#these were my FAVOURITE when i was a child

[no-144444]

the trouble with racing- o.piastri

summary: a the first race of the season, oscar figures something out that could change his life forever.

pairing: oscar piastri x ex! single mom! fem! reader

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You had always loved going to races, especially to see Oscar win. Home races were a big deal, and against your better judgement, you allowed Max to drag you along. You hadn’t seen him in years, not since he left F2 and left you behind. No text, no calls, just a note saying he couldn't do it anymore. Couldn’t love you anymore. Max was your brother in law, he’d married your sister years ago, and you two had bonded over your shared love of racing, but he’d never understood why you wouldn’t go to a GP. He also didn’t get why you wouldn’t let your daughter anywhere near the sport, when she already loved it so much, but to each their own. 

“Come on P,” you smiled, holding her hand and pulling her away from the gates of the paddock. All you had to do was get through the weekend. Just babysit Poppy and take care of Mia, and you’d be fine, right?

“Can we visit uncle Lando?” she asked and you grimaced. 

“We’ll see, first we should put all our stuff in Redbull, yeah?” you smiled at her and she nodded, running on to catch up with Max as he walked through the paddock. Your sister, busy pregnant with her second child, had decided to stay home and not fly, thereby giving Max a reason to beg you to help him out and take care of P. You had reluctantly agreed, and that’s how you ended up in the McLaren Motorhome, chatting to Lando. You’d met him a few times before, just in passing with Max, or at P’s birthday parties. He was sweet. 

“And how’s my favourite girl doing?” he asked, taking Mia out of your arms. 

You chuckled, watching the exchange. 

“Hi,” her meek little voice made Lando smile and laugh. 

“Hi Mia,” he waved. “Do you want to have a look at my car?

She nodded. 

“Do you want to sit in my car?” 

She nodded vigorously. 

“You don’t have to-” you started but he cut you off. 

“It’s fine, mechanics are done with it anyways. Onward we go!” he giggled, and you followed behind the two with P beside you. 

“I want to talk to Oscar!” P smiled. 

“He’s in the garage, you can go say hi,” Lando informed her and she ran ahead, straight for the garage. 

You felt your anxiety spike. He wouldn’t say anything, surely? He had nothing to say when he left. He should have nothing to say now. 

Lando and Mia got on like two peas in a pod, and you took all the photos while he talked to her about the different parts of the steering wheel and how it all worked. 

“Y/n?” Nicole’s voice brought you out of your bubble, and you felt yourself stiffen. “Is that you?” 

You turned around to see her shocked face, Hattie, Eddie, Mae, and Tim all standing behind her, the same surprised look. 

“Hi,” you smiled awkwardly. “How are you guys?”

“We’re good,” Nicole nodded, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that you were here. “H-How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you nodded. 

“W-What are you doing here?” she asked. 

“Max Verstappen is my brother in law,” you explained. “He needed help with P-”

Just then, Poppy came bounding in, Oscar hot on her tail and wrapped her arms around your midriff.  “Auntie Y/n, am I allowed to root for two teams?” 

You smiled down at her, playing with her hair as she leant against you. “Of course, once one of them is Max.”

She looked at you, unamused. “Of course it is silly!” 

You chuckled. 

“Mom!” Mia giggled. “Look, I’m a racer!”

You turned back to Lando and Mia and saw her with her hands on the steering wheel, Lando dying of laughter as he took photos. You chuckled. “Well done baby.”

You turned back to see a horrified look on Oscar’s face, and the rest of his family looking at you surprised. “Well, it was nice to see you, but I’d better get back to Redbull,” you smiled before turning back to Lando. “Thank you Lan, she loves this stuff.”

He nodded, taking her out of the car and handing her to you. “See you later,” he called as you three left. 

Fuck. 

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The Piastri’s were stunned into a sort of shocked silence. Nicole was looking at her son, a million thoughts running through her head. 

“Lando,” Oscar spoke up. “Who’s kid is that?”

“Mia?” he asked, his face hardened. “Y/n’s.”

“How old is she?” Nicole rushed out. “Is Y/n married? Does Mia have a dad-?”

“Mia’s four,” he answered, calm and calculated. “Y/n’s been single since she found out, and Mia does have a dad; Oscar.” 

And Oscar’s world crumbled. He thought he was doing the best thing for you, getting you out of his insane life before it all got too crazy for you. He thought he was fixing things by leaving you behind. But all this time, he could’ve been a dad. He could’ve been there for you, while you were pregnant, while you were exhausted with a newborn, while you were alone. There hadn’t been a day that had gone by where he didn’t think about you, and wished you were still there with him, but it was his choice, and he made it. He started at the floor, trying to process it all. That kid was half him, half you. Mia. That was the name you’d both decided on if you ever got pregnant and it was a girl. You still had him in mind when you were naming her. 

“Oscar,” Lando’s voice was low. “Y/n has spend four fucking years without you, because that’s what you wanted. You wanted her to leave, so she left. She’s happy, after being very unhappy for a really long time. Do not fuck this up for her. Yes, you have a right to your child, but just think about the fact that she’s been doing fine without you for four years.”

“I-I… Can I talk to her?” he asked no one in particular. “I never knew.” 

“You blocked her on everything, how was she supposed to tell you?” Lando scolded. 

“Quali starts in 15 minutes,” Nicole interjected. “I’ll go speak to her.” 

“No,” Oscar sighed. “I’ll talk to her after. Let me sort this out, alright?” 

She nodded.

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Pole position didn’t taste as good as he wanted it to, especially when it also meant he had about 2 extra hours of interviews. He just wanted to see you. He just wanted to talk to you. He wanted to see Mia. 

He rushed to the RedBull garage, searching high and low for you until he ran into Max. 

“Hey mate,” Max smiled. “Alright?”

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, frantic. 

“My sister in law?” he questioned and Oscar nodded. “She went back to the hotel.” 

“Which hotel?” 

“I’ll drive with you, come on,” Max offered and Oscar took it. “Why do you need her?” 

“I just… we have to talk about some things,” Oscar explained as they sat in the back of a car, driving towards the hotel. “We went to school together.”

“No way!” Max chuckled, not getting the fact that Oscar was seriously stressed and nervous. “That’s so fun, she dated a guy called Oscar for like five years and they met in high school,” Max’s head suddenly swivelled to meet Oscar’s eyes. “That wasn’t you, was it?”

“No,” Oscar lied. “No, we were just friends.” 

