#so like. this took me a lot longer than i was expecting

[mythicalmaven]

Helloooo love, could I have nr 1, 13, 23(reader) and 28 with Daniel ricciardo?🤍 so needy for him

Forbidden - Daniel Ricciardo (requested)

As requested: a Daniel Ricciardo fanfic with a few prompts from the list! It's my first Ricciardo fanfic, so I hope I wrote it like you hoped lol :) It turned out a little longer than I expected, but I honestly like how it turned out! (I didn't proofread it, so excuse any mistakes lol)

masterlist | promptlist ↳pairing: daniel ricciardo x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 7,7K ↳prompts used: 1 - 'Use my thigh", 13 - "You're fucking soaked". 23 - "I..Uh.." - "I have never done this before" & 28 "We shouldn't do this" ↳warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, age gap (8 years), kissing, alcohol, drunk, explicit sexual content, 18+ (MDNI!), jealousy, sexual tension ↳summary: In which it's 2017 and Max Verstappen's twin sister gets a little too involved with her brothers teammate

You honestly had no idea how you'd come up with the not-so-clever idea of getting wasted in a Monaco nightclub, but right now, you couldn’t care less. The music thumped through the room, blending with the haze of alcohol and dim, colorful lights, and a certain curly-haired Australian who had slipped off to the bar for another drink lingered in your mind.

As the beat softened into something deeper, sultrier, you found yourself moving with Carlos once more. His hands rested casually on your hips, his thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress as you swayed together. Ever since your twin, Max, joined the Formula 1 grid, Carlos had become one of your closest friends.

Carlos leaned in, his lips close to your ear, his voice a low murmur against the music. "So… when are you finally gonna hook up with Danny?"

You scoffed, playfully swatting the back of his head. “Oh, shut up, will you?”

Carlos only grinned, knowing exactly how you felt about Daniel. He'd been trying to push you toward him for ages, but as always, you deflected. “I don’t think Max would be thrilled if I hooked up with his teammate,” you replied, though a part of you knew that wasn’t the real reason you’d been holding back.

Carlos shrugged with a smirk. “Did you forget how convinced Max was that we were hooking up back at Toro Rosso? He didn’t seem too bothered by that idea, did he?”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as you swayed in rhythm with him, your fingers linking behind his neck. “Yeah, vividly. But that was different…” You let out a laugh, trying to keep your tone casual. “For one, our age gap was a lot smaller than Daniel and mine.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “You’re 20, who cares? Daniel’s 28—it’s not like he’s ancient.”

Sighing, you dropped your forehead against Carlos’s shoulder. “Besides, even if he would consider hooking up with me, he’d probably be disappointed. I’ve never… well, you know. I’ve only gone as far as giving a guy a blowie in a club bathroom, and even that was a drunken disaster. Somehow, I doubt a 28-year-old is looking for a hookup with a 20-year-old virgin.”

Carlos chuckled under his breath, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “You're really that blind, aren't you? The guy is absolutely head over heels for you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Carlos shifted his grip, spinning you around so your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist to guide your movements. To anyone watching, it looked like a slow grind, intimate and close, even though he left enough space to keep things comfortable.

He steered you both around the dance floor, inching you closer to the bar. “Look at him,” Carlos murmured in your ear, lifting a hand to tilt your chin ever so slightly. “See for yourself.”

Your gaze landed on Daniel, and your breath caught in your throat. There he was, leaning against the bar, drink in hand, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. His jaw was tight, his lips set in a straight line as he took in every shift of your body against Carlos’s, his gaze dark, brooding, and unmistakably heated. The way his eyes drifted, tracing the curve of your legs, lingering on your hips as they moved, made your heart race. He wasn’t just watching; he was studying, every look brimming with tension and frustration.

Carlos’s laughter hummed against your back, pulling you out of your trance. “The guy’s been staring daggers at me since the second we started dancing.”

“No way,” you murmured, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even though your pulse hammered in your ears. “He’s just… looking. Nothing more.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he leaned down to murmur against your ear, “Who are you trying to convince? Me… or yourself?”

“Fuck,” you huffed, feeling your cheeks flush under Daniel’s gaze, heat spreading through you in a way that felt as dangerous as it was thrilling. “I need more alcohol.”

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Hours and too many drinks later, you’d long since shed your usual shyness, finding a brazen confidence in the music, the crowd, and the glimmer of alcohol-fueled ease in every movement. The world felt hazy but thrilling, every pulse of the bass reverberating through you as you let yourself sink into the beat.

Carlos watched your transformation, amused at how you threw back shots and laughed a little louder than before. At one point, you looked back at him over your shoulder, eyes bright and mischievous, completely oblivious to the intensity with which a certain Australian had been watching you both.

With a chuckle and a playful push, Carlos nudged you forward, aiming you right in Daniel’s direction. “Go on, dance with him already,” he teased, his smirk saying he knew exactly what he was doing.

You stumbled into Daniel, feeling his hand steady you, his fingers lingering just a second too long as you regained your balance. “Well, fancy seeing you here, Ricciardo,” you quipped, your voice carrying an edge of flirtation that you didn’t usually dare with him.

Daniel’s lips curled into that easy, charming smile, his fingers still on your waist. “Fancy that. You’re looking a little… spirited tonight,” he replied, his eyes raking over you with a mixture of amusement and something darker, something almost hungry that you couldn’t miss, even in your haze. He was trying to play it off, keep things casual, but his gaze lingered just a bit too long, drawn to the curve of your hips, the dip of your collarbone, and the dress that had ridden up just enough to reveal more of your thigh.

“Oh yeah?” you leaned in close, fingers grazing up his arm, catching the way his eyes followed every movement. “What do you mean, ‘spirited?’” You were close enough to catch the hint of his cologne, something warm and subtly spicy, like he was, and it made you feel just a little bolder.

Daniel chuckled, but his fingers tightened slightly at your waist as if grounding himself. “Just saying,” he replied, “I don’t usually see you dancing like that.” His eyes sparkled with a mix of fondness and something a little more conflicted. He was trying so hard to keep things cool, but you could tell he was affected. “Especially with Carlos. Didn’t know he was your type.”

You laughed, moving your body a little closer to his, playfully ignoring the tension that brewed between you. “Carlos? Nah. He’s more like… a dance partner for the night. Besides,” you added, looking up at him through your lashes, “I think my type is just a little taller… curly hair.. and definitely Australian.”

A flicker of something like surprise crossed his face, his eyes briefly widening before he collected himself. He swallowed, looking away, almost as if to compose himself. “Is that so?” he murmured, his fingers curling at your waist, his voice low.

Just then, the music changed to something slower, a sensual rhythm that had you pressing a little closer against him. Daniel’s hands slipped to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his heartbeat thrumming fast under your hands as you settled into a rhythm together. You let your body sway, your hips pressing against him as his hands guided you, holding you steady and closer than he should.

“Gotta stop moving like that,” he mumbled, his voice tight, a strained note of amusement as he tried to mask how breathless he sounded.

You looked up at him with a smirk. “Why?” you asked, feigning innocence, though the mischievous gleam in your eyes told him you knew exactly what you were doing.

He swallowed, his gaze darkening as his grip on your hips tightened, pulling you flush against him. The movement brought you closer than before, and in that instant, you felt him—hard, pressing against you through his jeans, undeniable and unrestrained. A thrill shot through you as your eyes met his, your gaze drifting downward for a fleeting second, then back up to find his expression transformed, conflicted and charged. His voice was rough, edged with that undeniable tension. “You know very well why,” he murmured, his tone thick with barely restrained desire and frustration, his fingers gripping your waist as if to hold himself back.

Your lips parted in surprise, but you didn't move away. Instead, you let a slow smile spread across your face, your body swaying against him just enough to deepen his predicament. Daniel’s jaw clenched, his gaze darting down to where your bodies pressed together, his expression shifting between longing and resistance, the internal battle clear as he tried to keep himself grounded, even as you blurred every boundary between you.

You felt the heat radiating off him, the subtle hitch in his breathing, the way his fingers trembled slightly against your waist.

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Hours later, you stumbled out of the bathroom, trying to make your way back to the dance floor but feeling far less coordinated than before. The world tilted slightly as you bumped into a table, a stray chair, and even a few club-goers who offered you amused or annoyed glances.

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night, darling,” came a familiar voice from behind, warm and steady. Before you could turn, a hand wrapped around your upper arm, steadying you, and the familiar scent of Daniel surrounded you, grounding you.

You turned to him with an exaggerated pout, his arm still holding you up. “I… I’m definitely… not,” you managed, words slightly slurred as you tried to shake off his grip, failing miserably. He chuckled softly, clearly amused.

Daniel’s gaze softened, his eyes roaming over you with a mix of tenderness and barely concealed desire. Your dress had shifted, one strap sliding off your shoulder, the hem hitching up to reveal more skin than you intended. He took in the sight, pausing for just a moment too long before swallowing hard and composing himself.

“Let’s get you sorted out here,” he murmured, reaching to fix your dress. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, grazing your skin, and he swallowed hard, the gentle touches sending a thrill through you. His hands moved lower, trying to straighten the hem, and his fingers brushed over the curve of your thigh, a touch that made you let out a soft, involuntary whimper. His eyes darkened, and he hesitated, looking like he wanted to pull away but unable to tear himself away from the way you looked at him.

