#truly my trademark at this point

[skitskatdacat63]

okay, i don't know why, but i have ALWAYS been like you described. i have so many movies, TV shows, books, podcasts, songs, etc that i want to experience but do i? nope, just put on another F1 race, please. i don't know if it's fear of the unknown (hello, flood of unexpected emotions!) or not wanting to challenge myself or also wanting to watch F1 and F1 just wins out, but here we are. i suspect it's part of my OCD? or some other ND thing that hasn't been diagnosed in me yet??

in fact prolly the only reason i watch F1 is bc i watch it with my sister. it is a lot easier to do new stuff with someone else...which deludes me into believing that if i just got a partner, we could open the floodgates and watch everything i haven't seen together, but lord knows it don't work that way 😑 in any case, i don't know what's wrong with us, but you're not alone!

I'm glad I'm not the only one!! 💕💕

(Reply ramble under the cut cause I wrote more than I expected)

I think I just struggle to start anything new or to finish anything. I totally agree with what you said about it being the fear of unexpected emotions/the unknown! Like for race seasons for example, I just spent a significant amount of time immersed in 2005 which is a specific set of information(you know: rules, strategy, drivers, etc.), so to start a new season would be a completely different set of info. As I said in my earlier tags, some part of me likes the anticipation more and also I always get way too hyper about things and that energy is overwhelming 😓 And I also feel like I have a fear about how much time I'm going to spend(which is stupid because I'll spend like way too much time aimlessly scrolling for the same amnt of time it'd take to watch a race.) Like the idea of specifically putting aside two hours to do only one thing is stressful to me, which is why I often used to like watching races when I literally couldn't do anything else(waiting for a class.) But now I'm stuck back in the cycle of not wanting to start something new, even if 2009 isnt exactly new because I've watched a lot of racing at this point, but still new enough to me that it's hard to convince my brain to start it. Like once I get into the groove of things, I can float through and enjoy myself, it's just that beginning barrier that's hard to get through.

I also definitely agree with having to watch it with someone else. I either have to binge watch things super quickly or watch them with other people, if not, I'll just end up never starting it or abandoning it. I think it's because it's really nice to be able to discuss your thoughts and feelings abt it with another person and not just be stuck with a million thoughts bouncing around your head(which is why I tend to make posts and then rant in the tags LOL)

I think thats why ive been able to get into F1 to such an extent and why it's been so fun for me. It's a live experience(with a strict time constraint, i.e. you can only watch it right here, right now) where there's a bunch of people watching and interacting. I love tumblr during a race weekend so much, I don't think I'd be obsessed with it as much if not for the ability to see everyone's reactions and interact back with them. I think that's why I struggle to start old seasons, because it's literally just me obsessing alone in my room and I can't talk about it to the extent that I can with the current season. Watching F1 as it goes along in a current season is just a perfect experience I guess, because the schedule pushes me along and I don't really have to rely on myself to keep going.

But yeah who knows!! Brain just being brain as always I guess, but it is annoying that it prevents us from doing things we want to do! But I will say, still, its so stupid that I procrastinate over watching 10 minute long YouTube vids LMAO, like pls I get the hesitation with a 2 hour race, 2 hour movie or 100k fic but, 10 minutes, seriously brain???

[lxndonorris]

a paddock affair - Lando Norris

Y/N x Lando Norris Theme: Fluff Lando introduces you to part of the paddock x mentions of Max, Carlos, Charles, Oscar and Daniel word count: 1200+ taglist: @game-set-canet requested by anonymous :) hope you like it. gif by me;

As the sun is shining brightly, casting its golden ray upon the Melbourne skyline, you find yourself standing outside the gates of the prestigious Formula 1 paddock, hand in hand with Lando, your heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. 

It had been a whirlwind romance since you first met a few months ago, and now Lando was inviting you into his world, the heart of the F1 action.

"Lando, I'm really nervous," you confess, tugging at the collar of your Mclaren team jacket, a piece of clothing that now holds sentimental value beyond its sleek design.

Lando squeezes your hand reassuringly, his trademark grin lighting up his face.

"Don't worry, love. You'll be great. Everyone's going to love you."

With his comforting words, you make your way into the paddock, where the air is alive with the hum of engines and the chatter of mechanics and drivers preparing for the weekend ahead.

Your first stop is to meet Lando's good friend and teammate turned rival, Carlos Sainz. As you approach, Carlos looks up from his conversation with a mechanic, and his face breaks into a wide smile.

"Lando! And who's this lovely lady?" Carlos greets you, his Spanish accent laced with warmth.

"This is Y/N, Carlos. My girlfriend." Lando introduces you proudly with a shy smile playing on his lips.

Carlos extends his hand, and you shake it, feeling a rush of gratitude for his friendly demeanor. Lando stands by your side, his comforting touch a constant reassurance; his hand strokes the small of your back, a subtle yet comforting gesture.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I must say, you look great in that Mclaren gear," he motions to the jacket Land gave you a few days prior. "You're practically part of the team already."

You blush at the compliment, feeling a sense of belonging wash over you as you exchange pleasantries before Carlos gets called away to attend to his duties in the garage.

Next, you encounter Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc engaged in an animated discussion. Their laughter echoes through the paddock as they reminisce about the last race. As you approach, they exchange knowing smirks before Charles excuses himself, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

Max bounds over to you, his infectious energy filling the air. "Well, well, well, Lando, you sly dog! Hiding your girlfriend from us, eh?"

Lando rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah, Max. This is Y/N, by the way."

Max shakes your hand enthusiastically. "Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. Don't worry, we won't give Lando too much trouble... maybe."

Their banter is like music to your ears, easing your nerves and making you feel like a part of the tight-knit F1 family. Amidst the lively banter and laughter, Lando's presence anchors you as the grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

After Max excuses himself as well, Oscar Piastri joins your little group. You had met him before, and he greeted you with a warm smile, genuine concern evident in his eyes.

"How are you feeling, Y/N?" Excited?" Oscar asks, his Australian accent adding a touch of familiarity to the conversation.

"Excited doesn't even begin to cover it," you reply, unable to contain your enthusiasm.

Lando wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. "Come on, let's take a stroll through the paddock. I want to show you everything."

As you wander through the bustling paddock, Lando points out the intricacies of the garages, the sleek motorhomes where the drivers and teams strategize, and the various anemities that make the F1 experience truly one-of-a-kind.

With each step, your anxiety melts away, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe at the world Lando inhabited.

At the same time, your eyes can't help but wander to Lando, taking in every detail. His Mclaren shirt hugs his lean frame perfectly, the familiar papaya orange contrasting beautifully against his sun-kissed skin. The casual elegance of his outfit, paired with jeans that fit just right, only serves to enhance his natural charm.

But it is his curly hair that always captivates you the most. Each unruly lock seems to have a mind of its own, framing his face in a way that is both effortlessly cool and undeniably endearing. Every time a stray curl falls across his forehead, your heart skips a beat, reminding you just how lucky you are to be by his side.

"Lando, your hair looks amazing today." You can't help but gush, reaching up to tuck a wayward curl behind his ear.

He grins, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Thanks, love. It's a constant battle trying to tame these ecurls, but I'm glad you like them."

You smile and caress Lando's cheek, marveling at the softness of his skin beneath your fingertips. His stubble tickles you ever so slightly, but you welcome the sensation, relishing in the intimacy of your moment together.

"I love your beard, Lando," you murmur, tracing the contours of his jawline with your thumb. "It suits you so well."

A hint of surprise flickers in his eyes before a sheepish grin spreads across his face. "You do? I wasn't sure if I should keep it or not."

You nod emphatically, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Definetly keep it. It makes you look even more handsome, if that's even possible." 

His laughter echoes through the air around you, filling you with warmth and contentment. 

Lost in your quiet moment, a familiar voice breaks through the serenity around you. "Hey there, mate."

Startled, you turn to see Daniel Ricciardo approaching you, already donning his racing suit with that siganture grin plastered across his face.

Before Lando can react, Daniel reaches out and playfully pokes his sides, causing him to burst into giggles.

"Hey, Danny." Lando exclaims, returning the gesture with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Trying to distract me before training, huh?"

Daniel chuckles, his charm undeniable, as he joins you. "You know me, mate. Always up for a bit of fun."

Lando's arm finds its way around your waist, pulling you close, giving you comfort.

You fall into easy conversation, chatting about racing and sharing anecdotes from past experiences on the track. Daniel's enthusiasm is infectious, and soon enough, you are all laughing like old friends reunited.

After a while, Daniel excuses himself, a glint of determination in his eyes, as he prepares to focus on the upcoming race weekend. "Well, it's been great catching up, but duty calls. See you both later."

With a wave and a parting smile, he disappears into the bustling crowd, leaving behind a lingering sense of camaraderie that warms your heart.

You turn your head to find Lando looking at you, a warm smile forming on his lips.

"Lando," you say softly, overcome with emotion, "thank you for bringing me into the paddock."

A tender smile graces his lips as he gently caresses your cheek. "You did amazing, Y/N; I'm proud of you."

His words fill you with warmth, and as he leans in to kiss you, you feel a rush of love and affection wash over you, knowing that with Lando by your side, there is nothing you can't face together.

[keeperoftinyarmy]

"we are different from other companies and BTS are making their own music and are being genuine" is a marketing argument. Their trademark if you will. It is what was ment to give them a edge to make a dent in the kpop market, since the company was starting from nothing and it's a highly competitive market. Again, it doesn't mean it's a complete lie. They did have them involved in the music and they did capitalize on their chemistry. It's very clear they bounce of each other naturally. Now they also were kids trusting the team on what they needed to do to succeed. During rehearsals, BangPD used to stop freeze the recording at any time and make them start all over if they weren't perfectly aligned (shoulders at the same height when jumping, etc....). So if the script said "hold each other's hand" they would do it and even add a slap on the butt maybe because they are comfortable with each other and there's nothing wrong with holding each other's hand any way. They are very very comfortable with each other's, more than any group I've ever seen. But physical intimacy doesn't mean sexual attraction. The other aspect you need to take into account is that SK is so homophobic, they don't see men being touchy with each other as any indication of their sexuality, because being gay is so unnatural they first think of locker room behavior. Of course some would still raise an eyebrow when seeing Jikook level of interactions. But if anything they did couldn't be brushed aside, there would be a scandal. So are they hiding in plain sight or are they just extremely close and playing it up because fans like it ?

They are entertainers, it's their job. Not just singers, entertainers. I would suggest you consider them as actors in a TV series. Their chemistry was so good the writer wrote more and more scenes for them and then they were even encouraged to improvise because their chemistry is this good and now most of it is improvised. Now, are they together off screen ? That would be their private life we know close to nothing about.

This part right here. I actually keep this in mind all the time when I watch content. I try to remember that they may not view things through the same lens as I do. There are people in my life that did not pick up on anything sexual/romantic in BTS/Jikook interactions. They just see a group of guys that were close. But I have also been with those people when they saw similar closeness between a male and female and immediately their thoughts went to “are they dating?” I have to remember that many people see life through a heteronormative view.

You’ve made some great points. Thank you for sharing. I truly appreciate it.

[sanguine-prince]

i’m sure i’m not the first to say something like this, but let me tell you about my poc-passing-as-white jay gatsby headcanon!!

for some background, in the 1920s there was an interesting shift regarding (white) skin tones. previously, tans were viewed as a sign that a person worked out in the fields, and therefore a trademark of the lower class. however, slowly after the industrial revolution, it increasingly became a representation of luxury, since the rich upper class would have the time to lounge about and sunbathe at their leisure.

i say all this to show that a poc gatsby would have the ostensible class and wealth for a tan, which would ‘excuse’ a slightly browner skin tone in the public eye.

(the 20s was also the setting of passing by nella larsen, so that’s neat.)

in my vision, he’s biracial (maybe his mother was black & his father was a german immigrant) with skin light enough to pass for white.

the fact that nick states that gatsby keeps his hair neatly groomed and cut might be to prevent it from curling up.

additionally, i think it could contrast tom’s white supremacy & his fear of poc social progress.

it would also create a deeper divide between gatsby and daisy, and once again the contrast between him and tom. in my mind, daisy wouldn’t know about it until the point where tom reveals everything about gatsby’s bootlegging etc. with jay revealing it to her in the car ride back (oops then she hits myrtle).

then, when she chooses tom and the life of comfort, wealth, status, etc that their marriage offers, she also rejects not only gatsby’s new money but also his race.

it’s a lot more thematically significant for the american dream as well—it’s still unattainable and essentially tainted by capitalism, and it also emphasizes that it’s restricted to the white upper class. social mobility only becomes available to gatsby when he disguises his racial identity.

similarly, it fits with gatsby’s identity reconstruction—the quintessential american is white, rich, and educated.

daisy and tom have that ticket into society because they have that inherent thing that he will never have—pedigree, in both class and race. that’s something that even nick has.