“Good, whoever that Oscar is, is the one that left her high and dry when she got pregnant,” he scoffed. “Dickhead.”

That didn’t exactly help the pit of guilt in Oscar’s stomach, but he nodded along anyway. 

The rest of the car journey was easy, both of them just chatting about the race tomorrow. When they got to the hotel, Max told him your room number, and Oscar was shooting off towards it. He stood in the elevator, it was a surreal feeling to find out that you had a kid, and he was also about to see the love of his life for the second time in four years. 

He knocked on the door, and herald giggles from Mia, and his heart swelled. You opened the door a crack and smiled in his general direction, but then you realised it was him, grabbed a keycard and came out, closing the door behind you. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked. 

“I wanted to talk to you,” he admitted. “I never knew-”

“I know and I’m sorry- I didn’t want to just… spring it on you like this but I knew you’d have to find out eventually- only Lando knows you’re her dad, and I wanted to tell you, I-I just… It never felt like the right time-”

“I’m her dad?” he questioned, his eyes filling with tears. You nodded, crossing your arms. “All this time and I could've been a dad?”

“I wanted to tell you, I swear, I just didn’t want you to think I was trying to baby trap you or anything, so I let it be and I just got more and more anxious about it, so I just stopped coming to GPs. I know this is a lot and I’m sorry-” you felt yourself tearing up. You knew Oscar wanted to be dad more than anything at all, but you were terrified. He’d broken up with you using a note. 

He wrapped his arms around you, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why you’re apologising. I’m the asshole. I should’ve been here, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t. I love you-”

“Osc-”

“No, I do. I only broke up with you because Zak told me ‘no distractions or realtionships’ and even then I couldn’t break up with you in person, I had to do it with a fucking note. I’ve loved you since we met in school, and I’m sorry that I let you go through this alone. If you’ll let me, I want to be in her life, and maybe yours too.”

Your features eased gently, but he knew what it meant. He knew you like the back of his hand, still. “I’m not sure about my life, but you do have a daughter who definitely would love a dad like you.”

“An F1 driver?” he questioned.

“No,” you chuckled. “A good person, come on,” you ushered him in, revealing Mia on the bed in her pyjamas, freshly bathed as she read a book. “Mia,” you spoke gently. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet-”

“Oscar Piastri!” she cheered. “Pole position!”

He chuckled and looked at you quizzically, as you smiled. 

“She got the racing bug from you,” you smiled at her, your voice low so she couldn’t hear. He beamed with pride. 

“Is she into karting?” he asked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Only three days a week,” you sighed. “She loves it, as much as you did.”

He nodded. “Hi Mia, what book have you got there?” 

“The ABC’s of racing,” she explained. 

“Do you mind if I read it to you tonight instead of your mom?” he offered and she nodded, beaming with excitement. 

He looked at you with a hopeful smile and you nodded, giving him the go-ahead. As you watched him sit beside her in bed, reading to her until she fell asleep against him, as much as your heart was full, you couldn’t escape that unmistakable dread that bubbled in your stomach. Oscar could leave again, you'd just be heartbroken. You had to be smart about this, not let him near you, just let him be a dad to Mia. 

You could do that, right?

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mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[bunny-jpeg]

wife

mark webber

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/47), wife kink, height difference, breeding kink, wife!reader, summertime fic, verbal worship

a/n: do you have baby fever? you do now! *flashbangs*

kimi raikkonen ver. - sebastian vettel ver. - jenson button ver.

while summer wasn't your favourite season you were happy at the very least that there had been a fair bit of sun. your little pet project had become helping your husband out in the garden behind the house you lived in. you had been mostly taking online summer courses for your degree prior to this year, but now that your degree was finally done you were a little more helpful outside. plus, you were never going to say no to be away from your desk.

you suggested to mark, that you start looking for a 'big girl job' and your loving, older husband simply patted you on the head and said, "take the summer off, you deserve a break!"

but you had a different idea of what break meant. you thought it was going to be a few months until the weather cooled down while mark through the break would end once your first child started primary school.

mark's hand grazed your lower back as he leaned in towards you while you were bent over giving your attention to the tomato plant. his touch was comforting, yet firm. he remarked with humor, "you take care of them so well. you're like their mother." and then laughed.

"i wouldn't say that, honey." you replied as you were upright once more. your husband wrapped his arms around you and pressed up against you.

something had been filling his mind lately. he was almost in his fifties! he thought it was about time that you two did a little family planning. the world of racing would like another webber and he thought you were the perfect woman to have them.

didn't help that he had been having a reoccurring dream. mrs. webber, happily greeting him with his son at your hip and pregnant with your second child, a daughter. kid looked just like him and you always had dinner ready for your little sprouting family. it itched a part of his brain that mark didn't think was possible. he wanted to see you pregnant with his child.

he placed a hand on your middle. it was already a little softer, but the idea of you with his child made a fire light in him. he held on and kissed your cheek with a gentle affection.

"let's go inside for a bit. too much sun isn't good for you." he said softly, even though the sun was now hidden behind some fluffy white clouds. mark loved how much smaller you felt compared to him. he was close to six foot two so he had to look down at you. especially when you were tucked away at his side.

softer, gentler, younger. near perfect to be the mother to his children. because you weren't going to stop at one, mark might be getting up there in age. but he could still keep up and keep you full.

he loved looking at you. your skin warmed by the sun. you had an old baseball cap of his on that you wore while you gardened, but mark had it off of you while he was shepherding you into the bedroom.

his wide hands on your hips as he got you into the room. he made his size difference known and it turned you on. it was quite the feeling that leapt in your chest. him being domineering as his hands then trailed up under your shirt.

he playfully scolded you, "you need to wear some sunscreen. i don't want to anything about my wife getting a sunburn." then kissed your cheek before the t-shirt was pushed up to just under your breasts. exposing your middle to him.

you soon stood there in your shorts, underwear and socks. your dirty shoes left by the door and your t-shirt thrown to the floor to be washed later. mark licked his lips and cupped your breasts in your bra with fondness. gonna need a bigger size in a few months. he exhaled before he leaned in for a deep kiss. he continued to undress you slowly. fuck, you looked beautiful. pretty breasts, soft curves, all belonged to mark webber. the thought made him hard.

he kissed you before he got his shirt off and kissed you again before he full got undressed. you ended up on the bed and he continued to kiss you deeply.his large hands roamed your beautiful body.

you moaned under his kisses and held onto his shoulders. your short nails dug into the skin for a moment as his kisses grew in passion. with a want in his gut for you. he groaned against in the kiss as his cock throbbed while pressed against your middle.

