or... wherever else he's seen ballerinas in passing before.

"If I'm rusty by the time I get back, Miss Raine will kill me." you chuckle playfully.

after a few moments, you finish, posed delicately on the ground. you look up at him, your cheeks flushed, your eyes glistening with mirth.

"holy fucking shit," he exclaims, making you blush. "goddamn, princess, that-"

he trails off with a disbelieving chuckle.

"That was fuckin' incredible," he says with a breathy laugh, then nudges you playfully, looking at you more closely like he must have missed something all those times he looked at you and never saw this magical ballet fairy hiding inside you. "you've been holdin' out on me." he teases.

"okay, okay, here's where I need your help." you begin, trying not to get too distracted. you reach out and grab his wrist, holding out his left arm palm up. "I'm gonna run at you like this-"

you demonstrate, taking a step forward. his attention is locked onto you even harder from the moment you grab his arm.

"And kinda... kick my leg around," you do just that, so you're twisted around and facing away from him. he lets out a little noise of surprise. you know it must seem convoluted and ridiculous, but you really need help practicing this lift.

"I need you to wrap your arm around me like this," you say, bending forward with one leg extended behind you, the other supporting you, so your stomach rests on his bicep and his hand holds the small of your back. "And then place your other hand right on my ribcage here."

"oh, my hand will be wherever you want it, cupcake." he says, making you roll your eyes at the (only half joking) innuendo.

"okay." you say, taking a step back. "you ready?"

the first few times you walk through it together are clumsy and slow, a mess of limbs and giggles, but eventually you get it. you call your friends in to show them the bluebird lift you've been working on, even having successfully taught JJ how to lower you and do a few basic steps with you to conclude. you both get through it unscathed, and your friends reactions are very similar to JJ (with only slightly less innuendo and teasing from John B and Pope), and as JJ giggles and demands you come at him so he can lift you again, you start to see a lot of potential in him.

maybe, just maybe, you can shape that potential a little more over the summer. your ballet academy always has scholarships for boys available since they're always in demand in the performing arts. you think there might just be a chance for JJ to do a lot more lifts with you.

[honeysucklethornsandalligtrhorns]

got my mom to listen to the first episode of sherlock and co with me and she listened to the second while she was showering tonight.

so far the feedback she's given is that 'sherlock is the most intriguing character' because of his 'odd personality' and that she 'wonders what happened to the woman in the snow'. she also is very insistent on calling john 'watson' and i'm 90% sure she doesn't really know who i'm talking about when i call him 'john'.

[ohwatson]

I would love to hear any thoughts you may have on Lestrade's wife and what happened to their marriage, should you feel so inclined?

i’ve thought about this specific piece of Lestrade Lore™ more than i care to admit, so i should feel so inclined, yes!

i definitely don’t think the lestrades’ marriage was short-lived, he gives the energy of someone who was married for at least a decade, maybe even 15-20 years.

i see a younger lestrade as being playful, flirtatious, probably a ladies man & definitely aware of it (have you seen young rupert graves? bffr.) but getting married sort of young. i imagine their relationship to kind of just have happened; they got to chatting and all the sudden were inseparable etc but never really saw a relationship coming until it kind of seemed like the obvious/right thing to do (in hindsight, lestrade probably recognizes that pursuing a relationship because it was expected & not because it was a good match in the long run wasn’t a great idea).

(also he looked so good in the episode jesus christ)

it was a healthy marriage in the beginning, lestrade is clearly devoted (he evidently went back to his wife after she cheated the first time, which speaks either of his loyalty or obliviousness, or something else). i think lestrade was content and was working his way up the NSY ranks during the early years of the marriage probably had the successful-career-as-a-detective-with-a-family-in-a-semi-detached-in-the-suburbs kind of vision for himself. however, he got the offer for a DI position & knew that the workload would increase and it could take a toll but the offer was too good to decline even if it meant he spent several extra hours at work in the evenings.

i imagine his wife got jealous or felt bored and insecure because of that, and i’m sure having sherlock ringing lestrade’s phone during dinner or at 2am demanding a case (& lestrade indulging him) didn’t help matters. so eventually she sought out someone else, thinking lestrade would be too busy to notice (she was right, but sherlock dredged that secret up quickly enough, & i do believe lestrade had suspicions but gave her the benefit of the doubt). she probably thought he cared more about his career than her, which wasn’t the case, but i do think lestrade probably took some of his marriage and personal life for granted and put it on pause for The Work (like sherlock in a way tbh).

obviously they separated at some point & i think it was probably lestrade who made the first move at trying to reconcile because he probably felt he was the reason for his wife’s infidelity. he truly thought they had been making progress until the infamous asib christmas (he cancelled the dorset holiday. the greek islands were nicer, anyways).

he looked a little sullen and tipsy at the wedding in tsot which i just chalked down to him having feelings about his divorce and also his friend’s gay situationship but evidently he’s not opposed to dating again as we see from tst & The One is out there for him somewhere live laugh love lestrade 🙂‍↕️

[aloe-plant-yippee]

as a sherlock and co fan i decided i would venture into the unknown lands of bbc sherlock

all i can say is the last thing i expected was for moriarty to be a twink that tries to flirt with sherlock

[arttsuka]

i have mixed feelings about Irene in warner brothers version (she is still misunderstood by the writers and that kiss she gave sherlock when she made him pass out made me feel an ick)

Eww don't remind me of that scene how dare you

But yeah, the wb movies (at least the first one) were almost decent, they just had to ruin Irene I guess. Actually I don't believe I've ever seen a Sherlock adaptation that doesn't screw her over, at least not anything on tv.

[angryducktimemachine]

Kinda want to draw WDR Adaptation Mrs Hudson. If there is a version of Mrs. Hudson who killed her husband it's her for sure.

[goatsorcery]

every week when we watch doctor who my mom’s so upset that he’s not wearing the kilt he wore in 15’s first episode

[llycaons]

some characters really do go into self-destructive spirals and risk losing themselves in their quest for vengeance no matter how justified (I love you kurapika), but some characters do not - they can take on violence and they welcome the chance to exact the same cruelty that was enacted on them, and they do find peace and fulfillment in it. and it's the ones who plan it out well and execute it and are satisfied that are REALLY satisfying to watch. I love you inigo montoya I love you kitty winter I love you wei wuxian

[3x03spring]

started watching granada holmes for the first time

[hyperfixationcreature]

Possible hot take (not really): I really didn't hate that new CBS Watson show

Is it good? No it is not

Am I going to watch the entire season? Almost certainly

[cheftsunoda]

hello hello hello my love! i definitely dwelled on this for far too long so it’s time to request it before i change something else.

oscar has stated casually that he has a twin. nicole has mentioned that they are nothing alike. it’s revealed that not only is oscar’s twin a girl, but a extroverted, expressive, social and newly successful broadway actress!

