#i found this in the drafts... enjoy !!

[taintedcigs]

Steve loves driving you around.

Picking you up, dropping you off, random late night drives, random 'please come with me to run some errand' drives.

Everything.

You always assume he would hate it, get bored, annoyed, from having you just sitting there. But it's all he wants. needs.

Have you right there by him, pretty smile curving on your lips, the light wind from the cranked down windows whiffling through your skin, hair, causing your scent to linger in the air. Comfort filling the space.

His thick palm gripping the wheel, while the other is lightly pressed upon your thigh, squeezing three times to let you know he is there, protective, sticky-sweet, enough to fill your stomach with all the butterflies.

Your hands return the favor, tender fingertips brushing against his possessive grip, almost to ground him, bring him all the comfort he needs, his world turning on its axis every time he realizes you're his. How lucky he is to have you by his side.

You glance at him with your nose scrunched, smile adorning your glossed lips, he wants to kiss it all over, run his fingertips along your features, admire it, have it etched on to his brain. He'd do just about anything to see your pretty expressions.

Yet, all he can utter are endless compliments, "s'pretty... just like an angel, hmm?" He admires the heat traveling up to your cheeks, smile growing wider as you tell him to stop, but he could never.

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing gentle kisses all over the back of it, warmth traveling through him instantly.

Rest of the ride is filled with shared, tender kisses, whispers of compliments, and the two of you singing along to your favorite songs he made a mixtape of, it's nothing short of caring, attentive, and everything you need wrapped up in a bundle.

He hates when it ends, when he inevitably has to drop you off to your destination, heart leaping out of his chest when that small smile disappears from your lips. His does too - knowing that the warmth and comfort would leave with you.

"What time should I pick you up, honey?" It always makes you feel bad, like some sort of a burden, and he can sense it in your anxious gaze.

"Stevie, y'know I can just walk-" And he tuts quickly, never letting you finish. You don't realize it, how much he enjoys this - the comfort you bring to him just being by his side, and his incessant need to keep you safe.

"Nuh-uh, will you be done by 8:30?" He asks with a smile, you tilt your head with a narrowed gaze, all adorably that Steve melts, all over again.

"Steve."

"Sweetheart," he parrots, wicked grin on his lips that makes you giggle, dreamy gaze that you can't say no to. "Mhmm, 8:30 is perfectly fine," you give in, so easily, so quickly, giving him comfort when he leaves you with a simple goodbye kiss.

And just like promised, he's there, at 8:30 - not a minute late, with that beaming smile, glint in his gaze that makes you feel so giddy that you skip your way into his BMW.

Steve turns toward you with a beaming grin, one hand holding the door open, while the other is stuffed with a bouquet of flowers, warmth filling your heart instantly.

You squeal at the lilac Asters and the eggshell white Baby's breath adorning the bouquet - you know to acquire those flowers he had to make an almost twenty minutes trip away from Hawkins, but Steve would do anything for you. Speechless and grateful, your big doe-eyes look up at him, tears almost welling, before you can speak, he gives you a light kiss.

"I picked up something to eat on my way here," he mumbles, smile so big his cheeks hurt from the stretch, but he can't help it. He'd do anything for you, his pretty, pretty girl.

And he knows you so well.

The two of you drive back the same way he got you there, munching on the fries, his hand on your thigh while you helped him sip on his cherry coke, telling him about your day, his mixtape for you serves as a background drop.

And he doesn't understand how you'd think you could ever be a burden, because that's all he wants anyway, to take care of you, have his passenger princess by his side.

[gi4hao]

☆ (perfect bf!)joshua x gn!reader

☆ warnings: none i think! reader is wearing a dress?

it sounds so cliché you’re not even sure you could say it out loud, but you simply cannot take your eyes off of your boyfriend.

it’s not so much his impeccable outfit (which took him weeks to finally settle on), perfectly combed hair or flawless skin that particularly catch your attention. it’s the ease with which he’s been navigating the crowd, offering bright smiles to everyone, finding exactly the right words to say and to whom, shaking hands when expected, all like he had been part of your family for decades.