(in my mind, he tells nick all about it the night before he dies & nick understands as best he can and doesn’t think less of him, because it further highlights the differences between his & gatsby’s relationship v. gatsby’s relationship with daisy; namely, the transparency -> acceptance give-and-take that he and daisy never had. because of having to hide himself from daisy in order to maintain her affection, he builds an expectation that he must be someone that he is not as well as developing a transactional definition of love (he gives, and people love him as long as he can continue to give) in order to be loved. therefore, nick’s immediate curiosity and fascination with who he truly is is foreign to him. not to get too into their dynamic lmao i just think it’s really interesting.)

finally, the very last part where nick is sitting and looking at the bay and thinking about the first immigrants and their dreams and how gatsby embodied the purity and naivety of those dreams is further exemplified by his racial ‘otherness.’

and there’s,,, technically nothing in the book to explicitly refute this from what i remember!

(n.b.: it has been a hot second since i’ve read tgg, so lmk if i’ve got anything wrong!)

[hitomisuzuya]

The recent event made me incredibly happy for Wanderer. He didn’t win (not that he really cared to) but can I have Reader giving him lots of hugs and kisses as a participation reward for him? :3

Wanderer x fem!reader. Hugs. Kisses. Scara being shy. Fluff. Drabble. Slight Inter-darshan Championship event spoilers.

Omg this request is so sweet. I hope you enjoy. I know you guys don't fancy my fluffy, romance stuff as much as my smut, but I enjoy writing stuff like this too.

"You take care to make sure that Wanderer consistently keeps up with his studies, y/n," Nahida said, grinning up at you as you heard Wanderer's trademark scoff.

You nodded. "Of course. I'll take some classes with him. It'll be fun." You returned her smile, and looked over at Wanderer.

"Yay, my own personal hall monitor," Wanderer rolled his eyes. However, he supposed he would tolerate studying, taking classes, writing essays and taking tests if it meant you were there with him.

Once Nahida has left you two alone, you threw your arms around Wanderer in a hug. "I am so proud of you, Wanderer. I saw you steal the Diadem from Layla, and zip through the air dodging everyone. You were amazing! And you almost won. And you helped bring those men that were going to kidnap Sachin to justice. This competition truly couldn't have gone on without you."

Wanderer smirked. Oh, please keep talking. He knew how great he was. And he especially liked hearing how great he was coming from you. "Don't mention it." He wrapped his arms around you, returning your embrace after a few moments.

He sighed, frustrated as he broke the embrace. Crossing his arms, Wanderer looked at you, raising an eyebrow. He sighed again, impatiently this time. "Well, I'm waiting," He said, pointing his finger at you and making a come hither motion with it.

"Waiting for what?" You asked, cocking your head curiously.

"You said if I participated like Nahida asked, there would be a kiss in the for me after all this bull was said and done," He explained, blushing.

You smiled.

You hadn't forgotten.

You just wanted to hear him ask outloud for it. Sometimes you couldn't just give him what he wanted right away all the time. It was good to make him work for it every once and awhile.

The moment your lips connected with his, Wanderer pulled his hat down to cover his face and yours.

He'd been waiting for this moment since the competition had started.

[broken-egg-yolk-blog]

part one

The issue with Will Solace is not that he is sarcastic and flirty. In fact, Nico finds that part of it incredibly endearing. The issue is that he acts that way with everyone. He had this underlying level of charm to him, one that seemed to lay under his skin and was deemed incapable of being washed away. It was the way he could banter with practically anyone like they were an old friend, granted most of them were but still, and starting conversations never seemed to prove any form of difficulty to him.

Nico pondered this as he watched Will stroll around the infirmary, his incredibly serious clipboard in hand. It didn’t bother Nico, it’s not like he would even admit it if it did, that the healer would share grins and jokes, and those stupid winks of his. It was truly unfortunate, in Nico’s eyes, that Will had been right. On some level, he did in fact have an undeniable charm to him. You have to be blind not to notice it.

“Has anyone told you that you have a staring problem?” Will had turned back towards Nico, one hand on his hip the other dangling at his side with the clipboard.

Nico flushed, playing it off with his trademark eyeroll, “You may have mentioned this.”

“It’s rather ironic, considering that you have trouble with eye contact,” Nico could nearly hear the playful smirk on Will’s lips, he didn’t need to look up from the speck on the floor to know it was there. “Maybe it’s just that overwhelming amount of charm I have.”

“I do not. And it’s not. You’re not-” Nico huffed, the words not settling right in his throat even after they were spoken. This was just downright unfair. The son of Apollo had this unsettling habit of constantly looking at the people he was speaking to, like directly at them. It made Nico flustered very often, another thing he would never admit, the idea that Will Solace was directly perceiving him as they spoke was enough to cause his sentences to trip and fall on the way out. It wasn’t as if he was pointedly trying to avoid eye contact either, the idea of staring someone directly in the eyes, especially if they happened to be Wills eyes, while trying to converse? Downright distracting in every way.

“Oh yeah, you’re totally cooked, too far gone.” Will shifted his weight, stepping closer to Nico and oh-so-casually leaning up against whatever piece of furniture was nearest. He said a silent thank you to the gods that it wasn’t a rolling cart this time.

“What does that even mean?” Nico peeled his gaze up and pointed it directly at the other boy's eyes, fighting against the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“You’re obviously succumbing to my dangerous levels of charisma,” Will said, his words flourished with an ever dramatic and overly poetic tone.

“You are so incredibly pathetic.” Nico did his best to lace his own words with anguish and mild amounts of disinterest, he would have liked to think he had picked up pretty good acting skills over the past few years of deception. He, in reality, was not as destined for the stage as he hoped.

“Dudes love a distressed and pitiful man, y’know”

Nico’s face flushed bright red. Did Will know? How could he have known? Nico hadn’t told him about his not-so-secret secret. I mean it was exactly a secret at this point, a lot of people knew he was gay. A lot as in, maybe five people? Still, Nico wasn’t exactly parading that information around freely to anyone who held a conversation with him. Nicos mind shifted, Will had been talking about himself, perhaps the medic was speaking out of his own interest. It wouldn’t be unlikely, I mean if Nico had it correct Kayla had two dads. Maybe it ran in the family? Nico still wasn’t entirely sure how all of it worked. Piper had tried to explain it to him after a conversation he’d had with Jason, who proved to be very supportive but truly not much help, but her own knowledge was limited and Nico had gotten too embarrassed and left. Regardless, the thought swarmed around his head at a million miles an hour, he began to wonder if he had inhaled a swarm of flying insects at some point that had just now decided to wake from hibernation. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about the possibility that Will took interest in other guys before, (out of pure, harmless curiosity, naturally.) but for some reason that statement had made it feel significantly more tangible.

“Hate to interrupt your very productive inventorying,” Kayla appeared from the back of the infirmary, Nico had almost forgotten that she had been there, “But I am incredibly bored and leaving you for archery practice.”

Will, looking to be very slightly embarrassed, glanced at the watch around his wrist and then around the room, appearing to make his mind up on if the infirmary would fall to pieces if she left. Nico didn’t think Will had a choice even if he did speak up, he had learned in the past few weeks that there really is no changing Kayla’s mind once it is set.

“Very well, I will simply have to suffer through your absence.”

“Ugh you’re so dramatic Will,”

Finally, Nico thought, someone sensible around here.

“I am just living my truth,” Will sighed, placing a hand over his heart and setting his face with feigned hardship.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kayla was mostly out the door, she turned back and shot a mischievous glance at her brother, “Try and get some actual work done will ya? And leave the poor boy alone, he’s suffered enough, he doesn’t need your ridiculous excuse of flirting to further it.”

When Nico looked over at Will he was surprised to see that they were roughly equal shades of red. That didn’t help Nico quiet the blush spreading across his face at rapid rates. Was Will actually flirting with him? There could be no way. He must act this way with everyone, there was no chance Nico could be that special.

Will cleared his throat, “Well, let’s get to work then.”

Nico gladly hopped down from his perch on the desk, grateful for any form of distraction. The infirmary was rather quiet, by some miracle. Only two beds were occupied. The summer air was warm and drifted through the room via the open windows that Will claimed would “help the healing”. It had grown to be a rather comfortable, consistent place for Nico, assuming it was overfilled and unstaffed (which was unfortunately often).

Will set him to work almost instantly, handing him a consistent stream of bandages to sort by size and file away into cabinets. They chatted as they worked, casual friendly banter that flowed naturally between them. Luckily Kayla’s comment seemed to knock a little bit of Wills obsession with being charming out of him for the moment being, Nico totally wasn’t even upset it in the slightest.

—

As their chore wore down slowly and the afternoon hot and late, Will plopped down onto and empty cot, laying back and letting his eyes shut. “Thank you again for the help, Neeks.”

“Yeah, anytime.” Nico replied, following Wills lead and falling on the cot beside him.

The two sat, a moment of shared silence between them. Will scootched closer to Nico, their legs brushing together as they hung off the edge of the mattress. Nico could feel Wills gaze burning into his cheek and reluctantly turned to meet his eyes.

“Hi,” Will said, his voice no more than a whisper.

“Hi,” Nico replied, “Why are you whispering?”

“Because.”

“That’s very specific and helpful.”

“You’re welcome,” Will eyes seemed to be tracing every detail of Nico’s face, his lips tugging into the softest most relaxed smile Nico had ever seen. Will readjusted his head, shifting it closer to Nico’s, their faces just inches apart, Nico could almost feel his breath if he focused hard enough.

Despite every instinct in his body screaming at him to look away, Nico held his gaze on the boy next to him. He found it more and more difficult to get a sufficient amount of air into his lungs or feel anything other than the electricity coursing through his veins and the overwhelming thumping of his heart in every major arteries.

“We’re really close,” Nico blurted out, still uselessly whispering.

“Yeah,” Will held for a beat, looking intently at Nico, “I got lonely,”

“You’re laying next to me,”

“And I still feel too far away.”

Nico’s stomach tensed, his throat tightened, palms sweat, breathing more uneven and shallow than before. This couldn’t be happening right now, every muscle in his body felt as if it was set on fire by the sun itself. In this case, the son of the sun.

Nico could not muster another response, just kept his eyes locked with Wills.

“Is it working?” Will asked finally, in a breathy whisper that made Nico want to make decisions that could ruin his entire life.

Nico blinked, “What?”

“My charm. Is it working yet?”

Nico shot up, groaning, “Shut up, Solace, actually fuck you,”

“Is that an offer?”

“~NO!”

part three

[sheriffaxolotl]

Fallen: A Path to Redemption (Chapter 3) Alastor x Reader

"Solace, you say? Well, my dear fallen friend, in Hell, solace comes with a price."

“What kind?”

“How about... your soul, my dear.”

Word count: 5353

✿ Friends to Lovers ✿ Slow Burn ✿ Eventual Romance

✿ Drabble | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡

As Charlie led you down the dimly lit corridor of the hotel, your nerves began to flutter in your chest like a trapped bird. While her offer of hospitality was undeniably kind, the prospect of leaving behind the familiarity of your own apartment in Hell filled you with a sense of unease you couldn't quite shake. After all, your apartment had been your sanctuary for longer than you cared to admit, a haven amidst the chaos of your day-to-day.

When you finally reached the door of the room designated for your stay, Charlie's infectious enthusiasm was impossible to ignore. Her bright smile was enough to momentarily ease your anxiety as she gestured for you to enter. "Here we are! I hope it's to your liking!"

Stepping over the threshold, however, disappointment washed over you like a wave crashing against the shore. The room was devoid of character, lacking the warmth and charm of your own living space. Despite Charlie's efforts to make it inviting, it fell short of your expectations.

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Charlie," You began, your voice hesitant as you struggled to find the right words. "But I think I'd feel more comfortable in my own apartment. It's just... I'm accustomed to it, you know?"

Before Charlie could respond, Alastor, ever the showman, interjected with his trademark flair, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Nonsense! Allow me to remedy this situation." With a snap of his fingers, the room was transformed before your eyes, your own furniture materializing right in front of you. Your bed, dresser, bookcase—every piece of your beloved belongings stood before you, a perfect replica of your own apartment.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you surveyed the scene, overwhelmed by Alastor's unexpected gesture. "Alastor, you really didn't have to go to all this trouble," You managed to stammer, your gratitude mingled with a hint of embarrassment at the intrusion into your personal life.

