andreadesantis3806

[andreadesantis3806]

[andreadesantis3806]

Who am i kidding, i do not have the patience for an hour, and the review is already done.

HERE IT FUCKING IS BITCHES.

Dance of the Pearl and the Flame; Chapter 14 (Finale): Do you Promise?

Thank you for this wonderful journey, and all your beautiful comments that helped me go through my first ever published fanfic on the internet. Really wanted to put something out there, and now I did, with yalls ever loving support. Do leave comments and kemne know your thoughts on this last chapter and the entire story in general.

[andreadesantis3806]

I am back.

Legit I aint kidding.

SO THE LAST AND FINAL CHAPTER OF DOTPATF IS DONE AND DUSTED AND WILL BE PUBLISHED VERY SOON, BY TODAY. It is under a skim edit and review and i will soon, like very soon, gimme like an hour or even less and then it will be there.

For now, enjoy a little snippet;)

''It might look and seem heavenly now, but he has seen Aemond pushed to his breaking points. He had seen the monster he had become when the world showed him no other pathway. Luke knew with utter clarity that even if ever he tried to run, Aemond would let the devils consume and shatter his soul again if it meant he could keep Lucerys from disappearing.  

But Lucerys knew himself too. With that same clarity. That if ever he wished to run, there would always be that tiny pathetic part of him that would beg Aemond to find him, that would run to the vast unknowns trying to escape, but will always be leaving the tiniest breadcrumbs.

It was no such world anymore, and Luke did not think he could find himself to go away and leave. This world is on the path of healing, and Aemond has been pulled back from the edge of the abyss with the threads of destiny that bound him to Lucerys.

As he looked at Aemond, Lucerys did not allude himself into thinking that the demons miraculously vaporized from within him. But perhaps they would not be used to destroy and raze the world anymore. Rather, maybe they would heal as they are already starting to, with love Lucerys vowed to promise the other with at every waking moment, with warmth that transcended lifetimes.''

I will be back to this site sooooon with the newly published chapter. VERY soon i promise<33

[andreadesantis3806]

it actually makes me a lil insane to think about how loved sebastian is. how agni admired him and saw him as a friend. how madame red said he's basically family to ciel. how Mey rin adores him for being the first person to make her feel valued and appreciated. how finny used to give him hugs so strong they would supposedly damage a normal person's spine. how bard's face lit up when he appeared in the forest in the emerald witch arc. how elizabeth felt so safe and reassured with him there on the Campania. he's become such a valuable part of so many people's lives. and maybe it is all just part of an act, part of his butler aesthetic, but in a way, isn't it kind of beautiful that a demon could be so committed to a contract with a child that he accidently ended up improving the lives of everyone around him in the process?

[andreadesantis3806]

max saying that he didn't enjoy the lego race because "IT'S MORE FUN WHEN HE INTERACT WITH OTHER DRIVERS":

a few days later, he made sure we UNDERSTOOD what he meant by that:

1. max greeting charles pulling him closer while shaking his hand

2. max start yapping to charles

3. max keeps yapping while their waving to the fans

4. they arrive together at the drivers parade truck and max keeps yapping

5. charles went on the other side of the truck and max was trying to follow him

6. when max successfully reached charles they keep yapping

[andreadesantis3806]

MY lovelies. I have found myself in a very utterly, UTTERLY silly situation. Your thoughts?

so this rlly good friend of mine, he compared me to a small toilet paper roll…..a used one. So in retaliation, i told him '' im just gonna say this. None of the charcters that might become ur fav will survive at the end of the house of the dragon. Like even after season 3 and 4 airs.'' And he was affronted and was like ''YOU CANNOT JUST DO THIS WTF'' and i was like ''WATCH ME BITCH, WHAT R U GONNA DO STOP TALKING TO ME?'' and he was ranting a little more until he went ''FINE since you want war we will go to war'' and i went ''nope, we go to genocide and massacre'' and then he said ''not gonna talk to you anymore. You ruined the show and i went ''FINE.'' and we…havent talked since. Its been an entire day. And ofc im fine with it, albeit i do miss talking to him, but im very prideful and no matter how much i miss talking to him im not giving in first. AND LIKE--THIS ENTIRE THING IS SILLY it would have made sense for his offence if i spoiled game of thrones, BUT ITS HOUSE OF THE DRAGON. HE WATCHED GOT AND THE ENTIRE GOT IN ITSELF IS A SPOILER FOR THE HOUSE OF THE DRAGON SHOW IF U LOOK CAREFULLY ENUF LIKE- UGH. LIKE WHEN GOT HAPPENS, IT IS A FACT THAT HOUSE TARG IS GONE AND DESTROYED, AND DOESNT SHY AWAY FROM IT. AND HOTD IS BASICALLY SHOWING HOW IN FACT DID THEY DIE AND IT IS PRETTY OBVIOUS SO I GENUINLY THINK HE IS ACTING SILLY. Now as i said, i do miss talking to him. We used to chat everyday. So its a wide missing void of space in my day to day life without having random chats with a friend u got so close wiht. But i am nothing if not a big huge prideful menace and WILL not back down. He can come back to talk to me himself if he wants but im not giving in. Theres that. What do you think of this???????????