“Mm… feels nice,” you murmured, leaning into his touch, your gaze half-lidded as you looked up at him, lips parted slightly. You noticed how he tensed, his jaw clenched, clearly struggling to resist.

“Come on,” he said, clearing his throat, his voice a little rough. “Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

He led you through the club, supporting you with one arm wrapped securely around you. As you stumbled along, your hand brushed over his chest, lingering a little longer than necessary, your fingers tracing small patterns as you walked. He glanced down, swallowing, his throat bobbing as he tried to keep his focus. Along the way, you nearly collided with Max, who took one look at you and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm bringing your sister back to the hotel," Daniel explained, nodding toward you with a hint of amusement. "She’s absolutely hammered."

Max smirked, his eyes flicking between you and Daniel. "You sure? I can take her back if you’d rather stay. I know she can’t hold her liquor."

“Hey!” you interjected, stumbling slightly as you tried to regain your balance, waving off your brother with a slurred, “I-Ik ben niet eens d-dronken…” (I’m not even drunk). You gave him a half-hearted glare, rolling your eyes in exaggerated annoyance.

Daniel glanced at Max with a small, amused shake of his head. “I have no clue what she just said, but don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he reassured him. “I was planning to head home anyway, and besides,” he added with a smile, “our apartments are in the same building anyway, so it's no hassle”

Max nodded, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before turning back to Daniel. "Alright, mate. Get her home safe."

With that, Max watched as Daniel guided you gently but firmly toward the exit, his grip steadying you as you leaned against him, too tipsy to resist.

When you reached the curb, he helped you into a cab, sliding in beside you. You leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder, your hand slipping to rest on his thigh, your fingers drifting ever so slightly higher, sending a rush of heat through him.

“You’re drunk,” he murmured, his voice low and strained, trying to keep his breathing even.

You looked up at him with a playful, tipsy grin, fingers tracing the fabric of his jeans. “So?”

He bit his lip, fighting a losing battle against his own desires, his hand covering yours to stop its teasing ascent. He’d never seen you this forward, this flirtatious, and though it thrilled him, it terrified him all the same. The line between you had always been thin, but tonight, with every touch, every brush of your skin against his, you were slowly erasing it.

When you arrived at the apartment building, you had began starting to sober up a tiny little bit. Still wasted obviously, but it seems as if you had a little bit more control over your own actions.

As you fumbled through your purse, your expression shifted from confidence to frustration as you realized your keys weren’t there.

“I… I had them,” you muttered, searching again, only for the reality to settle in. “I must’ve left them with Carlos or Max.”

You looked up at Daniel with a mischievous glint in your eyes, swaying slightly on your feet. “Guess that means I’m staying with you?”

Daniel hesitated, his resolve weakening as he searched your face, taking in the way your lips quirked in that daring, flirtatious smile. He was already in too deep, the familiar ache in his chest too hard to ignore. After a moment, he let out a resigned sigh, offering a small, reluctant smile as he nodded.

“Yeah, alright,” he said softly, his hand brushing over your back as he guided you inside. “But you’ve gotta promise me you’ll go straight to bed.”

You leaned in, closer than necessary, your breath warm against his cheek. “We’ll see about that,” you murmured playfully, sending one last spark of heat through him as he led you toward his apartment, both of you caught in a delicate balance of desire, restraint, and the thrill of the unspoken between you.

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Daniel led you to his kitchen, pulling out a stool by the bar, gesturing for you to sit. But you had other ideas. Following him over to the sink, you leaned back against the counter, lifting yourself up onto it. Your dress slid up as you settled, exposing nearly everything to anyone watching.

Daniel turned off the tap, glass in hand, and was about to pass it to you when he caught sight of you. His gaze trailed over your bare thighs, and his breath hitched, eyes widening as he muttered, “Fuck.” His eyes lingered, and he dared to glance lower, noticing the smallest glimpse of black lace between your slightly parted legs.

Swallowing hard, he gripped the counter edge, his knuckles whitening as he fought the overwhelming urge to close the distance between you, his lips already tingling with the desire to claim yours. Forcing himself to look away, he pressed the glass into your hand, his voice husky and tight. “Drink this. It'll help,” he murmured, barely able to keep his composure. “I’ll… I’ll go grab a shirt for you. So you don’t have to sleep in that dress.”

You downed the water in one swift gulp, letting your gaze drift back to him. The proximity hit you both, close enough for you to see the tension in his jaw and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. But what captured your attention most was the unmistakable bulge in his jeans, straining against the fabric, betraying the restraint he tried so hard to maintain.

A slow smirk crept across your lips as you reached out, letting your fingers graze his arm, traveling in a slow, tantalizing path up to his shoulder, then down his chest, inching ever closer to his belt. But before you could reach it, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly. “We… we shouldn’t do this,” he muttered, voice low and rough as he gently pushed your hand away, though his touch lingered just a second too long, his resolve wavering.

Undeterred, you hopped down from the counter, stepping forward until there was barely any space left between you. Confidence you hadn’t realized you possessed surged through you, and you reached out, cupping him through his jeans. He let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, his resolve crumbling under the pressure of your touch.

Bringing your lips close to his ear, you whispered, your voice a hushed, sultry tease, “That’s what you say… but your body’s telling me something else entirely.”

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Daniel forced himself to gather every shred of self-control he could muster, putting a few steps of distance between you before he turned on his heel, heading to his bedroom to grab a shirt from the closet. His mind raced as he moved. He wanted you—God, he wanted you more than anything—but he knew you were drunk, teetering on that edge where even a soft touch or glance was hazy with the thrill of it all. And as much as he ached to feel your lips on his, to let every longing he’d harbored for so long finally spill over, he didn’t want to take advantage of your current state.

Yet, you were making it damn near impossible to keep his composure. Every touch, every glance, every whisper made his restraint crumble bit by bit, leaving him clinging to the last threads of resolve.

When he made his way to the bathroom with the shirt in hand, he stopped in the doorway, noticing you struggling with the zipper of your dress, your back turned to him. The zipper was halfway down, leaving a tantalizing glimpse of your bare skin, and his heart pounded harder, fighting between propriety and desire.

“Danny, can you help me with the zipper, please?” Your voice was soft, but the note of longing was unmistakable, each word sparking something primal within him.

He hesitated, but before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, leaving the shirt on the sink, and positioned himself behind you. His fingers brushed your skin as he reached for the zipper, feeling the warmth radiating off you. You shivered at his touch, a soft, involuntary whimper escaping your lips that sent a jolt through him. He dragged the zipper down slowly, his fingers grazing your skin, unable to resist lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Once the zipper was down, you slipped the straps off your shoulders, the dress falling effortlessly down your frame, pooling at your feet. Daniel’s breath caught in his throat as he took you in, standing before him in nothing but your black lace lingerie. He clenched his jaw, feeling a wave of heat course through him, the last of his rationality slipping as his eyes traced over every curve, every inch of you laid bare.

You turned to face him, the look in your eyes a mixture of vulnerability and desire, a silent plea that tugged at the very core of him. Reaching up, you let your fingers graze the stubble on his jaw, caressing his cheek as you held his gaze. “Kiss me, Daniel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, a soft, desperate invitation.

It was all he needed. His restraint finally shattered, and he closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His hand cupped your cheek, fingers threading through your hair as he captured your lips in a kiss that was fierce, urgent, filled with all the pent-up emotion and longing he’d been holding back. You melted into him, pressing closer, every brush of his lips igniting sparks that spread through your body.

His hands slid down to the small of your back, then lower, gripping your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you onto the countertop of the bathroom sink. He stepped between your legs, his body pressing firmly against yours, grounding you in the heat and solidity of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. The slight tug on his hair drew a low, guttural moan from him, his chest heaving as he leaned into you, lost in the feel of you against him.

His hands roamed over your body, sliding along your curves, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped against his mouth, a sound that turned into a soft moan, each note pushing him closer to the edge of his composure. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring, tasting, savoring every second. You could taste the hint of whiskey on his lips, warm and heady, mingling with his natural, intoxicating flavor. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent a surge of heat pooling between your legs, each movement building the need that pulsed through you.

Daniel pulled you closer, his grip tightening as you felt his hardness pressing against you, undeniable, unmistakable. The sensation made you dizzy, your entire body responding to him, the ache between your thighs intensifying as you instinctively rocked your hips against him. His breath hitched, and he let out a soft, unrestrained groan, his head dipping to press heated, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot behind your ear. His lips left a trail of warmth, each kiss setting your skin alight, making you ache for more.

“Daniel,” you murmured, voice barely a whisper, breathless as you held him closer, “I need… I…”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with a barely contained fire. “Use my thigh, love,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, encouraging you, his words laced with both restraint and indulgence. The suggestion was almost too much, the heat in his eyes spurring you on, each word sending another pulse of arousal through you.

You didn’t hesitate, shifting your hips to grind against his thigh, a soft moan slipping from your lips as you felt the friction, your panties already damp against his jeans. Daniel’s hands gripped your waist, guiding you, his own breath coming faster as he watched, the sight of you losing yourself in the pleasure unraveling him bit by bit.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands urging you to move, encouraging every motion. “Been wanting this… wanting you… for so damn long.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as he spoke, his voice shaky, every word spilling out in a way that only fueled the fire between you.