But deep down, despite your protests, you couldn't deny the warmth that bloomed in your chest at the sight of your familiar surroundings. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about Alastor's willingness to make you feel at home in this unfamiliar environment. And for that, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude, even if it came with a tinge of embarrassment.

In true Alastor fashion, he waved off your protests with a casual flick of his hand and a wide grin. "Truly – No trouble at all, my dear!" he declared, his voice filled with cheerful reassurance.

Charlie looked torn, caught between wanting to respect your wishes and knowing that ultimately, you didn't have much say in the matter. After all, Alastor owned your soul, and you was bound to serve him regardless of your personal preferences. It was a reality you had grown accustomed to over the centuries, a reminder of the bargain you had struck with him long ago.

You sighed inwardly, realizing that there was little point in arguing. Alastor had signed you up for this, and as much as you resented the loss of autonomy, there was little you could do to change it now. Besides, in the grand scheme of things, having your own furniture in the hotel room was a small comfort, a reminder of the life you had built for yourself in Hell.

With a resigned nod, you turned to Charlie, mustering a small smile. "Thank you, Charlie. I appreciate your kindness," You said softly, accepting the situation for what it was. After all, in a place like Hell, it was the small acts of kindness that kept you going.

As Alastor exited the room with his characteristic flair, Charlie's warm demeanor enveloped you like a protective embrace. Her eyes sparkled with genuine interest and a hint of curiosity as she turned to you. "Let's get you settled in, shall we?" she suggested, her tone inviting and reassuring, offering a glimmer of comfort in the unfamiliar setting you have been put into.

Charlie’s smile was infectious, and you found yourself mirroring it, appreciative of her warmth amidst the uncertainty that surrounded you. With Charlie's help, you both delved into the task of unpacking your belongings, turning the hotel room into a semblance of familiarity. Side by side, you found that Charlie's warm presence offered a sense of comfort, her genuine curiosity evident in the way she eagerly engaged you in conversation. With each exchanged word, she sought to unravel the enigma of your connection to Alastor, her inquiries veiled in a delicate balance of curiosity and respect.

"So, how long have you been working for Alastor?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity and sincerity.

You paused, considering how much to reveal. Charlie was kind-hearted and well-meaning, but you weren't sure how much she knew about Alastor's true nature. "Centuries," You replied cryptically, deciding to keep the details vague for now.

Charlie nodded understandingly, though you could tell she was curious for more information. "He's quite the character, isn't he?" she remarked with a chuckle, her eyes glancing towards the door through which Alastor had exited.

You couldn't help but laugh at her understatement. "That's one way to put it," You agreed, remembering the countless times Alastor had surprised you with his antics and enigmatic nature. "Alastor has a way of keeping things interesting, that's for sure."

Charlie's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she leaned in slightly, as if eager to hear more about your experiences with the Radio Demon. "Oh, do tell," she encouraged, her voice filled with genuine interest.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal about your complicated history with Alastor. "Well, let's just say he has a knack for surprises," You replied cryptically, deciding to keep the details vague for now.

Charlie nodded, though you could tell she was eager for more information. "I can only imagine," she remarked with a bit of a disappointed smile.

As you continued unpacking, you couldn't shake the feeling that Charlie was probing for more information about your relationship with Alastor. While you appreciated her curiosity, some secrets were best left buried, especially in Hell. Nonetheless, you were grateful for her friendly demeanor and genuine interest in getting to know you better.

As you both finished unpacking, Charlie glanced around the room with a satisfied smile. "There, all done," she announced cheerfully. "I hope you find everything to your liking."

You nodded appreciatively, though a small part of you still felt hesitant despite Charlie's warmth. Trusting others had always been a challenge for you, but in this moment, her genuine kindness made it a bit easier to let your guard down.

"Thank you, Charlie," You said sincerely, offering her a grateful smile. "I really appreciate your help."

Charlie returned your smile, her eyes twinkling with kindness. "Of course, anytime," she replied warmly. "If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."

With that, Charlie bid you farewell, leaving you to settle into your new surroundings. As you unpacked the last few personal items, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Charlie's hospitality and the opportunity to start afresh again in Hell.

As you sat alone in the room, the events of the day replayed in your mind like scenes from a vivid dream. Alastor's sudden appearance and his effortless manipulation of your belongings had stirred up a storm of conflicting emotions within you. On one hand, you were grateful for his assistance, but on the other, You couldn't shake the feeling of being manipulated, of being at the mercy of forces beyond your control.

As you ponder these thoughts, a sense of vulnerability washes over you, leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain in this unfamiliar environment. The room, a sanctuary of familiarity a moment ago, now felt like a battleground of emotions, each conflicting feeling warring for dominance within you.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed aside the thoughts swirling in your mind, reminding yourself that in Hell, trust was a luxury few could afford. But deep down, a flicker of hope remained, a glimmer of possibility that perhaps, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, there was still room for genuine connection and kindness.

With another heavy sigh, you decided to retreat to the comforting embrace of the bed, its soft mattress offering a temporary reprieve from the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. As you lay there, staring up at the ceiling, you couldn't help but feel the weight of the day's events pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

The room was silent, save for the distant echoes of laughter and conversation drifting in from the corridors of the hotel. The dim light filtering through the curtains cast dancing shadows across the room, your eyes following them as they grew heavier by the second. As you lay there, the softness of the mattress beneath you beckoning you into its embrace, you felt the weight of the day begin to lift.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to sink into the warmth of the bed, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest matching the steady rhythm of your breath. In the silence of the room, the echoes of the day's events slowly began to fade, replaced by the gentle hum of tranquillity that enveloped you like a cocoon.

With each passing moment, the lines between wakefulness and slumber blurred, the edges of consciousness softening as sleep beckoned you into its embrace. And as the darkness of sleep swept over you, carrying you away on its gentle currents, you surrendered to its embrace, grateful for the respite it offered from the turmoil of the day.

The following morning arrived with a soft, golden glow seeping through the curtains, gently nudging you awake from the depths of slumber. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you found yourself disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings of the hotel room a stark contrast to the comfort of your own apartment.

With a groan, you shifted in the bed, the soft sheets clinging to your body as if reluctant to release you from their grasp. Glancing down, you grimaced at the realization that you had fallen asleep in the same clothes you had worn the day before. It was a small inconvenience, but it added to the disorientation of waking up in a new place.

Reluctantly, you pushed yourself upright, the mattress protesting softly beneath your weight as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you rose to your feet and made your way across the room toward the door that Charlie had pointed out as the bathroom.

Stepping inside, you took a moment to survey your surroundings. The bathroom was spacious, far larger than the cramped quarters of your own apartment. The pristine white tiles gleamed in the soft light, casting a warm glow over the room. A sense of luxury emanated from every corner, from the sleek countertops to the gleaming fixtures.

You began to peel off the clothes you had slept in, their fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin. With each garment removed, you felt a sense of liberation, as if shedding the weight of the previous day's turmoil along with your clothing.

With a sigh of relief, you stepped into the spacious shower, allowing the warm water to cascade over your weary body. It was a welcome respite from the chaos of the previous day, a moment of tranquillity amidst the storm of uncertainty that surrounded you.

As the steam enveloped you in its comforting embrace, you couldn't help but luxuriate in the sensation of the water washing away the tension that had settled in your muscles. With each drop that fell, you felt yourself relax a little more, the knots of anxiety slowly unraveling beneath the gentle caress of the shower.

Taking your time, you reached for the shampoo and lathered it into your hair, massaging your scalp with slow, deliberate motions. The scent of lavender filled the air, soothing your frayed nerves and calming your racing thoughts. It was a small indulgence, but in that moment, it felt like a luxury you had been denied for far too long.

Next, you turned your attention to your body, allowing the soap to glide across your skin in long, sweeping motions. The gentle hum of the water provided a soothing backdrop as you washed away the grime of the previous day, reveling in the simple pleasure of cleanliness.

With your body feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, you turned your attention to your wings, careful not to neglect them in your grooming routine. With practiced ease, you spread them wide, allowing the warm air of the shower to penetrate their delicate feathers. It was a sensation unlike any other, the soft flutter of the air against your wings sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Stepping out of the shower, you reached for the plush towel hanging nearby, relishing the softness of the fabric against your skin. As you dried yourself off, you couldn't help but hum a small tune under your breath, the melody a testament to the newfound sense of peace that had settled within you.

Glancing around the bathroom, your eyes landed on the unfamiliar hair dryer sitting on the countertop. With a smile, you reached for it, grateful for the opportunity to dry off the last of the water from your hair and wings. It was a small gesture, but in that moment, it felt like a gesture of welcome from the hotel itself, a silent acknowledgment of your presence in this strange and unfamiliar place.

With your face freshly washed and teeth brushed, you emerged from the bathroom, feeling rejuvenated and ready to face the day ahead. The room, once a temporary refuge, now felt more like home, its familiar surroundings offering a sense of comfort amidst the chaos that is your life.

As you perused the selection of clothes you had brought with you, your gaze settled on a crisp white button-up shirt, a pair of tailored dress pants, and a sleek black vest. It was a classic ensemble, one that never failed to make you feel confident and put together.

You paused momentarily as you reached for the binder that lay atop the dresser, its presence a constant reminder of the wings hidden beneath your clothing. With a sigh, you fastened the binder around your chest, the pressure a necessary discomfort to keep your wings concealed from prying eyes.

Over the years, your wings had gradually diminished in size, their once majestic span now reduced to mere remnants of their former glory. Perhaps it was the weight of your sins or the relentless torment of Hell that had caused them to wither away, but regardless of the reason, they served as a constant reminder of the life you had left behind.

Once your wings were securely bound, you slipped into the shirt, relishing the sensation of the smooth fabric against your skin. The sleeves were a perfect fit, the cuffs falling just right over your wrists. Next came the dress pants and vest, the familiar routine bringing a sense of normalcy to the morning ritual. With each garment donned, you felt a little more like yourself, the layers of clothing offering you comfort.

Finally, you sat down on the edge of the bed, the leather of your dress shoes gleaming in the soft light of the room. With a practiced hand, you laced up the shoes, the familiar motions soothing in their repetition.

You stood before the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with a mix of familiarity and uncertainty. With a small sigh, You smoothed down the fabric of your vest, adjusting the collar of your shirt. You couldn't help but indulge in a moment of vanity, spinning around in a small twirl for your own amusement.

As you came to a stop, your gaze drifted down to the watch on your wrist, its hands ticking steadily towards the start of another day in Hell.

7:50 am.

Yesterday, this would have been the time you’ll be bustling around the kitchen of your apartment, preparing a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast to fuel you for the day ahead. But here, in the unfamiliar surroundings of the Hotel, you were faced with the daunting task of reintroducing yourself to the kitchen.

The memory of last night brought a small smile to your lips, the warmth of camaraderie and laughter still lingering in your mind. Despite your initial discomfort, you couldn't deny that there was something undeniably comforting about being surrounded by such lively company.

Stepping out of your room, you descended the stairs to the first level of the hotel, the echoes of your footsteps reverberating through the empty corridor. Despite the grandeur of the Hotel, navigating its labyrinthine halls proved to be a challenge, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration as you found yourself turned around once again.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of wandering, you stumbled upon the entrance to the kitchen, a wave of relief washing over you as you stepped inside. You set about your morning routine, the familiar tasks of making coffee and preparing breakfast grounding you in the present moment. You rummaged through the pantry in search of a loaf of bread, your fingers trailing over the shelves until you finally found what you were looking for.

But the toaster proved to be more elusive, hiding away in some forgotten corner of the kitchen. With a sigh, you embarked on a mission to locate the elusive appliance, determined not to let it thwart your efforts to enjoy a proper breakfast.

After what felt like an eternity of searching, you finally unearthed the toaster from its hiding spot behind a stack of pots and pans. As you wait for the coffee to finish brewing and the toast to brown, you let out a sigh of contentment, the tension of the morning melting away with each passing moment. It was a rare luxury to have no idea what the day had in store for you, to be free from the constraints of routine and obligation.

With your plate and mug in hand, you made your way to the dining room table, sinking into the chair with a sense of satisfaction. As you savor each bite of toast and sip of coffee, you lose track of time scrolling on your phone.

