#stephan answers

[acosmicbee]

Headcanons on movie night?

Both yan groups?

Emma and Stephan Movie nights would be a huge cuddle pile. You'd be wrapped in a blanket, your teddy held close, as they made sure you felt secure. They'd get up for you if you wanted anything so you could stay focused on the movie.

You'd be watching a kids movie (because Y/N's like seven in this story). Emma would get way too invested in it because she didn't really watch movies as a kid. Stephan would be constantly taking cute pictures of you two.

They can't wait for you to get older so they can watch some other things with you.

Favorite Movies: Princess and the Frog (Emma), Downton Abbey (Stephan)

Annie Again, another cuddler. She'd make sure you both had some tea and popcorn and snacks before the movie got started. Y/N's a teenager so she lets you watch most everything not rated R. She will pre-watch some movies and shows that are rated higher if you really want to see them to make sure they're appropriate.

She loves happy endings and will make quiet commentary as the movie plays on, unless you ask her not to. She likes discussing movies with you after to know your thoughts so she can pick something you'll like next time.

Favorite Movie: Freaky Friday

Lucas He doesn't exist in a world with movies but if he did... he'd be the worst. He watches what he wants and won't let you have the remote. Instead, you get to be squished between him and the arm of the couch while watching some horror movie guaranteed to give you nightmares. He does it on purpose so you'll seek him out for comfort, but his plan is foiled when you go to Pierre instead.

Next time, he makes a note to lock his brother's door so you'll have to go to him.

Favorite movie: The Conjuring

[neeeooon]

I LOVE STEPHEN THE COW HES SO COOL

HES SO CUTE ILHHHHH

[myjunkisyuzuruhanyu]

Do you think Shoma won World Championships thanks to what he learned from Stephane and his team or would he still win it without Stephane Lambiel's coaching and it was just that he needed self confidence or something similar?

Tbh I think Shoma always had the talent, the basics and the content to win the World Championship. I mean there was a debate back in 2017 Worlds wether it should have been Shoma's win (not that I think the result was wrong bc Yuzu literally slayed the free skate with a WR), but it shows how high calibre of skater he was since his early senior seasons. There is a reason Shoma seldomly was off podium his entire career.

I don't think that it's technical expertise or new artistic paths that he gained from Stephane's team, but he needed someone he wanted to make proud and someone who believed in him. Shoma needed someone that could make him love skating again which he lost in the 2018-2019 season leading to the disaster of IdF 2019😭. I think without Stephane his career would not have continued as long as it did. And ofc if it would have been cut short, he would never have won the World Championship twice. So we can indeed be thankful for Stephane and the emotional support he brought to Shoma's career. But I do think that Shoma had such a great career not bc of his coaches, but mostly bc of himself. (Tbh I think why he did not win even more medals is due to him seldomly managing to have error free free skates 😅 that he still won so much despite barely having any clean free skates his whole career is a testament of his talent bc even if he made mistakes he never let go of a program but always managed to collect himself and keep going)

Btw I do think many factors come into play in Shoma's career, why winning Worlds was a difficult task - having Nathan and Yuzu as competition was a big motivation but also the competition could not have been any harder. And this is only to mention one factor.

Shoma is a true champion and one of a kind talent for the ages. And his name is written into the history books and won't be forgotten. ❤️

[ianthoni]

ooo wait that Stephan Hecox quote is a rare ass post, where is it from? sorry if you already said where it’s from and I missed it. Have a nice day!

it was some type of inverview? podcast? theres also the voice version you can see it on the website.

HERE.

[wintersportism]

“how euphoric are you regarding andreas wellinger”

[severin-photocopy]

Do you have any book recommendations? I am trying to find some books and stories to get into.

Hey hi sorry for answering so late I really had to think about this because I'm terrible at giving recommendations :(

I'm mostly going to talk about classics because I am more informed on that topic.