“Seeing you with Carlos tonight,” he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear, “it drove me crazy. Couldn’t stand it. I wanted to kill him for touching you” He paused, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his gaze raw, vulnerable, every wall he’d built around himself now shattered. “I’ve wanted you like this… needed you like this… for so long.”

Every word, every touch, every heated gaze pushed you further, his encouragement spurring you on as you moved against him, feeling the delicious friction, the warmth spreading through you as you both succumbed to the intoxicating pull of each other.

Daniel’s breathing grew ragged as he watched you move against his thigh, each roll of your hips sending a wave of heat through him. The way you looked at him, with that mixture of need and adoration, was undoing him in the best possible way.

Your breathing came in shallow, needy gasps as you looked up at him, eyes heavy with desire. “God, Daniel… you have no idea how good you look right now,” you murmured, your voice thick with arousal.

Your soft moans and whispered praises only fueled him more, each one pushing him to explore, to give you everything you were craving. His gaze darkening even more as he captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of pent-up desire and affection into it.

Without breaking the kiss, he slid you back a little on the counter, his hands gripping your hips firmly. You gasped as his fingers traced the edge of your panties, his touch light but electrifying, and he paused, his gaze meeting yours as if asking for permission.

You gave a small nod, your breath catching as his hand slipped beneath the lace, his fingers brushing over you, his touch igniting every nerve ending. His breath hitched when he felt just how wet you were, a low groan escaping his lips as he murmured, “God, you’re soaked.”

The words sent a thrill through you, making you arch into his touch, craving more. His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, exploring and teasing, drawing out your reactions, each moan and gasp fueling his own desire “The way you make me feel… God, it’s like you know exactly what I need.”

Your words lit a fire in him, a spark that deepened the hunger in his gaze as he pulled you closer. His lips curved into a smirk, fingers dipping lower as he murmured, “Yeah? I think I could get used to hearing that.”

He watched you intently, captivated by every expression, every sound that escaped your lips as he continued, building the tension higher with each movement.

You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as his fingers moved with perfect rhythm, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He whispered soft words of encouragement, his voice low and full of affection. “That’s it, love… you’re doing so well. Let go for me,” he murmured, his tone both comforting and enticing.

And then, as his touch pushed you over the edge, a wave of pure ecstasy washed over you, and you cried out his name, your body shuddering as he held you through it, his gaze never leaving yours.

Once you came down from your high, your hand started making their way to Daniel's jeans, intending to return the favor, yet your movements where halted once again by his fingers around your wrist "I won't be able to hold back if you continue" he mumbled, his lips pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck.

"Maybe that's the point" you whispered seductively.

He shook his head "As much as I would love to, I'm not sleeping with you while you're drunk" he whispered as he pressed one last kiss against your cheek, before he pulled away, grabbing the shirt that was still on the sink with his free hand, assisting you to pull it over your head "We'll talk about it tomorrow, and then we'll see"

As if the post orgasm haze started to kick in, you felt yourself getting tired, giving yourself over to the Australian driver as he carefully lifted you off of the sink and carried you over to his bedroom, placing you down onto it.

He was intending to get up and sleep on the couch, just in case you wouldn't remember things tomorrow, or worse, remember it, but regretting things. But the soft plea that left your lips stopped him in his tracks "Please, stay with me?"

It was as if his legs moved on their own accord, slipping into the bed next to you, feeling you crawl into his arms, your head resting on his chest. Once he noticed you were sound asleep, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and send Max a quick text:

Daniel: Your sister is sound asleep btw, she's crashing here, since she apparently forgot her keys or something.

Max: Figured as much indeed, Carlos came over and handed me her keys, said she forgot to take them before she left. Max: Thanks for letting me know, I'll torture her tomorrow about her headache ;)

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As the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, you stirred, feeling the gentle warmth touch your skin as you blinked awake. It took a moment to piece things together, the room unfamiliar, the quiet hum of an unfamiliar space settling around you. When realization dawned, it hit all at once. This wasn’t your apartment—this was Daniel’s.

Your eyes widened, and you scanned the room, momentarily panicked. But the bed beside you was empty, the sheets cool to the touch, which brought a small wave of relief. Sitting up slowly, you took a breath, glancing down to see yourself dressed in one of Daniel’s shirts. The soft fabric brushed your skin, and you realized, with a sudden blush, that you were only in his shirt and your lingerie.

Heart pounding, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, trying to clear the fog of last night’s hazy memories. The details were elusive, flashes of warmth, laughter, and maybe… something more. You felt oddly refreshed, but the lack of clarity gnawed at you. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself to find him, needing some answers.

Moving carefully down the hallway, you made your way to the bathroom, hoping to splash some water on your face, collect yourself before facing him. You twisted the doorknob, assuming the room would be empty. Instead, steam filled the space, and you froze, the faint outline of a figure behind the frosted shower door capturing your attention.

Your gaze locked on the silhouette, recognizing Daniel immediately—the shape of his shoulders, the familiar line of his back. A rush of heat flooded through you, your mind replaying a rush of emotions from last night, and you pressed your thighs together instinctively, trying to banish the sudden surge of desire. You knew you should turn around, slip out quietly, but you were rooted to the spot, utterly transfixed.

Before you could retreat, Daniel turned off the shower, reaching for a towel and wrapping it low around his waist before stepping out. His gaze landed on you, his mouth curving into a smirk, droplets still trailing down his chest and abs. His dark hair was wet, small drops sliding from his curls, and the steam radiated off his skin, casting him in a hazy glow.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he said, his voice a rich, low rumble, his signature smirk making your pulse race. “If you wanted to see me naked this bad, all you had to do was ask. No need to sneak up on me.” His tone was teasing, though his gaze held a hint of something deeper, something almost daring you to respond.

Your cheeks flushed, and you raised your hands to cover your face. “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” you stammered, feeling a mix of embarrassment and that same lingering heat from last night.

You heard him chuckle softly, and when you dared to peek through your fingers, he’d already dried off and slipped into a shirt and a pair of boxers. He stepped closer, gently pulling your hands away from your face, his expression softened, a trace of warmth in his morning-rough voice. “No need to be so shy, darling,” he murmured, the words filled with a quiet affection that sent a shiver down your spine.

You glanced at him, unable to ignore how close he was, feeling both relieved and oddly disappointed that he was now dressed. You couldn’t deny how good he looked, fresh out of the shower, the lingering scent of soap and warmth filling the space between you.

But the question weighed on your mind, and finally, you managed to ask, “Please tell me we didn’t…?”

Daniel’s gaze softened further, his eyes flickering with an understanding smile as he placed a steadying hand on your shoulder, letting it linger for just a moment before he replied. “If we slept together? No, we didn’t.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding slipped out in relief. Before you could fully process it, though, Daniel added, “But I’m also not gonna pretend that you didn’t try to… and I’m definitely not going to act like nothing else happened.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt your breath catch, a wave of both nerves and arousal coursing through you. “Oh God,” you mumbled, lifting yourself onto the countertop by the sink, feeling a little dizzy, staring at the floor as you tried to piece together what he meant. “What did I make you do?”

Daniel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his gaze steady and entirely too knowing as he took in the expression on your face. “You didn’t make me do anything, darling,” he said softly, his tone gentle yet firm. “It takes two to tango.”

The words lingered in the quiet, settling over you with a weight you couldn’t ignore. He shifted, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “Let’s just say… this isn’t the first time you’ve sat on that countertop in the last 24 hours. Although, last night it was for… different reasons.”

As soon as he said it, memories rushed back in vivid, unfiltered flashes—the feel of his hands, the press of his lips, the way he held you as if he’d waited forever to do so. Your cheeks flushed deeper, the weight of those memories flooding you, the reality of what had happened leaving you breathless.

“Oh God,” you murmured, looking down, struggling to meet his eyes. The blush deepened, and you tried to banish the embarrassment, but it was impossible to hide the way your body reacted to just being near him, recalling every detail of last night.

Daniel watched you, his gaze contemplative, and he let out a small sigh, pressing his lips together before speaking. “Look… you were drunk. I’d had a bit to drink too. I understand if you regret it” His voice was steady, but there was a subtle tension underneath, as if he was holding something back.

You took a deep breath, fiddling with your hands as you struggled to find the right words. "Yeah, about that.." you said, taking a deep breath before continuing "There might be a slight problem to that"

Daniel studied the way you were acting, unsure of what to expect “We can pretend it didn’t happen, if that’s what you want. That's no problem” he offered, though his tone held a hint of something unresolved, something unsaid.

Finally, you looked up at him, your gaze meeting his, the sincerity in your expression clear. “Well… I guess the problem is that..” you whispered, voice barely audible at first, but then you gathered your courage and continued, “I don’t regret it, Daniel… not at all.”

The words hung in the air between you, thickening the silence, every hidden feeling and unspoken desire now out in the open. His eyes widened slightly, the guarded expression slipping as something raw and vulnerable crossed his face.

Daniel's eyes softened at your words, the vulnerable confession drawing him closer, dissolving any remaining space between you. He stepped forward, situating himself between your legs once more, just like he had done last night, but this time you were both sober.

His presence warm and steady, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment. His hands reached up slowly, one gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing a soft line along your skin, the other tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze was deep, intense, and full of affection as he looked into your eyes, his face only inches from yours.

"Good," he whispered, his voice low and tender, “because I don’t regret it either.”