The tranquillity of the morning was shattered by a sudden crash that jolted you out of your mindless scrolling. With a sigh, you set down your mug and followed the sound, your curiosity piqued by the source of the disturbance.< /p>

As you rounded the corner, you found yourself face to face with Husk, his head slumped on the bar counter as he snored softly. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sight of the sleeping demon, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the vulnerability of sleep. You couldn't help but marvel at the fact that the noise hadn't stirred him from his slumber.

But your amusement was short-lived as you noticed the broken glass scattered on the floor, evidence of the disturbance that had disrupted the quiet of the morning. With a sense of resignation, you retrieved a broom and dustpan from a nearby closet, intent on cleaning up the mess before it became a hazard.

Careful not to disturb Husk's slumber, you began to sweep up the shards of glass, the rhythmic swish of the broom against the floor a soothing counterpoint to the chaos of the moment. Halfway through the task, you were interrupted by the sound of Husk's grumbling voice, his eyes squinting as he blinked away the remnants of sleep.

"What the shit are you doin'?" he mumbled, his gaze shifting from you to the broom and dustpan in your hands, then to the broken glass on the floor.

Suppressing a laugh at his disheveled appearance, you offered him a sheepish smile. "Just cleaning up a little mess," You replied casually, gesturing to the broken bottle on the floor. "Didn't mean to wake you."

With a concerned furrow of your brow, you couldn't help but comment on Husk's less-than-ideal sleeping position. "Isn't it uncomfortable sleeping like that?" You questioned, your tone laced with genuine concern. "I have to admit, you look awful."

Husk's response was predictably nonchalant, a mere grunt escaping his lips as he half-heartedly acknowledged your remark. He leaned back from the bar to stretch, his movements sluggish and weighed down by the remnants of sleep. "Eh," was all he offered before rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a tired sigh. "At least you look like you slept well enough for the both of us."

"Well, that's what happens when you sleep in a bed," You retorted with a teasing smirk, emptying the glass into the bin behind the bar. "Obviously that habit isn't going anywhere soon?" You couldn't help but add, shooting him a judgmental glance as he reached for another bottle at the bar.

"Piece of advice, little lady," Husk began, his tone surprisingly serious as he pulled the bottle away from his lips. "The best way to beat a hangover is to keep drinking," he declared before taking another swig from the bottle, his eyes glinting mischievously.

The suggestion caused you to grimace involuntarily, shaking your head in disapproval. With a dismissive wave, you turned away from Husk and headed back to your coffee, only for it to be gone, much to your dismay.

You then notice Niffty running around, chasing what looks like a bug. “You shouldn’t leave such a mess behind, (Y/N)!” Amidst the chaos of Niffty's playful antics, her voice pierced through the lively atmosphere, chastising you for the mess you had left behind – your unfinished breakfast. Niffty's scolding only added to your frustration, her words a stark reminder of your oversight.

Taking a deep breath to quell the rising irritation, you pushed back the urge to snap in response. 'Stay calm,' you reminded yourself silently. 'It's not worth getting worked up over.'

With reluctant determination, you turned back toward the kitchen, hoping to rectify the situation with a fresh start. However, your hopes were swiftly dashed as you laid eyes on the coffee machine. The once-pristine appliance now bore the telltale signs of neglect, its surface marred by scattered coffee grounds and spilled espresso. The milk steamer, once gleaming, now appeared to be encrusted with dried milk, a testament to its recent use and subsequent neglect. And standing nearby, leaning casually against the counter, was Angel, his presence exuding an air of nonchalance.

"Morning, tots," he greeted you with a lackluster wave, his eyes lingering on you with a hint of judgment. The intensity of his scrutiny sent a ripple of self-consciousness through you, prompting an involuntary shift in your stance as you struggled to maintain your composure.

With a tense smile, you offered a tentative nod in response, your fingers twitching nervously at your sides. The weight of Angel's gaze felt heavy upon you, casting a shadow of doubt over your every move.

"Good morning, Angel," You replied, mustering a small wave of your own, attempting to mask the unease bubbling beneath the surface. 'Maybe he'll clean up after himself,' You thought optimistically, a faint glimmer of hope flickering in the back of your mind.

However, your hopes were swiftly dashed as Angel straightened up and sauntered out of the kitchen without a second glance. Disappointment washed over you, mingling with a growing sense of annoyance.

With a frustrated huff, you seized a cloth and set to work, methodically wiping down the counter and tackling the stubborn remnants of spilled coffee and dried milk. Each swipe of the cloth was fuelled by a mix of irritation and determination, a silent vow to restore order to the chaos that had unfolded in the kitchen.

As you meticulously cleaned every surface, a sense of satisfaction washed over you with each spotless section. Finally, with a small smile of accomplishment, you surveyed your handiwork, admiring the gleaming countertops and pristine coffee machine.

Clean. Orderly. Good.

As you reached for a new mug, the kitchen suddenly became a hive of activity as Charlie burst in, radiating her usual positivity, with Vaggie trailing behind, looking a bit groggy. Their contrasting energies collided in the space, momentarily overwhelming your senses.

"Morning, (Y/N)!" Charlie greeted you with her trademark bright smile, her movements fluid as she glided across the kitchen. Vaggie offered a nod in your direction, her expression reflecting her morning weariness.

Your spirits sank further as you watched Charlie effortlessly use the mugs labeled 'C' and 'V,' resigning yourself to the fact that your morning routine was once again being disrupted. With a sigh, you stood there with the mug in your hand, feeling a sense of defeat wash over you.

Vaggie, ever perceptive, caught onto your struggle, and without a word, she held out her hand for the mug. You hesitated for a moment before handing it over, managing a small smile at the gesture. Sometimes, it was the little victories that made all the difference.

Charlie's question about your sleep broke through your fog of exhaustion, her energy levels seemingly boundless even at this early hour. "How did you sleep?" she asked, her voice filled with a bit too much energy for your still-groggy morning state.

"Yeah, I slept well, thank you. What about the both of you?" You asked, trying to mask your slight discomfort with a polite tone. Conversing with others, especially so early in the morning, wasn't exactly your forte. After all, spending most of your time alone and communicating through a microphone had become your norm.

As the conversation unfolded, we found ourselves engaged in a pleasant exchange, standing around the kitchen with steaming mugs of coffee in hand. Each sip seemed to punctuate the pauses between our words, creating a rhythm of its own.

"So, any other jobs besides paperwork I should be thinking of?" You inquired, breaking the brief lull in conversation. You observed Charlie's lips parting to respond when suddenly, a static-like voice interrupted, slicing through the air with an unexpected intrusion.

"Well, well! What do we have here? Morning meetings?" Alastor's voice cut through the air with his usual flair as he entered the kitchen, his presence commanding attention. He looked just as polished as he did the day before, not a single hair out of place. You watched as Charlie began to respond, but you found yourself tuning out her words as your gaze lingered on Alastor. There was something about his demeanor that struck you as different today, something more serious and focused than usual. It left you wondering what had prompted this sudden change.

"Then I guess I better show her, hmm?" Alastor's voice snapped you back to the conversation, his piercing gaze meeting mine. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden attention directed your way.

"Sorry, what now?" You asked, your tone slightly abrupt as you perked up at the mention of something concerning you.

"Showing you your office, my dear," Alastor clarified, bringing you up to speed with the conversation that had unfolded in your momentary distraction. 'Oh... OH! You get an office?! Neat!' You thought to yourself, a spark of excitement igniting within you at the prospect.

Placing your empty mug into the sink, you followed after the overlord, trailing behind him as your eyes scanned over his back. Despite the anticipation of seeing your new workspace, your thoughts couldn't help but wander back to Alastor's sudden change in demeanor. Where had he been all this time again? The question lingered in the back of your mind, a nagging curiosity that threatened to consume you if left unanswered.

Before you could muster the courage to speak, Alastor's attention was diverted elsewhere, and he began leading you through the hotel, guiding you to your small office space.

"This will be your domain, my dear," he explained, sweeping his hand around the room in a grand gesture. "I trust you to keep track of expenses and paperwork. It's not the most glamorous task, but it's essential for keeping the hotel running smoothly."

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. The idea of having your own office space was rather exciting. Back in your apartment, you had only ever used the dining room table for tasks like these. As you tried to settle into the idea of this new role, you couldn't shake the feeling of warmth and acceptance that surrounded you in the Hazbin Hotel. So far, you have been offered a room rent-free and now an office space to work in. Sure, there were a few minor hiccups, but overall, this was a nice change.

As you walked past Alastor and into the office to inspect the desk and chair, your eyes caught sight of a medium-sized box placed on your desk, adorned with a red bow. Alastor noticed the confusion evident in your furrowed brows as you studied the box.

"It's for you. A present from me – A way to give thanks for everything you did in my absences," Alastor declared, making a sweeping gesture toward you and the box. You shot him a puzzled look, wondering what he could possibly have gotten you as thanks. As you pondered this, you slid the box closer and began to unwrap it, lifting the lid with anticipation.

A gasp escaped your lips as you peered into the box. There, nestled within, was a beautiful Cathedral Radio (Atwater Kent Model 82 for reference). You traced your fingers along its edges, marveling at the exquisite craftsmanship. You had been trying to find one of these for years, but they were always out of your price range.

"Alastor – This is gorgeous," You began, intending to express your gratitude, but he cut you off before you could finish.

"Oh! Isn't it? Much better than that dreadful Voxtech radio you had in your apartment," Alastor remarked, inspecting his gloved fingers with an unmissable amount of sass.

Oh, bollocks.

You offered a strained smile as a wave of awkwardness churned in your stomach. The past drama between the TV demon and Alastor bubbled to the forefront of your mind, casting a shadow over the moment. "Well... These are really hard to find now, and not to mention expensive—"

"Which is why you need one, my dear! Nothing but the best for you, hmm?" Alastor interjected with a grin, leaning closer and placing a hand on the table. His proximity and smug expression made your heart flutter nervously. "You do like it, don't you?"

"Of course! I love it—"

"Splendid!" Alastor cut you off with a flourish, turning to leave with a self-satisfied air. As he headed for the door, you couldn't help but reach out a hand, calling after him. He paused, glancing back over his shoulder, and your eyes locked.

"Thank you. I really do love it," you said, your voice softening as you looked down at the radio. For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something in Alastor's eyes—a hint of warmth perhaps, or genuine satisfaction. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by his trademark grin.

"Of course. Anything for an old friend," Alastor replied with a nod, executing a gesture akin to a regal bow before departing through the door, disappearing from view. As he vanished from sight, the bubble of awkwardness in your lower belly seemed to swell, leaving you feeling unsettled. A quick flash of memory teased you, hinting at something you couldn't quite place—an emotion flickering in Alastor's eyes that didn't quite match his usual demeanor.

Shaking off the confusion, you resolved to focus on the task at hand: settling into your new role. Drawing on the years of guidance from Alastor, you set to work organizing the paperwork and expenses. Despite the lingering questions and unease, you were determined to prove yourself worthy of the responsibility he had bestowed upon you.

Anything for an old friend.

♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿ ♡ ✿

My AO3 account!

Hey everyone! Once again, a massive thank you for all your comments and kudos. Your feedback means the world to me! Just a heads up, I've decided to post new chapters every Thursday from now on. I've recently started my Masters at university, so Thursdays work best for me. See you next Thursday! -Ivory

[puckspoetry]

DPS: Charlie’s Moment

Charlie takes the phrase “carpe diem” to heart throughout the entirety of the film. This is seen most evidently through his “phone call from God” moment. Charlie sneaks in an article demanding that girls are allowed to enrol in Welton Academy. As Keating has taught the Poets that in order to live a life that is truly theirs, they must commit to what they are passionate about and take advantage of opportunities. Charlie’s phone call from God is often seen as his Carpe Diem Moment and is regarded as such for the remainder of the film.

Throughout the film, Charlie looks up to Mr. Keating as he is someone who ignores societal rules and standards; something Charlie strives to do in his every day life. Keating’s attitude towards life inspires Charlie, however his journey is not as central as Neil or Todd’s. Charlie admired Keating as he encourages free thinking and passion for a group of young boys who find themselves constricted by the pressures of conformity and success. Charlie takes great pride in himself and wants to put Keating’s motto to good use which is seen in various points throughout the film.

However, it is in my unprofessional opinion that I disagree with Charlie’s Carpe Diem Moment being the phone call from God. After Neil’s suicide, Charlie’s child-like mannerisms take an enormous blow leading him to becoming protective of his friends yet drawn back in nature. Neil’s suicide takes a massive toll on the entire group and results in Cameron ratting the Dead Poets Society out and blaming Neil’s death on Mr. Keating. Throughout the film, Charlie refrains from lashing out against Cameron (someone he has never liked or wanted to agree with) but this all changes after he finds out what Cameron does.