think glinda upland, very pink, very peppy, has no off button.

as if the world needed more to obsess over than how different the oldest piastris are from one another, they start to obsess over how different she is from another f1 driver who can’t seem to make it less obvious he’s into her. a driver who absolutely would not be into glitz and glamour of broadway. one who notoriously hates anything that isn’t racing, winning, and partying (in that order).

max verstappen x broadway actress! piastri!reader

god i hope that made sense, it’s 10pm, it’s hot asf and i’m dehydrated so just do your best, i believe in you, love you🫶🏾🫶🏾

wickedly charming — mv1

smau + blurbs

max verstappen x !broadway actress piastri reader

oscar piastri x !twin sister reader

everyone knew oscar piastri was calm, collected, and laser focused on racing. what nobody put together—until now—is that he has a twin. and she’s absolutely nothing like him. yn piastri is broadway’s newest “it girl.” all glitter, giggles, and pink heels, she’s just been cast as glinda in wicked, and the world can’t get enough of how wildly different the piastri twins are. while oscar is quiet and dry witted, yn sparkles with an energy that could light up times square.

the f1 paddock is in chaos over the reveal, but not as much as one max verstappen, who—despite hating musicals, broadway, and anything unrelated to racing—suddenly can’t stop showing up where she is. opposites attract? maybe. or maybe max verstappen is just helplessly obsessed with the one person who makes absolutely no sense in his world.

fc : ariana grande, allie trimm and mckenzie kurtz

(a/n) : WHDJSJSJJDJ im screaming. this was such a good idea. i had way too much fucking fun. i absolutely adore you. and i love the piastri fam dearly. side note— my second day in a row posting max content. who am i? BUT I LOVE YOU BABY. hope you enjoy.

—

f1

liked by lando, mclaren, nicolepiastri and 5,705,007 others.

f1 : hey it’s admin and im totally not chill about this and i will be doing tons of detective work to find this twin. thx oscar. (pls don’t get me fired for this)

—

view 534,000 other comments.

mclaren : typical oscar behavior. when do WE get to meet her?

charles_leclerc : i for one, HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS.

↳ lando : the most important being…is she single?

olliebearman : I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING. what’s her star sign. what’s her favorite sandwich. what’s her opinion on Crocs. please admin you have to find her

↳ username00 : ollie pls😭

username15 : wait WHAT IF SHE’S FAMOUS TOO. what if i’ve seen her in something. what if i’ve been obsessed with piastri’s twin this whole time and DIDN’T KNOW??

lando : @/nicolepiastri pls confirm

↳ nicolepiastri : i went through 15 hours of grueling labor and two babies came out…can confirm

↳ olliebearman : does she like crocs????

↳ nicolepiastri : unless they are pink…no

username7 : Admin I will Venmo you to find her. We need to know IMMEDIATELY.

gabrielbortoleto_ : oscar lore drop was not on my bingo card for this season

carlossainz55 : Oscar you HAVE A TWIN and didn’t tell any of us????

↳ oscarpiastri : sorry?

lando : i stg if she is even an ounce cooler than you im switching sides

↳ nicolepiastri : she is

↳ oscarpiastri : this feels personal

maxverstappen1 : Just curious. What is her full legal name?

↳ lando : i know her last name 🤓👆🏻

↳ maxverstappen1 : no fucking shit sherlock.

username77 : how is everyone just finding this out??? when nicole did that podcast ages ago she mentioned oscar has a twin and she’s absolutely NOTHING like him.

↳ username55 : WHERE IS IT

↳ username77 : @/f1gossipgirls recently posted another clip of it

—

f1gossipgirls

liked by lando and 3,507,007 others.

f1gossipgirls : Clips from a Podcast with Nicole Piastri a while back where she speaks about Oscar’s mysterious twin.

—

view 175,000 other comments.

username000 : You’re telling me there’s a pink wearing, spotlight loving, sparkle dripping Piastri twin out there just waiting to be revealed??? This is my multiverse of madness.

username00 : no offense but i would ditch oscar in a heartbeat if she turned up in rhinestones and heels

username0 : if she’s even a little unhinged i will be dedicating my life to her

username1 : NICOLE PLEASEEEEEE I’ve suffered enough

lando : any new developments guys???

liked by f1gossipgirls

↳ oscarpiastri : oh i see you are still taking this very well

↳ lando : maybe if my teammate IVE KNOWN FOR YEARS wasn’t so sneaky I would not be spiraling and asking fangirls for help

↳ oscarpiastri : it really must suck to be you

↳ lando : @/nicolepiastri your son is being mean to me

↳ nicolepiastri : he is just like that sometimes sorry

username5 : i know that Nicole is LOVING watching the internet crumble at this

↳ nicolepiastri : it is very entertaining to me

liked by f1gossipgirls

—

Lando was pacing the McLaren motorhome like a man possessed. His phone was abandoned on the table, open to the gossip page post of Nicole Piastri casually dropping the twin bombshell, while Oscar sat calmly across from him, picking at a granola bar like it was just another day.

“Okay,” Lando said, hands on his hips, like he was bracing himself for a tsunami. “So I’ve known you for years. Years, Oscar. I’ve been to your house. I’ve met your mum. I’ve met your sisters. All three of them. And now you’re telling me there’s a fourth?!”

Oscar didn’t look up. “I never said you met all of them.”

“What does that even mean?” Lando practically shouted. “You have a twin, mate! That’s not a side note! That’s not a fun fact at the end of a race debrief!”

Oscar shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

Lando stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “So you just… forgot to mention the girl who literally shared a womb with you?”

“She’s kind of busy,” Oscar said, finally glancing up. “It’s not like she’s hanging around the paddock waiting to be noticed.”

“Busy doing what?! Solving world hunger? Living on the moon?!”

Before Oscar could answer—or dodge the question, which he was alarmingly good at—the door swung open.

“Hey.” Max Verstappen stepped in, casual as ever, but with that unmistakable look in his eye. The one he wore when he smelled blood in the water. “I heard Lando’s yelling from outside and wanted to see what all of it was about?”

Oscar groaned. Lando immediately pointed at him.

“Did you know?” Lando demanded. “Did you know Oscar has a twin?!”

Max blinked, lips twitching ever so slightly. “No. But now I’m interested.”

Oscar leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like it might swallow him. “Why do I feel like this is going to ruin my life?”

Lando’s arms flailed. “Because it is! There is a twin! A secret twin! And his mum literally said—and I quote—‘bubbly little princess.’ That’s not a personality, Oscar, that’s a threat! She probably wears pink! And glitter! And sings!”

“She does,” Oscar said, far too casually.

Max raised a brow, voice quiet. “She sings?”

Oscar sat up straight, slapping his granola wrapper down. “Okay. Enough.”

Lando froze.

Oscar pointed at Max. “You clearly want to meet her.”