"fuck honey, i knew i had to have you all to myself. look at you." he said between heavy breaths. he got you on your back, further up the bed and said, "how did i get so lucky?" he got between your legs, "they don't make them like you anymore." he said cheekily as he rubbed his hard cock up against your slick entrance.

you blushed as you felt mark's cock up against you. you replied, "they don't make them like you anymore either."

mark adored you. he was deeply loving and protective. if he was protective now, imagine when you were having his baby?he soon sank into you and he loved the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his aching cock. his slice of paradise. he fit perfectly inside of you, his wife.

"fuck, mark." you groaned as you felt the euphoric state down to your nerves. you didn't think you'd crave sex as much as you did with mark.

he kissed your face with a gentle force. he clutched onto your soft thighs, "honey, you feel so good. i love you, i love you so much. you are the most - fuck - beautiful woman i've ever laid eyes on." his thrusts were steady as he pressed as far as he could inside of you. the two of you were chest to chest.

his cock nudged against your spongy warmth. mark was hefty in the cock department. he was big, but knew you took it beautifully. even under him, letting him take you with no protective. but he was certain that your body was needy for him.

mrs. webber with her two children, playing in the yard while her loving husband tended to your tomato plants. a domestic bliss. mark webber's little family, his pride and joys. mark loved it and maybe when they were in bed. he'd get to feel his wife's curves again.

"you feel amazing, honey. fuck, you're my angel. perfect beyond measure. look at you. all mine. the wife to end all wives." his thrusts grew stronger.

even at his age, he could still keep up. you couldn't even tease him because you would just be lying. more often you tapped out before mark could ever break a sweat.

his pace continued, it was heavier. his movements were more desperate, he needed his cute little wife. he was smart by putting a ring on you. maybe he should've waited till after you graduated before you got married, but you were already putting webber on assignments by accident.

now he could spend all summer making a baby with you. you have that free time, letting him fuck you, make love to you, breed you. the headboard creaked up against the wall while he thrusted up into you. he heavily panted and he kept up the pace. he wanted you deeply, like a throb in his body while he worked your core.

your back arched a little, you held onto the covers for support while mark shifted your hips a little and continued to fuck you at a pace that left you breathless. sweet noises left your lips as he continued to feverishly fuck you. the leap in your heart as the need for more pleasure grew.

"mark."

"yes, honey?" he panted as he held onto you tighter. the race in his soul and the excitement coursed through him.

"i need you." you gasped as the pleasure only mounted in your body. it was near overwhelming, you felt the leap in your pulse and the sweat on your body. to mark it looked painfully erotic. you felt the heightened euphoria, your soul begged for your husband. you knew that mark's main kink was you. you as his wife. you as the mother of his children. he had a thing for your carrying that title. it fit you lovely, just like his cock in you.

as it should be.

you were so close to your orgasm, close to being pushed over the euphoric edge. you panted heavily, he felt amazing against you. you were so needy when mark gave you that pleasure you desired. you could taste it in your throat. the noises got sweeter, pathetic in a beautiful way. you held on tighter to the covers as the feeling only grew in you.

mark shuddered and continued his heavy thrusts. he could feel it as well which only spurred him on to continue his movements. he wanted to make you feel the best you could possibly feel. to pour his love into you, a certain deep devotion that left you yearning for more.

"cum for me, baby. my honey, my wife, cum for me." he groaned as he dug his hands into your hips. with a few more thrusts he finished inside of you.

he kept his pace steady in a post-orgasmic bliss. running on a certain primal instinct as he hiked your hips up further and fucked your pussy. he fucked you through your orgasm as your back arched and you held onto the covers tightly for support. the pleasure consumed you and it left you panting and hot all over.

"beautiful." he slowed his pace to a stop. he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. he pulled out and got you into his arms while he laid next to you in bed. your leg over his hip as you laid facing him. your cheek against his chest. his words were so much softer as he said, "you're the perfect wife. you do everything for me, and i do everything for you."

-

"aw c'mon!" you huffed as you tried to get a better look at the tomato plant. the problem was that there was too much of the plant in your way to check on what you needed to see. the thing had grown like a monster over the early parts of summer!

"honey.. baby." mark said as he picked up your small daughter to see what was troubling you, "why don't you try getting a chair to sit down." he placed a hand on your lower back.

you exhaled, "i'm fine, i'm fine." you were currently four months pregnant with your second child. your daughter, stella, was three now and excited to be a big sister. you were still a stubborn little wife despite mark's guidance to relax.

you rubbed your lower back and looked to your daughter, "next year you'll help daddy and i pick all the tomatoes, right?" then tickled your daughter's middle which made the little girl laugh loudly.

she nodded eagerly and mark kissed her on the top of the head. already a total daddy's girl. you said you had dibs on being your second child's favourite.

mark gave you a small kiss on the cheek and said, "better yet, how about you sit with stelly-belly and i get you both something to drink and i'll check the plants?" his eyes lingered on your round middle, "you're not wonder woman, honey. and before our second peanut is born, why don't you enjoy today?"

you sighed, reluctant. but once you got an armful of your daughter you had no choice but to take a seat. you knew you weren't going to win this fight. you leaned in to kiss him before you headed towards the patio furniture near by.

"hey!" mark said and you looked over. he pointed at you, "not too much sun alright, don't need my girls getting a sunburn today." then winked at you. he smiled. he couldn't be happier, he had everything he needed and so much more <3

[shysuccubusstuff]

L&DS LI are for those that... pt. 1

Content: Reasons why some people may find themselves feeling more attracted for some of the LI ♡. Gender neutral reader! + Non proof-reader + SFW content

Possible TW: Mention of unsafe child bringing + yelling + parents issues +

Note: My brain has been so lazy lately... So sorry for not posting! Together with the fact that my tumblr page has been acting a lil weird is just so---. I hope that everyone who reads this is having a good day!! This is actually my first time writing about Rafayel!

Question: Who is your favourite LI in L&DS? Mine are probably Sylus, Zayne, and Caleb (in that order). Something interest abt this is that my first LI was Xavier!

Xavier:

Xavier is for those that need someone that loves taking life slowly. The ones that have that feeling that they have been running their whole life's, always having that fear of loosing to someone they don't even know.