My favorite pieces of literature to recommend that are non Sacher-Masoch related are:

- The Sorrows of Young Werther by Goethe

- Kafka's short stories

- Rimbaud's poems

- Fraulein Else by Arthur Schnitzler

then obviously I'm going to tell you to read either Venus in Furs or, if you want something less "sexual" and a bit less sad, Don Juan von Kolomea. The Sacher-Masoch propaganda never stops (plus look through the Jewish Short Stories cause they are also worth it Might be a bit problematic in some aspects but if taken in the context of the 19th century it's actually pretty good)

For some newer stuff that I read this year and that I liked a lot and would recommend I'd say:

- Sándor Marais ("The Embers" has changed my life)

- The World and All That It Holds by Aleksandar Hemon

- The World of Yesterday by Stephan Zweig

Also little bonus: anything by Rilke because he writes so beautifully.

Also for some of them you might want to thread carefully because they do handle sensitive topics. I wouldn't want for your reading experience to be ruined by getting in a bad mental state.

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Stephan Vladislavovich Bakałowicz (Polish, 1857-1947) Question and answer, 1900 State Russian Museum, St. Petersburg

[eternalapogee]

Merry Christmas if you celebrate!!!

Thank you Birb and a very Merry Christmas to you. I do celebrate if only culturally.

[kate66s]

Pick two of your characters. If they were in Avatar, what kind of bender would they be and what fighting style would they have?

Oooh OK, I'll do you one better I'll give you one or two characters for each bending type based on personality and fighting style.

Fire Benders would have to be Kate and Lil Red, Kate's fighting style is similar to Northern Shaolin fighting. Red on the other hand has alot of connections to fire, her parter is a fire type, her emotions and strength can get put of control like a wild fire and she as a burning undying passion.

Earth Benders I would have to say Elena and Dena. Elena is extremely stable and is kinda like Toph when it comes to chill personality and the occasion sass. Dena though likes to get solid punches on people if she is fighting, not faltering from attacks and hitting tens times harder than her opponents.

Water bending, that would be Stephan and Esther. Esther got real Kitara energy, she's calm and soothing like gentle waves. Stephan though embodies the rapid stricks and precision Tai Chi is known for sense he use to be a hunter.

Air Benders is very easy, that's Riley and Dazy. Energetic balls of joy that can't stop moving, though one is more able to kill a person than another but both practically never would hurt a soul under normal conditions. If they had to defend themselves they're just gonna disable their opponent and not kill them.

[peachy-chulanont]

pleaseee tell me you saw the duet Stéphane & Guillaume did together, it's so good

no omg!! I’ll pull it up now, my algorithm on other socials has been so wonky I’m not seeing much of anything from skaters

ETA: it was in august??? where have I been oml

[acosmicbee]

Hi I love your work! I was wondering if we can get more of Emma and Stephan? Totally okay if not :)

Don't really have the energy to write something long so here's some facts/lore about both of them:

-Emma and Stephan met when Stephan gave her a book recommendation for a gift

-Stephan is allergic to mangos and bananas while Emma has no allergies

-Emma used to be a horse girl but grew out of it when she moved out of her parents' home and overseas, her horses are still taken care of and she visits them every time she sees her parents

-Stephan is the one person who can always take such amazing pictures of everyone else then all of Emma's photos of him are blurry or weird

---Adding onto that, her go to picture of him whenever someone asks to see her fiancee is of him with a bright green face mask on, his hair pulled back by a crooked bear headband while he's in the middle of eating

-Stephan had a massive falling out with his family so he doesn't talk to them anymore. Not to mention, Emma's parents are always happy to gain a child/grandchild so they easily took him in as their family

[ca-highway49]

I hatw reading reviewa and having to be like "he calls his dad Stephan Kellner because he hates his father hope this helps" "the Iranian Subway menu is explained because it's Laleh's favoeite food hello!" hellooooo! did they go to darius's favorite place NO. like yeah im bored too. "why does he keep on sayinf maybe?" he's depressed "he has no character" depressed people sont have a personality "is he on the spectrum?" would it? wouls it be ao wrong t-- "why is it an LGBTQ book if its not gay?" why is it not an autism book if its autistic?

basically? if tou dislike Darius The Great Is Not Okay you JUST DONT GET IT! ha hah! STOP ASKING QUESTIONS IN TOUR REVIEWS i know the answers...

Like i was reading the review negatifs to see if you know. I dunno. just to see...