(PS. I promise u im not dead. The last and final chapter of DOTPATF is on the way i promise, i took time ofc cuz A LEVELS ARE A BITCH. PLs have patience. I promise it will come soon<3)

[andreadesantis3806]

Ways I Show a Character is Emotionally Burned Out (Before They Even Realize It Themselves)

I love writing characters who think they’re fine but are actually walking emotional house fires with bad coping mechanisms.

They stop doing the things they used to love and don’t even notice. Their guitar gathers dust. Their favorite podcast becomes background noise. Their hobbies feel like homework now.

They pick the path of least resistance every time, even when it hurts them. No, they don’t want to go to that thing. No, they don’t want to talk to that person. But whatever’s easier. That’s the motto now.

They’re tired but can’t sleep. Or they sleep but wake up more tired. Classic burnout move: lying in bed with their brain racing like a toddler on espresso.

They give other people emotional advice they refuse to take themselves. “You have to set boundaries!” they say—while ignoring 8 texts from someone they should’ve cut off three emotional breakdowns ago.

They cry at something stupidly small. Like spilling soup. Or a dog in a commercial. Or losing their pen. The soup is never just soup.

They say “I’m just tired” like it’s a personality trait now. And not like… emotionally drained to the bone but afraid to admit it out loud.

They ghost people they love, not out of malice, but because even replying feels like too much. Social battery? Absolutely obliterated. Texting back feels like filing taxes.

They stop reacting to big things. Catastrophes get a blank stare. Disasters feel like “just another Tuesday.” The well of feeling is running dry.

They avoid being alone with their own thoughts. Constant noise. TV always on. Music blasting. Because silence = reckoning, and reckoning is terrifying.

They start hoping something will force them to stop. An accident. A missed deadline. Someone else finally telling them, “You need a break.” Because asking for help? Unthinkable.

[andreadesantis3806]

fuck it lestappen love is embarrassing edit

[andreadesantis3806]

max verstappen core: australian gp edition

[andreadesantis3806]

“Rivalries Reignited” 🥰 feat. Charles Leclerc & Max Verstappen

🎥: Sky Sports F1 (March 26, 2022)

[andreadesantis3806]

CHARLES' RADIO LMAO

[andreadesantis3806]

Charles: “I have the seat full of water”

“Must be the water”

ferrari depression is in fact real and true

[andreadesantis3806]

truth or dare/party games + nonestablished lestappen xx

coming right up! based on this

charles/max (lestappen) | 2k | rated t | alcohol

The rain’s been unforgiving all weekend in Austria. It made the race both interesting and exhausting, the second place Charles earned a very rewarding prize for his effort. The spontaneous get-together in the party tent they’ve pitched between the motorhomes is a decent enough place to celebrate. There are empty beer crates and folding chairs stalled out in a circle, and a big wine cooler hosting a variety of beer and stronger liquor on the table in the centre. 

As the pitter-patter against the tent roof increases, the volume inside does too, the generous flow of alcohol aiding the conversation between them. Everyone’s a mix of relieved, exalted and disappointed now that the weekend’s over, and every emotion goes well with something to drink. No one’s driving anywhere tonight, the thought long abandoned with all the rain flooding the roads.

Charles sits next to Pierre, in matching lawn chairs they’re borrowing from the Alpine hospitality. Charles’ motorhome is poorly equipped to deal with spontaneous get together out in the grass, as is he himself. His sneakers are wet already, soaking through to his socks. 

“Another one?” Charles asks, holding the empty beer can up. Pierre nods, and it’s Charles’ turn to get up, crossing the small distance to the near-empty beer crate located in the middle of the tent. 

Lando’s wheezing laughter pierces through the space, gathering Charles’ attention as he pulls a bottle out. “Absolutely not.”

“You totally would,” Oscar objects.

“I would not,” Lando refuses. “Not my type. Neither of you.” 

“No one here?” Oscar pushes. Max is lodged in the middle of orange polo’s, looking between the two of them.