“you’re staring”, joshua whispers from a corner of his mouth, his hand still holding yours.

his words make you abruptly snap out of your daydreaming. visibly startled, your eyes widen as you focus back on the wedding toast unfolding in front of your eyes. joshua purses his lips together, cheeks slightly puffed as he stifles a laugh.

still silently as not to disrupt anything, you try to nudge him but his reflexes are too good, and he ends up smoothly grabbing your arm to link it with his. the shadow of amused smiles start to grow on your faces, just as the bride’s mother finishes her speech, setting off claps and cheers throughout the crowd of guests.

your arms still linked together, you decide to follow the few guests who are heading towards the bar, internally praying that no family members will try to start a conversation with either of you; although you’re certain joshua would handle it impeccably.

“that speech was beautiful“, you say, looking at the newlyweds’ table while joshua asks the barista for two refills. “i’m pretty sure i cried at some point.”

“i think we both did”, he admits, his fingers dancing around the strap of your dress, “hey, do you want to go outside? get some fresh air before dessert?”

you take your drink back with a polite smile before grabbing your boyfriend’s hand. “that’s a polite way of saying you need a break from my family”, you tease, leading him to the nearest exit, one that you know leads to a small balcony overlooking the building’s backyard.

the sun has set a couple of hours ago, only leaving the yellowish lights from inside light up joshua’s features. strands of hair delicately brush against his forehead, in a way that’s slightly more sophisticated than when it gets tousled overnight.

sipping his drink with a tipsy smile, he sighs contently, elbows resting on the railing.

“how crazy would it be if i proposed to you right now?”, he asks out of the blue.

you let out a chuckle, refusing to have any over-the-top reaction just like he probably expects you to.

“so crazy” you simply reply before taking another sip, still looking straight ahead.

but the sound of joshua clearing his throat has you suddenly looking to your left. or rather, down to your left where he’s getting down on one knee.

“…shua, what are you doing?” you ask, your voice slightly wavering with uncertainty.

his response is not immediate. instead, he keeps on looking at you, eyelashes fluttering as his smile grows fonder. your palms are getting clammy, suddenly your clothes start to feel a bit too hot, a bit too tight.

“tying my shoes”, he finally speaks up, handing you his glass: “do you mind holding that for me?”

“you’re such an idiot joshua hong”, you scoff, rolling your eyes before flicking his forehead with two fingers.

looking proud of his little prank, he stands back up on his feet to wrap an arm around your waist, pressing a loud kiss on your temple:

“i’ll do it for real one day, don’t worry”, he says without a hint of doubt, “but it’ll be our own day, i’m not stealing someone else’s. you’re too special for that.”

this time, you find yourself unable to suppress your genuine reaction, and a flustered giggle escapes you as he pulls you even closer to him.

you stay like that for a few minutes, sharing silent thoughts about this special day of yours, but also wondering how you’ll manage to actually take your eyes off of him when the time comes.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

[yourdyingwish]

[delirious with exhaustion] I know someone who served fish in the . New jersey .state

[swanqueensalad]

rumple (& belle) text post meme part 15 (?)

[stxrshxpxd]

“i can hardly breathe around you”

paring: 90s damon albarn x reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: smut

prompt: reader finds herself in an inappropriate dream about her oldest and best friend, and when she moans his name he responds.

I was somewhere between sleeping and waking and Damon’s hands were keeping me in my dream, wrapping tightly around my waist as his lips attached to my neck. I squirmed under him, panting and moaning in desperation for more, and when his fingers squeezed my flesh harder I let out a whimper of his name. For a few seconds it all felt right. He continued kissing down my neck, until he suddenly replied and everything ripped from me in an instant. His hands, his lips, his breath on my skin, all gone.

“Y/N?” my best friend of fifteen years asked in a soft voice and stared me down from next to me on my bed. He grimaced with confusion and concern. Reality flooded back to me in a heartbeat and I remembered we had been watching TV on my bed, we had both gradually lost interest, he had muted it and picked up his book, and I had slipped into a nap. Then I had moaned his name and clearly not just in my dreams.