[maimedaffair]

𝔭. ▐ ⊰ ' i’m  probably  about  as  stubborn  as  you  are ---- @withguilt + stéphane

a little hmph escapes the lady as she refuses to look up from her book ---- though her eyes have been roaming the pages without actually absorbing a word before her since he started talking to her. he is a distraction -- a frustratingly handsome one at that. it's a good thing he grinds on her very last nerve. jean's sleepy little cooing from his basinet remind her just how stubborn she should be. what is best for him is not this man. she is sure of that much. fingers grasp the book a bit tighter as her jaw clenches , then relaxes. ❛   at what point does this become harassment , my lord ? what will it take for you to accept no as an answer ? i'm trying to enjoy my novel. ❜

[kari-go]

I mean that's literally canon xd

@gamerknight7310 @doritos-green @wisteriasymphony @nocturnal-notes @teamoon7 @theytistic @celestiall0tus @kittysuicoffee

Tag game time baby

Ok here are the rules:

1: Go to Character Headcanon Generator

2: Type the name of your current #1 kin character/comfort character

3: Press the "Create Headcanon" button

4: Take a screenshot of the headcanon that it generated and post it in your reblog

5: Tag some moots

Here I'll go first :3

-

Tags:

@drizzlemoth @lunozapp @hey-imma-fangirl @awakentrashpanda @aintan0driscollnomore @mylivingend @orangeleftyart @flower--ghoul @selora-florients @n-atsu @ol1verdrawsyt @skullgirlrawr @stitcheds-sewing-box @carnationstars @dat1jamesandthegiantpeach @worldsbiggestnerd101 @fanoffandoms23 @foulfictkin @chaosbug-png @sillyjesters @datotota @catinabeartrap

[munsonmuses]

Emperor Geta x Fem! Reader

Warnings: smut, gladiatorial combat, animalistic tendencies, uhhhg there’s a breeding kink. This was not proofread.

Word Count: 2.3k

Authors Comments: Iiiii was a major Roman Empire nerd as a kid, so if there’s stuff you’re like “that seemed specific” about? I promise you the research was done and I had to consult my notebooks from when I was a teeny tot (like a young teen). And yes, thumbs up signified death because it represented an upturned sword for combat, and the thumbs down signified sparing the loser, by turning your sword down to sheath

The light fabric of the linen chiton you wore felt like chains, the beautiful gold brooches holding it in place and the belt that rested low on your waist like the shackles. Leading you to a life you’d never wanted. To a future you knew you’d loathe so deeply. This wasn’t the life you’d dreamt of as a young woman. Bringing peace to an empire, marrying a man who was made perfectly for you by the gods.

All of these opportunities had been ripped from between your fingers. Your life slipped away the moment you’d heard that Emperor Geta had set his sights on you. He was callous, pompous, the human equivalent of a promenading lion. He thought nothing but the best of himself, and believed he deserved things equally as good. One of those things being you.

Your finger delicately worked on adjusting the raw leather straps of your sandals. The stephane felt like it was weighting your whole body down, veil swishing against your nape, sending chills down your spine. That the earth may swallow you whole in one fell motion was a wishful thought as you carefully examined the large hall.

It was egregious, how much gold one man could have. How many statues of himself an individual could bare to own. Slowly standing from the large chaise you’d been guided too and approaching one. tracing the curve of his nose, the apples of his cheeks. The manic look they’d managed to capture in his marble portrait, captured perfectly within the massive pupils. Scoffing lightly before hearing a laugh from behind you that caused your skin to pebble viciously. Turning around to face him.

The statue somehow didn’t manage to perfectly capture his mania. Pupils so wide they looked almost entirely black. A wolfish grin. His entire body reeked of need and want.

“You, are even more beautiful than Caracalla described…just look at you-“ his hands clamped down on your upper arms. Holding you in place as he hummed. “You’ll do nicely…” he murmured as you quirked a brow lightly.

You prayed that when you asked, he’d give you a different answer than what you’d been prepared for. Not wanting to surrender yourself to matrimony with a man so viciously bloodthirsty and self righteous. “What will I do nicely for, imperator?” You whispered as he let his eyes glaze over your body. Taking in every inch of you before nodding.