“What’s this, truth or dare?” Lando asks, still plagued by breathless laughter. 

“Sure,” Max nods, sitting upright in his seat. ”Lando. If it had to be anyone in the room—”

“—in the tent—” Oscar interjects. 

“In the tent,” Max repeats, but it does not change the serious tone of his question. “If you had to kiss someone in this tent, who would it be?” 

The question’s solid enough to draw everyone’s attention. Charles pauses what he’s doing—trying to uncap the bottle on the side of the crate—unable to hide an amused smile. 

“What’s that?” George inserts himself into the conversation. He’s just a crate down from Lando, but talking to Alex for most of the night. This statement manages to derail that.  

“Lando wants to play truth or dare,” Max explains. 

“What are we, twelve?” Alex scoffs. 

“Shut up,” George nudges him. “This is interesting. Let’s do it.” 

There’s a moment of noise, chairs scooted around to divide the group into do’s and don’t. A smaller circle forms at the back, with the ones not interested in playing, but most of them remain seated around the table. Pierre pushed Charles’ chair in right next to Alex’s.

With a confirming nod, Max and Oscar look at Lando. 

“Go on,” Oscar pushes, with a self-satisfied grin. 

“Anyone in this tent?” Lando asks. He looks around the circle, eyes narrowing down on George. George’s eyes widen dramatically, but before he can sputter something like a protest, Lando bursts out into laughter. “No. I’m fucking with you mate.”  

After their laughter dies down, Lando’s eyes find Oscar, giving an affirming nod. “Reckon I’d give Oscar a proper snog on the fanstage. Make PR go crazy.” 

Oscar rolls his eyes, but everyone else is thoroughly amused by the visual. Charles finally manages to pop one of the bottles, and reaches for a second one. 

“What about you, Charles?” 

The Estrella Garcia nearly slips out of Charles’ hands at the sudden question. Looking up from the crate, he hides his flushed cheeks with an amused giggle. 

“Me?” He asks. Max’s eyes are as accusing as they are blue. He nods. 

He clears his throat to gather himself. “You think I have not already kissed someone in this tent?” Charles poses, quirking a bold eyebrow at Max, he watches him double over with laughter.

“He’s from Monaco, come on,” Lando comments, laughing with the rest of them. 

Charles rolls his eyes at Lando, then returns to the foldout chairs Pierre has scooted closer into the circle. 

All eyes fall on Lando, who is next up in the order to ask questions. 

“Alright, Max, out with it,” Lando nudges his shoulder playfully. 

Max looks around the room, coming full circle when they land on Oscar again. He adjusts the backwards cap on his head, and then leans back in his chair. “None of you.” 

“Nah,” Oscar protests, shaking his head. “Not how it works mate. Gotta pick one.” 

Oscar’s words are followed by silence. Max drinks from his bottle to buy himself some time, but after he swallows, the quiet rings out just as clearly.

It doesn't mean anything, but his eyes linger on Charles for a little too long.

“Yeah, so just gonna go with the hottest person in the tent,” Max says, nodding to himself, as if it’s a factual observation. A justified answer. If it’s gonna be someone, he’s gonna make the most out of it.  

“Aww. Sorry. You’re not my type, mate,” Lando coos.

“Charles,” Max adds quickly. His eyes across the tent make something other than alcohol stir warmth in Charles’ chest. 

For a split second, it’s flattering. Suspense hangs in the air as Charles looks at him, wondering how much of that is true, and how much of that is a textbook way to deflect.

Then, reality kicks in, and Charles is laughing the way everyone else is. 

“Charles seems to have a lot of experience,” George points out eloquently.

“Fuck off,” Charles tells George, but smiles as he takes a swig of his beer. 

George digs his beer bottle down into the grass, before sitting upright. “Alright. Max, truth or dare.”

“Oh, fuck you mate,” Max scoffs, looking at him in disbelief. “If I say dare, you’re going to tell me to…” 

His laugh overtakes the rest of his words, but they’re all getting it. Charles feels a nervous stirring in his belly, and covers it by yet another sip of beer.  

George makes a not-at-all-sorry pout. “Afraid so, mate.” 

“Fine, dare,” Max gives in, shaking his head as he leans back in his seat. 

George laughs. “Kiss Charles.” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, this is fucking ridiculous,” Max disagrees, but it’s barely heard over everyone’s laughter. He finishes his drink, abandoning the bottle on the ground to get himself off his little camping chair. 

Pierre laughs the loudest, shoving at Charles’ shoulders to get him out of his folding chair. Charles stumbles upright, towards the centre of the tent where Max is waiting for him. 