“Yes?” I breathed, deciding to play dumb.

“Care to share your dream?” Damon asked, eyes fixed on me and book splayed open against his chest. Some amusement had joined the confusion in his face. My pulse quickened.

I quite literally couldn’t find in my brain what to say to him and all I could do was watch the emotions evolve in his expressions.

I had been beating myself up for a while because something had happened about a month ago and I had completely lost my mind, I thought. Seeing my best friend in a non-platonic light was simply unthinkable. But, gosh, that soft stare of his and that bottom lip gently caught between his teeth!

“Will you close your eyes?” he asked after too long a silence on my end.

I stared at him instead, for a long time, barely breathing. He asked again and I recognised something stirring wildly in his gaze. I couldn’t remember anything ever having been this serious between us before. It frightened me and I resorted to doing what he asked of me.

With my breath shallow and shaky and eyes softly closed, at last I felt Damon’s lips gently press against mine. My brain stopped working for a minute but then the only thing I could think to do was to reach my hand out, finding his chest was rid of the book and it was turning towards me. Closer, closer, closer. Until my hand was locked between our beating chests and he was determinedly kissing down my jaw and neck.

I wanted his lips everywhere on me and I blushed wildly at the thought. I had been doing a fine job at suppressing all these emotions for the last month, but he was making it really hard for me now.

“Damon,” I started when his lips jumped to my lower stomach and his fingers began to hook into my waistband. He glanced up from under his golden fringe and my stomach fluttered at the eye contact. My toes were twitching wildly with nerves and excitement. Really I didn’t want him to stop for even a second, but it was all so weird.

He simply smiled calmly at me and kissed my skin again while my sweatpants were pulled down my legs. That smile of his had calmed me so many times before and for the next moment I felt at ease. I even closed my eyes and let a half shaky but deep breath out, and I allowed his warm palms to spread my thighs apart.

“My god, you’re wet,” he whispered, astounded. “Dream-me is that good, huh?”

I laughed but my cheeks burned with embarrassment, impulsively trying to close my legs again and reaching to push his shoulders away. But he stayed and firmly held my legs apart.

“Hey, it’s me,” Damon reminded me in a smooth voice.

“Exactly!” I laughed nervously, finding it nearly impossible to get past the absurdity of having my best friend’s breath fan over my damp underwear while his hands clasped around the inside of my thighs. God, his hands though!

“Exactly,” he echoed in a quiet voice and raised his brows. I knew he was referring to my moaning his very name in my sleep just minutes ago, and I sighed.

Within seconds his lips were back on me again but this time they kissed me through my pants and I thought my heart jumped out of my chest for a moment. He did it again. And again. And he added more pressure and then his tongue. I screwed my eyes shut and at last couldn’t feel anything past the pleasure. For the next few minutes I could hardly recall the embarrassment, as he peeled my underwear to the side and once again buried his face in me.

“Do you wanna say my name again?” Damon tried his luck as I had begun breathing heavily and letting little moans out. His voice vibrated through my abdomen and I felt a hint of my high teasing me momentarily.

“Damon,” I whispered cautiously and felt his teeth against my hot skin as he grinned.

“Mhm,” he murmured into me again and continued lapping up my wetness with his skilled tongue, pushing me towards my edge.

“I’m gonna…” I whined but felt the embarrassment come over me again. “Fuck.. Dames!”

Calling him by his sweet nickname made me cringe for a second, but he continued smirking through his kissing and licking and sucking and I couldn’t stop my thighs from clasping around his head. The orgasm pierced through my body, making my legs tremble and my voice settle in a defeated whimper.

Quickly reality caught up with me again once I made it out of the haze and I was partly mortified as my oldest and best friend kissed up my body again and his lips reconnected with mine.

We spent an eternity kissing between shaky breaths and in my head I yelled at my cheeks until they eventually cooled a tad.

“Can we really do this?” I asked in a barely audible whisper.

“I don’t know if you were here just now but we just did,” he teased and we both laughed, my eyes still closed and our mouths constantly balancing between kissing and breathing.