Without another word, he closed the distance, his lips finding yours in a gentle, unhurried kiss. There was no urgency, only a steady, deliberate affection that conveyed every unspoken emotion he’d held back. His kiss was soft and careful, full of warmth, each touch of his lips conveying the depth of his feelings as he held you close.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and you both shared a quiet, contented breath, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. But the tenderness only fueled the lingering desire that had simmered between you both, and with a sudden burst of confidence, you grasped the collar of his shirt, pulling him back to you.

This time, the kiss deepened, your lips moving in sync as the restraint melted away, giving way to something more fervent, tinged with longing. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you even closer, his fingers splaying against your skin. The gentle intimacy turned heated, your mouths exploring, tongues teasing as the passion escalated with each passing second. You could feel his breath hitch as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned softly against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

Without breaking the kiss, your lips began to wander, trailing a path from his mouth to his jaw, where you lingered, pressing soft, teasing kisses that made him shudder under your touch. You could feel the subtle stubble against your lips, the warmth radiating from his skin as you moved lower, planting slow, lingering kisses along his neck, tasting the faint hint of his cologne mixed with his natural scent. Each kiss seemed to draw a deeper, ragged breath from him, his chest rising and falling as he leaned into every touch, unable to hold back the quiet sounds of pleasure escaping his lips.

You let your hands roam freely, exploring the strong lines of his shoulders, fingers tracing down the curves of his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. His pulse thrummed beneath your touch, quickening with each passing second. He swallowed hard, his breathing growing heavier as you continued, savoring every inch of him.

“God, Daniel,” you whispered against his neck, letting your lips brush the words over his skin. “You have no idea how good you look like this… or how good you feel.” Your voice was soft but laced with genuine admiration and a suggestive edge that had his grip on your waist tightening.

“Fuck…” he muttered, his voice thick with need as your words and touch clearly had an effect on him. He tilted his head back, giving you more access, his eyes closing for a moment as he absorbed the sensations.

Your lips brushed his ear, and you could feel him shiver as you whispered, “I’ve wanted this for so long, wanted to feel you… just like this.” Your words spilled out as you continued trailing kisses, his low groan fueling your confidence as you let your hands drift lower.

You let your fingers slide down his torso, tracing every line and curve of his body with deliberate, teasing slowness. Your hand finally ventured to the waistband of his boxers, and you pressed your palm against him, feeling the unmistakable hardness through the fabric. His breath hitched, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat as he instinctively pushed into your touch, his fingers digging into your waist.

“God, you feel incredible,” you murmured, palming him gently, feeling his arousal grow beneath your hand, hardening with each brush of your fingers. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Daniel… wanted to know how you’d feel like this,” you admitted, voice a mix of admiration and desire.

“Shit… you’re… you’re killing me here,” he managed, his voice a strained whisper as he looked down at you, his eyes dark and filled with unrestrained want. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, his breathing growing heavier as he lost himself in every touch, every word you murmured against him.

You continued your slow, deliberate movements, letting your fingers trace along his length through the fabric, a satisfied smile crossing your face as he groaned in response, his hips pressing into your hand. “God, you look so good like this,” you breathed, meeting his gaze for a moment, taking in the way his face was flushed, his expression filled with raw, unfiltered desire.

“Keep talking like that, and… fuck, you’re gonna drive me insane,” he rasped, his voice low, rough with need, his hands gripping your hips with more intensity, clearly unable to resist the effect you were having on him.

Emboldened by his reaction, you slipped a hand inside the waistband of his boxers, your fingers wrapping around him, and his entire body tensed, a shuddered moan escaping his lips as he exhaled sharply. As you started running your thumb along his length, savoring the way he twitched in your hand, his face contorted with pleasure as he bit his lip.

“God… that feels so good,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked down at you, his expression a mixture of awe and arousal. His hands roamed up and down your back, and you could feel the effect of every touch, every word, as his breathing grew heavier.

Between breaths, you whispered softly in his ear, “I want you, Daniel. All of you.” The words tumbled out, filled with a raw honesty that made him draw back just enough to meet your gaze.

In one swift, effortless motion, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his bed. He laid you gently onto the soft sheets, hovering over you as his lips met yours once more, igniting the same passion that had brought you here. Each kiss was heated and lingering, hands tracing and memorizing every line, every curve, savoring every moment that had led to this.

As his lips left a trail of kisses along your collarbone, your breaths came faster, and the anticipation tightened around you. But then when Daniel started removing your panties, you felt a familiar wave of nerves rise, and your voice trembled slightly as you spoke.

“I… uh…” you began, hesitating, feeling vulnerable but needing him to know. “I’ve never done this before.” The words left you in a shy, almost apologetic murmur, your cheeks heating as you admitted it. You lowered your gaze, fidgeting slightly under his gaze, before adding, “I mean, I’ve done… other things. Just… never got to, well, this part.”

He paused, taking in your words, his expression softening instantly. Cupping your face gently, his thumb brushed along your cheek, his gaze reassuring and kind. “Hey, there’s no pressure here. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he whispered, his voice steady, genuine. “We can take it slow. Or… we can keep things just like this.”

You bit your lip, the vulnerability still lingering as you met his gaze. “You’re not… disgusted, or something?” you asked, feeling a wave of self-consciousness bubble up. “I mean, I probably won’t be… any good. You’re… you know…” You trailed off, your face warming as the words left you.

He let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward to kiss you gently, his lips reassuring as he lingered for a moment before pulling back to look you in the eyes. “Disgusted? Not even close,” he murmured, a faint smile on his lips. “And I promise you, that thought never even crossed my mind.” His thumb brushed along your cheek again, his gaze warm and encouraging. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me. Not at all.”

You took a steadying breath, feeling his words soothe the nerves that had crept in. A smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him, heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and newfound confidence. “I don’t want to take it slow,” you admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper, but the words full of determination. “I want it to be with you, Daniel. I’ve… I’ve thought about this more times than I dare to admit,” you confessed, the warmth of your cheeks betraying the shyness that lingered, but you held his gaze.

His eyes softened at your words, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Then I'm all yours,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

Without another word, Daniel leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was deeper, hungrier, every ounce of restraint between you both slipping away. His hands roamed up your back, pressing you firmly against him as your bodies melded together, the heat between you palpable. His lips moved over yours with an urgency that matched the rhythm of his heartbeat, each kiss filled with the passion that had built up over all this time, all the unspoken moments leading up to this.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as you felt his quiet groan against your mouth, his own hands exploring your curves, fingers tracing your waist and pulling you flush against him. His body hovered over yours as his gaze met yours, filled with both desire and a lingering tenderness that made your heart race.

His lips found yours again, and you welcomed him with a fervor that matched his own, your mouths moving in perfect sync as the kiss grew deeper, more intense. You could feel his body pressing into yours, the weight of him grounding you, making the moment feel all the more real. His hand traveled down your thigh, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist as he settled between your legs, his hips pressing against yours in a way that made your entire body ache with anticipation, before slowly but surely entering you inch by inch.

Between kisses, his hands caressed every inch of your body, learning and savoring every curve, every response he drew from you. His mouth left a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your neck, lingering on the sensitive spots that made you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he continued his slow, intoxicating descent. Each kiss, each touch seemed to stir something deeper within you, the desire building to a crescendo with every shared breath.

“Fuck…” you whispered, your voice soft and laced with longing, and he looked up at you, a question in his gaze, waiting for any hint of hesitation.

But you only pulled him closer, guiding him to you as your hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. He leaned down again, his lips finding yours as the kiss deepened, turning into something that went beyond words—a culmination of everything you’d both been holding back.

In that moment, every barrier fell away, and you lost yourselves in each other, the moment filled with soft murmurs, quiet laughter, and the tender, passionate intimacy you’d both waited far too long to share.

masterlist

[userautumn]

i think the only story that structurally makes sense to me in this episode is maddie and chimney's (excellent. perfect. 10/10, no notes) because lord, i've been so caught up in the break up of it all that i haven't even touched the weirdness of eddie's story because what do you mean this man has been carrying around three decades of guilt, parental expectations, feelings of failure, grief, trauma, worthlessness, depression, repression, religious guilt, self-flagellation, and suicidal ideation that are suddenly magically cured, NOT by intensive therapy with his therapist, mind you, but by 1.5 conversations with a priest and dancing around in his underwear. what do you mean. like, don't get me wrong, i know 9-1-1 is (allegedly) going to circle back to this (i say allegedly because the interviews have been really misleading this season, i'm not gonna lie), but from where i'm standing, it's like...

in season 5, it took eddie two episodes (5x11-5x13) to break down, and even longer than that if you count the fact that his trauma arc stared in 5x1. and we, the audience, actually saw him reach that point where he could not take it anymore. so witnessing that story, and watching him go through that tangled web of emotions actually felt like witnessing an authentic and genuine progression. but now, in this episode—in less than an episode, actually—eddie's somehow suddenly confronted his clusterfuck of feelings, has decided that yeah, actually, having fun IS the answer!, and now he's just? alright? HUH????? 😭 it just doesn't feel like a progression to me, and that dancing scene would have held a lot more emotional weight if it had come on the heels of seeing him actually wrestle with what it means to redefine his own happiness, post having that conversation with father brian. and i'm sorry, but buying juice or water or whatever just doesn't cut it! what a way to kick off a healing arc (sad noises). 😭

[rekino2114]

The fact that Rose would remeber the first kiss got me thinking. What would the first kiss with the drdt girls be like?