“Don’t be silly, you know what I brought you here for. I have chosen you to be my empress. Not Caracalla’s. Strictly my own.” He insisted as he moved a hand up to grip your jaw while humming. “You’ll take to the role with pride. A loving and affectionate empress…and you’ll give me my sons to lead the future of my empire once my time has come. Am I understood?” He questioned as you scoffed lightly to yourself. Fixing your rings and pulling away. Pacing the large floor of the hall as he kept his eyes on you. Ready to pounce if necessary.

“I am marrying you strictly for familial agreement. Through my loyalty for my empire and my dedication to my familial name…it has nothing to do with you.” You murmured as he sucked on his teeth lightly. You weren’t afraid of him, you saw yourself as an independent being, even a possible equal. An equal amount of hatred that matched his levels of obsession. Overall, he was clearly agitated by your lack of throwing yourself at him, the need for you to desperately present yourself to him. Though he wouldn’t push it. To get you out from under Caracalla’s thumb was difficult enough, so he’d take what he could get.

“Your chambers are prepared, you’ll be dressed for our wedding and you’ll smile. You’ll be grateful.” He ordered as you nodded, allowing the two women by the doorway to follow you out as you sighed in frustration to yourself.

These women were terrified to touch you, though they attempted to feebly conceal their terror as you hummed. Hair carefully arranged with an orange veil placed atop. Slipping into the white woven fabric of your wedding tunic, and slipped on orange sandals. Careful with them as you worked on fastening the knot of Hercules around your waist. Nodding slowly as you assessed yourself in the mirror.

It felt like lead lined your stomach as you approached the large garden, eyes meeting with Geta’s own. Your family and his court clearly anxiously awaiting your arrival. Your dowry had been exchanged, and Geta grinned delightedly at the sight of you approaching. Wringing his fingers, rings loudly knocking together as you frowned in mild fury. He was childish and cocky and self absorbed, albeit a bit handsome.

You stopped in front of him as the two of you read over the marriage contract. His eyes constantly flicking up to you as you lifted your metal pen from the inkwell. Scrawling your name with confidence as he followed suit. His hand suddenly clutching your left wrist as your head whipped to look at him. Geta removing the thick red stoned ring upon one of his fingers and slipping it onto one of your own as he hummed contentedly. Clearly awaiting reciprocation for his affections.

You carefully took his face, pressing a pursed lip kiss to his own plush pink lips as he cradled the back of your head and your waist. Satisfied with his win. Cementing your future with your new husband, as empress.

Your wedding was a few months ago, and in that time you’d been growing to know, like, and even love Geta. Although shrouded in cruel mystery, he did have a tender heart when it came to you. Gifting you lavishly, bathing you in riches and praise. You’d never gone to bed on an empty stomach, and you managed to share romantic pleasantries with him regularly.

You sat beside him as you watched a battle in the coliseum. Head perched on your fist in boredom as he smiled wide at you. The folds of your brooches and adornments complimenting the rich purples of your own robes. Your stephane crooked as his hand delicately reached up to adjust it. “Isn’t this delightful my heart?” He whispered eagerly as you scoffed in light amusement. Grinning lightly at him as you kissed his rings lightly.

“It’s alright. Gladiator fights have never…settled my nerves. If anything the bloodsport terrifies me…” you murmured as his own lips pulled into a tight frown. Though unlike usual, he didn’t have a smart or cold comment to make.

You carefully watched the two men fight, though you could barely call them that. Barely older than sixteen a piece as you chewed on your lip. The larger of the two slamming his sword into the smaller boys shield. Reminding you of the kind boys you’d known in your youth who had the whole world in front of them, stolen in war. Your heart heavy at the sight.

Geta’s eyes were trained on you. Noticing the paleness in your face, watering eyes as you left your chair to look over the edge of the balcony at these boys. Heart pounding in your ears as he sighed. He was furious, he was angry…love had “weakened” him, was what Caracalla had lamented before. But in his eyes, it simply made him better for you. Being weak for one’s own wife was impossible.

Your head whipped to look at him as the smaller boy was bloodied and bruised. Whipped to the ground by his foe as Geta stood slowly for the crowd to see.

He lifted his hand slowly, glancing over at you as his thumb rested on its side. He would typically give a thumbs up, signaling the death of the weaker boy…but instead his thumb dropped. The crowd gasping at the young man being spared at the Emperors command.