“Yeah, I guess we did.”

A minute passed of slightly more kissing than breathing and then it evened out again.

“Did you know lately I can hardly breathe around you?” I whispered and barely felt his lips curl into a smirk. I peaked at it slightly but made sure not to look him in the eye.

“Yeah, I noticed,” he mumbled with his smirk widening and a chuckle pouring out of him and into me. I smiled and laughed gently too.

Damon slid off of me but just about everything of his stayed touching me and his head laid just next to mine, noses grazing. There was only breathing for the better half of a minute. At last I felt our familiar comfortable silence coming back to us. I stared at his face and studied his eyes, brows, cheeks and nose and lips. Then my gaze drifted to the ledge where the wall met the ceiling and I let my mind wander to more trivial territory for a breather.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I’m worried what my hair will look like tomorrow if I wear it in a bun to bed,” I answered honestly and instantly I felt the hot breath of his laughter hit my face. We chuckled together and he smiled back at me with twinkling eyes.

“See, this is us!” he insisted. “We still talk about silly things and laugh. Only we have sex too.”

My cheeks flushed red again but I couldn’t stop smiling. I reached my hand out to poke my fingertips around in the side of his hair and let another few moments pass as I pondered.

“Could we also… hold hands?” I suggested, stomach fluttering anxiously again. “And kiss?”

Damon gave me a slight nod.

“And not kiss other people?”

At that his smile grew and he was quick to respond.

“I can’t remember what it’s like kissing anyone else.”

A laugh bubbled inside me and my hand caught his cheek and pressed our lips together again.

“Good job. That was the right answer,” I mumbled into our kiss.

[breakfastteatime]

The ceiling that greets Cal when he opens his eyes in not the Mantis. Rocky. Slightly drippy. Sandy beneath him. Sea salt in the air. Is he at the beach? All things considered, Cal has definitely been in worse situations. Like way worse. Like, like... like the actual worst. Right? He's been in worse situations, hasn't he?

BD beeps a dubious affirmative. Then he asks which Cal prefers - being trapped under the ocean on Nur, or being stuck in this cave?

"Secret answer 3: both suck." Cal giggles.

BD scuttles away, telling someone else Cal is awake and -

"My words are not slurring!"

"Yes, Cal, they are. You have a head injury."

"Do not!"

"Do too."

He'll show her. "Hey. Hey, Merrin?"

Merrin takes a deep breath from somewhere nearby. "Yes?"

"Could a head injury guy ask you this? Would you rather fight a hundred BD-sized rancors, or a rancor sized BD?"

Merrin whispers something in a language Cal doesn't speak. It doesn't sound like an answer.

"It's a good question!"

"It is a question that suggests you have damaged your brain permanently."

Cal snorts. And pauses. "Is that why I can taste blood?"

"Do you remember being knocked out?"

Cal gives this a good ponder. "No," he eventually decides.

Merrin sighs. "What do you remember?"

"Uuuuum..." Beach trip. Missing kids. Going into the cave. Finding missing kids? "Are there supposed to be kids here?"

"No, we got them out. And then the cave fell on your head. BD and I are keeping you company while Cere and Greez dig us out."

"Sounds great." Cal decides to sit up...

...bad idea. Oh, such a bad idea. Merrin wrinkles her nose as he throws up.

It's about that time that a large boulder blocking the tunnel moves and figures appear in the blinding sunlight.

"Cal! Merrin! BD!" Cere's voice echoes.

"BD and I are fine. Cal is asking about rancors."

"Cere, I gotta ask you something - "

"Perhaps you should send a medic in," Merrin says over him.

"Oh, oh, hey, medic person! What would you rather fight..."