Neil and Charlie were best friends prior to the film’s setting and they continue their brotherly bond for the entirety of the movie. Charlie confronts Cameron and accuses him of ratting out the group and blaming the situation on Keating. Charlie has changed from someone who refrains from lashing out too harshly to someone who refuses to let injustice pass by. He punches Cameron in the face, and makes this his real Carpe Diem Moment.

Charlie’s punch wasn’t a simple act of defiance, it was him avenging Neil’s death and refusing to stand by as his world goes to hell. This punch is years of pent up anger towards Cameron, however it also includes the memory of both Neil and Keating. Charlie was willing to put his future at Welton on the line in order for him to set the record straight. This proves Charlie’s nature as the caretaker of the group even though this is not blatantly seen. Charlie’s real Carpe Diem Moment was promising Neil that his death would not be meaningless; that his death was not a simple mistake, but a claiming of independence.

~

I’m so trademarking “Carpe Diem Moment”

[pitstoptaken]

Hey!

I loooooooooove your racer!charles x wag!carlos au! It's so good!! Can you share more about how they are in private? 🥰

(Or truly, anything you want to share from this au because I truly adore this idea 😍)

WAAAA THANK YOU!! I’d love to share some with you 🥰

Part 1, part 2, part 3 of racer!Charles & wag!Carlos

As a high functioning person who has his life gathered, it was a life-changing experience for Carlos to follow his racer boyfriend. Not like it’s new to travel the world because Carlos has alot of business trips here and there but wow. He is a wag now.

So Charles really had to tell Carlos not to appear with some kind of ~brands~ that aren’t really representing him in order to keep his sponsor well-packed since Carlos is, you know, we can say a high-class man himself.

As stated in previous point, that means Charles just shared his whole wardrobe and his whole life inside and outside Ferrari; as a person who has a partner and as a person who appears alot in media.

Carlos rethinking about getting a PR team which making Charles panic but “babe, we can just chill alright”

(Wow it’s getting serious now, isn’t it?)

Pan!Carlos and bi!Charles actually

Carlos is the clingy one actually. So being brought by Charles everywhere is a very fortunate thing for the Spaniard 😉

Charles is so bad at hiding his expression so he was caught up looking at Carlos affectionately too many times even Carlos was trying to keep everything lowkey

Reassuring hugs and words of affirmations by Carlos (trademark) before and after race

Them trying to spoil each other but also arguing about it because “I have my own money and you too but that doesn’t mean I can’t spoil you”

Charles telling everyone about Carlos but Carlos doesn’t really introduce Charles to his closest ones (sad but why not)

Good Boy Charles (trademark) when he is getting along with Carlos at his work related gathering and everyone was like, “the Charles Leclerc??”

Being home means domestic things like Carlos cooking for him and Charles admiring Carlos sculpted by gods self when Carlos is working

Carlos has to deal with Charles indecisive ass sometimes

 Them trying to deal with cameras all the damn time

Charles being super nice to people and Carlos is like, “you can say no to them”

Charles quality time ass is always clingier when there’s no race

“Move in with me mon beau” “I am literally living in Monaco, Sharls”

[treysimp]

Would you ever do the staff for the bath headcannon ? I love the third years one btw 🥰

It's time babe! I hope you enjoy!

Taking A Bath With Them - GN!Adult Reader/NRC Staff (Crowley, Crewel, Vargas, Trein, Sam)

Rating: T (Lightly suggestive themes)

Tags: Reader's body not described nor are pronouns used, non-sexual domestic intimacy and fluff, elements of body worship, implied body insecurity from reader, established relationship, how do I make myself fall in love with each character I write for guys please explain to me.

Words: 3k

Silly author's notes: Not that I’ve been seeking it out but it feels like I never see anyone trying to put the moves Vargas (like I’m sure you exist, Vargas-fuckers where you at?) so since all of you are so fucking complicated I’m gonna do it! Fluffy domestic garbage for all!

Want more TWST? Here's my masterlist!

Dire Crowley:

‘Never judge a book by its cover, but tattered books don’t get picked off the shelf,’ is probably a quote Crowley heard in passing one time and then immediately tried to contribute to himself. Being the headmaster of a famous and prestigious school involves a lot of hard work, but you can never forget about appearances. Clothes make the man, and if the said man in those clothes doesn’t pull them off, what is even the point of wearing them? It feels like a lecture every time that you and Crowley bathe together, but you can’t say that you necessarily say that you disagree either. If anything, it was a trademark of NRC to be the flashy talented bad boy counterpart to the pure princes of Royal Sword Academy. Public perception seemed to ebb and flow as far as which one was the superior institution, but you would never tire of Crowley’s antics to show up Ambrose and improve NRC’s reputation. You may wonder, does Crowley remove his mask when bathing? And the answer is yes, but it is replaced with a gel pearl mask to ‘get rid of his horrendous eye-bags’ Crowley would say. You would wonder who would even see said eye bags, but you felt like you weren’t going to get a better explanation even if you asked.

Since Crowley loves to travel so much, one of the best parts of any vacation is being dragged to a beautiful outdoor hot spring when the ever-busy Headmaster is relaxed for once. He asks over and over ‘isn’t it beautiful here,' or, ‘are you happy with this,’ or even ‘this was nice of me right’? It’s the smallest hint of insecurity and worries that he will readily give. Crowley wants you to enjoy your time together, but a small part of his heart gnaws at him that maybe he missed something crucial and you were just too kind to say something. That you weren’t having a good time, that you didn’t truly think that he was kind, talented, and magnanimous and was just staying with him out of pity. 

He hated himself for those thoughts, he truly didn’t believe that you would think of him so, but the stream of questions ran across the back of his closed eyes like an unending scroll of his deepest fears shaped into written reality. Crowley would then hear you tell him how happy you were, gushing about the bath, the clarity of the night sky, and the lovely locale and he could feel his anxiety washing away just like splashes of water on the surrounding tile floors circle down a drain. 

He would pull you to his arms and talk about what he wished for the future, any particularly astounding stories from his past, and he would feel a genuine smile whisper across his lips. Maybe he wasn’t as great as he hoped, maybe he wasn’t as kind or as thoughtful, but you were still here in the soft warmth of his arms in this soothing water… and that was more than enough. Maybe he needed to think a little more in the short term, and all that came to mind was the fluttering heartbeat in his chest as your head leaned on his shoulder and his lips met your soft cheek.

Divus Crewel

Crewel is another one for spa treatments and taking great care of your body. He loves to take you into your bath and spoil you with scrubs, oils, and potions of his own making. He is ready to smooth, perfect and tighten every insecurity you have. More than anything, his favorite pastime is stealing you away for a weekend trip to somewhere beautiful where you both can be pampered. 

As the man is also more than a bit into a gorgeous classic car, imagine the most idealized movie setting, the two of you cruising down the coast in a cherry red convertible with fashionable headwear to keep both of your hair behaved while your oversized sunglasses gleam in the sunlight. The word glamor doesn't cover even half of it, but it's a good start.

Expect these trips to be for both business and pleasure: hunting for vintage clothing pieces and fabrics in beautiful locales, scrounging through markets for rare ingredients, and then wasting the rest of the days away at spas, drinking delectable wine and enjoying only the finest foods. You worry that you are too spoiled by him at times, and if you mention this to him, he will just laugh joyfully. 

‘If I ruin all other men for you forever, I can’t say I would complain,’ he would joke, smoothing mud from the bath you shared over his shoulders sensually. He already had ruined all other men for you, but you were sure he probably knew that anyway. That was part of what was so lovely between the two of you, there was so much left unsaid, but never unheard. 

You got ready in the morning together, passing products back and forth across the double sinks in a routine. You would get your dinners and pass pieces of the best bites back and forth so that you could both enjoy each taste together. Every task felt routine but oh so comfortable. You would try the same products and give your opinions on them, swapping purchases back and forth based on who’s skin might suit it more, whose hair would behave better with each ingredient, and so on. 

Students at NRC would try to distract Crewel during class by asking him when he was going to marry you, and most of the time he would throw back some sort of ‘maybe when you get an A on an essay one of these days,' if he was feeling snappy. It was hard to miss the way his eyes would crinkle any time you were mentioned and how his mood would be notably lifted for the rest of class. This isn’t to say that he was any less harsh on his students, but they did see him smile more, so the criticism would be just a bit softer as a result. You would know these days too, as he would pull you into a bath and massage your neck while he laughed heartily at the shenanigans of his classes. 

That was another thing you so loved about these quiet bathtimes, getting to see all of the faces and responses that he kept hidden just for you. 

You were so lucky.   

Happiness.

Ashton Vargas

Your meatheaded darling did mean well, but… he was just one of those people that thought that you could muscle through everything. Unfortunately, he had built enough muscle that he has been proved right so far. While Ashton was quite self-obsessed and would flinch in fear every time he imagined that he lost even a centimeter of calf muscle, he never would give you any grief about how your body looked in the slightest. He was very encouraging and would do everything he could to get you to (healthily) build up your stamina and strength, but there was never a time that he would get frustrated with a failure you had. If you’re a person who cries when they’re frustrated, he will wipe them away. If you are someone who yells or wants to throw things when they’re frustrated, he will give you a ball and let you go ham against a wall until you’re cooled off enough for a hug. Vargas wasn’t always book smart, but he was intuitive to others’ needs in a way that few people are. 

Ashton is very enthusiastic about bathing, which is good for you because you get a great view while soaping up. Since he’s such a show-off, Vargas will wait on you hand and foot to get a chance to flex a muscle, flip his thick hair over his shoulder or sparkle his perfect white teeth your way. 

He just wants to make sure that you feel just as beautiful as he knows he is. He wouldn’t do this for just anyone, you know? You’re special, even when you might not agree with him. There was no arguing with him, if the peak physical specimen of himself thought you were worthy of bodily worship, how could you deny him? Are you saying that he isn’t gorgeous? His big blue eyes will sparkle in dramatic unshed crocodile tears at the thought. Oh? Did you say he is gorgeous? Well, then you are too. Beautiful people know how to spot beautiful things, and the only way you could argue that he was wrong was by saying that he wasn’t beautiful. 

His logic made you want to hit your head against a wall, but when a man with the body of a goddamn superhero tells you that he thinks you’re hot it’s pretty hard to disagree with him. If you still try to fight it, prepare for over-the-top compliments while he forcefully tries to make you relax and go along with his praise. We are talking scrubbing behind your ears and saying that you have ‘well-formed lobes’ kind of compliments. You like that he’s complimenting you, but you also don’t know how to respond either.  

More than anything, his hugs are to die for. During a bath, after a bath, once you are both snuggled in bed and comfortable? Heavenly, all of it. 

Vargas loves to talk you to sleep, both of your plans for the next day, going over when and where you are taking your next vacation, and giving suggestions for what muscle groups he thinks would most benefit you to build. Hell if you tell him that makes you uncomfortable or you aren’t able to follow through, he will immediately change his plans and make variations to be kinder to your back, your knees, neck, ankles, etc. Never underestimate a man who knows anatomy better than geography. This goes double when you grab a map and realize that one trip that he told you was a 'two-hour drive’ from Night Raven was actually a fifteen-hour one, even with the help of the mirrors. 

Oh well, his confidence was something you loved, no matter how correct he may or may not be.

Mozus Trein:

Trein was almost hilarious with how soft and tender he treated those he cared about versus the strict and stern History teacher exterior that he gave off. 

Something that drew you to him was seeing how tenderly he cared for his daughters. All three of them had all flown the nest at this point, but seeing him smile softly while he penned them letters as he scratches Lucius’ chin and murmured conversation to the cat was something that made your heart melt. 

You had been brushing up on your animal languages to better talk to Lucius too, and you could make out the gist of what he says now. As you suspected, he is not the most polite to others, but he is relatively quick to befriend those that bother to talk to him and offer treats that he likes. Due to these habits, you get along quite well. You try to ask for secrets about Mozus, but Lucius won’t always answer. The only consistency you can make out is that it seems like the cat will only answer you when he thinks it’s funny, but his sense of humor can be a bit difficult to work out.  

Trein is not one for much intimacy, he is more one to enjoy mutually comfortable silences. He has had a lot of time to work out every habit and isn’t overly open to doing things outside of them, but a soak with bath salts or some other kind of medicinal mixture suits him quite well. Trein humors your wants and needs and is more than willing to go along with any ‘couples’ treatments you might be interested in within reason. 