Geta’s eyes flicked to you one last time. Seeing nothing but adoration in them as he dismissed his co-contributors frustrated muttering, walking off with you to your shared chambers as he hummed in your ear.

“You’re welcome…” he whispered as you rolled your eyes lightly at him. Kissing his cheek lightly as you closed the large doors behind yourself.

With your back to him, you slowly worked on unhooking the brooches of your chiton, letting the fabric pool at your feet as you worked on removing your sandals slowly. Hearing his movements stop, eyes on you as you grinned lightly over your shoulder.

“You have shown such monumental growth…and kindness…and change, my emperor…” you whispered as you stalked towards him. His breath shaky and heavy as he carefully nodded. “I am so amazed by you…” you murmured as he watched your hands making work of the fasteners on his own tunic. It slipping down his shoulders as you smiled.

“I want…to reward you,” you murmured into his ear. Geta was a man who worked on praise, adoration and reward. He needed something for every “accomplishment” he made. This time you’d give him something more.

He let himself be lied back on your massive bed, his cock slowly hardening. Pressed to his stomach. Cheeks and chest flushed as you hummed lightly to yourself. He deserved this, even if it was simple human decency…it was a major turning point for him.

You kissed along his jaw, down his neck, his chest. Lightly nipping at his flushed skin as you worked lower and lower. Pressing kisses down his stomach and licking along the light indentations of his abs before finally paying attention to his desperate cock.

Already twitching lightly, Geta was not a hard man to work up. Lightly pressing warm, open mouthed kisses along his shaft. Tenderly massaging his balls as he whimpered lightly at your ministrations. Following your movements with frantic eyes.

He shivered lightly as he felt your lips lightly wrap around his tip. Lazily sucking and stroking the rest of his shaft lightly. Having used your kisses from earlier as a bit of lubrication. Stroking in time with your slowly bobbing head. Every few moments getting lower and lower. Relishing on the velvety feeling of his thick cock against your tongue. Finally taking your hand away and placing it on his hip. The other taking his right hand and leading it to the back of your head as he trembled lightly. “My heart…please-“ his whisper wasn’t much more than a breath.

The lewd noises of you taking him deep down your throat, slowly sucking while hollowing out your cheeks. Obediently tending to his needs as you groaned desperately against him. Your free hand trailing downward to massage your own clit as he bucked his hips lightly.

“You tease me…” he growled out. “With your desperate hands, your heavenly mouth, your body on full display…you tear me into nothing but tatters of a man…and you relish in my desperation,” he hissed as you pulled your head off.

Stroking his cock lightly as you maintained eye contact with him. Your own blown out with need and want as you continued to tend to your own clit. Sensitive bud twitching under your small, circular motions. Geta’s eyes trained on simply you. Filled with nothing but love and obsession as he growled.

Taking your wrists firmly, he pulled your hands away from both of your own sensitive bodies. Working on lying you back as he pressed his lips to your ear. “You’re a temptress…and you’ll understand just how deeply I want for you…and you’ll give me my sons,” he hissed as he worked one of your legs up around his waist. Keeping one hand on your wrists, pinned above your head as he lined himself up with your wanting cunt. Slowly easing himself into you.

You could feel every vein, every curve. A desperate moan being ripped from you as you arched your back lightly. Geta’s soft laugh and heaving breaths the only other noise you could focus on. His mouth greedily kissing along your soft skin. Nipping at your shoulders and neck. Trailing down to your breasts. Lightly taking your left nipple between his teeth. Sucking and nipping at the sensitive bud while lazily rolling his hips. Breeding you on his terms.

“Fucking…mnghhh…you’re so good~” he mumbled between mouthfuls of greedy kisses. His thrusts short and swift. Though deep enough to give that knot in your stomach a bit of reprieve. Humming contentedly to himself as he watched your lust clouded eyes. “I can’t promise that you’ll be able to do much once im finished…” he murmured as he began to focus on his thrusts.

Deep and swift, pressing deep into your twitching cunt, your wrists finally free of his grasp as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. Holding him close as he fucked deeper into you. “It’s a blessing, to get to carry the future of our empire. Thank me for blessing you…” he growled out as he held your hips firmly. Your moans in time with his thrusts as you struggled to form a single coherent thought.