[wormieapple]

i think a lot of y deans progression from being miserable to the point of recklessness and self sacrifice in the face of loss to being kind of bummed that cas is dead in the finale feels so unrealistic and out of character is that we don’t see him struggling.

dean takes loss very hard, especially when he losses cas. we’ve seen it time and time again so it feels extremely out of character for him to say that he’s more or less fine and trying to honour the sacrifices of the people he cares about. but the thing is is that it wouldn’t feel out of character if we saw him struggling to accept it and coming to a place of acceptance in the face of cas’ confession. cause we see that the confession is pivotal to deans character arc in s15 even if they basically refused to acknowledge it. besides how poorly the aftermath of that was handled in terms of queer representation it also makes deans character arc feel stilted and like he just doesn’t really care abt cas anymore.

we needed to see him grieve and struggle and be in denial to have him reaching a place of acceptance and living in honour the sacrifices of the people he cares abt, cause otherwise we’d get what we got and feel off put by it. what we needed to have happen was seeing dean grieving by himself in the face of it all and trying to blame himself and doing something that helps him think of cas and his confession like grabbing at his shoulder and trying to calm down. we needed to see him start to get angry and calm himself down before lashing out cause that’s not who he is, cas believed in him and that’s not who he wants to be. we needed to see him talk about what happened with/to jack and beg him to bring cas back, try to bring cas back because we can’t leave him there, only to find nothing and get no answers. just left with no chips to bargain and only the ability to honour his loss and be who cas knew he could be.

but dean couldn’t struggle because then they’d have to acknowledge the confession and deans feelings abt it. so instead we got an uncaring, unfeeling 180 for dean and then he dies.

[heraldofcrow]

I once read a headcanon that Morgott got stuck halfway inside Marika during labour becuz of his tail

Man that must have hurt A LOT

Lol maybe that could be why ppl hate Omens 😂. They're literal pain in the ass when the mother is about to give birth

Marika, about to give birth: Godfrey sweetie, this was a mistake.

Godfrey: What do you mean?? The child?? Are you saying this is someone else’s kid??

Marika: No, dumbass. Having a child with you was a mistake. This thing has a fucking tail. I knew you should have gotten rid of that stupid fucking fursona you—

Godfrey: SEROSH IS MY FRIEND? YOU CAN’T SAY THAT—

Marika, now screaming: OH MY GOD THERE ARE TWO OF THESE THINGS AND THEY BOTH HAVE FUCKING TAILS. AAUGHHSSJH

Godfrey: I’m so sorry, but I swear this isn’t because of Serosh, you have to…

Marika, now in horrific pain: I AM DIVORCING YOU AND THE CAT FOR THIS—

*Morgott and Mohg emerge*

Marika: Godfrey….Godfrey…they have fur-suits on…

Godfrey: …

Godfrey: Ok, this might be because of Serosh

[thejadecount]

2012! Casey and Rise! Donnie: We’ve bonded

2012! Leo, knowing exactly what’s about to come: What do you mean you bonded?

*faint explosion in the distance*

[thebrideofreanimator]

how my different comfort characters would react to me telling them i am autistic!!!

Herbert West: "Me too."

Peter Parker: "Me too."

Gwynplaine: *silent film intertitle* "Me too."

Pavi Largo: *in a fake ass italian accent* "Me too."

[violetheart77]

Tonight on “Posts that amuse Violet and probably Violet only”

(original text post source)

Alternate version under the cut

✨✨✨ Now featuring 33% more Firearm! 🔫 ✨✨✨

[moonbeamwritings]

adventures in braiding

wc: 1.6k

pairing: gyro x gn!reader (and i guess gyro x johnny x reader if you squint)

warnings: none

“It’s so hot out,” Gyro complains, wiping sweat from his brow. “Are you guys not hot?”

“It’s hot as hell, Gyro. Stop complaining,” Johnny chimes in, tugging his hat from his head and tucking it into his saddle bag. “You’re not the only one sweating your ass off.”

Gyro slows Valkyrie to a stop and groans. “I need to take a break.”

He bonelessly slides off his horse and as soon as his feet hit the sand, he takes a long swig from his canteen. You watch as sweat glistens on his brow, water tipping past his lips and sliding down his chin and along his neck. More than just the sun heats the surface of your cheeks, and you find yourself following a rivulet of water as it creeps down the column of his throat and beneath the collar of his shirt.

Seemingly dissatisfied with how the water cools him off, Gyro moves to duck under a nearby rock ledge for some shade, and judging by the way he grimaces, the rocks do little to shield him from the heat.