Max didn’t deny it. He just tilted his head, waiting.

Oscar sighed. “Fine. Get your jet ready. We’re going to New York.”

Lando’s jaw dropped. “New York?! Why New York?! What’s in New—wait.” His voice cracked. “No. No no no. You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.”

Oscar didn’t blink.

Lando spun around in a full circle, his mind short-circuiting. “Is she on Broadway?! Like actual Broadway?!”

Max, still infuriatingly silent, simply grabbed his phone and walked out of the room like a man with a purpose.

Lando turned back to Oscar, eyes wide, heart clearly in full meltdown. “I am not emotionally equipped for this.”

Oscar just smiled faintly and said, “No one is.”

—

gigglesandglitz

liked by hattiepiastri, nicolepiastri, oscarpiastri and 1,750,007 others.

gigglesandglitz : ✨it’s good to see me, isn’t it?✨ beyond thrilled (and still a little in shock) to share that i’ll be stepping into the bubble as glinda in wicked on broadway 💖 dreams do come true—see you in oz 💫🌟🎭

tagged : wicked_musical

—

view 172,500 other comments.

username000 : your tone, your energy, your smile—this is about to be ICONIC. see you in the front row 😭💖🫧

liked by gigglesandglitz

↳ gigglesandglitz : thank you sweetheart!! cannot wait to see you 💞🎀

username00 : you floated into our hearts long before you floated in that bubble. congratulations angel 💕✨🧹

liked by gigglesandglitz

username0 : I’ve followed your journey since the community theatre days and now…Broadway Glinda?! This is surreal. You deserve it all 💫💫💫

liked by gigglesandglitz

username1 : a lot of piastri’s in the likes 👀

↳ username7 : i will literally scream, cry and jump for joy if this is Oscar’s twin.

yourbff : I SAID SHE WAS DESTINED FOR THIS!!! Our pink princess is headed to Oz!!! 🌟💖

liked by gigglesandglitz, hattiepiastri and nicolepiastri

↳ gigglesandglitz : i love you so much 🤧🤧💓💓

hattiepiastri : STOP IT 😭 i’m already crying and i haven’t even seen you float down in the bubble yet

liked by nicolepiastri, gigglesandglitz and oscarpiastri

↳ gigglesandglitz : love you to the moon and back my hattie!! 💐💕 i cannot wait to see you

↳ username5 : erm???? r we seeing this???

lilyzneimer : my girl!!!!!! there is no one in the world more perfect for this role💖 you are going to kill it. I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!

liked by gigglesandglitz, nicolepiastri and oscarpiastri

↳ gigglesandglitz : MY LILY. MY BABY. love you forever and ever 🩷💕

username17 : oh this is definitely the twin and im eating up every bit of it

nicolepiastri : We always knew you were born for this. You were singing before you could talk 💕💫

liked by lilyzneimer, oscarpiastri, hattiepiastri and gigglesandglitz

↳ gigglesandglitz : could have never done this without you💓💞💞 love u always

↳ username22 : mhm mhm *me examining the evidence*

oscarpiastri : The most Glinda to ever Glinda. So proud of you (but still not wearing pink, sorry)

liked by lilyzneimer, hattiepiastri, nicolepiastri and gigglesandglitz

↳ gigglesandglitz : aw but my ozzie, you would look so pretty! but i love you— pink or no pink🥹💞💓

↳ username22 : this sealed the deal for me. case is dismissed

—

Oscar already regretted everything. The moment he stepped onto Max’s private jet and saw Lando Norris sprawled across the cream leather seats with a smoothie in hand and a million questions already queued, he knew it was going to be a long flight.

“You still haven’t told me what show she’s in,” Lando said, for the fifth time in ten minutes.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Oscar muttered, settling into the seat opposite him, desperately wishing for noise-canceling headphones. Or earplugs. Or a tranquilizer dart.

Lando leaned in dramatically. “Is it Hamilton? Wicked? Oh my god, wait. Is she in Les Mis? Is she Fantine? Does she die??”

“She doesn’t die,” Max muttered from the back, where he was sipping coffee and pretending not to care—while very clearly listening to every word.

Nicole Piastri stepped on board next, glamorous as ever, sunglasses on, effortlessly composed as if she hadn’t just been dragged into the most random F1-Broadway crossover of the decade. She beamed at Max.

“Max, darling. Thanks for flying us.”

Max nodded. “Of course.”

Oscar something muttered under his breath. Nicole gracefully ignored her son and dropped into a seat next to Hattie, who was FaceTiming one of the other sisters to keep them updated. Chris Piastri followed after, wearing a jacket that screamed “tourist dad in New York” and holding a Tupperware of homemade sandwiches.

“Thought we might get hungry,” he said cheerfully, offering one to Max.

Max blinked. “Thanks.”

“Do you think she’s playing a princess?” Lando continued. “I bet she is. She sounds like a princess. Nicole literally called her a ‘bubbly little princess.’ You can’t just say things like that and expect us to not obsess.”

Oscar leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “I can’t believe I did this.”

“You did this,” Max agreed.

“And you,” Oscar said, pointing accusingly at Max without even opening his eyes. “Are acting like you don’t care when I know you’re just as obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Max said.

“He offered the jet,” Lando whispered to Nicole, who giggled behind her mimosa.

“Did she always sing as a kid?” Lando asked, now leaning over the aisle toward Nicole.

“Always,” Nicole said proudly. “She was the one performing in the living room, while Oscar built LEGO cars in the corner pretending not to watch.”

“I wasn’t pretending,” Oscar mumbled. “I wasn’t watching.”

Chris chuckled. “He was. He knows all the words to Defying Gravity.”

Max glanced over, brow raised. “Wait. That’s from Wicked, right?”

Silence. Lando dropped his smoothie. “IS SHE GLINDA??”

Oscar rubbed his face with both hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

“YOU DIDN’T NEED TO,” Lando shouted, now fully losing it. “THIS IS WHY YOU’VE BEEN SO CAGEY. SHE’S GLINDA THE GOOD WITCH. OH MY GOD. I’M GOING TO FAINT.”

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Max muttered under his breath.

Chris blinked. “You alright, mate?”

“I’m fine,” Max said through gritted teeth, staring out the window like it personally offended him.

Nicole sipped her mimosa delicately. “He’s just overwhelmed. It happens. She does have that effect on people.”

“You’ve all seen her perform?” Lando asked, looking between the family members like they were the last witnesses to a secret society.

“Opening night is tonight,” Hattie said, eyes shining. “She’s been working toward this her entire life.”

Lando clutched his chest like he’d been stabbed. “And we’re going to see her?! LIVE?! In the bubble?!”

Oscar opened one eye and stared at him. “If you embarrass me—”

“I’m going to cry so hard,” Lando whispered dramatically.