“Fuck, he’s gonna do it,” Lando wheezes, just about to fall out of his chair. Everyone is riddled with amusement, a hint of disbelief hanging in the air.

But it’s Max, he’s going to keep his word, even if it’s the last thing he does. 

Suddenly, Charles does not feel all that brave walking up to him. With the safe distance of the circle between them, he dared to look at Max just fine, even had the courage to joke about it, but now, now—

Now Max’s eyes are awfully close, and he’s nervously readjusting his cap, clearly not as confident about it either. 

At least Charles finds comfort in the idea that they’re both hesitating. 

“Ready?” He asks. He looks uncertain, eyes not too eager to meet Charles’. It’s unfortunate, because he has to look at Charles to kiss him. 

Charles nods, and Max takes it as the go ahead, quickly stepping closer to put his mouth to Charles’. 

It’s not a kiss, just a just a press of lips, resulting in a standstill. Charles can feel Max’s lips against his, a firm pressure, but nothing else, like he’s frozen up, forgotten how the rest of it works, or he’s scared to find out.

Charles is too. He can’t be the one that gives in, he’s not even the one that wants this.

The silence in the tent is palpable. Charles feels it getting worse for each passing second. 

“Mate, I kiss my mother like that!” George cuts the silence.  

Max’s hand leaves Charles’ shoulder in what Charles can guess is an effort to give George the finger. He pushes closer, tilting his head to nip at Charles’ lips, once, twice—just when Charles is going to act, just when he’s going to let Max taste that he wants it, Max pulls back. 

“There, happy?” He asks, stepping back, eyes only for the judge of their encounter, facing away from Charles. 

“Six out of ten. Hope your girlfriend gets better than that,” George comments. 

“Fuck you. I need to piss,” Max hisses at George, kicking over his empty beer bottle on his way past his chair, out of the tent. 

—

Charles gets a phone call that cannot wait, dragging him out of the tent and into a fifteen minute back and forth about his plans tomorrow underneath the now dry starry night. 

On his way back, he spots Max standing just outside his trailer, the sound of the group muted in the background as he approaches him. 

“Hey,” Charles says. Max looks up from his phone, scratching the back of his neck to adjust his cap. 

“Hey. Sorry about that earlier, George was being a piece of shit,” Max says. 

“No worries,” Charles brushes it off. Truly, there were no hard feelings, just a lot of laughter for the rest of the group. 

Charles thought for half a second that it was going to be a decent kiss. He doesn’t know Max as someone who does things half-hearted—but this is different. This is a kiss constructed by circumstances, pleasantly tipsy in a party tent late in the evening after an eventful weekend—of course Max can’t always do everything with all his heart. 

“Sure?” Max checks in, eyes earnest and blue as they look at Charles. In the low light from the fairy lights dangling outside his trailer, his skin glows in soft orange. 

“It’s fine,” Charles assures, shaking his head to brush it off. “Just…” 

“What?” Max asks, direct and forward as always. 

Charles giggles, unable to hide his amusement. “You call that a kiss?” 

“I…” Max starts to say, eyes wide with surprise. He falls silent, the air shifting between them the moment Max seems to understand just what Charles is asking. 

He bats his lashes just to punctuate it, just to let Max suffer in the anticipation a little bit. Then, he closes the distance between them. 

This is a decent kiss. It’s soft, gentle brushes of lips that feel like whispering a secret, like sharing desire. Max knows how to kiss someone—Charles had not expected anything else—and he’s not afraid to show it now, gathering control of the kiss. With his hand cupping the back of Charles’ neck to hold him in place, he nips at Charles’ lower lip with a little teasing bite. 

Charles makes a soft sound, an invitation for Max to get closer. With a hand sneaking to Charles’ side, he deepens the kiss. Charles slides his arms around Max’s shoulders, relaxing against him, eyes still closed as they kiss. 

When Max pulls away, it’s decisive, and not because they’ve got an audience and he’s done proving a point. Instead, he stays close, eyes fluttering open to meet Charles’. 

“Better?” Max asks. 

Charles laughs breathlessly, cheeks fanning red as he looks down. “Almost.” 

Max smiles, dimples pinching his cheeks, before he leans down to kiss him again. 

[andreadesantis3806]

the only one who matches max's ✨freak✨

[andreadesantis3806]

i've got some tricks up my sleeve takes one to know one xx you're a bandit like me, eyes full of stars

[andreadesantis3806]

"what has impressed you the most about charles?"

lewis: besides his great hair? his eyes... i mean, he's a good looking lad

[andreadesantis3806]

the only one who matches max's ✨freak✨