Xavier is for those that have quality time as love language. The ones that enjoy spending time with their significant other. It doesn't matter if they are making a trip to some lost place or if they are laying in bed together, the fact that they can spend the whole day together is more than enough to keep them shining the whole day.

Xavier is for those who prefer a calm yet confident lover. The ones that love someone who is able to remain calm even when they can clearly see someone trying to hit on their lover. Still, as soon as it's just the two of you, rest asure that he will make sure to show you just how much he loves and wants you, leaving trails of his kisses all over your neck, not one spot free from his lips.

Xavier is for those that long for an everlasting love, the one that grows over time. The type of love that goes beyond the boundaries of life and death, the one that all those novels talk about. One that allows the other to simply know who their lover is regardless of your physical appeareance. I mean, how could he simply ignore those small gestures? From the way that you smiled, those sweet wrinkles appearing in your eyes as he made a silly joke, to that loving gaze you gave him while the two of you were cooking together, your arms wrapping around him as you tried to avoid him from burning the little pastry. He is aware that the one he met and the one he knows now are not the same person, he knows it, he isn't the naïve prince from centuries ago that decided to run away as an attempt to save you. So he makes his decision, choosing this time to stick close to you, his sword always following yours as if the two of you had been fighting your whole life, protecting you from each wanderer, while reassuring you and your abilities, as he is aware of just how strong you truly are.

Zayne:

Zayne is for those that love being taken care of. The ones that have spent all their life feeling as if everyone is relying on them. It's not something just about being the oldest sibling, but always having to be the bigger person. The one friend that is always taking care of the other friends, never being asked how they feel or what they want.

Zayne is for those that love a gentle lover. The ones that have grown up in an unsafe environment. The ones that were constantly being yelled at or insulted. Zayne is for those that need a gentle love, someone who will never raise his tone, his voice always soft even when you keep testing his patience.

Zayne is for those who yearn for physical affection. The ones that have always been too scared of asking for it, the ones that get uncomfortable with the feeling of being close to someone. You have always been afraid of it, fear of them rejecting it, so you have grown accustomed to it, hugging your soft plushies as you dream about having a someone to hug and be hugged by.

Zayne is for those who always fall in love with the socially awkward men, the ones that aren't even aware of the way their frowns are always furrowed. The ones that love seeing a more than capable men become a mess because of love, those that keep their exterior face completely frozen, yet their mind is rushing, heart beating as fast as if they were running away from a wild animal. The ones that begin to feel their face heat up as they keep noticing the presence of their loved ones, his pupils expanding as they lock eyes with you.

Rafayel:

Rafayel is for those who have a fear of abandonment. The ones that have that constant feeling that the people they love are actually tired of them. Rafayel is for those that have grown always feeling as if they are the black sheep, the ones that were always the friend that had to walk behind the rest. Rafayel, who makes sure to let you know just how much you are loved, sending messages constantly, calling you everytime you let him know that you're free. Rafayel, who sends pictures of every little thing that reminds him of you.

Rafayel is for those that always feel kind of pessimistic. The ones that need someone that reminds them that the world didn't stop when they failed on that something that they were supposed to be the best at. The ones that yearn for that feeling of hopefulness, the ones that love being reassured that nothing will happen if they take a small break, letting them rest during a whole day after working so hard during the week.

Rafayel is for those who never got to really act like a children. The ones that were forced to grow up, pushed by the different circumstances that made them realise just how harsh the real world is. This is exactly why you need someone like Rafayel, someone who is able to bring that inner child, making you laugh from the top of your lungs while you chase around him as if the two of you were still children. He is the kind of man that may get on your nerves at first, always joking around while you treat everything as a matter of life and death, but this same attitude allows you to relax, becoming more and more playful as the time that the two of you spent together increased.

Rafayel is for those that dream about a love that gives just the same as you. Rafayel is for the ones that have always felt like they get the short end of the stick, the ones that always love too much and too hard, the ones that don't mind hurting themselves as long as the other person doesn't feel hurt. Rafayel is for those that seek for someone that is ready to give them everything they have just as they would do. He is for those that have always looked for someone that will accept them as a whole, not just the soft and funny part, but also the part that they have been trying so hard to hide, the one that is so scared of being abandoned after giving everything to their loved one.

[serbarris]

No Sweeter Innocence

Dragon Age: the Veilguard, some spoilers for plot, spoilers for Emmrichs romance  Pairing: F!Rook Ingellvar x Emmrich Volkarin  Rating: E, this is NSFW   Chapter 11 of At Best You Find a Little Remedy Summary: Calliope and Emmrich come to an understanding when they visit Calliope's old apartment. Words: ~2000 read the chapter on ao3 read the entire work on ao3

A silent war raged in Calliope’s head as they walked through the Necropolis. Was everything she knew wrong? Emmrich didn’t seem to find an issue with her inability, but she had tried to cure herself for years. Using men she’d just met in taverns, her own hand, even trying a small device she got in Minrathous, but she had yet to find satisfaction. There was always something holding her back, the sensation becoming too dull or too intense, an errant thought distracting her, a sudden noise disrupting her pleasure.

She wanted to go home. To her little apartment. A place that was solely hers, not borrowed from a god of lies. She wanted to be surrounded by her books and her furniture, maybe she’d even sleep in her bed. Calliope tugged lightly on Emmrich’s arm as they neared the Hollow Belfry, and sheepishly asked, “Can we go to my apartment? I- I'd like to stay home a bit longer.”

“Of course my darling.” About turning they made their way to the upper levels of the Necropolis, down the wide corridors to the medior Watcher apartments. They approached a door just like all the others, solid stone with brass inlaid. Calliope cast a quick incantation to unlock the door, before she turned to invite Emmrich inside, “You can come in - if you wish. I can't promise how tidy it is, I haven't been back since I left, and I was in a rush.”

“I'd be delighted to.”

“It's not much, but it's mine,” Calliope said as she lit extra candles with a wave, illuminating the room further. The tension in her shoulders abated as she took in the sight of her apartment, her lip no longer caught between her teeth with worry. She forgot she owned so many things. She had books stacked neatly against every surface, the bookshelves lining two of the walls of her living area not enough to hold her collection. Small glints of light caught Emmrich’s eye. Despite the bookshelves being filled to the brim, Calliope had a hoard of trinkets. Every possible space not occupied by a tome was covered with them. Small hair pins, brooches, porcelain statues, bent spoons, broken earrings, a rainbow of coloured glass, and old coins similar to the ones she wore around her wrist. Calliope noticed his interest as he inspected the shelves; the treasure differed from Emmrich’s collection of antiquities and specimens sitting in his quarters. “I keep meaning to take some of these with me,” she started, as she picked up a beautifully wrought key, “Solas’- my room at the Lighthouse seems so empty without them.”