Surprisingly, he is open to doing things like acupuncture, fire cupping, and various types of experimental medicines, but if you ask him to get a facial his eyebrow will be stuck in a skeptical arch for the entirety of the experience. You were able to snap a picture of him making this face while wearing a green clay mask with cucumbers over his eyes. You treasure the photo, but you will never show it to him as you know he will be horrified at how undignified he looks. Part of his charm, you think.

Overall the greatest treat of all is seeing the relaxed smile that creeps onto his features when he is truly relaxing. It felt like something special just for you, sneaking a sleepy peek at him in the evening: relaxing in a silken robe, reading a novel, glasses perched on his strong nose, sipping at chamomile tea, and wearing the softest smile. It made your chest feel so warm that you got to see these small and simple moments. Everyday moments were the most special, you thought. Perhaps this simple comfort is what happiness truly is. 

He will see you staring at him, invite you over for a chat and then wrap his arm around you and bring you to bed. He tucks you in tightly, much like one would do a child. His eyes soften when he does it, you suppose there must be a lot of pleasant memories attached to the action. Once he is satisfied with the bedding, he climbs in next to you, giving you a pleasant peck on the forehead before turning off the light. You hear the pitter-patter of little fluffy feet walking in a circle, a huff, and then a perfectly elegant flop and a warmth near your right foot. You sleep soundly, waking up every so often to feel a hand fixing the blanket that you repeatedly kept throwing off of your shoulder and another kiss on your temple as soon as it was finished. 

Happiness.

Sam

As the youngest and least academically-focused staff member, Sam seemed always eager to prove himself. This was especially funny to you, considering how his ‘friends’ gave him such a leg up in almost every situation that you wondered why he ever felt less-than. 

Sam had worked his salesman voice to near perfection, had an in with almost every vendor of note, came from a famously powerful family, was strikingly handsome, stylish, and had a killer smile… 

Okay, you were wandering off topic here, but how could you help it? 

His magenta eyes would flick to yours in passing and you found yourself not being able to think of everything but him. You wanted to joke that his signature spell was how he took your breath away, but that one was all him. You weren’t even sure if he knew how breathtaking he was, moving through each room like a tap dancer one Maxi Ford away from a full routine. 

The theatricality that he brought to everything he did made you feel similar anticipation to being in a theater, hoping and praying that the handsome lead actor would look down at you specifically during a pivotal scene. For the sake of your heart, you were glad that somehow you had succeeded in catching his gaze the same way he had yours. 

When it came to bathing, he enjoyed it. As the local ‘literally-everything’ supplier, he always had something to surprise you with if you wanted a fun gimmick in the bath, but he had his own perfect set of potions to maintain his stylishly dyed hues. You weren’t entirely sure if his particular swirl of hair colors was natural or magicked into place, and the few times you thought to ask Sam, he would just put one finger in a ‘shush’ motion over his mouth with and wink. It was hard to deny that his cheeky mysteriousness wasn’t appealing though. 

If Sam was having a particularly good time, he might try to entice you in a cute little deal or ‘give you an offer you couldn’t possibly refuse’. 

It was a relatively silly game because the cost for all of these handshake deals was always ‘a kiss’ which you would gladly give him regardless of if he gave you something in return. You liked the goofy smile he would give you after you agreed, so you indulged him regardless. He sometimes would act shy and murmur something about ‘stealing his first kiss’ (he made this joke from your second kiss onwards) but would quickly give up the ghost to cover your face in playful smooches and thread his hands at the nape of your neck so you couldn't move away from his lovesick gaze. 

You’ve seen no true gentleman before in your life if you haven’t seen Sam at a proper ballroom soiree. Letting his relaxed slouch straighten into an elegant straight back and properly dressed to the nines, it seemed like he belonged under a spotlight. Sam was an amazing dancer, singer, card player, gambler, smooth talker, and pianist. He seemed to be accomplished in yet another hobby each time an acquaintance of his would say hello and jokingly admonish him for not showing off some hereto unknown skill of his. He would take the friendly jabs well, say ‘perhaps another time’, and then introduce his ‘charming companion’ (you) to them all in turn. Saying each word as fresh and new as the first time, though the words were practically a script for him at this point. 

The ultimate renaissance man, truly. 

Once you both were exhausted and came back to your home, you would bask in each other’s company. His voice raspy from overuse of the night, he whispered his thanks to you for accompanying him. You interrupt his soon-to-be soliloquy to say, ‘how could I possibly refuse an invitation from the most beautiful man I know?’. His eyes would crinkle with laughter from your response and he would pull you close, exhaling into your hair while the exhaustion of the night hits him like a well-anticipated crescendo. 

Sam idly thought that out of the two of you, the power you held over him was far stronger than any spell he knew. 

It was this time of night that you thought he looked his youngest, chortles losing all of their rehearsed and powerful baritones, words spilling out messily, sentences punctuated with ‘ah’s and ‘um’s. 

Sleepy magenta met your eyes and you would decide to finally drag Sam off to bed, tucking him under your fluffy comforter with care. He fell asleep on a dime, and when he was sleeping you felt like you could see the angelic face he must have had as a child. 

You couldn’t wait to see what you both did together tomorrow. Maybe you’d even tell him that you loved him. 

You weren’t going to be able to stop yourself from blurting it out sooner or later anyway.

So who was your fav? Dying to know. I ran away from the bath theme a bit but it was all from a place of love, I promise. Have I convinced you to simp for someone new? Let me know!

Love you, reader! 💋

Requested tags: @stygianoir (hope you liked it!) @yandere-kou, @daeda21, @buckketboy, @aikochan4859, @kumiko-desu, @prince-zukohere, @fragmentedstarlight, @sarahyumiko2, @sappyisyourpappy, @rebel-faes-writing, @witch-waycult, @dari-kun, @riddle-simp, @naniky, @the-mermaid-of-the-stars

[soulofapatrick]

Home, Sweet Home - Peeta Mellark x Female Reader

Summary: You reunite with Peeta after winning the 76th Hunger games and you act on your feelings for him

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: none

Y/N’s POV

The Victory Tour has been an elaborate masquerade, a relentless parade of smiles plastered over a soul still reeling from the wounds of the Games. Every handshake, every fabricated grin, felt like a weight pressing down on me, the agony of pretending to revel in the celebrations when all I truly yearned for was the solace of home. 

The Capitol’s decadence, its opulent celebrations, and effervescent extravagance—it’s all a cruel reminder of the life I’m expected to embrace, the left I’m supposed to relish as a victor. But it’s a facade, a role I’ve been forced to play. My heart remains tethered to District 12, to the quiet streets and familiar faces that offer a semblance of genuine comfort. 

Amidst the sparkling lights and the cheering crowds, my mind drifts back to the memories of the arena, to the mentorship under Peeta, to the haunting absence of Katniss in District 12. 

Peeta Mellark. His name is a lifeline woven into the fabric of my survival. From the moment our paths intertwined, his presence became an anchor amidst the chaos of the Games. His guidance wasn’t just about tactics and strategies; it was a steady stream of compassion and unwavering support that stitched together the shattered remnants of my courage. 

In the heart of the arena, amidst the looming threat of death, he was my solace—the calm in the eye of a relentless storm. His words were a balm to the wounds inflicted by the ruthless Games, and his unwavering belief in my abilities breathed life into the embers of hope flickering within me. But it wasn't just survival that bound us. It was the unspoken understanding, the shared pain, and the unyielding determination to rise above the horrors we were subjected to. Peeta’s presence was a beacon of resilience, a reminder that humanity perseveres even in the darkest of times.

His absence during the Victory Tour amplified the void within me. Each forced smile for the Capitol's pleasure felt hollow without his reassuring presence. The memories of his kindness, his selflessness, and the way he made me feel—safe, understood, and cared for—lingered like an ethereal melody, a symphony echoing in the chambers of my heart.

Every victory in the arena felt incomplete without the prospect of returning home to District 12, where I knew he would be waiting. His absence now is a stark reminder of the yearning that's blossomed within me, a yearning that transcends mere friendship. It’s a yearning rooted in admiration, respect, and an inexplicable pull toward someone who understands the depths of my soul.

As the train hurtles closer to District 12, my mind lingers on the bittersweet ache of anticipation. The knock on the carriage door draws me from my reverie, and when it creaks open, Haymitch stands there, his gruff exterior softened by a knowing glint in his eyes.

“We’re almost home kid.” He tells me, looking for the liquor which Effie had tried to hide but I just point towards the cupboard Effie put it in as he’s gone almost cold turkey the whole tour. He makes a triumphant sound when he finds it and I retreat back into the cocoon of my thoughts, sketching aimlessly while visions of home dance in my mind like fragments of a beautiful dream. Peeta’s words resound, his descriptions of the Victor’s Village painting vivid images of a serene haven—a place that promises solace amidst the remnants of a harrowing past. 

He spoke of the houses with such reverence, a testament to the life waiting beyond the tumultuous journey, “It’s beautiful, you’ll see.” He had assured me with that trademark sincerity of his, as though he wanted to paint the scene for me, to offer a glimpse into eh sanctuary that awaited. I remember his promise, a simple yet heartfelt vow: a cake waiting for me upon my return. The thought brings a smile to my lips despite the weariness clinging to every muscle. It’s a gesture, a small slice of normalcy in the chaos of our lives—a symbol of comfort, of the simple pleasures we often take for granted. 

The idea of stepping into the Victor’s Village, of sharing a slice of cake baked by Peeta in a house that holds the promise of peace, feels like a respite—a chance to shed the weight of the Games and the elaborate facade forced up me during the tour. 

The train's rhythmic chugging signals our imminent arrival. The anticipation swells within me, a mingling of excitement and relief. Home. It's not just the physical place; it's the prospect of being enveloped in familiarity, of finding solace in the warmth of companionship, and, most of all, of reuniting with Peeta—a friend, a confidant, and perhaps something more. 

As the train slows to a halt, the station looms ahead, a beacon drawing me closer to the arms of District 12, to the Victor's Village, and to the person whose unwavering support and promise of a simple joy await me—a promise embodied in a freshly baked cake, a symbol of the comfort and understanding that Peeta Mellark embodies.

Haymitch, ever the gruff guardian, extends a steadying arm, guiding me up from my seat as a twinge shoots through my right calf—a lingering reminder of the games that won’t easily fade. His presence offers both physical support and a sense of familiarity that grounds me in this whirlwind of arrival. 

As the doors of the train slide open, a cacophony of jubilant cheers fills the air, reverberating through the station. The collective uproar, a symphony of gratitude and celebration, overwhelms my senses, but amidst the adoration echoing in the air, my focus remains fixated on finding Peeta. 

Through the sea of faces, my gaze darts around the mass of faces until it lands on him—a familiar silhouette standing slightly to the side, his ocean blue eyes locking onto mine with a mix of relief and unspoken understanding. In that moment, the cheers fade into a distant hum, and everything else blurs into insignificance. The intensity of his gaze feels like a lifeline, pulling me through the tumultuous sea of emotions. 

My heart swells with a surge of emotions, a rush of feelings that transcends the boundaries of mere friendship—a torrent of affection, gratitude, and a love that had quietly blossomed amidst the chaos. In the depth of his ocean blue eyes, I find a reflection of the unspoken sentiments that echo within me. 

The realisation crashes over me like a wave—I’m in love with Peeta Mellark. It’s not just a fleeting infatuation; it’s an undeniable truth that has been silently growing, nurtured by shared experiences, understanding, and the unspoken connection that binds us. Before rational thought can temper the surge of emotions, instinct takes over. Without a second thought, I break away from Haymitch, the thudding of my heart growing out all other sounds. The cheers, the bustling crowd, the very world around us becomes a blue as I sprint towards Peeta, my every stride a leap closer to the person who has become an integral part of my being. 

The distance between us diminishes with each step, the air crackling with an unspoken anticipation. His eyes widen in surprise, a mix of astonishment and a mirrored rush of emotions dancing within their depths as he realises my intent. With an unabashed burst of emotion, I throw myself into his embrace, my arms wrapping around him with a fervour that words could never encapsulate. Peeta’s initial surprise melts into a reciprocated rush of emotions as my embrace envelopes him. His arms, strong yet tender, instinctively encircle me, pulling me closer as though trying to bridge the gap that time and distance had imposed between us. In that shared moment, the world around us dissolved into insignificance, leaving only the raw intensity of our connection. 