First kiss with the drdt girls

A/n:sorry if I posted this later than my usual posting hour but I had to study for an exam

Teruko tawaki

"Ugh, really?"

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we have only one slice of cake left"

"No I- *sighs* it's fine, I should have known. Just get me the one"

Teruko dejectedly took the cake and paid. She went back to your table where you were smiling at her, making her feel even more guilty

"Here you are. Why did you take so long?"

She sat down and put the slice on your side of the table

"Yeah, so the line suddenly got way longer when i arrived, and they only had 1 slice left..... which wasn't even the type of cake you wanted......I'm really sorry"

"It's not your fault"

"It probably is though, you know,with my luck"

"Yeah, maybe it's your luck's fault, but it's not yours. The difference is important"

"......thanks"

"It's nothing, now let's eat"

"Hm? But there's only one slice"

"But there are two forks"

"But isn't the cake too small for two people?"

"Then that just means we'll have to eat something else later. Come on, I don't wanna see you all sad because you don't get to eat, what kind of partner would I be to not share?"

Teruko smiled and took the fork. She thanked you and started eating small bits of the cake. when you were finished, she looked up at you while you were wiping your mouth. She reached for her napkin to do the same but couldn't find it anywhere

"Eh? What the-?"

"What's wrong, teru?"

"Nothing, I just can't find my towel, it's not even on the ground, what the heck?"

"I guess you do have some cake on your lips"

"Yeah and I can't wipe it now"

"Well I might have a solution to that"

"Hm?"

Teruko was surprised to see that you got a lot closer to her and quickly understood what you wanted to do, she blushed but nodded giving you permission.

You kissed her lips softly, and when you saw that she was enjoying it, you put more force into it, licking all the bits of frosting away

"Did you like that? Sorry if it was sudden but-"

"No, no its fine.....that was my first kiss, it was amazing"

"Yeah, same goes for me"

Min jeung

"Did you get that y/n?

"S-sure"

"OK, so explain it"

"..........."

"*sighs* you didn't get any of that did you?"

"........no"

"I told you I'm not good at tutoring, I'm used to studying by myself"

"Yeah, but I wanted to spend some time with you, and studying together seemed cute"

"It is.....just not efficient"

"Hehe, yeah, soooo can we take a break?"

"We started like 15 minutes ago"

"Come on, the test is in like 3 days we have a lot of time"

".......the test is tomorrow"

".......what?"

"You didn't know that? I thought that was the whole reason why you asked me to study with you"

"To be honest I just knew there was a test"

"*sighs*"

"........can we still take a break?"

"No"

"Pretty please?"

"No"

"But I'm so tired"

"It's been only 15 minutes"

"So there's nothing I can do to change your mind"

"No"

"Not even.......this"

Before min could even process what you said, you got close to her and kissed her. She went beet red, and when you pulled back, she stood frozen for a second

"Y-you, t-that was......w-why?"

"Sorry....was that too much?"

"N-no it's just.......it was my first kiss...like ever"

"Did you like it?"

"Y-yeah"

"Great"

You smiled and approached her again. You two kissed for the second time, and this time, min kissed back passionately. You moved her hair from her face to reveal her beautiful pink eyes staring back at you

"Your eyes are beautiful"

"Thanks, yours are too"

Arei nageishi

"Heck yeah! 4th strike for meeeee!"

Arei turned to look at you giving you a victory sign while you did a thumbs up while drinking the soda you got

"Soooo, am I awesome or what?"

She decided to take a break and sat at the table you got

"Definitely, you got the highest score"

"I mean, what else did you expect? I am the best"

"I guess that's true"

The bowler giggled, and she took a sip of her own drink.......before almost spitting it out at your next words

"Oh hey, someone else got the highest score"

"Eh? Who-......."

"Everything alright arei?"

"......that bitch"

"What?"

"That's g/n she's always been kind of a rival in bowling to me, she's still salty Hope's peak chose me over her, I mean it's not my fault that they recognize actual talent"

The very unpleasant looking girl that arei pointed towards approached your table with a forced smile and started to glare at arei

"Hello,arei, fancy seeing you here"

"Oh my god, hiiiii, how long has it been.... eternally in second place?"

"Strong words from a girl who had to ruin her sisters lives cause she couldn't handle a bit of negativity"

You saw arei's fake smile drop and a mix of rage and confusion appear on her face

"W-what? How do you-"

"I have my sources, anyway I'm not here for you, I'm here for them"

The girl pointed at you while staring with a flirty gaze, you knew where this was going and you hated it

"So come here often?~"

"Yes I do, to cheer up my girlfriend"

"Oh! So you're a thing! How did a hottie like you end up with such a bitch?"

"A BITCH? look who's talking, you're trying to steal my partner"

"Please. We both know you don't actually love them, I mean, can you even feel love when you're such a horrible piece of shit?

"I-i'll show you how much I love them"

Arei then suddenly took your collar and pulled you near her kissing you

"Happy now? I suggest you get your flat ass outside right now before I start throwing punches at that abstract painting you call a face"

The girl stormed away, and arei laughed a bit at her before looking at you

"You okay? Sorry for her"

"No, it's fine, it's just......that's not how I expected our first kiss to go"

".........fuck that was our first kiss?!"

"Yeah"

"S-sorry do you wanna redo it or something? I just got worried and-"

"No It's fine, you're actually a great kisser"

"R-really? i mean Y-yeah, of course i am"

Hu jing

After hu finished her performance, a roar of applause came from the audience, but the loudest and most passionate claps came from you, hu recognized that, and after bowing, she smiled brightly at you

When the concert was over and everyone went out, you approached your girlfriend and held her hands

"That was amazing hu, I can definitely see why you're the ultimate zither player"

"Hehe, you exaggerate dear, I simply did what I love"

"But you're so skilled, to be honest I didn't fully know even what a zither was before I started dating you, and now it's one of my favorite instruments"

Hu blushed at your praise and she felt her heart beating faster with every second she was near you

"Can I come to everyone of your concerts? I just really wanna support you"

"Y-you'd really like that?"

"Of course I love you, like really really love you and I want to support everything you like, especially your ultimate"

"I just don't know what to say, darling. I'd love that, I'm love you too so much"

You got overwhelmed by your emotions and kissed the zither player on her lips, she blushed for a moment but quickly melted into it

"O-oh, sorry, you just looked so beautiful, and It just felt right to do that"

"No, it's completely fine. I loved it. For a first kiss, it was most wonderful"

"Then can I expect more?"

"Of course, definitely"

J rosales

"FUCK OFF YOU CREEP!"

J suddenly rushed in your dorm and slammed the door, she took a moment to breathe before looking at you

"It's Arturo again isn't it?"

"Yeah, that asshole thinks he can just follow me around, I told him I'm already taken, and that changed nothing, I think it even got worse"

"Oh, I'm sorry"

"No, it's not your fault. He's just a piece of shit"

"Yeah, I'll just talk to him"

"You sure?"

"Yeah obviously, I'd just be a bad partner if I didn't"

You opened the door and found the plastic surgeon still standing there

"Oh Julia you-....what are you doing here?"

"First of all, her name is j, and second, this is my dorm you idiot"

"Oh yes, you're Julia's "lover" aren't you? I still don't understand how she could fall for someone so ugly"

"Says the guy who has to wear a mask to hide how ugly he is"

"How dare you-"

"Listen, I don't wanna deal with you anymore, so I'll let you go, but next time you harass J like that, I'll go tell Xander, and I don't think he'd appreciate you treating his friend's girlfriend like that"

"Ugh such an ugly-"

"Yeah, Yeah I get it, now fuck off!"

You closed the door (kinda hoping to hurt him), and you heard as he walked away, you closed your eyes and sighed

"Geez what a loser, hopefully that will get him to stop"

When you opened your eyes, you were very surprised to see a blushing j standing mere inches in front of your face, and before you could say anything, she crashed your lips into yours. When she pulled back, she was blushing even more and pulled her hood over her face

"C-Consider that a thank you for what you just did.....o-or something.....God this is so dumb"

"That was great"

"U-uh? Really?"

"Yeah, it was amazing. You're actually a really good kisser"

"T-thanks I guess, you were a good kisser too"

Veronika grebenshchikova

"Is everything OK darling?"

"Y-yeah totally fine don't worry"

"Are you sure? I can turn off the movie if you'd like, I know this is our first movie night together and I just want you to be comfortable"

"No I'm ok"

"If you say so"

You were, in fact, not ok. You were never a fan of horror movies, but you didn't want to appear weak or boring to your new girlfriend so you didn't tell her anything, though that seemed to be useless as she still understood what you were going trough

When a particular scary scene came on screen, you couldn't take it anymore and hid in the covers, Veronika noticed this and followed you

"Shhh darling it's ok"

She hugged you and you calmed down

"I'm sorry vero, I just-"

She quickly silenced you by kissing your lips. You found it calming and comfortable, so you kissed back, when she pulled back you saw her staring back at you with a smile

"Did that help?"