“How did you collect so much?”

“Well, Vorgoth told me that as a child I was always drawn to shiny things, constantly picking things up that caught my eye. He used to call me a ‘MAGPIE’.” Emmrich chuckled at Calliope’s imitation of Vorgoth’s rasping voice. The nickname suited his paramour, recalling moments where she wandered off to the side, the glint of a discarded object catching her attention. “Half the time it's not even how pretty it is that draws me in, I'm curious how it got lost, or broken. I probably intended to fix the things but never actually got around to it.”

“Did you collect the gulder’s to make your bracelet?”

She nodded, “I picked my favourites and saved as much money as possible to take them to a goldsmith.” Calliope rifled through the coins that littered her shelves, showing Emmrich a curated selection and acknowledging their rarity. Only a couple were tarnished, minted during a time of economic hardship - though some had a heavy patina, dulling the gold. Some had stories she promised to tell him in the future. So few had ever asked about her unique jewellery, and she couldn’t help but be enthused to talk about her pieces and how she acquired them. She then spun her bracelet to find the right coin, holding her wrist to Emmrich, “This one is my favourite, it’s of a Death Watch Beetle, from the Storm Age!”

“I'm glad you've perked up,” Emmrich began, his hand stroking Calliope’s arm, “I was getting worried about you, my dear.” Calliope acknowledged his concern with a grimace. Until then she could almost forget what happened a short while ago. But she felt less at the behest of her emotions than earlier.

“Sometimes… a lot of the time, my mind likes to get stuck on something and won't let it go. I- I want to go about this in the best way possible, I don’t want to sabotage this.”

“You're not sabotaging anything, I understand… much better than you know. I daresay I've just had more years to manage it myself.”

She pushed herself to the tips of her toes, pressing her mouth to the corner of Emmrich’s lips. “In the library, I was enjoying it, the kissing, more than I have with anyone else. I didn't know it could feel like that.” Calliope's cheeks coloured as she remembered how it felt to have Emmrich pushed against her, his knee between her legs, her skin electric under his touch. Now she knew how it felt, she wanted more. “I want you, Emmrich. In any way you'll have me.”

His eyes darted to her parted lips. Emmrich closed the gap between them, her soft lips parting further, giving his tongue access as he pulled her flush to his body, their legs intertwining. “Do you want to continue?” Emmrich asked as this thumb stroked where her shirt met the underside of her breast, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. She agreed with barely a whisper. “Poets wax lyrical about reaching a pinnacle,” He purred as he tangled his hand in her hair. “In my experience, this.” His hiss was like silk against the roaring pulse in her ears, “Is about connection. Enjoying the company of the person who has bewitched you.” He punctuated his words with his teeth against her neck. Unconsciously she rolled her hips, Emmrich grabbed onto her rear and his fingers bit into the soft flesh. “Exploring the body that invades your dreams.” He captured her mouth again in a bruising kiss. A soft moan resonated in Calliope’s throat, desire flooded her body, pooling between her legs. It was all she could do but grasp onto him, her legs threatening to buckle beneath her.

“Bedroom?” she asked as if it might be too forward as if Emmrich hadn't just abated her nerves by making her so aroused she could implode. She took his hand and led him through the open doorway.

Emmrich took in the sight of Calliope. She stood in front of him, her flush stretched across her chest, dipping between her breasts to where her shirt joined. She started to undo the tied shirt, her hands wanting to move, to do something. Emmrich closed the gap, pushing Calliope’s hands away to give him access. “Calliope, let me,” he whispered, kneeling before her to undo her boots.

All Calliope focused on was his touch, it was slow, purposeful, and reverent. He was meticulous, taking his time to untie her shoelaces, savouring the curves of her body, admiring the strength she held in her quadriceps and calves. He pulled down her stockings, distributing kisses across her thighs, leaving goosebumps to pebble her pale skin in his wake. Her breath hitched as Emmrich stood, a lock of silver hair had escaped his immaculate coif. Seeing him come undone, his shiny varnish cracking from her touch took her breath away. She felt her skirt pool at her feet, his hands roaming over the curve of her hips, skirting her underwear. Emmrich’s hands journeyed up her body, his deft fingers releasing the tie between her breasts, she recalled his earlier admission “This shirt has been consuming my thoughts all night.”

He admired her, pale skin glowing green in the candlelight, her nipples pebbling from the slight chill of the air, despite the heat of her skin. He peppered kisses from her mastoid process to her clavicle, before finally tracing his tongue down her sternum, following her tattoo. “Emmrich.” She sighed, her core tight, unable to focus on anything but his touch. She'd never experienced such heightened pleasure, elevating her beyond the trivial thoughts that plagued her. Her hands gripped Emmrich’s hair as he nipped at her breasts, alternating between the peaks. She pulled Emmrich up, wanting, needing, more.

Calliope undid the buttons of his vest and shirt, smiling at Emmrich. She took in his swollen lips, the smattering of colour at the top of his cheekbones and how dishevelled his hair was from her touch. Emmrich was making quicker work of the rest of his clothing, to her surprise leaving it abandoned on the floor. Her mouth went dry as she admired the smooth planes of Emmrich’s body, his broad shoulders and lean muscles, a smattering of dark hair covering his chest, and a trail disappeared below his underwear leading to his already straining bulge. Emmrich captured her mouth, guiding her backwards until her knees hit the edge of her bed and she lay back. He settled on the bed between her legs, hovering over her. Calliope’s hands itched to push a lock of hair back from Emmrich’s forehead, but before she could Emmrich kissed her deeply.

He kissed down her neck, his lips following the incision tattoo that trailed down her centre reverently, his hands trailing over the expanse of her skin, committing her body to memory. Kissing her soft stomach and nipping at her thighs, he pulled her underwear down. His fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her legs to hold them open, preventing her from clenching them together.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” Emmrich asked, Calliope lay bare before him, her grave gold glinting in the dim candlelight. She shied away, trying to bury her face into the sheets. “Use your words Calliope. Have you touched yourself while thinking about me?”