“Fuck!…thank you, for allow-…allowing me to carry your heirs, and the future of Rome!” Your voice cracked between moans as he laughed lightly. Working on bringing you to your orgasm as he hummed.

Your body felt like it was ablaze, each thrust causing that knot to unravel further and further. Whimpering in desperation and squawking desperately before letting your head fall back. His name spilling past your lips before feeling that knot come undone. Mouth falling open in incoherent babbles as Geta fucked you through your orgasm. Making sure you were thoroughly satisfied and gritting his teeth.

Unable to hold himself back much longer, his thrusts became short and swift before he hilted himself deep within you and came. His own mutters just broken up syllables of your name, trembling arms, and weak kisses along your skin. His body collapsing upon your own as he pressed hot and gentle kisses to your skin.

“I love you…” he murmured, allowing his eyes to close as you lightly combed through his hair. Your own growing heavy as you sighed.

“I love you too…”

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Summer Storm [Yandere Summer Spirit x Reader]

Title: Summer Storm [Yandere Summer Spirit x Reader]

Synopsis: You had forgotten what he was. Now you remember.

For Horrorfest request: –“Let's talk, you and I. Let's talk about fear.” –Stephan King, “Night Shift.” And I think this one would be pretty good for your Summer spirit, in a moment of terrifying clarity! Like he's not flippant or playing around/indulging you right now he's serious.

Word count: 600ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

“What would you do, if I left you?”

The question had been asked so stupidly, so carelessly. Not because you were unaware of the weight of it, but because you thought he would brush it off, and you could force yourself to brush it off, for at least another summer. 

You thought he would laugh and smear the white globs of sunscreen he sometimes produced from thin air onto your nose; you thought he would push you into the ocean, or find a crab along the beach and threaten you with it.

You thought those things because you had forgotten.

You had forgotten what he truly was, in the lazy haze of those endless summers. He had become lost in the refreshing breezes cutting through the heavy shimmering air, in the taste of melting popsicles on his lips as he kissed you, and kissed you. Lost in the laughter as he pulled you through another season, hot summer grass tickling your legs, saltwater sticking to your skin. 

But you remember now. You see him now, sitting next to you, even though he has his sand covered legs pulled up to his chest as he might have on any other summer evening spent on the beach.

“What… did you say?” You ask, even though you know the answer. It’s an answer that cut through the hot hazy fog of your brain and reminded you that the man in front of you was no man at all.

He tilts his head towards, eyes gazing forward, the color of them now the awful gray-green of a summer storm. You want him to repeat it–you don’t want him to repeat it. But he must, and he will; both of you agree upon this without saying a word. 

He doesn’t sneer as he speaks. Doesn’t gloat, doesn’t threaten. He doesn’t loom over you or speak in dark growls of a dime novel villain. He merely states a simple fact, spoken into the hot evening as easily as any pleasantry you’ve shared before. 

“I would destroy every crop in the country. I would see to it that there is no summer harvest. I would wither everything that dares to bloom in autumn. I would see them all starve come winter and I do not yet know if I would have enough pity for you by the next summer to let anything be picked even then.”

The words join the fireflies beginning to dot the horizon, flickering in your heart in the dying evening sunlight. Unlike the fireflies, the words will still be there by morning, a permanent scythe hanging above your head.

Hanging above the heads of the people you loved–and the people you didn’t. People you didn’t know. Children who had been born since he took you away, some of them perhaps relatives, nieces and nephews that you’ll never hold. 

Innocents, not-so-innocents. People who would starve and wither like the crops, if he willed it.

If you willed it, you think, abruptly–and not without the thought catching something dark inside your chest. That same dark part that had not quite forgotten what summer could do, if it wanted.

“But I won’t leave you,” is your answer, a forced lightness to it; a forced breeze of your own, as artificial as the electric fans he sometimes shows you. “I was–I was only asking. To see what you would say.”

His eyes remain storm-gray for a few moments longer, and then he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. Calming himself down, you think, letting the storm ebb away into some other world, some other season.

“I sometimes forget,” he admits, smiling in a way you don’t want to understand, “how often people ask things they’d rather not know.” 

A firefly lands on his knee; it glows, then it doesn’t.