Max still hadn’t moved. He hadn’t said much, either. But he was leaning just slightly forward now, legs bouncing, coffee long abandoned.

Oscar sighed. “You’re all hopeless.”

Nicole smiled at her son and patted his arm gently. “And yet, you’re still the one who told Max to book the jet.”

Chris grinned. “Face it, mate. You love her.”

Oscar stared ahead.

“I tolerate her.”

Hattie snorted.

“Sure,” she said. “And Max just came for the sandwiches.”

From the back, Max muttered, “They are really good.”

—

oscarpiastri added two posts to his story!

seen by gigglesandglitz, lando, hattiepiastri and 7,500,000 others.

—

f1gossipgirls

2,789,000 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris AND Max Verstappen were all spotted in New York City. The three were seen alongside the rest of Oscar’s family and his long term girlfriend, Lily, as they were attending the opening night of Wicked on Broadway. There have been rumors swirling for weeks that Oscars twin is the new Glinda, is this all the confirmation we need???

—

The theatre hums with nerves and glitter. You’re halfway through vocal warmups, perched in fuzzy pink slippers and your satin “Glinda” robe, lips stained with gloss and eyes already sparkling with half-done stage makeup. You’ve got curlers in your hair and butterflies in your stomach. It’s opening night in your new role, and nothing could possibly make this moment more surreal.

Until, of course, you turn around and see your entire family standing in the hallway behind you. You blink. Then blink again.

“Mum?” you say, squinting through the haze of hairspray. “Dad? Hattie?!”

Your mother grins and holds up a Starbucks and a tiny bottle of champagne like a trophy. “We made it, sweetheart.”

“WHAT?!”

You break into a squeal, racing across the narrow hallway with slippered feet and throwing your arms around them, your heart pounding faster than it had when you stepped into the bubble during tech rehearsal.

“You said you had work! Oscar said he had media—”

“I lied,” Oscar says dryly, arms open as you throw yourself into them. “You’re welcome.”

“You liar!” you shout, laughing, pulling back to smack his shoulder. “You hate surprises!”

“I hate being on Max’s jet more.”

You blink. “Max’s jet?”

“Hi.”

You turn—and your world tilts. Max Verstappen is standing there. In your theatre. Backstage. Wearing a nicer suit jacket, arms crossed awkwardly, somehow managing to look both completely out of place and like he belonged in the center of this chaos.

Behind him, Lando Norris is practically vibrating, and next to him is a serene, smiling Lily, holding Oscar’s hand and sipping a green juice like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Oh, wow.”

“Hi,” Max says again, voice softer now.

Before you can say anything else, Lando launches at you.

“You’re YN!” he yells, hugging you like he’s known you forever. “You’re Glinda!! You’re the twin!! I can’t believe you’re REAL.”

You laugh into his shoulder. “You must be Lando. You sent me 46 TikToks about glittery F1 cars this week…after you managed to find me on social media.”

Oscar groans behind you. “You gave him your number?!”

“She’s delightful,” Lily chimes in, stepping forward to kiss your cheek. “And our very own Glinda?! I had wicked posters on my walls growing up.”

You’re still reeling. Still processing. Max still hasn’t moved.

You turn to him slowly, head tilted, curiosity bubbling in your chest. “You okay, Red Bull?”

He nods once. “You look… pink.”

“That’s usually the goal,” you say, grinning.

He exhales through his nose—almost a laugh. You watch his eyes scan the glitter on your eyelids, the rhinestones on your cheeks, the blush pink satin tied around your waist like a second skin.

“You’re not a fan of musicals, are you?”

“No.”

“Sparkles?”

“No.”

“Stage makeup?”

“No.”

You lean in a little, voice dropping just enough to make him blink. “And yet… you’re here.”

His gaze doesn’t waver.

“I’m here.”

And for the first time tonight, it’s not the spotlight or the stage that makes your heart race—it’s him.

From behind you, Lando’s voice cuts through. “OH MY GOD, are you two flirting?! Is this a slow burn?! Someone warn the internet!!”

Oscar groans again. Max just smiles. And you? You float back into your dressing room like you were born on air—because for the first time tonight, the magic didn’t come from the stage. It came from them. From all of them showing up. From Max Verstappen, standing in your glittering world of pink and theatre and sparkle… and not running away.

—

The curtain falls. The orchestra swells, the crowd erupts, and you’re standing center stage with a wand in your hand, heart in your throat, and glitter in your hair.

You did it. Opening night had been conquered.

You bow so deeply your tiara nearly falls off, and when you lift your eyes, your family is on their feet in the front row. Your mum’s wiping tears. Hattie’s holding her phone sideways, probably recording everything. Your dad is cheering like he’s at the Grand Prix.

And right in the middle of them—between Lily and Lando—is Max Verstappen. Standing. Clapping. Watching only you.

You’re still in costume when you burst into the dressing room afterward, laughter bubbling in your throat as you collapse into your chair. Your castmates are hugging you, handing you flowers, someone pops open champagne, and you feel like you’re floating again.

But nothing prepares you for the pounding on your dressing room door.

“HELLO?! IT’S ME, YOUR BIGGEST FAN,” comes Lando’s voice. “OPEN UP BEFORE I START CRYING IN THE HALLWAY.”

You unlock the door and are immediately tackled by Lando Norris—who is, indeed, already crying.

“YOU WERE AMAZING,” he sobs, crushing you in a hug. “YOU SPARKLED. YOU BELTED. YOU DID THAT BUBBLE THING. I AM OBSESSED WITH YOU.”

You’re laughing and crying and trying to hold your wand in one hand and a bouquet in the other when Lily gently peels Lando off of you and hugs you properly.

“You were stunning, darling,” she says, brushing a rhinestone off your cheek. “I think I actually stopped breathing during ‘Popular.’”

“Join the club,” Oscar mutters from behind her. He’s standing awkwardly in the corner, hands shoved in his pockets.

You grin. “You okay there, Oz?”

“I’m fine,” he says flatly. “It was… well executed.”

“You cried.”

“I didn’t.”

“He did,” Nicole adds as she enters, dabbing at her eyes. “Second verse of ‘For Good.’ I caught him.”

Oscar glares at her. “Betrayal.”

“I loved it,” Chris announces, squeezing your shoulders. “Couldn’t understand a word in the second act but it looked fantastic.”

And then—Then you see him.

Max is lingering in the doorway. Quiet. Still in all black, still looking like he stepped onto the wrong movie set. But he’s holding flowers.

You raise an eyebrow. “You bring those for me, or did someone mistake you for Elphaba?”

His lips twitch. “They’re for you.”

You walk toward him slowly, pink skirt rustling, glitter still clinging to your skin.

“You stayed.”

“I said I would.”

“I figured you’d sneak out at intermission.”

“I almost did,” he admits. “But then you floated down in that bubble and started singing about being popular and… I don’t know.”