She wanted to keep her head buried in the sheets, looking at him felt almost too intimate, too real. Yet his tone, heavy with lust but firm, forced her to look at him, his eyes glowed almost as bright as the veilfire surrounding them. “Yes.”

“And yet you didn't finish.” His fingers ghosted over the soft curls between her thighs, making her shiver. “I hope to exceed the expectations set by your fantasies.” Maybe one day she would confess that the first time she ever touched herself it was thinking about him. 15 years ago, when he had more black hair than grey. When the streak of grey hair entranced her during lectures. Wanting him, with his gentle but direct voice to teach her about anatomy.

Calliope gasped, bucking her hips, pulling her from her thoughts as Emmrich dragged his tongue between her folds. She had never had any previous partners do this. She almost thought it was a myth that only happened in romance novels. His tongue was so warm, his moustache a new but pleasurable sensation.

Emmrich’s touch was experimental, he learned from her reactions, her quick inhales, whether her hands twisted in the sheets, her squirming hips nudging him in a different direction. She only felt his touch, how her core was coiled tight, her breath coming in quick soft pants. Emmrich pushed a finger into her, curling it within her. Her body tightened as he stroked her, the sensation overwhelming. “Calliope, relax,” he growled, his voice heavy with lust, the vibrations running through her. She uncoiled her muscles and Emmrich moved faster, driving his fingers into her harder, his mouth nipping, sucking and licking at her core.

Then he stopped.

[peanutbutterandbananasandwichs]

do u have hcs for sams post canon family life

Ok so gonna preface this with the fact that I hold opinions that I think are relatively uncommon in this corner of Samblr which is that as a general overarching thing Sam was relatively happy, he and blurry partner stayed together and were mostly happy, and Sam was on the whole a pretty good dad. Not that everything was perfect, far from it, but that generally it all worked out ok. I feel this way mostly tbh because if I didn't I would genuinely struggle to get any enjoyment out of the finale. I'm a FAKE Sam suffering enjoyer lmao. It's already deeply fucking depressing to me to imagine Sam spending eternity in heaven with Dean being squished back into The Roles, I need SOMETHING so cling too lol.

ANYWAYS that being said:

Said this before but although I am fairly flexible on identity of blurry partner my personal favourite thing to come back to is that she is Amelia. So I'm gonna run with her for the rest of these.

Related to this is that I think when we see Sam leave the bunker in the finale to go on the hunt in Texas that ended up being the last time he ever returned. He didn't mean it to be, it just happened. Maybe subconsciously he knew because he'd packed the little memory box with pictures etc in the trunk of the Impala without thinking about it. Anyway keeping this on track, he ends up staying in Texas and eventually, he and Amelia run into each other again - her having left Don again after things didn't work out a few years ago (gonna be real with you I think Don was abusive) and end up reconnecting.

Riot and Miricle are kinda grumpy but tolerant about each other.

They also eventually adopt an old lady tabby cat from the local shelter who absolutely terrorises both dogs, but dotes on Sam.

Sam ends up telling Amelia the truth about his life about 3 months into their relationship restarting, not all of it, but enough to keep her aware. She says that honestly even though it sounds crazy it makes a LOT of sense of how Sam was when they first met. This is the point at which they decide they do want their relationship to last and be serious. Amelia suggests they do couple's counselling together, given both their past issues if they really want to make this work.

He and Amelia never marry for a variety of reasons, but it works for them.

Sam ends up getting a degree - I think in something like anthropology (me an archaeologist totally not biased here lol), he does it through a distance learning program so mostly online but with some in-person classes and workshops.

DJ wasn't a planned pregnancy and it took a lot of discussion between them to decide to go ahead. Sam in particular was very anxious about the idea of being an actual dad to an actual baby, as much as he was kinda one to Jack he knows this is a whole different level. Amelia never wanted kids with Don. Amelia is also in her 40s by the time it happens so there are extra potential complications to consider. In the end they both agree that they want go ahead, and they both acknowledge that this will probably be their only kid.

Already mentioned Sam and DJ being autistic elsewhere but that's very precious to me.

Sam does struggle to find a balance between making sure he's there for DJ in a way his dad wasn't for him and being too much of a helicopter parent. He's SO conscious of DJ being an only child and the potential for loneliness stemming from that (absolutely projecting his own childhood loneliness SO hard and of course, his ideas on sibling companionship are NOT normal lol). As DJ get's older Sam does manage to relax a little, although it is still an issue from time to time.

That being said as I mentioned previously re the autism headcannon this level of worry also means that Sam puts in SO much work and research into being a supportive dad to an autistic kid.

Amelia is the 'breadwinner' in the relationship, continuing to work as a vet, Sam works a series of different part-time jobs over the years, mostly involving fixing stuff. After he gets his degree he works a couple of days a week at the local library as an assistant.

Related, finally stopping hunting gave him time to really catch up with and assess his body, and a lot of the weight and wear and tear of what he'd been through hit him quite suddenly. He has chronic fatigue issues in particular for the rest of his life which is why part-time work ends up being the best solution for him. Although Amelia, and DJ when he's a teenager, do still frequently have to sit him down and force him to stop trying to do too much at once.

Amelia passes away before Sam. She had been dead for about 5 years by the time Sam died.

Sam keeps very little contact with the hunting world, but Jody does still come to visit. DJ is very fond of her, much to Sam's delight.

The first time Sam had to look after DJ on his own after Amelia went back to work full time and was working a nightshift he was stuck to him like glue, Amelia came home to find him curled up on the floor asleep right next to DJs cot.

Sam loves helping DJ with his homework, and DJ loves it too - its their special time together, and its when Sam is able to be most emotionally open and present.

Sam's issues with food never go away, and its one thing he and Amelia do get into fights over is Sam (unintentionally) putting some of his issues on DJ (think Sam telling Jack he shouldn't eat sugary cereal).

Sam and Amelia both discover a love of gardening and they spend a lot of their free time together working on their garden. Amelia particularly loves roses and has a little rose garden that becomes their little sanctuary (Amelia's ashes are buried there). Sam creates a little healing herbs garden, he doesn't actively practice witchcraft but he likes to make little tinctures and teas and stuff.