"Definitely, that felt so great"

"Well I'm glad, listen, it's fine if you're not a horror fan, I don't mind watching another movie"

"No I'm ok, as long as you continue kissing me like that then I think I can handle the movies"

She giggled and kissed you again

"I'm so happy then you'll get alllll the kisses you could ever ask for my darling"

Rose lacroix

*knock, knock*

"Hey Rose, wake up, class already started"

You waited a second and got no response. You got slightly worried, so you entered since the door to her dorm was opened. When you entered, you found a huge blanket covering the bed and when you lifted it up, you saw your girlfriend sleeping soundly

"Rose,......hey rose, wake up"

You nudged her slightly, but she still remained asleep. You tried to do this some more times, but that still had no results

"Geez, she wasn't kidding when she said she slept 15 hours a day, but I guess working on all those paintings must be tiring"

You tried a few more methods to make noise, but nothing worked. You considered splashing water at her but quickly dismissed the idea when you thought about how angry she would be at you

"Rose, seriously, wake up.......my God, you're like sleeping beauty........wait a second"

You blushed at your own idea but dismissed that, too. If she was gonna be angry at you for splashing water, you couldn't even imagine what would happen if you kissed her without consent

"*sighs* I guess I'll tell the teacher you're sick or something"

You tried to get up from her bed but was stopped by someone kissing your lips, you turned to see that rose was awake and smiling at you

"W-what, why did you-"

"You weren't gonna do it, so I thought I should"

"You were faking it?"

"No, I only woke up 5 minutes ago, but hearing you talk about sleeping beauty made me wonder if you were gonna kiss me"

"You wanted me to kiss you?"

"Not really, I'm glad you considered my feelings, so I thought you deserved an actual kiss.......that was my first kiss, how was it?"

"Amazing"

"Eh, thanks I loved it too"

"Let's go to class now"

"Yeah"

[unoislazy]

Sneak Peak?

(Arthur Morgan x reader)

Because it’s been so long since I’ve written I feel like I’ve lost my touch a bit. I’m gonna leave a snippet of something I’ve written so far and I would like to know how you guys feel about it!!

Context: Childhood friends to lovers

“I’m in a lot of trouble right now.” He said, nearly out of breath as he grabbed your hand desperately. You stared at him for a moment, trying to process what he was saying as you tried to string together a proper sentence.

“You’ll be alright, right? You always make it out okay.” You said optimistically. The boy in-front of you gave you a charming smile. He had just shown up on your doorstep, which was no different than normal but this time he was winded and bleeding… Your concern was evident through the farrowing of your eyebrows and the worry in your eyes, but you dared not voice them, not now.

“You know I do, but… I don’t think we can stay here for much longer.” He replied, looking back over his back as if he was being watched. You too looked over his back trying to see if you could make out any figures in the area behind him, but to you there was not a soul in sight.

“We?” You asked, taken aback. It was almost as if you had only then processed his words as you took your attention off the empty area of dirt and leaves behind the boy and turned to once again meet his striking blue eyes.

“Me and the gang, we got into some issues with the law and I only have a few hours before I have to go.” He explained. You knew this was going to happen eventually, but even so you still didn’t feel as if you prepared yourself well enough for this day to come.

“Before you leave… I want you to take this.” You quickly grabbed a letter that you had stored in your drawer, in preparation for this day. “I don’t want you to open it until you’re gone, okay?” To that, the boy nodded.

“I promise you I’ll come back to you.”

And with a swift kiss on the forehead, and longing goodbyes, he was gone. That was the last you had seen or heard of the boy named “Arthur Morgan” for quite some time.

Many years had passed at this point and whilst you had never forgotten that boy, you had a strong feeling he had forgotten about you. Or worse.

But it was no concern of yours now, you were grown now. There was no point in delving into the “what ifs” of your childish fantasy. You still lived in the same old house, living a quiet life. A boring yet decent one, you didn’t know why you stayed. You had everything you’d need to leave and lead a more eventful life.

However, deep down you knew why you stayed.

You stayed for him.

On the off chance that that boy would find his way back to you. That he would come back and keep the promise he made to you all those years ago. But the other side of you knew, that was never gonna happen.

Your internal argument continued until you heard a knock on your door.

You brushed off your hands from the residue left over from whatever task you had found yourself partaking in before turning to get the door. You didn’t often get visitors but when you did it was usually just one of your neighbors or a family friend coming to check up on you. So with that expectation in mind, you walked towards the door and grabbed the handle with confidence, twisting and yanking it open with ease while saying your greetings to who you thought would be,

“Mrs. Baker I told you last time, I don’t need any more b-”

You cut your sentence short as your eyes quickly landed upon, not the older woman you expected, but a younger man. He was quite tall and he looked to be about your age, and despite his rough appearance he stood on your porch as awkwardly as a school boy in the front of a class.

“Oh, I’m sorry I thought you were someone else, how can I help you?” You asked, deciding it was best to find out what this man was here for. Upon further inspection, you realized there was a strange nostalgic quality to his face. You couldn’t quite place it before but it felt as if you had seen this man once before.

“I.. uh…” The man started, before he quickly turned towards his satchel and began to dig through it. It didn’t take long for him to grab a thin envelope out and display it. It was clearly opened but a name was visible on the front. “Is there anyone here by this name?” He asked.

You curiously looked towards the envelope and noticed…

It was your name.

Your eyebrows scrunched as you looked from the envelope to the man holding it once again. Why would this man be asking for you…?

It was then you took a closer look at him, he was quite tan, his hair was a gorgeous brown and his eyes…

His eyes

“Arthur…?” You whispered. It couldn’t be.

“How do you know my…” The man before her looked at her with a puzzled look before it quickly clicked with him. How could he not recognize you? Sure it had been several years since he had been back but he prided himself on being able to memorize your features.

Unfortunately the memory betrays one no matter how hard they try to defy it.

[chromatic-crow]

I know you said you are stepping away for a bit so no pressure BUT Brodsfabes and Anyway by Rebecca Black. idkk I'm thinking about the upcoming offseason and how the season went for the wild and then injuries and the whole rookie/veteran. Anyways.

Sleepwalkin’ through life like a daydream Time's not on our side and you wanna buy mine I'm free falling through my heart’s vacancy When the signs say that we're insane I'm gonna, gonna love you anyway I'm callin' out, can you hear me? 'Cause this silence is deafening (Is deafening) No matter how we try, we're in a different place and time But what we have is too good to release

The season doesn’t start off well, and it doesn’t seem to get much better as they continue through it. But it’s Brock’s rookie season and he still feels like it's a dream when he wakes up every morning. Being able to practice and play for his home team with players that he grew up watching, even some of the recent additions from the offseason being some sort of star that he never expected to be on the team with.

It’s Jonas that gets most of his attention of course. Brock never thought he would be able to play with him, get anything besides maybe tips and critiques from the vet. Some of the guys call it hero worship, others teasing him and calling it a crush, sometimes both. He doesn’t mind the teasing, it's just part of being one of the guys.

It was a crush, one that Jonas noticed and at first was careful to not give him any hope that their relationship would be anything more than friends, keeping it professional. Which Brock was understanding, but a long standing crush like that doesn’t just go away overnight, or over the course of a week or two. And it was annoying, Brock constantly trying to fight with the butterflies from either the crush or too much caffeine and adrenaline coursing through him every time he took the ice with Jonas, always fearing that he would mess something up, come on too strong in a way that wasn’t okay. But eventually Jonas saw him for what he is, a twenty one year old rookie with a lot to prove. It had become a bit of a thing between them, Brock usually sneaking out of Jonas’ hotel room, Jonas bringing extra clothes to the rink and waiting for him to finish up to drive them back to his apartment.

And then the last few months hit, Brock forcing himself to play through fractured ribs cause fuck being put on the injured list, he wants to play all of his rookie season. He wants to learn as much as he can through play, not from video or the sidelines, an injury wasn’t going to stop him.

Jonas seemed to be concerned with the decision, sitting him down and telling him that if Jonas thinks it’s too much and that he’s too injured he will force him to go on the injured list, saying “you’re the future of the team, can’t have you getting too fucked up in your first season Fabes.”

Which leads them to now, Brock sitting across the table from Jonas in the common room, little kitchenette already in the process of being cleaned out, missing most of the cups and mugs it had during the season. They had both brought in drinks, Jonas with his little paper coffee cup heading towards empty on the table, Brock sipping on his iced coffee while they sit in. Well, he wouldn’t say comfortable silence, but it also wasn’t uncomfortable either, just a weird feeling, mostly from the season being over and so uneventful if he had to guess.

He knows his disappointment is probably palpable, most of the guys were upset as well, but they had all focused on having what fun they could and just trying to build chemistry as a team after being eliminated from contention. But he already knows that this isn’t what Jonas pulled him aside and sat him down for.

“So, I’m going to play for Sweden in worlds.”

Brock nods at that, fiddling with his cup. He’s pretty sure they had already talked about it, he had been a little disappointed that he had to heal up, unable to play against Jonas in the summer. But also there’s something else in Jonas’ voice, almost a question.

“Did…did you want me to come with you or something? I mean, I would but also-”

He watches Jonas’ tongue dart out, looking like he’s trying to pick his words carefully. It makes Brock’s stomach clench.

“I wouldn’t say no but you need to rest. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ll see you in a few months.”

And there it is. He’d figured it was coming at some point.

“Ah…okay yeah that’s-uh that’s fine. I’ll still be here.” 