“We can’t stay long,” you warn him. “If we want to make it to the checkpoint by tomorrow afternoon, we’re gonna have to keep moving.”

Gyro waves his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Just-” Gyro takes another huge gulp from his canteen and sighs. “Give me a minute.”

You watch as he pulls his hat from his head to fan his face, and annoyance washes over his features when it doesn’t immediately work to cool him down. Disgruntled, he tosses it onto the sand and then moves to pull at his hair, lifting it up and down to fan it over the back of his neck.

The movement gives you an idea. Digging through your saddle bag, you find a length of hot pink ribbon you’d taken from the last checkpoint. You don’t remember what compelled you to keep it, but you’re glad to have it now — if only to quell Gyro’s complaints.

You dismount, and join Gyro under his little rock awning. 

“I have an idea that might help. Do you mind if I try it?”

“God, I’d do anything.”

You crowd the space beside him and force him to turn away from you with firm hands on his shoulders, and when his back is to you, you set to work combing your fingers through his hair to ease some of the tangles. When you’re satisfied with how silky it is, you separate it into three sections. Delicately, you weave the hair together into a neat braid, and for the first time all afternoon, Gyro falls silent. As the braid comes to an end you pull the ribbon out to secure it in place, finally moving it over his shoulder and off the back of his neck. 

With his hair out of the way, Gyro lets out a long, pleased sigh as if you’ve just relieved him of a heavy burden. “What would I do without you?”

Emerging from the rocks with renewed spirits, Gyro bends to pick up his hat and straightens his back with a proud hand on his hip. Before mounting his horse again, he fixes his hat into place and fiddles with the ends of his hair, a smug smile tugging at his lips. Squinting in the sun, he asks, “How do I look?”

His cheek is sticky and warm beneath your palm when you move to pat it. You don’t miss the way he leans further into your touch. “You look very pretty, Gyro. Now, are you ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

“Finally,” Johnny groans from behind you, snapping Gyro out of his revelry.

“Do you have to complain about everything?”

“Me?”

The bickering doesn’t stop until well after the sun goes down.

You’ve created a monster.

In the days after, Gyro seems hellbent on incorporating the hairstyle into his daily routine. Every morning, after he’s washed up a little and brushed his teeth, Gyro drags the ribbon between his fingertips and fixes you with this sheepish, almost shy look, so unlike him you can’t help but laugh.

“You want me to fix your hair again?”

He presses the ribbon into your palm then, splaying his hair along his shoulders and dropping into a chair or onto the ground, waiting expectantly for you to braid his hair. And every time, you click your tongue and scoff good-naturedly, teasing him for being so high maintenance, even as you begin to comb your fingers through his pretty blond hair.

Sometimes in the afternoon when you stop to eat, he’ll ask you to tie it again. It needs to stay out of his face when he eats, you know. And you’re more than happy to oblige, setting your silverware aside to collect his hair in your hands. You’ll braid it, or tie it up in a ponytail, sometimes even twisting it into a low bun before digging into your food.

Johnny rolls his eyes more than once at the obvious (but apparently not so obvious to the two of you) display of affection, grumbling under his breath about you two needing to get a room already.

Gyro’s smile is smug when he tells Johnny, “You’re just jealous you don’t have a pretty thing like this playing with your hair.”

It’s a comment meant to get under the other man’s skin, and it does... every time, but you can’t help the way your cheeks light up with its implications. There’s a reason you’re so quick to fix Gyro’s hair, to do anything he asks really, and you suspect it has something to do with the handsome way Gyro smiles or the soft sparkle in his eyes when he’s pleased with the way his hair looks.

The air between you starts to change one night, now weeks after the first braiding incident. Weeks spent playing with Gyro’s hair or sitting close to him at meals or resting on his shoulder during downtime. Johnny had turned in an hour earlier, you and Gyro opting to stay up and savor the dwindling embers of the fire, enjoying the comfortable silence settling between you. The moon hangs high in the sky and a chill works its way through the air, cooling your overheated skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Gyro pick at the skin of his fingers.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

His fingers stop, a sheepish smile overtaking his features. “I was just thinking...”