You blink. “You don’t know?”

He clears his throat. “It was funny. You were funny.”

You tilt your head. “You laughed?”

“A little.”

You pause, then grin. “You loved it.”

“I tolerated it,” he deadpans. “With great effort.”

“You loved me in it.”

Max doesn’t respond. He just looks at you, really looks at you, like he’s still trying to process how someone like you—bright, glittering, unapologetically pink—exists in the same world as him.

“I loved you in it,” he says finally.

And your heart does something dangerous.

Oscar loudly clears his throat. “I hate this.”

“You’re welcome,” Nicole says.

Lando fans himself dramatically. “I KNEW this was a slow burn! The way he clapped like his life depended on it? Romantic.”

“Can someone remove him?” Oscar grumbles.

But you’re not listening. You’re still staring up at Max, holding your flowers, your heart racing. Because maybe this was a little ridiculous. Maybe you’re pink and glitter and bubblegum and musical theatre.

And he’s Max Verstappen—champagne, circuits, podiums, fire. But right now? In this moment? He’s yours. And he stayed.

—

After photos and flowers and what felt like ten thousand hugs, your cast slips away to their dressing rooms, leaving you alone with your chaotic entourage. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, your feet hurt from heels, and your heart is still thudding like it never came down from the final note. Max hasn’t left your side. Which is wild. And a little suspicious. And also making Oscar increasingly twitchy.

“You don’t have to stay for stage door,” you say, glancing at Max as you peel off your false lashes. “It’s going to be a madhouse.”

He leans against the dressing table, arms crossed, eyes soft. “Do you want me to leave?”

You pause mid wipe with a makeup remover pad. “…No.”

“Then I’m staying.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. “You’re going to get glitter on your jacket.”

Max looks down at himself like he’s already accepted the consequences. “I’ll live.”

You glance up to see Oscar watching the two of you like a man who regrets every life choice that brought him to this moment. Including birth.

“Are we seriously letting this happen?” he mutters to Lando.

“I mean,” Lando shrugs, “he flew your entire family to New York. You let him sit front row. This ship has sailed, my guy.”

Oscar sighs into his hands. “She’s my twin.”

Lily gently pats his arm. “And Max is… surprisingly soft. Let it happen.”

“He’s Max Verstappen,” Oscar hisses. “He barely has feelings.”

“Tell that to the way he looked at her during ‘Popular,’” Lily says with a smug little grin. “He literally leaned forward like she was the main event at a Grand Prix.”

You’re still blotting glitter off your collarbone when a stagehand pokes her head in. “YN? They’re ready for you at stage door.”

You nod, heart thumping. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

You slip into your coat—still in stage makeup and pink heels, because, well, theatre—and follow the low hum of noise growing louder as you approach the back exit.

Outside, it’s electric. Fans are lined up against barricades, Playbills and pens in hand, camera flashes ready. You hear your name shouted in waves, a few scattered gasps as people recognize your face.

Lando, naturally, steps out first.

“HELLOOOOOOO NEW YORK!” he yells, signing a Playbill that isn’t even his. “YN WAS ICONIC! GIVE HER A TONY NOW!”

You shriek with laughter as security gently moves him back.

“Lando!” you hiss. “You’re not in the show!”

“I AM IN THE MOMENT!”

Oscar groans so loudly a few fans look over and gasp.

“Oh my god, is that—?!”

“OSCAR PIASTRI?!”

And then—chaos.

Phones are up. Fans are screaming. Someone literally yells, “THAT’S HER BROTHER??” followed by, “WAIT—IS MAX VERSTAPPEN WITH HER?!”

You don’t even have time to react before Max—very calmly—steps behind you, one hand resting lightly on your back, the other tucked into his coat. Silent. Protective. Firm.

And just like that, the crowd explodes again.

Max doesn’t flinch. But you swear you feel him shift just a little closer. Like he’s shielding you from the madness. Like this glittering, pink, musical chaos you live in doesn’t scare him off at all.

You sign Playbills. Take photos. Someone calls you “Broadway Barbie” and you nearly cry. You feel hands squeezing yours, hear compliments that leave you breathless.

And all the while, Max stays just behind you. Steady. Quiet. Watching.

You turn to him at one point, cheeks flushed, overwhelmed.

“You’re still here.”

He nods. “I said I’d stay.”

You smile. “You’re gonna end up in a DeuxMoi submission.”

He smirks. “I’ll live.”

Oscar appears between you like a panicked chaperone. “Okay. Time to go. We’ve flirted. We’ve sparkled. Let’s exit before this becomes a trending topic.”

“Too late,” Lando says, holding up his phone. “You’re literally on the F1 subreddit right now. Titled ‘Oscar Piastri’s twin is Glinda on Broadway and Verstappen’s in love—Discuss.’”

Oscar’s eye twitches.

You laugh so hard you nearly drop your wand.

As the crowd begins to thin and the magic starts to settle, Max leans close to your ear.

“You were really good.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, your nose almost brushing his.

“You’re really bad at hiding feelings.”

He breathes out a quiet laugh.

“I’m not trying to hide anything.”

—

gigglesandglitz

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, lando and 3,470,005 others.

gigglesandglitz : opening night vibes 💕💞💗💓 ft how i arrive everywhere now that i can say im glinda @/trixiemattel

—

view 252,000 other comments.

trixiemattel : oh you better WERK mama. absolutely stunning.

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↳ katya_zamo : you did more for the gay community in one night than we've done in YEARS baby.

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↳ gigglesandglitz : i love you both so fucking much

oscarpiastri : I’m never recovering from this. You were ridiculous. You were loud. You were sparkly. You were perfect.

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↳ hattiepiastri : she made him CRY and he won’t admit it

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↳ oscarpiastri : blocked.

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↳ gigglesandglitz : aw my ozzzzz ily both sm

nicolepiastri : The most magical night for the most magical girl. We are SO proud of you 💖🌟✨

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lilyzneimer : You were everything. And I will be referencing your Glinda laugh for the rest of my life 💅

liked by gigglesandglitz

lando : I’m not saying you changed me as a person but… I sobbed. And also stole someone’s pink heels. We’re all different now.

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maxverstappen1 : Congratulations, superstar.

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↳ gigglesandglitz : thanks champ ;)

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↳ username00 : brb spiraling.

—

It’s their last night in New York. You know it the second you wake up—curled up on your tiny dressing room couch in an oversized hoodie someone draped over you after the afterparty—and the weight of it settles in your chest like something bittersweet.

You haven’t seen Max all day. He disappeared after brunch with your family, claiming something vague about meetings and logistics. But when your phone buzzes around six, it’s his name on your screen.

come to dinner with me?

You don’t ask where.

You just say yes.

—

You don’t expect the place he takes you to.