“I’ve missed you,” my whispered confession hangs in the air, laden with unspoken emotions and the weight of an unguarded heart. 

His response is immediate, a gentle yet desperate movement as he shifts slightly, enough to cup my cheek with a tenderness that makes my heart flutter. His eyes, a reflection of the unspoken turmoil within, lock onto mine with a raw honesty that needs no words. And in that unspoken exchange, he pulls me closer, his lips seeking mine with an urgency that echoes the unspoken longing we both shared. 

The moment our lips meet, it’s a collision of emotions—an amalgamation of desperation and relief, of aching hearts finding solace in each others embrace. The kiss is a symphony of emotions, a crescendo of pent-up feelings that spill over in a rush of passion and tenderness. The screams and cheers of the District get even louder but also fades away. 

His lips mould against mine, conveying a depth of longing and understanding that transcends words. In that kiss, there’s a separation to erase the distance, to soothe the ache of separation, and to find solace in the shared embrace—a moment of reunion that feels like coming home. Every brush of his lips against mine is a reassurance, a promise of understanding and support. It’s a silent affirmation that speaks volumes—of shared trials, unspoken confessions, and a love that had silently bloomed amidst the chaos. 

My heart pounds in my chest, the world narrowing down to the sensation of his lips on mine, the warmth of his touch, and the overwhelming rush of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. It's a moment of surrender and acceptance, a moment that feels like the missing piece in the tumultuous puzzle of our lives has finally found its place.

“Come home with me.” Peeta murmurs against my lips and I’m nodding, pressing another kiss to his lips this time chaste. 

“Take me home Peeta.” 

The Hunger Games Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[yuikomorii]

Just for curiosity, do you happen to have a favourite wedding cg? In my opinion those are the most beautiful 🤍

// I really love the wedding cgs too! I mean, I doubt there’s anyone who dislikes them, taking into account how happy the characters look there uwu

My personal favorite is from Ayato's DF Vampire Ending. That cg raised the bar so high because it's simply... perfect; I couldn't have asked for anything better. Extra points for having strong fairytale vibes!

Ayato is pretty as usual, and I like how he's revealing his genuine smile rather than his trademark smirk. Yui falling into Ayato's arms while surrounded by pink petals is such a sweet image, and the fact that she's shedding TEARS OF JOY while making such a gentle expression?? SO PURE! (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

The kissing one is also stunning! I love how Yui truly began crying; my girl felt so fulfilled. 🥹🫶🏻

I’m also very fond of Azusa’s DF Vampire Ending cg! I love how happy both him and Yui look there and the fact that it exposes the entire dress makes it even better! 🩷

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 19: A Better Offer

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

The following morning found yourself in front of the living room window, absorbing the tranquil beauty of the sunrise while Jake showered. You wore lounge wear and with a freshly brewed pot of coffee prepared, you cradled a cup in your hands, savoring the warmth and aroma. The sound of the shower running and the peaceful sunrise offered a moment of calm reflection as you thought about last night and the last 4 years of your "relationship" with Jake.

As the first rays of sunlight painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, your thoughts meandered through the complexity of emotions and events in the last week and a half that had brought you to this moment. Yet, despite the challenges, there was a resilience to your bond with Jake, a tether that, although stretched, had never broken.

You took a sip of your coffee, the rich flavor grounding you in the present. The sound of the water in the shower ceased, signaling Jake's imminent appearance soon.

You realized that the path forward wasn't about erasing the past but rather about learning from it. It was about acknowledging the pain and the mistakes, but also the love that had endured through it all. The challenge would be to integrate your lives in a way that respected both your independence and your unity as a couple.

As you dwelled on the intimacy of last night, its significance began to resonate even more profoundly. You were always aware that Jake loved with intensity, but the depth of his affection and vulnerability revealed in those moments gave you a new understanding of just how profound his love truly was. This realization highlighted a powerful commonality between you two: both of you loved deeply, with a passion and intensity that was a foundational pillar of your relationship.

Jake came out of the bedroom, clad in his flight suit, ready for the day. "That coffee smells wonderful," he commented, making his way towards the coffee pot.

"There's a travel mug I got for you. It's in the cabinet," you replied, pointing him towards the new purchase designed to keep his coffee warm on the go.

He opened the cabinet, his eyes quickly finding the U.S. Navy travel mug. Setting it on the counter, he filled it with the freshly brewed coffee. "Thanks, darlin'," he said, appreciation evident in his voice.

You heard the sound of the cup being sealed and then his footsteps approaching. Soon, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you gently into his embrace, and planted a kiss on your cheek.

"Morning," he greeted you warmly, his voice close and affectionate.

"Good morning," you responded, leaning into his embrace, feeling the solidity and warmth of him grounding you further. The simplicity of the gesture, the comfort of his proximity—it was these small moments that you realized you had missed the most during the years of separation and sporadic communication.

Turning slightly within the circle of his arm, you faced him, looking up into his eyes. "Did you sleep well?" you asked, genuinely interested in even the smallest details of his existence. These were the daily intricacies you had been absent from, the minutiae that, when woven together, formed the fabric of a shared life.

He grinned, a look of genuine contentment on his face. "I did. Haven't slept that good since we were in Wisconsin or at my parent's house."

His presence, the smell of coffee mingling with the fresh scent of his shower, created a cozy, domestic scene that you wanted to etch into your memory. It was a stark contrast to the turbulent emotions and the vast distances that had characterized much of your marriage. But here, in this moment, with the morning light casting a gentle glow around you, there was a sense of peace, a feeling that, perhaps, everything could indeed be alright.

"And you?" he inquired, turning his attention to how you slept.

You leaned further into his embrace, comforted by his presence. "Wonderfully. Thank you for asking," you replied, appreciating his concern. You sensed him take another sip of his coffee, the warmth of the moment shared between you two.

"What are your plans for today?" he inquired, showing interest in how you'd be spending your day.

"I'm going to check on some emails and then go from there. Do you need me to drive you to work?" you offered, ready to assist him with his commute if necessary.

"No. Coyote is on his way," he replied, indicating that arrangements had already been made for his transportation.

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door. Jake gently turned you to face him. "That's Coyote," he said, giving you a kiss. "I love you." He then moved to answer the door.

"I love you too," you called after him, your words carrying the weight of your feelings.

Coyote entered. "Morning, Y/N."

"Morning, Coyote. You two have a good day," you said, offering them both a smile and well wishes for the day ahead.

"We will," they assured you together, their voices blending in harmony as they exited, the door closing softly behind them.

You pivoted back towards the window, immersing yourself once again in the tranquil beauty of the sunrise. The serene colors of dawn painted the sky, providing a peaceful backdrop as you took a moment to enjoy the quiet morning.

After your shower, you settled at the kitchen table, your laptop open in front of you. You took a sip of your coffee, enjoying the quiet of the morning when your phone dinged, breaking the silence. Reaching for it, you saw a text message from Dr. Colson on the screen. He was asking if you could get in touch with him.

You quickly texted him back, agreeing to initiate a video call, then placed your phone down on the table. Switching to your laptop, you initiated the call to Dr. Colson.

"Y/N! How are you?" Dr. Colson greeted enthusiastically as he accepted the call, his face appearing on your screen.

"Hi, Jason. I'm doing fine," you responded, offering a smile through the screen.

Jason glanced around, noticing the difference in your background. "You're not in your office?"

"No. I'm actually in San Diego," you explained, watching his reaction.

"San Diego?" Jason echoed, surprise evident in his voice.

"Yeah, Jake got called back for a mission and he leaves this Friday," you explained.

Dr. Colson leaned back in his chair, the surprise morphing into understanding as he processed your news. "Ah, I see. That must be quite the adjustment for both of you," he commented thoughtfully. "How are you handling it?"

You paused for a moment, considering how much to share. "It's been… challenging," you admitted. "But we're trying to make the most of the time we have before he leaves."

Jason nodded sympathetically, understanding the complexity of your situation. He then shifted his focus, leaning in slightly. "Anyways, I wanted to talk to you about that Wyoming project."

"Oh, yes!" you responded, your interest piqued.

"Are you still interested?" he asked, a hint of hope in his tone.

"I would love to, but I need to check with my work on when I can do it," you admitted, the prospect exciting yet challenging.

"Dr. Stryker will, of course, be in charge of it again," Jason mentioned, observing your reaction closely.

You shrugged. "That's fine," you replied, your tone neutral.

Dr. Colson studied you for a moment. "Y/N. Did something happen during the first book writing? I've known you for a while now, and I consider you a good friend." His concern was genuine, hinting at the depth of your relationship beyond professional boundaries.

You sighed, a weight seemingly pressing on your shoulders as you prepared to share. "While in Wyoming, Dr. Stryker and I became friends. Pretty close friends, actually. He knew about Jake and everything I was going through, but he kind of took it the wrong way. I told him I just wanted to be friends."

The vulnerability in your voice conveyed the complexity of the situation, hinting at the discomfort and misunderstanding that had arisen from the friendship.

"The day we were at your office before the conference, he told me he still had feelings for me and that he still thought about me. I told him I didn't."

"Y/N. Why didn't you say something?" Jason's voice carried a mix of concern and surprise, reflecting his wish that you had confided in him sooner about the discomfort and tension you were experiencing.

"I was already dealing with enough; I didn't want to put that on someone else, and I left to go back home anyways." Your response highlighted a desire to manage your burdens independently, avoiding adding any stress or complications to others' lives, despite the personal challenges you were facing.

"Well, then how about something different?" Jason suggested, his tone changing, hinting at a new possibility.

You looked at him, intrigued by the shift in the conversation.

"A new grant project just came across my desk specifically asking for you."

Puzzled, you looked at him. "For me? But I don't even work for Texas A&M."

"Well, you made a really good impression on someone here at the conference." Jason's words implied that your expertise and demeanor had caught the attention of influential individuals, opening up unexpected opportunities.

"They want you to be in charge of the livestock study in the upper half of Wisconsin, so you can actually manage this project from home." Jason's announcement revealed an exciting opportunity that not only recognized your capabilities but also accommodated your personal circumstances, allowing you to contribute significantly while remaining in your own environment.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise, processing the unexpected turn the conversation had taken. "That's…wow, Jason. I'm honored they'd consider me for such a project, especially given my current commitments and location. But how did this come about?"

Jason leaned back, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "It seems your work on the previous project, your book, and your presentation here have made quite the impression. Plus, your approach to integrating practical experience with academic research caught someone's eye. They're looking for someone with your unique blend of skills to lead this study."

The possibility excited you, offering a new avenue to apply your expertise while potentially opening doors for future collaborations and projects. "And I'd be able to manage this remotely, from Wisconsin?"

"Exactly," Jason confirmed. "They're looking for someone who understands the local environment, livestock management practices, and has a strong research background. You'd be coordinating with a team, but the bulk of the project management can be done from wherever you're most comfortable."

Taking a moment to ponder the offer, you realized the potential impact this project could have on your career and personal goals. It was a chance to delve into a subject you were passionate about while also providing the flexibility you needed to maintain your commitments to Jake and your home life.

"Jason, this sounds like an incredible opportunity. I'm definitely interested. What are the next steps? How do I find out more about the project specifics and expectations?"

"We can set up a meeting with the project sponsors and the main stakeholders at Texas A&M. They're eager to discuss the project with you, go over the goals, and see how you envision leading this study. I'll coordinate with them to find a time that works for everyone."

"Thank you, Jason. Really, I appreciate you bringing this opportunity to me. Let's set up that meeting some time next week. I'm eager to learn more and see how I can contribute to the success of the project."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll touch base with you this weekend?"

"Yeah, that should work. If anything comes up on my end, I'll let you know."

"Sounds good. And tell Jake I said hi."

"I will. Thanks again, Jason." You ended the call, feeling a mix of anticipation for the new project and gratitude for the unexpected support.

"So, how did you end up with someone as amazing as Y/N?" Phoenix inquired of Jake as they exited the classroom. "She just seems way beyond your usual catch."

Jake quirked an eyebrow in response. "And what expertise do you have on the kind of women I'm interested in?"

Phoenix shrugged, her expression transforming into a teasing smile. "Could be your charm at work."

Jake glanced at her, slightly amused. "That's my piloting skills you're thinking of, not my romantic life."

Phoenix chuckled, shaking her head. "Fair point. But seriously, there must be something. Y/N is impressive. How'd you convince her to stick around with a daredevil like you?"

"It's all about that Hangman charm, Phoenix," he declared with a confident smirk.