Jonas looks away for a little too long, Brock downing the rest of his iced coffee with a bit of regret, stomach now feeling even worse.

“We can still call and text, it’s just a pause for the summer.”

“Oh yeah no that’s fine, like I said, I’ll still be here Brods.”

He really doesn’t want to think about the fact that he’s only signed for another year, that he’ll have to go through contract negotiations. Even less so about the fact that Jonas is nine years older, been in the league for twelve plus years and how once his contract is up, he’s likely retiring. And leaving Brock.

“I leave in a week and I’m going to go pack after this, did you want to come over?”

Brock won’t tell him any of his fears about that, he just wants to keep doing whatever it is that they’re doing, enjoying the time they have left together.

 “Yeah, meet you there?” 

Brock gets up from the little table as Jonas gives him a nod, small smile on his lips. He would hold on to this anyway he can, for as long as he can.

[stergeon]

> OTHER: Contrive some sort of SCHEME.

Oh, yes, this is very exciting. You love a good SCHEME, and it is marvelous to get to concoct one so early in the day. This bodes very well for how the rest of your day will progress.

Now it is time to play your favorite game:

“What could possibly happen?”

This is a very fun game where you attempt to devise every single possible series of events that could occur in the course of enacting your SCHEME. You play all of these scenarios out to their logical end and then some in order to guarantee that your plan goes flawlessly and that you have accounted for any potential risks. As you know, you are very good at thinking, and knowing things keeps your heartbeat regular and makes you not nauseous, so this game is one of your favorite activities.

You open up your JOURNAL and begin to take notes on your SCHEME. Since you are pressed for time, you do not delve as deeply into the potential scenarios as you usually would; although this unnerves you, you believe you have drafted sufficient options as to determine several effective courses of action. You wager you can exploit FERDINAND'S weaknesses for TEA and PHYSICAL AFFECTION to make him see reason and agree to attend BREAKFAST with you, ensuring he vacates your QUARTERS in a timely manner.

#008 | << | <- | -> | JOURNAL | HOW TO PLAY | ALL POSTS

[moe-broey]

Fellas can you take this somewhere else. Maybe. Just not in the fucking halls. Thanks 🫡

I couldn't resist drawing out these tags I wrote on a dif post LMFAO

Moe just has...... SO many problems.......

Close-ups of my fave shots!

The elusive Líf...

[orcelito]

FANTASTIC NEWS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i finished & posted the ITNL 14 re-edits, WHICH MEANS!!!!!!!!!!!!! i'm officially done with my re-edits project!!!!!!!!!! :D!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ive been thinking a lot today about my plans for ITNL 15, AND i have tomorrow off, so if all goes well i'll be able to start writing again. TOMORROW !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and if the chapter grips me like i expect it will then... hehehehehe

could be an update in as little as a few days, depending. i'll keep u guys updated

[sophieswundergarten]

So. Everyone who yelled at me yesterday for making a ramble on Reynie going blank and then not resolving it, this is for you: (@lemondropletters, you have been tagged)

Also, it's in a Google Doc because it was definitely too long for a Tumblr post, and ~~I don't know how AO3 works~~

The (vague) premise is that, instead of Constance seeing Curtain's broadcast, they all get to the compound mentally sound, but once there, they split up to look for Mr. Benedict, and instead Reynie finds Curtain. This is the wrap up of what would have happened in the last episode.

[hexcitrine]

randomly looked at this account to update my age and holy shit it's been a while since i posted here..........i have a small pile of art i have yet to post but hbhbshdbshbd too lazy

[robiinurheart33]

Ghoap as Once more to see you by Mitski

“In the rear view mirror, I saw the setting sun on your neck

And felt the taste of you bubble up inside me”

Ghost always thought of Johnny as something that could never be diminished, never replaced, never dimmed. An unstoppable force of nature. The very definition of the sun to him.

Johnny blazed beautifully. He brought life and colour to everything around him, even to ghost. He thought of mortals that worshipped sun gods, that thanked them for bringing life around them, how they brought upon the very beginning of humanity. Ghost feels his hard ridges melt away in Johnny’s warmth, how he brought his humanity back to him. He doesn’t even know how he did it. It was like second nature to soap, breathing the life back to Simon. It was like nothing to soap. It was the whole world to Simon.

It was acidic, the way he felt about soap. It burned through his skin, sticky-sweet, and made a home in his body. It clung and absorbed itself into his bones, merged and became part of his DNA. It stabbed into the very core of his being, infecting him. He hated it, hated the way it made his heart clench and his throat close up whenever he saw Johnny.

He hated it.

“But with everyone watching us, our every move

We do have reputation.”

Soap knows Ghost has a irrefutable reputation. Something that he didn’t have to fake, he is and always will be the Ghost. He’s violent, and bloody, and he’s always being watched with a thousand eyes. Around the base, in the cameras, by higher ups. It’s a precaution the undead have to deal with. It’s a precaution that’s strangely similar to a prisoner. The thought makes uneasiness curl in soap’s gut, making him scratch the nape of his neck in irritation, grimacing.

Ghost has always been just out of reach. Being a private, hearing rumours of a massive killing machine roaming around SAS, a distant thought of maybe rising high enough in the ranks to actually meet the guy. He wouldn’t live long enough for me to meet him. Some part of him snorts. But actually seeing him, a 6’2 wall of muscle and broodiness, soap knew then that he was irrevocably fucked.

Soap isn’t stupid. In fact, he can confidently say he’s a smart ass cookie. Which is why he knows he absolutely cannot risk Ghost getting compromised just for soap’s selfishness. Soap is glaringly aware of the eyes staring down at Ghost, and by default, at him. Soap is his Sargent. Soap is his friend. Soap is his…his.?

Soap scratches at the nape of his neck, picking at a scab and drawing blood.

“We keep it secret, won’t let them have it

So come inside and be with me, alone with me”

Graves. Shepard. Laswell. Even Price. Ghost knows what they have is fragile, bubble light and just as explosive as anything he could come up with. He trusted Price, he did. But ever since that mission with graves where everything went to shit, he keeps thinking of Johnny, his Sargent alone and hurt, in a village filled with shadows, just barely scraping past losing more and more blood the longer he stays there.

Ghost doesn’t trust anyone. Not even himself. He places his whole heart, his life, his mind, his body, his everything to Soap, whatever he wants, he’ll do it. Before soap, he’s always been good at being a weapon, a mutt if he thinks about it long enough. To his Dad, to Roba, to Shepard. He knows what it feels like to be dehumanised, desenitised to whatever the hell people see him as. A monster, a spirit, an unknown. He doesn’t care.

But.

Soap does. He does care. And fuck, if that doesn’t break down every single god-damned wall he meticulously built up to completely sweep him away and keep him safe. Alone. Together. Just them and no one else. He knows he doesn’t need anything else he doesn’t want anything else he just. Wants. Johnny. Johnny might not belong to him, but Simon knows that every single atom of himself belongs to johnny.

Ghost knows better than anyone else how dangerous it is to be associated with him. And he won’t let the same thing that happened to his family happen to Johnny. So he does the opposite of what his heart wants. He keeps his distance, doesn’t talk more than necessary, showing everyone that they’re just teammates, friendly only for the sake of the task force.

But under closed doors, in the private channel, ghost lets Simon loose. He holds Johnny tight, he tucks his head into the crook of his neck, and he relaxes. Simon felt like a snake, twisting and turning, gripping harder and harder into his desire. Here, where the world is only him and Johnny, Simon takes his time. He gets lazy and carefree as much as he gets, sinks into the solid warmth of Johnny’s presence. Alone. Together.

“If you would let me give you pinky promise kisses”

There was a certain desperation that always came with the job. Soap knows that. He just never thought it would be like this. Heart aching- quiet sobs- the demand to be violent, the all encompassing love that came with it. Soap always knew he was messed up, no one would willingly sign up their life to die if they weren’t a little fucked up in the head. But god, it was- should be concerning to Soap how far he would go to to keep Ghost safe. To keep them safe. Ghost was no softie, the thought of it is laughable, but Soap has always been aggressively protective- even possessive of what he thinks he should stand up to. He’s unwaveringly loyal, both a valuable asset and his greatest flaw.

Soap wants to dig his nails into Ghost so hard his pale skin tears, sink his teeth into his jugular until his entire mouth is filled with his blood, meld their ribs together and press his heart right against Simon’s cold, beating one. Soap wants to tuck his head into the crook of Simon’s neck, fling a leg over his and feel his chest slowly rising and falling. He wants to share their body heat, entangle their legs, so that he cannot tell where Johnny ends and where Simon begins. He wants, he wants, he wants.

“Then I wouldn’t have to scream your name

Atop of every roof in the city of my heart”

Ghost had never felt an emotion as strong as this. It felt uncomfortably similar to anger, or his anxiety. It poked and prodded at his heart, his lungs, his throat. His gut churned nervously and he felt like throwing his head on the nearest solid surface over and over again. His intrusive thoughts became even more uncontrollable, the violent nature of his animalistic side howling in excitement.

Every time someone laughed with or touched soap, he could feel his subconscious screaming in protest, to gnash his teeth at anyone who dared get close to soap. He felt like a disobedient dog, nipping at soap’s feet for an ounce of attention.

He felt feral, like he wasn’t completely himself and it scared him. Every time he spots a mercenary sneak up behind soap during a mission, his heart screams and his hand lines up immediately and shoots on instinct, as simple as breathing.