“About?” You press, nudging your shoulder into his.

“Well, I was wondering,” he scoffs like even the thought of the words leaving his mouth is silly, “if you could teach me how to braid. I always get so happy when you do it for me, and I just...” He fixes you with a soft gaze, his expression bathed in moonlight. “I want to return the favor.”

“I-” you can’t even get your words out without smiling, the tips of your ears growing warm as you think it over. “I would like that.”

“Well, you’re the expert.” He unties the ribbon from his own hair and gently holds it in the space between you. “Teach me your ways.”

Just as you had done all those weeks ago, and just as you instruct, Gyro crowds the space behind you; his long legs sitting on either side of your hips. You walk him through the process: separate the hair into three even sections, cross an outside section over the middle and let it sit, repeat it on the opposite side, and keep going until you reach the ends.

He mumbles the steps to himself over and over again as he goes, and you smile to yourself as you imagine his brow furrowed in concentration, lip jutted out into a pout as he thinks.

The braid isn’t perfect, not by any means, and by the time he’s done (after starting and restarting more than once), the fire has long since burnt out. The moon acts as the only light to guide him as he ties the ribbon around the ends of your hair.

“I- It’s done,” he pauses, running his fingers over the braid. “I think, anyway.”

You reach behind you to feel it, and find that it’s a little bumpy, a little imperfect, but you adore it all the same. He’d tried, and that’s what matters. The thought makes your heart feel fuzzy in your chest.

“I love it. Thank you.”

“You can’t even see it.” He argues, a pout on his lips.

You turn to look at him and cup his cheek. “I can just tell it’s beautiful, and besides,” you pinch the apple of it as you assure him, “practice makes perfect, right?”

You catch moonlight and adoration in the green hues of his eyes, and as silence falls between you, you find yourself twisting so you can lean closer. You’re just about there, your lips almost on his, when Johnny pipes in, sleep evident in his annoyed tone. “Are you done? Can you please go to bed now?”

With the moment entirely shattered, Gyro affectionately rolls his eyes and pecks your cheek, fingers running over the end of your braid before he moves to stand. “Goodnight, sweets.”

He smirks, and on his way back to his bed roll, kneels down to plant a wet smack against Johnny’s cheek. Tone dripping with a teasing singsong, he says,  “Goodnight Johnny.”

Johnny grumbles an “I hate you” as he rolls over and tucks himself further into his blanket.

These two, you think as you settle under your own blankets. That night, you fall asleep with a braid in your hair and a smile on your face.

[sewellove-deactivated9782]

indian gp 2012

[lyrabythelake]

Have a very unfinished fic I began for fun starring Four and Warriors

Four started it. 

Enemy defeated, worlds saved, the heroes were wandering Hyrule with weighted footsteps in unspoken suspense for that last portal that would send them their separate ways. 

Except time drew thin, the portal never came. By the time they reached the inn, they counted an entire month treading a land unfamiliar to all of them but Legend without clear purpose or direction. It was driving them all a bit insane.

So when Four slipped the innkeeper a small, rectangle piece of parchment from the top of a stack tied carefully in twine, Warriors latched onto it as a single, tiny mystery to be solved in a whirlwind of boredom.

“Can I see that?” he asked, eyeing the papers Four was hastily shoving back into his bag. The innkeeper slid his own under the bar after studying it with vague interest.

Four’s face grew red but he handed them over without further persuasion.

A neat border of repeating patterned inked swords framed the words:

Heroes for Hire Evil warlord got you down? Monsters driving you mad? We’re here to help. (Additional services include smithing, cooking, sailing, pot clearance and more)

“I just thought we could all do with a project or two. I think everyone’s been feeling a bit… lost these days.” Four rushed to explain.

The night before, Wild had used his fusion ability to attach a block of butter to one of his shields then slid around the camp on it for two hours. ‘Lost’ was probably an understatement. 

“You know what?” Warriors said cheerfully, handing the card back, “I think it’s a really good idea.”