I'll stop there lol

[p-cap-press]

INTERVIEW

Peter Capaldi: 'We didn't rehearse for The Thick of It. I could never remember my lines'

The Doctor Who star talks about the new series of The Devil's Hour, having a sinister voice, and how society has stopped investing in young people

(Photo: Yoshitaka Kono/Amazon Prime)

Helen Brown

October 18, 2024 5:00 am (Updated 8:58 am)

Peter Capaldi can trace the moment he “became the go-to person for the darker, more disturbing parts” back to 2013. “I was recording a voiceover for an Anchor Butter commercial,” he says. “They had a nice, cosy slogan, ‘Anchor butter: Tastes like Home.’ I did the line to the best of my ability, but they said: ‘Could you make it a little less sinister?’” He grins and shakes his head. “I thought, ‘It’s all over now! But if people want to buy sinister, that’s alright. I’ll give it to them!’”

Zooming onto my computer screen, he’s edgy in a crisp black blazer and a black shirt buttoned tight up to the jugular. This means that his pale, gaunt face seems to float above his collar like a ghost train skull – an effect he can enhance by tilting his head forward so that shadows blot out his eye sockets and hollows his cheeks. 

This happens when he rocks forward laughing at the recollection of how that Anchor butter experience would be his last commercial voice over – “because I could no longer do it without irony, without indicating my distrust of the whole process”. Capaldi was 55 at the time. He’d just finished a seven-year stint playing foul-mouthed spin doctor Malcolm Tucker in the fourth and final series of Armando Iannucci’s political comedy The Thick of It (2005-2012). And he was on the brink of sending a whole new generation of children scuttling behind their sofas as the Twelfth Doctor in Doctor Who, bringing an unprecedented existential chill into a show that had “obsessed” him from childhood.

Although this was always Capaldi’s take on Doctor Who, he tells me he was “never scared, not at all” by the programme when he was a boy. Instead he recalls the science fiction and horror films he devoured as “a gateway to the imagination” for a creative child. Capaldi, the son of Italian immigrants who ran an ice cream business (and were neighbours of the Iannucci family), famously wrote to the BBC, aged just six, to say that “when I grow up I want to be an actor so I can help Doctor Who”. By the age of 18, he was writing fanzines about the show and bothering fan-club directors by expecting a direct dialogue with the producers of his favourite show. 

It may seem like Capaldi was destined to play the Time Lord – but his working-class background forced him to take a roundabout route into acting. He didn’t get into drama school because he didn’t know enough about the audition process to have prepared monologues, and went to art school instead, where he became the lead singer in a punk rock band called the Dreamboys. “Art, music, horror films… all these OBSESSIONS,” he chuckles now, grateful for the government grant that enabled a working-class boy to imagine a career in the creative arts was possible. “Art school was the right place for me and my parents couldn’t afford it. Back then there was a belief in investing in the potential of young people, which seems to have gone. That’s terribly wrong, denying that potential.”

That said, Capaldi did get into trouble in his first year of art school for “spending too much of my grant on curries and lager and not enough on art supplies”. He recalls finding a letter his tutor had sent home to his parents, warning them he would be chucked off the course if he didn’t pull his socks up. “Luckily I got to the letter before my mother did, hid it and worked harder.” 

Capaldi fully expected to metamorphose into a director at this point. But – despite an initial invite to the Weinstein party – it didn’t happen for him. Looking back, he’s relieved not to have been sucked into the Hollywood system. “It is rare for British directors to flourish over there,” he says. “The traditional path is that they do an independent movie and the Americans love it. They get you on the phone and suddenly you’re making a film with some big Hollywood star and that does OK. But the next one doesn’t and it all begins to fall away… I think that may have been what would have happened to me…” He rakes a hand through his shock of white hair and chuckles ruefully. “Luckily it all fell away much more quickly than that in my case!”

But after “one really terrible year when there was no sense of anyone being interested in me in any way shape or form”, he was rescued by the plummy-voiced actor Martin Jarvis (who had appeared in Doctor Who in the 60s, 70s and 80s), who cast him in a radio play. Everything picked up from there. Which led to Malcolm Tucker. 

I’ve always thought one of the things that made Capaldi such a compelling Doctor – and now such a deeply unsettling Gideon Shepherd – is the way he seems to transmit unpredictability. The combination of the mad-scientist hair and restless energy lend him a crackle of cosmic instability that makes you think he could glitch between dimensions at any moment. He suspects he learned this working on The Thick of It. 

“Armando [Ianucci] was obsessed with filming everything live,” he says. “Although a lot gets made of the improvisation we did, he wanted the script word-perfect. But there were no rehearsals, so the performances were alive, full of attack.” He says there was added jeopardy playing Tucker because he “had so much material to learn I wasn’t always certain of my ability to grasp it all. Sometimes I would have to stick an extra ‘f***’ in while I searched for a word.” 

He hung onto that tension when he was cast as the Twelfth Doctor and says it “helped me keep things vital at times when we were down to a last take, shooting in a car park in the rain and the latex was all coming off the monster.” Some people, he says, “will have seen my Doctor Who through a Malcolm Tucker filter.”.

He agrees that The Devil’s Hour is, in many ways, a kind of Doctor Who for grown-ups, “plugging into a creepy cosmic thing I’ve accrued”. Instead of latex monsters, his character is battling “real, adult fears”. The show confronts us with rapists and paedophiles; torture, murder and mutilation. Blowing through the chilly heart of the series is the dread of isolation – the fear that even our parents and children may not know or love us. Perhaps that they’re not even real. 

“The show has been really popular,” mulls Capaldi with mild surprise as we wind up our chat. The actor tells me he’s a vulnerable person, “scared of all kinds of things as a father and as a grandfather… as a sentient observer of this world, what’s NOT to be scared of?” For this reason, the man who’s planning to spend his Christmas Day watching the new Nosferatu film suspects horror shows like The Devil’s Hour offer an essential release valve. 

“There’s a calming quality about going into this dark, nightmarish world. Then getting to the end, watching the credits roll and being reassured that it was all a pretence.”

‘The Devil’s Hour‘ series two is on Prime Video

[inkykeiji]

happy valentine’s day everyone!! i love u lots n lots and i am giving each and every one of you one of those dollar store heart-shaped lollipops <333

[lil-vibes]

pushing the "narinder is good with children" agenda

[oifaaa]

My mother sure does like to claim she doesn't have favourites but considering my two sisters are currently in Spain with her and she gifted my older brother a whole ass house I'm beginning to have my doubts

[gingermintpepper]

Hello! I want to know... Besides Hyacinthus, who is your fav Apollo's lover (male or female)? I really love Cyrene 🤭

Oho, thank you so much for the ask!