It’s not the usual Manhattan buzz. No white tablecloths, no chandeliers. Just a tiny, tucked-away restaurant in SoHo with dim lights, warm wood, a booth in the back where no one seems to care who you are—or who he is.

Max slides into the booth across from you, hair still a little damp from the rain, wearing a navy sweater you’re almost sure he stole from Lando. He looks tired. Comfortable. And for the first time, not even trying to be guarded.

“You okay?” you ask as you set your purse beside you, tugging off your coat. Your voice is soft. Stage-weary.

He nods, then pauses.

“I didn’t want to leave without seeing you.”

You blink, heart flipping in that way it always does around him now—quietly, suddenly, like your body knows something before your brain does.

“Why does that sound like a goodbye?” you ask gently.

He shrugs. “Because I hate goodbyes.”

You both sit there in the soft hum of the restaurant for a moment. There’s candlelight between you. You watch it flicker and try not to get lost in the fact that Max Verstappen just flew halfway across the world to watch you float down in a bubble and sing about popularity.

“I’m glad you came,” you whisper.

His gaze lifts to yours. It’s steady. Quietly intense.

“You were amazing. I meant it.”

You smile, pressing your cheek into your palm as you look at him across the table. “Didn’t think musicals were your thing.”

“They’re not,” he says. “But you are.”

Your breath catches. And there it is again—that quiet, heavy something that always seems to settle between you when the noise dies down. Something pink and unspoken and real.

The server brings wine. You clink glasses. You make him try half your plate because he “doesn’t trust anything that isn’t steak or pasta” and you force him to admit your grilled peach salad is “weird but good.”

He watches you like he’s memorizing. And when you lean forward, elbows on the table, chin in your hand, asking about Spa or Monza or how it really felt to win that last race—he opens up. Just a little. Just enough.

“You make it easy to talk,” he says eventually.

You grin. “Maybe I should start offering therapy sessions in full Glinda costume.”

“I’d pay for that,” he deadpans.

You snort.

And maybe that’s your favorite thing about him—that you can go from glitter to silence, from stage lights to city shadows, and he still feels the same. Still sees you.

—

After dinner, he walks you back to your apartment even though his hotel is in the opposite direction.

The New York streets are wet and glowing. You’ve changed into boots and a hoodie and you’re walking beside him with your hands in your pockets and your heart doing cartwheels.

When you reach your door, you both stop.

He doesn’t say anything right away.

You lean against the railing and look up at him, heart fluttering.

“When’s the next race?” you ask.

“Two weeks.”

You nod. “You’ll be gone by morning?”

He hesitates.

“Yeah.”

You glance down at your shoes. “Okay.”

Max steps forward, closing the space. Gently. Carefully. His voice is low.

“I’m not good at this. You know that.”

You look up. “At what?”

He lifts one hand to your face, brushing a curl behind your ear.

“Saying I don’t want to leave.”

Your breath stutters.

“But you have to.”

He nods. “But I’ll come back. If you want me to.”

You wrap your fingers around the front of his sweater. “I want you to.”

He leans in slowly. No fireworks. No crowd. Just you and him and the sound of the city breathing around you.

And when his lips touch yours, it’s soft. Certain.

Like something you’ve been moving toward for a long, long time. When he finally pulls away, he smiles.

“You still taste like lip gloss and glitter.”

You laugh, breathless. “You still smell like champagne.”

He presses his forehead to yours.

“Don’t change,” he whispers.

“Only if you don’t.”

And just like that, Max Verstappen kisses Glinda goodbye on a quiet street in New York—pink, glitter, chaos and all. And you already know he’ll be back. Because he never really left.

—

several weeks later...

vogue

liked by gigglesandglitz, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 9,000,000 others.

vogue : Broadway’s brightest star takes center stage—and this time, the spotlight follows her offstage too. ✨ Meet YN Piastri, the breakout actress redefining Glinda for a new generation, bringing sparkle, strength, and unapologetic softness to the role (and the real world). In our latest cover story, she talks twinhood, opening night tears, and the unlikely romance that has turned her world upside down.

—

maxverstappen1 has reposted this to his story!

oscarpiastri has reposted this to his story!

nicolepiastri has reposted this to her story!

lando has reposted this to his story!

hattiepiastri has resposted this to her story!

—

f1gossipgirls

2,110,000 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Glinda goes grid?! Broadway’s newest it-girl and certified sparkle queen YN Piastri was spotted trackside today, casually strolling the paddock with her twin brother Oscar (who looked like he aged 10 years), Lando Norris (who was clearly THRIVING), and none other than Max Verstappen… who, by the way, has never smiled this much in public. Ever. Sources say she flew in during her Broadway break to support her “favorite driver” 👀 (Max’s reaction suggests it’s not Oscar… sorry king). We’re not saying anything, but the body language is body languaging.

—

You weren’t supposed to be here. Technically, you were supposed to be resting. “Take the break,” your stage manager had told you, practically forcing you to shut off your phone and escape New York before you talked yourself into attending more rehearsals “for fun.”

But rest? Boring. So now, here you are, standing behind the pit wall at the paddock, disguised in a hoodie, sunglasses, and a hat that Oscar left at your apartment months ago and never asked for back. Which was rude of him, really, because it’s clearly yours now.

The paddock is buzzing. Engines screaming, radios chirping, sun glaring down on the garages like something cinematic. You’ve missed this chaos more than you expected to.

You peek toward McLaren’s side first, trying not to laugh at the way the crew is already muttering about Oscar’s increasingly obvious restlessness. He's pacing, glancing toward the media pen like someone should be showing up but isn’t.

im wearing this dumb hat just for you and you don't even notice me.

A second later, you see him stop mid-step, eyes narrowing at his phone.

Then he turns. And freezes.

You lower your sunglasses and give him a small wave.

Oscar’s face drops into full big brother disbelief. You watch the exact moment his internal monologue short-circuits. He storms toward you, practically tackling you in a hug, his helmet bumping against your shoulder.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says.

You grin into his fireproof suit. “Neither are you. You should be in Q3 right now.”

He pulls back, inspecting your face like he doesn’t quite believe it’s real.

“You flew out for this?”

You shrug, cheeky. “Broadway’s shut down for three days. Did you really think I was going to spend it sleeping?”

Oscar shakes his head like he’s debating launching you into the pit lane. But you can see it in his eyes—how much it means to him.

Before he can say anything else, a voice cuts through the chaos behind you.

“You’re both blocking the damn entrance.”

You turn—and there he is.

Max.

Still in his Red Bull kit, still sweaty from practice, still looking at you like the noise of the whole world just dropped out.

“You’re here,” he says, not even hiding the smile.

You grin. “I’m here.”

Max doesn’t waste a second. He strides over, wraps an arm around your waist, and lifts you just enough to make you squeal before kissing you in full view of every stunned mechanic in the garage.

“Hi,” you whisper when he finally sets you down.