Warriors had slipped over three times while getting ready that morning; Wild had turned their entire camp into an oily booby trap.

Fours face grew even redder.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! I think what we’re lacking is a sense of purpose, you know? We all miss our homes and this could give us a good distraction.”

They didn’t really talk about why they were still here all that much. None of them were the type to air the worries and concerns out in the open, but they all knew they were thinking the same thing. It was as if the Goddess had abandoned them here now they had fulfilled their usefulness. She couldn’t even be bothered to get them all back to where they belonged.

“How many people have you given these to?”

“Just that innkeeper,” Four said. “And one of the farmers we passed on the outskirts of the village.”

No sooner had he spoken those words than a young boy ran into the inn, eyes huge beneath windswept hair.

“Are you the heroes for hire?” he asked, his breath catching between words.

With an impressive swish of his scarf and a blinding smile, Warriors stood before him.

“Why yes, as a matter of fact, we are.”

“At your service,” Four added, if only to prevent Warriors from taking complete control over the idea that was Four’s in the first place.

“You gave my father your card earlier,” the boy said. “The Zora have flipped our sheep again. Dad said he’ll give you two blue Rupees if you give us a hand putting them right before it gets dark.”

“Did you say the sheep were flipped?” Four asked. Warriors elbowed him hard.

“We’re happy to help.”

“This isn’t really what I had in mind,” Four told Warriors as they strained to heave the third sheep onto its feet. “Why do Zora even do this, it seems very petty.”

“Legend said there’s been civil war between the Zora and Hylians for hundreds of years around here. It’s mostly died down now, but Hylians still fish in Zora territory so the Zora do things like turning sheep upside down to show their defiance.”

“Still, it’s not exactly the ‘evil warlords’ I was expecting”

“Patience, my small friend!” Warriors declared just as they managed to push the sheep onto its feet, “everyone must start somewhere and our business is only a few hours old after all. Small beginnings make for the best hero agencies, as they say.”

“You just made that up,” Four muttered dispassionately.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

manifesting chaos in the 2024 f1 season (wiz edition)

kudos to @keepthedelta for starting this idea way back when, theirs were hilarious

- jos verstappen and carlos sainz snr have an actual fistfight, but agree to do it on pay per view TV for maximal profit and impact. carlos snr wins only because he still has good core strength from driving endurance races and also he definitely does yogilates

- forced to get more sponsorship money, kick stake sauber drivers have to do an embarrassingly slutty ad for vitamin water. turns out valtteri and guan yu is very game for it and it actually goes super viral, but only in china

- FIA announces seoul gp 2026 and do an embarrassing eGames tie up as well as get nct's most junior division (most of them are 10 years old) to promote it for some reason. 2025 Charles leclerc finally makes his debut on MDC singing an slow-fi hip hop song with lots of air horns. it’s the one he co-wrote with lewis hamilton as an anthem for the ferrari team

- no more grill the grid. liberty media takes things to the next level and makes all the drivers do elimination games from squid game. drivers may be injured or perish. however as per FIA regs they are still expected to recover well enough to drive by the following sunday

- seb vettel returns but only for one race to drive a literal tractor across a field in austria to promote saving the bees

- alex albon is told he gets to move to red bull again except alex albon was busy taking some proper off time with his girlfriend during the summer so he misses the email and the tweets. by the time he catches up with the rumours, red bull have already musical chaired first liam lawson and then daniel ricciardo in the seat only to immediately take it back and give it to a fifteen year old who’s currently taking a nap in the rb junior academy room somewhere

- zak brown starts a new tie up with an aerospace company and andrea accidentally builds a rocket ship that blasts the papaya boys into space. lando and oscar do a livestream in the MCL38 parked on the side of an asteroid

- nico rosberg appears on a sky broadcast in a t-shirt that people swear lewis hamilton once wore, and it in fact may be the exact same one. neither of them comments on it at all

- otmar somehow returns and spends half his time instructing his drivers to try and chase / destroy that orange twink… i mean, car. somehow he will manage to run a team more embarrassingly than haas.