There are a couple candidates that immediately come to mind tbh. I'm not the sort that has a strict OTP sense when it comes to Apollo because I imagine there's importance in each of the affairs of the gods that are written about - there must be some reason that we remember their names and stories even now, y'know?

Ultimately, I have a brief selection of the lovers of Apollo whose stories I have personal and vested interest in with no particular preference except maybe for Evadne who, if I were forced to give only one additional favourite besides Hyacinthus, I would probably say it's her.

As for why I prefer Evadne over all the great and powerful romances Apollo has had; maybe it's just because I'm a sucker for the ooey-gooey romances but there's something so sweet about Evadne and Apollo's relationship and the consequent relationship Apollo has with Iamus, his and Evadne's son. I also love the subtle politics of such a relationship - from Evadne's side, yes she's a princess but more importantly, she's one of Poseidon's inhuman daughters - a child between Poseidon and a nymph - and the child between her and Apollo - a son of Zeus - goes on to become the father of a long line of famous prophets for the King of the Gods himself. That makes Iamus one of those rare children of a major god who is not divine but certainly not human either, something that is further exacerbated by the fact that for the first five days of his life, Iamus is cared for by his father who ensures that the baby is fed not milk but honey from the fangs of a snake.

All in all, it's not a very remarkable story in the grand scheme of things. There's no big drama like with Admetus and there's no great tragedy like with Coronis or Melia. Apollo doesn't act particularly noteworthy in either Pindar or Hyginus' account of the tale like he does for Cyrene or Branchus and the end result is a line of prophets sacred to Zeus and the Olympia oracle - a classic example of Apollo in his role as father to the great prophets and wisemen and yet something about the gentleness of Apollo in his affair with Evadne has always captivated me.

Evadne, who so feared her father that she would abandon her newborn child just to spare herself his anger, was able to trust and love Apollo. Likewise, Apollo did not once abandon her, sending the most blessed of attendants to help in her birthing and automatically stepping in to make sure Iamus was fed, clothed and warm until his mother returned for him. It's something about a young Iamus going into the River Alpheus - an ancient stream - and calling out for his purpose from his father and grandfather. It's something about Apollo's immediate and calm response and the way he leads the youth to the temple that will be his destiny and personally educates him in the ways of divination.

It's just one of those stories that always sticks out to me for the portrait of a father and lover it sketches of Apollo, even in a seemingly innocuous myth such as this one.

[pwurrz]

being obsessed with yakumo is a job and baby i’ve never called in a sick day!!!!!

[batfamfucker]

There are four main types of Batfam fans in regard to how people interpret Bruce Wayne as a dad (/Joking. This is mostly satire and should not be taken seriously):

Fans that think Bruce is emotionally constipated and isn't the best at being a parent but still tries (Differs per person). Don't necessarily think he's absuive but thinks he can be toxic or have unhealthy expectations for the Robins. Can smell the Oldest Daughter Syndrome coming from Dick and have Family Line (By Conan Gray) as their top song on their Dick inspired playlist and Daddy Issues (By The Neighbourhood) for Jason.

Fans that choose to believe Bruce goes to therapy in their own canon. Love B:WFA. Thinks the comic can be cheesy at times and so find a balance between B:WFA Bruce and Please Go To Therapy BruceTM as their middle ground. He struggles. They advocate that Bruce is not a bad parent, he just has bad writers that seem to forget Bruce wouldn't hurt kids, especially not his own. Love the humane moments and scenes he has in BTAS and the early JL cartoons. He may not be perfect but he's not literally abusive. Whores for Bruce being able to admit when he is wrong and for Jason and Bruce reconciling. I recommend Grow As We Go by Ben Platt for this one.

A mix between the first two. Was fine-ish when Dick was younger. Didn't help him in the healthiest way but eh. Still emotionally constipated but that happened more so after Dick left and Jason died. Started getting better when Tim came back but was still closed off. Should probably go to therapy with the kids so they can drag his ass about all the things he's done that have actually affected them negatively. Understands his mistakes and is also able to admit when he's wrong, eventually. It's not easy but he starts to do better and learns to be more emotionally available. Still has to get chewed out by Alfred sometimes but definitely better than he used to be and it shows. Reconciliation is slow and gradual but progress is made for everyone involved.

The one's I personally avoid for my own sanity and wellbeing:

Think Bruce is a complete bastard and abuser. Want him to choke. Hate any and all interpretations of him. Some of which will refuse to understand how anyone could have a different interpretation. Will point out comics where, in all fairness, he is a dick but forget that characterisation can significantly differ from one series to the next, as comic characters are constantly passed around to different writers and have been for decades. Not to mention movies, shows, etc.

[theshakespearetrash]

20, 38

20. favorite lyric(s)

[image description]

The words that come out don't say what's on my mind

"What I'm feeling, I just can't express

... I try not to spend all night Overthinking what was said As the words spin in my head Yeah, I try with all my might To get my sentences just right So I say just what I meant But it gets all fucked up instead It's like words are broken again

... Sounded better in my head."

-- "Broken Words" by Less Than Jake

38. favorite quote(s)

[image description]

"It's hard to look up when you're always looking in. Makes you feel small, and then it's just easier to look down, isn't it?" - from Matteo by Michael Leali

"He tasted these strange victories that left him empty and wishing for nothing more than endless sleep, like the last man on a battlefield where even the blades of grass were dead." &

"Every breath was a labour now, because he was afraid of the silence. He was too afraid even to feel contempt for himself." &

"...she said, without looking up, I hate the world you live in. He had wanted to say, it's your world, also, but...I live in the parts you don't want to see. I live there for you." - from Love and Longing in Bombay by Vikram Chandra

"I'm monstrous, he thought, not this and not that." & "He was small and nondescript, a man who had spent a lifetime effacing himself." - from Sacred Games by Vikram Chandra

[sunsetsmakemesad]

Me when I'm reading a webtoon and the comments are absolutely dragging the character I never really had a strong opinion on:

[fruitybashir]

my fav activity is looking at the "spoilers without context" pictures every time I finish a new chapter and be like "omg yes that makes so much sense now"

OMG YAAAYYYYYY <333333

i love that!!!! i was hoping at least a few people would go through the chapters having seen those and then go "ohhhh! thats what its about!!!" when reading the scenes hahaha, that makes me really happy to hear :D

[justdrawingcatsandotherstuff]

Iii... Was bored. Bc I'm unemployed yet. So have this 👀