“Hi,” he replies, forehead pressed to yours. “I missed you.”

Oscar groans audibly behind you. “I’m leaving. This is disgusting.”

“You’re welcome for the hat,” you call after him as he walks off.

Max just smiles at you, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“You came all this way?”

“I had to see my favorite driver,” you say, sweet as sugar.

He quirks a brow. “You mean me, right?”

You gasp. “I meant Lando.”

Max glares. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He sighs, hands on your waist, pulling you back in. “No. I don’t.”

—

You spend the rest of the afternoon ducking media pens, sneaking snacks from Red Bull’s hospitality, and sitting in the back of Oscar’s garage with Lily, who’s wearing a “Glinda’s #1 Groupie” shirt that she definitely made on Etsy.

Max keeps glancing over at you from the garage wall. He doesn’t say much.

But the way his gaze softens every time your laugh echoes over the team radio?

Yeah.

You were so worth the flight.

—

You’re buzzing. Not stage-opening-night buzzing. This is different.

This is champagne-slick, sun-drenched, roaring-crowd kind of buzzing. Because somehow—somehow—Oscar finished P2 and Max finished P1, and now you're standing behind the podium barrier with Lily and your dad, watching both men you love absolutely beaming at the top of the world.

Oscar’s grin is real and wide and completely unfiltered for once. Max has that rare, unbothered smile—the one that’s soft and secret and not meant for media. And you know without even trying that part of it’s for you.

They haven't spotted you yet. You debated staying low, out of view, just another guest in the crowd.

But then your mum slipped a tiny glittery tiara into your hand and said, “Just go give your brother a heart attack.”

So now it’s perched in your hair, subtle but sparkling under the podium lights, and you’re bouncing on your heels, waiting for that perfect moment.

The national anthems finish. The champagne sprays.

Oscar gets Lando right in the face, Max laughs like a boy in a street fight, and for a second, they’re both kids again—wild, joyful, golden in the sunset.

Then Max looks down.

Sees you.

And stops smiling for half a second—like the world short-circuits—before that private little smirk comes back, deeper now. Directed just at you.

You lift your fingers in a wave, tiara glinting.

His eyes narrow playfully.

Oscar looks over to see what Max’s staring at… and nearly slips in champagne when he spots you.

“NO,” he mouths.

You blow him a kiss.

Max watches all of this unfold like it’s his favorite play.

When they come down from the podium, Oscar wraps you in a damp, fizzy hug first. He smells like podium and panic.

“Couldn’t stay away,” you tease.

“You wore the tiara on purpose,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “You're going to break the internet.”

You grin. “Again?”

He rolls his eyes, but kisses your temple.

And then Max is there—still clutching his bottle, still damp from celebration, his eyes locked on yours like the rest of the track doesn’t exist.

“Hi,” he says softly, voice rough from shouting.

“You did good,” you whisper, stepping close.

“You were watching.”

“Always.”

He looks at you, champagne-slick and flushed from adrenaline, and says nothing.

Just lifts a hand to your cheek and wipes away a speck of podium glitter you definitely didn’t earn.

Then- a kiss, quiet and real and quick. Not hidden. Not rushed.

Someone in the crowd gasps. Lando yells, “I KNEW IT!” from somewhere behind you.

Oscar audibly groans. “Absolutely not.”

But Max doesn’t care. And neither do you.

You’re his Broadway star. His good witch.

And this time, you came down in a bubble just for him.

—

gigglesandglitz

liked by maxverstappen1, hattiepiastri, lando and 7,900,000 others.

gigglesandglitz : stepped out of glinda and into the paddock and forgot which team i was supposed to root for...srry oscar

tagged : maxverstappen1

—

user has disabled comments on this post.

—

maxverstappen1

liked by gigglesandglitz, oscarpiastri, lando and 11,000,000 others.

maxverstappen1 : She came down in a bubble and wrecked me.

tagged : gigglesandglitz

—

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oscarpiastri : absolutely not. this man has less emotions than i do.

↳ lando : HE SAID BUBBLE OSCAR. BUBBLE. THIS IS CINEMA.

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yukitsunoda0511 : does this mean i have to watch wicked now?

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↳ maxverstappen1 : yes.

↳ charles_leclerc : grid trip to broadway???

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↳ lando : YES

↳ oscarpiastri : lord please no.

hattiepiastri : my roman empire

liked by gigglesandglitz and maxverstappen1

—

bonus scene! grid takes on nyc

Max texts you one sentence at 10:37 AM on a Thursday.

what’s the group rate for wicked

You blink at your phone. Then immediately call him.

"Max, what did you do?

“I told a few people I was flying back to New York,” he says calmly. “And then a few became everyone.”

“Everyone?”

There’s a long pause.

“…The grid.”

—

You don’t believe it until the stage manager pulls you aside before curtain and whispers, “Hey, there’s like fifteen European men in the front rows arguing about tires. Should we be concerned?”

You laugh so hard your false lashes nearly fall off.

—

From the stage, it’s impossible to miss them.

The front center row is filled with the most absurd collection of racing drivers ever assembled. Charles is wearing a button-down that’s a little too unbuttoned. Lando brought opera glasses. Yuki is eating something from his jacket pocket. Fernando Alonso is sipping wine.

Oscar looks like he’s praying for the floor to swallow him.

Max is in all black, sunglasses tucked into the collar of his shirt, and somehow still manages to look like the only person meant to be there. But even from up here, you can tell he’s nervous.

You wink at him mid-song. He almost falls off his seat.

—

Backstage, after bows, you’re mobbed in your dressing room before you can even change.

“YOU WERE FLOATING!” Lando yells, practically vibrating. “YOU WERE IN A BUBBLE AND YOU SANG ABOUT SHOES—THIS IS HIGH ART.”

Charles grabs your hand dramatically. “I cried. Twice. Maybe three times. When you sang 'For Good'? I saw God.”

Isack is holding up his Playbill like it's a diploma. “This is going in a frame.”

Yuki squints at your wig on the counter. “Do you wear that the whole time?”

Oscar is sitting on your couch with his head in his hands. “You were amazing, but I will never recover from Carlos saying ‘bro she has pipes’ during act one.”

“Oh come on,” Carlos says from the doorway. “She does!”

“Who yelled ‘SLAY’ when I hit the high note?” you ask.

Everyone points at Ollie.

“Fair,” you laugh.

Pierre holds up his phone. “Can we take a photo? The lighting in here is tragic, but I need to flex.”

“Absolutely not,” Max cuts in smoothly, stepping beside you with a rare, proud smile. “She gets a proper photo. Outside. After party lighting only.”

“After party?” you blink.

He raises a brow. “I’m Max Verstappen. You think I’d bring the entire grid to Broadway and not plan a party after?”