“Good shot, L.t.” Soap breathes.

He only grunts in reply, his mind crooning.

Of course. I wouldn’t ever miss. Not if it’s for you. Only for you. Just for you, Johnny. I would do anything.

Ghost compartmentalises, pushing that part of him deep, deep down.

“Keep it tactical, Sargent.”

He wishes he could do the same.

“If I could see you

Once more to see you”

Soap knows Ghost is beautiful. He doesn’t need to see his real face to know. It’s in the way he carries himself, his thick British accent, the arrogant quirk of his eyebrow that shifted under his mask. He never had any urge to take a peek at his face under that mask, always respected his boundaries, always stayed fairly within line.

But during the mission in Las Almas, where Ghost had so unwaveringly pulled off his mask, Johnny felt like his whole world had been shaken. Maybe it was because Ghost was his whole world Soap had been obsessed ever since. The crooked curve of his nose, his clipped and messy dirty blonde hair, the slight curve of his Cupid’s bow on his upper lip, the jagged scar that had been carved into pale, almost sickly skin. It was all so utterly Simon. Soap felt unhealthily obsessed. Genuinely, he thought that he could not be any more head over heels, and he goes and does this.

It was stupid how eager Soap was to draw his face. It was like he was a puppet on a string, pulled by his untethered compulsiveness. He had to be cautious. He yearned rip off the mask Ghost has just put on again to kiss him stupid in front of everyone. 141, maybe. But not the Los Vaqueros. He does have that sliver of sanity to hold himself back. But god, if that doesn’t just open up a door of opportunities for him behind closed doors. The extra areas of skin that were now not so unreachable was like dangling a candy in front of a child and expecting them to not take it.

Simon is beautiful. Simon is so pretty. Simon’s stunning. Pure Bonnie.

Soap wills himself to shut the fuck up and focus on the mission. He wants to see Simon again. Preferably, in a setting with more light. Soap feels like he’s rediscovering ghost all over again, he wants to see his smile, his annoyed expression, his huffs and grunts, everything on his face. Good lord, does he have dimples? Soap thinks he might just die.

The act of seeing ghost’s skin lights something in soap. He doesn’t know what it is, but he feels the impatience and desperation to find out what it is. He grapples and tries to identify it, but like his callsign, it slips away and he’s left with a frustratingly empty feeling he knows only ghost can fill. I’ll find out. I swear, I’ll find it out.

Soap has never been a patient man.

[skitskatdacat63]

I think I need to just watch AD 2009 and finish off that season tonight so I don't feel so morose about F1 today haha

[dakbees]

i have to ask about bump-up business: are Mill and Nine actually okay at acting? because when i watched the trailer i was like ummm.....

yes and no? as a lyon its pretty easy to tell that theyre acting, but i think they did okay with what they were given. its less of "are they good at acting" and more of "is the script good"— which, no it isnt. It kinda suffers from being a low-budget manhwa adaption, so a lot of their lines aren't exactly what real people would do in real life, and I think some of the editing did them dirty (ie not cutting out moments where they are clearly getting ready to say their line). it kinda gave me student film levels of acting. they know what theyre doing but they could use some workshopping. they did get better as the show went on, though!

that being said, yoojung and kyubin did fucking amazing. yoojung especially was a stand-out for me. he wasn't in the show too much, only near the end, but comparing his acting to nine and mill... uh yeah hes definitely better than them as of now

[neonacidtrip]

I see these types of posts every now and again, and it’s only just occurred to me to share some knowledge:

Lines

Lines are often the heart of drawings, and they tend to be the part artists will draw over and over and over again to get them juuuuussssssttttttttt right. Pointing out lines you think are well done will go a long way to compliment an artist.

Your lines are dynamic! (Good for action pictures, art of an intense scene, or art that conveys movement, like a character running)

Your lines are so clean! (Good for neat lines of various sizes. These lines will feel like a coloring book, where you could color inside them yourself if the art was black and white)

Your lines carry such depth! (When lines cross over each other, they make a flat picture look more real, almost like 3D)

You’re good at drawing intricate lines! (Curling lines? Curvy, wavy, bendy lines? Lines that weave around each other? Many, small lines detailing an item like filigree or a robot’s parts? Those are intricate lines, baby)

You make great use of line weight! (In general, the human eye will be drawn towards very thick lines. Artists will use this to make you focus on a certain point, like a character’s face, by using thick lines around the face and thinner lines everywhere else)

You do amazing lineless art! (Not all art has lines! If you see a picture without any lines, make sure to tell the artist you noticed their hard work!)

Your line colors are fantastic! (Not all lines are done in black or white. Some artists will spend a lot of time choosing what color to make their lines. Show them some love!)

Color

Your colors are so vibrant! (Bright colors! Colors that pop! Colors that instantly grab your attention!)

The saturation is great! (A very bright color is highly saturated, and a very dull color is low saturated. High saturation colors can hurt the eyes, so an artist with good saturation control knows how to use bright colors without hurting anyone’s eyes)

I love your color choices! (This can be used for all color schemes; it’s a more general compliment that praises the artists for their understanding of color theory)

Your colors feel like home! (Good for cozy colors. Warm colors that aren’t usually super bright. They make you feel all warm inside. If you picture a cozy cottage in the woods, you’d probably image these colors)

Your pastels are so pretty! (Muted colors usually fall into the category of “pastels”. These are soft colors that are meant to be calming and non-oppressive on your eyes. Think: The opposite of vibrant)

Your colors are so soft! (Similar to the above two, this is for a picture that makes you feel soft and warm and fuzzy inside. It’s more directed towards warm and pastel colors instead of vibrant colors)

Your ability to blend colors is fantastic! (Putting two different colors right next to each other can look jarring or choppy, so many artists will blend two or more colors together to make things look more natural and appealing. A good example is giving a character a subtle pink blush on their otherwise skin-colored cheeks)

You are super good at choosing color palettes! (Good for when the artists regularly chooses colors that just feel like they belong together. Best for when there are only a limited number of colors in the picture)

Your colors are so clean! (Layering color on top of color on top of color can make everything muddy and dull. Artists who blend things well will have “clean colors”. Likewise, some artists intentionally avoid blending to make simple, bold art, in which case their colors are very, very clean)

Light and Shadow

Conveying light and shadows can be really hard. It can take years to understand how lighting works, and it’s even harder to put your knowledge of it into practice. It can be done with colors, lines, textures, and many other ways.

Your lighting is so good! (A general compliment for any time you see good use of lighting. If you’re unsure, check the eyes and the face of the character, as they often have the most highlight to them)

You made great use of shadows here! (Good for when a dark area really captures your attention)

Your shadows feel so alive! (Artists can be really creative. They make dark areas that seem to move or curl or otherwise just be alive on the paper)

The lighting is so soft and gentle! (Like before, this is for art that just makes you feel soft inside! I think of a character maybe surrounded by light in a field of flowers when I imagine something like this)

You balance your shadows so well without making things too dark! (Using lots of dark colors to make shadows can make the picture hard to see, and details can get lost. If you see a picture with lots of shadows, but you can still easily see all the details, then the artists has really good balance and color control)

Your contrast of light and shadow is amazing! (Good for when the artists uses lots of both light and shadow! You often see pictures with a stark difference between the two, like a character standing in the light and the other falling into shadows, but you can also see good contrast in a more standard setting, like a city-scape set in the afternoon)

Details

Pointing out details is one of the fastest ways to make an artist feel seen. It’s harder to give examples for this because it will really, really boil down to the individual picture. The general rule is if you see something you like, say it! Try looking for things to point out, like:

A character’s expression (”She looks so angry!” or “His expression is so sad, I’m going to cry!” or “Wow! I can really tell what they’re thinking just from that expression alone!” or “You draw expressions so well!”)

Little things a character is doing/holding/etc. that may get overlooked (”I noticed you even clenched his fists! Good job!” or “I love her tiny hair clip!” or “You painted her nails to match his eye color! I love it!”)

Details in the background/landscape (”I love the little bird nest you included in the tree branches!” or “The way you draw water is so pretty! I wish I could swim in it!” or “Is that’s Character B’s hand in the background? So cool!” or “That is the softest cat; I want to pet it!” or “That food on the table is the tastiest thing I’ve ever seen!”)

Clothing! (”Her dress is so pretty!” or “Wow, you do such a good job drawing suits!” or “Her t-shirt is so funny!” or “That hat is so cute by the way!”)

The general idea here is just to say whatever comes to your mind, whether it be literally pointing out the obvious (example: “I love that you drew this character wearing a flower crown! Flowers are so pretty!”) or pointing out how the picture made you feel (example: “This picture makes me so happy, I wish I could eat it!”). Just say what you like about it. You don’t need to know fancy art terms. Saying “Your blues are so blue!” is a perfectly wonderful way to describe the three different shades of blue the artist used to draw an ocean. As long as you aren’t criticizing, you can’t really go wrong.

me, absolutely not an artist, desperately trying to articulate how much i like adore people's fanart: ouughgh the colors. there are so MANY of them!!!! and the lines,,,,,,,,,, they are made of lines.. impeccable

[bxtonpxss]

Ultra favourite Pokemon Picker!

Repost. Don't Reblog. nabbed from @mixed-up-multiverse tagging everyone!

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)