You’re still in pink heels and half a tiara when Lando drags you out to the alley behind the theatre, where Max has arranged for a glowing rooftop bar, themed cocktails including a "Defy Gravity" drink that turns your tongue green, and a tiny cake with gold icing.

Oscar’s still somewhere in the corner muttering, “This is not happening,” while Carlos tries to flirt with your Elphaba understudy and Yuki steals glitter stars off the cake for no reason.

Max just stands beside you, arm around your waist, champagne in hand, looking utterly out of place in a room full of theatre kids and F1 chaos—but still completely, entirely yours.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” you murmur.

He glances at the crowd—Lando dancing to “Popular” on a barstool, Charles holding a drink that sparkles, Kimi Antonelli taking selfies with a Glinda wand someone gave him.

He smiles.

“I’ve survived Monaco. I’ll survive this.”

You tilt your head up. “Are you proud of me?”

He looks at you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“I’m in awe of you.”

And then he kisses you again—under rooftop lights, with the whole grid cheering, the whole city twinkling, and just the faintest trace of glitter still on his jacket.

—

[inevitablies]

It’s come to my attention that many people don’t know about the Basil of Baker Streets books, nor the insanity contained therein. With this in mind, please enjoy some details from Eve Titus’s Basil of Baker Street books

Basil is consciously copying Sherlock Holmes

Basil and Dawson get tired of trekking to spy on Sherlock Holmes in the snow, so they construct an entire town in the cellar of 221B and move in along with no fewer than 44 families

The town is called Holmestead, and it has shops, a school, a library, and a town hall

Basil and Dawson live together with their mousekeeper, Mrs. Judson

Basil has a tailor copy Sherlock Holmes’s entire wardrobe so he can dress like Holmes

Basil tried to make a mouse-sized violin, but it sounded so bad that Dawson made him stop and he stuck to playing the flute. He uses the flute to charm snakes

Basil keeps a collection of Holmes souvenirs, including “scraps of paper his hero had written upon, old pen points he had used, a torn blotter, a broken pocket lens, a whittling of Holmes done by Basil himself, and other odds and ends.”

Basil practices his archery indoors

Basil has a mouse-sized microscope

Basil dresses up as a sailor by the name of Captain Baker, and Dawson disguises himself as his first mate, Mr. Street. They practice talking like sailors together

Instead of Scotland Yard, they have Mouseland Yard

Dr. Dawson heals the niece of the Loch Ness Monster, who was suffering from a cold.

Basil leads an expedition up Mt. Emmentaler, past the Bachenreich Falls, and discovered the Adorable Snowmouse

Professor Ratigan is a mouse, not a rat. Ratigan has a Moran, whose name is Doran

Basil solves the theft of the Mousa Lisa

Basil visits a remote island, uncovers artifacts, and takes them back to the British Mousemopolitan Museum

There is a mouse Irene Adler. Her name is Mademoiselle Relda, and she disguises herself in drag to adventure with Basil when he says women can’t climb mountains

Basil discovered penicillin and communicated this to Alexander Fleming

Basil is an amateur archaeologist

Basil and Dawson are both strongly pro-women’s suffrage, but Basil is generally sexist and Dawson is more progressive

Dawson thinks that Holmes knew Basil was listening to him, and “that it pleased him to pass his methods on to a mouse.”

[fruithoughts]

PRINCESS TREATMENT

‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤh. joshua x fem!reader  ⪩⪨

01.ㅤۗㅤ𝙼ember .  ⎯⎯⎯  joshua.

02.ㅤۗㅤ𝙲𝚆 .  ⎯⎯⎯ multiple pet names, possessive thoughts, mentions of blowjobs(m.) and sex, just a very gentle guy who loves his girl more than anything.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua whose instagram is filled to the brim with pictures of his beautiful girl, sometimes he forgets to tag you but it’s okay because it takes no sherlock holmes to figure out your username since he only follows your account and a naruto fanpage. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who wants you to meet his parents in less than a month into the relationship, it’s extremely important to him to make it as clear as possible that he is serious about you, leaves no room for overthinking at all, always a step ahead of you in the “would you still love me if i was a worm?” department, the best boy indeed. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who would rather take a bullet than let you pay for literally anything, because how dare you even suggest paying for your own things? as if you don’t know the only reason he works so hard it’s exactly so he can pamper you endlessly? the absolute nerve of you, better get on your knees and start apologizing.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who is the sassiest and most dramatic guy you’ve ever been with, but can not for the life of him handle the thought of you doing any work at all, in every aspect, which, ironically, sometimes makes you work even harder to get what you want.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who makes it the world’s most difficult challenge to accept receiving head from you for the first time, he enjoys being the one doing all of the work to make you feel good, he just couldn’t see how blowing him off would please you at all so he kept denying(while completely ignoring the tent forming rapidly in his grey sweatpants) until you begged too sweetly, so softly, looking at him with so much adoration and love, like you wanted nothing more than to please him, he could have finished right there but instead he shook his head and sat down in the bed, ready to give his princess anything she could ever want, just like he promised he would! even if what she wanted was to kneel in front of him and try to fit his thick cock into her little mouth for a while.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who uses every opportunity that stumbles across his way to show off his huge arms, it’s a win-win scenario, he gets to feel all hot and manly and you get to hold onto your boyfriend’s strong biceps everywhere you go and get carried on bride style after a night out that, honestly, didn’t even leave you that drunk, but since he offered to carry you, who would ever say no?

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who adores your nails and is always super excited to see the results of your nail appointments, asks for pictures during the whole process, sends you food when it’s taking too long, and finally when the nails are done, he’s there to pick you up in his shiny car, more than ready to do the last step of your nail day, which is putting them to the test, the scratch test. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who just can’t help but adore when you leave him all marked up, he loves it, and how can you blame him? was he supposed to be normal about having proof straight on his body of just how good he made you feel last night? how could you even consider he'd do such a thing? this man is not normal about you in general. 

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who knows your entire wardrobe like the back of his hand, half of it because he bought it, the other half because of how often he’s watching you, definitely a “i look at you more often than you think” kinda guy. he’s very proud of just how well he knows his baby.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who remembers all of your food preferences and orders, knows all of your allergies, all of your icks and all of your friend’s gossips because he’s just so well behaved! he won't tell anyone, he never would! he's your joshy! you can trust him to keep all of your secrets, forever.

⪩⪨ boyfriend!joshua who’s very open about the fact that he wants to marry you, live the rest of your lives together, maybe with a kid if you’re into that, maybe just dogs if that’s better for you, he got his own wishes when it comes to creating a family, but at the end of the day; this man has one priority, and she has a name. whatever is best for you, it’s the best for him.

⪩⪨ husband!joshua who no matter how long it has passed since you got married, has not lost even a little bit of his obsession with you. his precious flower, his cute little thing, his darling, his sweet girl, that’s all you’ll ever be to him, all his to love and protect, forever.