Phoenix rolled her eyes again, her tone laced with mock annoyance. "To me, it comes off more as an irritation, but sure, keep seeing it your way."

"There's no need to imagine anything, Phoenix. I'm married to an incredible woman."

"I won't argue with that. I'm just curious how you managed to win over such an amazing woman."

Jake's laughter filled the air, a testament to the comfortable camaraderie between them, even amidst the teasing. "Like I've been telling you, it's all down to the Hangman charm."

Phoenix simply shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. "You're an idiot."

You were wrapping up with your final email of the day when the sound of the apartment door swinging open broke the silence. Jake stepped inside, greeting you with a warm, "Hey, darlin'," as he shut the door behind him and made his way over to you.He planted a quick kiss on your lips. "How was your day?" he inquired, his face lighting up with a broad smile.

You knew your husband too well and wondered why he was so happy. "Actually, my day was really good. Should I be concerned that you're so happy?"

"Nope," he responded, with an air of casual nonchalance and then looked you up and down. "You didn't get dressed today?"

You shrugged, slightly puzzled. "Why would I be? I just went through emails all day. Didn't even step out."

"Find anything positive?" he inquired, heading towards the fridge to fetch a beer.

"Actually, yes. Do you recall the Wyoming project Dr. Stryker offered me to collaborate on?"

You noticed Jake's body stiffen at the mention of the name. "Yeah," he replied, as he grabbed a bottle opener and opened his beer. He then slowly started walked towards you.

"I'm not going to take it. I talked with Jason about what happened the last time."

"But, Y/N, wasn't that what you were aiming for?" He asked, settling into the chair opposite you.

"Yes, it was. But I've been offered a grant for a different project closer to home. It allows me to work remotely while still fulfilling my responsibilities."

Jake's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes, I'm planning to discuss the details with Jason next week, but from what I've heard so far, everything sounds ideal."

Jake closed his eyes, his face breaking into a contented grin.

Observing him, you ventured, "You didn't really want me to take that job in Wyoming, did you?"

He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. "We're still committed to being honest with each other, right?"

You shot him a knowing look.

"Okay, I'll take that as a confirmation. But to answer your question, yes, I was secretly hoping you'd turn down that one."

Your expression softened at his admission, understanding the complexity of emotions that must have been swirling within him. "It's because of Dorian, isn't it?"

He paused to take a sip of his beer. "I cannot confirm or deny that statement."

You shut your laptop, signaling the end of that conversation thread. "Don't worry about it. I had my reservations too."

"So, what's the project about?"

"From what I've gathered, it's a study on livestock. I'll probably have a clearer picture after my discussion with Jason next week."

Jake let out a sigh. "You know, my deployment is just a few days away. When we first got married, leaving didn't seem as tough. Why does it feel so different this time?"

"I believe last time, we hadn't fully grasped the impact of loss on one another. Now that we understand, our relationship has evolved. Our love never waned, but we've had to learn how to heal together this past week and a half." Reaching out, you took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"You know, Phoenix was wondering how I managed to end up with someone as incredible as you. Now, she's got me asking myself the same question."

You couldn't help but smile at his words, feeling a mix of warmth and amusement. "Was she now?" you asked, your tone light, teasing. "Well, it's quite simple, really. You charmed me with your undeniable charm."

"See! That's exactly what I told her!"

Jake’s response, laced with a playful pride, made you laugh. "Oh, is that so? Well, it must be true then," you played along, keeping the mood light and affectionate. "But in all honesty, Jake, it wasn't just the charm," you added, capturing his gaze with a look of sincerity. "It was your heart, your strength, and how you make me feel safe and loved. Those are the things that truly won me over."

He listened intently, his playful demeanor softening into one of warmth and affection. "I guess I'm just lucky then, to have found someone who sees me for more than just the pilot or the charm."

"And let's not forget to mention the cockiness and stubbornness," you added playfully.

Jake chuckled, the sound rich and full of affection. "Ah, yes, how could I forget those charming qualities?" he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "They're part of the complete package, after all."

"You know, it's those very traits that somehow make you even more endearing to me," you confessed, a smile playing on your lips. "They remind me of your determination and passion, even if they do drive me up the wall sometimes."

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing they work in my favor then. And just for the record, your patience and understanding with my less-than-perfect traits? That's part of what makes you so incredible to me." He cupped your face in his hands, and you closed your eyes, basking in the gentle warmth.

The moment stretched out, a small island of peace in the midst of life's relentless pace. His hands, strong yet so gentle, framed your face, and you could feel the weight of his affection, heavy and tangible in the air between you. When you opened your eyes, it was to find his gaze fixed on you, filled with an emotion so profound that it seemed to momentarily pause the world around you.

"Jake," you whispered, your voice carrying a mixture of love, gratitude, and a hint of the inevitable sadness that the thought of his departure brought. "I just want you to know... no matter where you are, or what happens, you're always with me. Right here." You placed your hand over your heart, the gesture simple but laden with meaning.

"And you're with me," he murmured back. "You make me a better man, Y/N. I carry your love with me, no matter where I go. It's what keeps me grounded, what gives me the strength to come back."

His words, so full of emotion and sincerity, resonated deep within you, wrapping around your heart like a comforting embrace. It was a powerful reminder of the strength of your connection, a bond that distance and time could not weaken.

In that moment, the world seemed to stand still, allowing you both to bask in the quiet strength of your love. It was a love that had grown and deepened through challenges and triumphs, a love that was resilient and enduring.

As you both lingered in the warmth of the moment, you realized that this was the essence of what it meant to truly be with someone. It wasn't just about the physical presence; it was about knowing that you carried a piece of each other within your hearts, no matter where life took you.

With a tender smile, you reached up, tracing the lines of his face with a gentle touch, memorizing every detail. "I'll be here, Jake. Holding down the fort, and counting the days until you return. You have my heart, always."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes reflecting the same depth of feeling. "And you have mine, Y/N. Always."

"It's going to be different this time, Jake."

"It will be," he concurred.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbell @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891

[cipheramnesia]

hello i am giving u an excuse to talk about the chucky TV series because i generally don't like horror but i watched it and it was great

My friend... this goes so much deeper than the TV series.

DATELINE 1988! The horror movie slasher genre is THRIVING in the boom of video and cheap rental stores. Jason. Freddy. Michael. Already household names, nay! Heroes! Enter one Don Mancini, young and queer and ready to share some fear with a little idea knocking around in his head about a killer doll. With little more than a dream and few friends he tackled the enormous task of crafting the next horror legend. On the advice of a lawyer friend, he loaded Chucky up with distinct, trademarked features and made sure copyright on the titular killer doll was his and HIS ALONE.

Child's Play, the original Chucky movie, debuted to instant classic status. To modern eyes it may seem strange that a concept as silly as a killer doll could ascend to the heights of the holy triumvirate, but SIMULTANEOUS to Chucky we found such properties as Cabbage Patch Kids and My Buddy dolls - a virtual BUFFET of saccharine toys just begging for a counterpart with edge, and Chucky edged hard. The My Buddy doll never recovered as millions of children globally cowered from the mere TRAILER of Chucky and his slimeball snarl voice broadcast it's way to hearts and minds. But this wasn't all, no, for you see Chucky had a most peculiar gift, the gift of a soulful heart.

While many other slasher movies focused on a test of wills between survivor girl and unstoppable monster, Child's Play was first and foremost the coming of age story for Andy Barclay and his, Karen. In particular credit must be given to actor Catherine Hicks who never wanted to be in a horror movie, and made the conscious decision to play Karen as a straight dramatic role about a single mother and her son. In a sea of peculiarly good choices, it perhaps was hers more than any other that granted Child's Play a quasi-Spielberg-esque movie magic to transcend the genre stereotypes and absurd premise, to create something unique.

While she would not return for Child's Play 2, the die was cast with Alex Vincent as Andy and Brad Dourif as Chucky. We saw the introduction of street smart older stepsister played by Christine Elise. With a bigger budget, nastier deaths, and a truly grotesque version of Chucky, Child's Play 2 is likely considered the best in the series, as it predates the series' later campiness and had the delightfully rubbery 80s practical effects. Not me though, I love them all except of course Child's Play 3, the military academy one, which rounds out the first arc of Chucky. For a little while.

In 1998, just in time for a ten year anniversary, Chucky would RISE AGAIN, in Bride of Chucky. You see, while Don Mancini no longer had the rights to the Child's Play name, he still owned Chucky. Would this new chapter in the knife wielding minimaniac mean the previous continuity was dispensed with? NO, for this series was and still is violent killer baby of ONE MAN and his found film family. Instead, Bride of Chucky would introduce a new member of the family, Tiffany Valentine, played by the inimitable Jennifer Tilly. In this chapter of Chucky's tale, he and Tiffany took center stage, with no consistent protagonist, and a greater focus on absurd humor. Bride of Chucky and Seed of Chucky are both movies which give the sense of perhaps Mancini himself being more comfortable with his sexuality, more open and free. It was also the turning point where Chucky would go from a by the numbers slasher to a metatexual interrogation of the horror genre itself.

Besides playing with self referential comedy and genre references, Don Mancini introduced an in-universe awareness of Chucky's prior crimes, both as a human and as a doll, including the set of an in-universe movie (Chucky Goes Psycho) starring actress Jennifer Tilly. Hang onto your butts, because we're going in hot. If Bride of Chucky felt like it was going to weird places by having two dolls fucking and working on their romantic matters, Seed of Chucky abandoned all pretense, enjoying the presence of stuntcasting like John Waters and Redman (as himself) in roles specifically for gruesome deaths. But Jennifer Tilly was the central meta tornado.

Try and follow this. Real actress Jennifer Tilly plays Tiffany Valentine, who gets her soul transferred into a doll which is also voiced by Jennifer Tilly. Subsequently Jennifer Tilly also plays fictional actress Jennifer Tilly (who is otherwise identical to real world Jennifer Tilly), cast to play Tiffany Valentine in fictional fictionalized account of the fictional world real events of Child's Play 1 & 2, and also to voice the fictional Tiffany Valentine doll along with fictional Brad Dourif voicing the fictional Chucky doll, both dolls created for the fictional movie Chucky gets lucky. However, the fictional dolls get possessed by the real fictional characters Chucky and Tiffany, still voiced by real actors Brad Dourif and Jennifer Tilly. Eventually, Tiffany is able to transfer her soul into fictional Jennifer Tilly.

So, hang with me, in Chucky this means that fictional actress Jennifer Tilly (played by real Jennifer Tilly) is now possessed by fictional real murderer Tiffany Valentine (played by real Jennifer Tilly) who has to pretend to be fictional actress Jennifer Tilly (as played by Jennifer Tilly).

Beyond all this fuckery, Chucky and Tiff must cope with their new child who vacillates between Glen or Glenda, a kind of bigender or genderfluid character at a time when those ideas weren't very widespread, but which feels deeply informed both my Mancini's experience as a gay man, and also the long history of queers in Hollywood. At the conclusion of these two movies, it seemed like we were done with Chucky, with Tiffany living happily ever after as Tillyception and Glen/Glenda now living as two children, having their soul split into the twins fictional Tilly was pregnant with.

However, it seems that these five movies total instead were a kind of foundation for the next generation, when Chucky returned in Curse of Chucky and Cult of Chucky. Together these movies added a new layer of recursion, and might be called the Nica Pierce chapter. Both films featured less camp, and a more serious tone which, initially seemed to imply an intent to reboot the series. This was, of course, a fake out as Mancini not only revealed the new movies as a direct continuation, but also gave Chucky an illegitimate human daughter in the form of Nica Pierce, played by Fiona Dourif, the real world daughter of Brad Dourif. Not only that, but we would get the reintroduction of a long absent character, Andy Barclay, still played by Alex Vincent.

In the reprisal, Alex Vincent, an actor who was damaged and traumatized by being a child actor in movies like the original Child's Play, plays Andy as an adult damaged and traumatized by his experiences as a child in the original Child's Play.

Now, eventually Chucky gets control of Nica and Fiona Dourif does drag to play young Chucky and there's fucked up lesbians and gay kissing and a priest explodes, but all that happens in the TV series. What I'm really needing everyone to get at here is that from 1988 up to RIGHT NOW Don Mancini has kept continuity of plot AND ACTORS, with two seasons and an upcoming third which incorporates every single movie detail. A series which, while silly at times, always both respects its audience second, but FIRST is itself above all. Every single movie and episode has been something which set out to be its own thing, free from control or demands of conformity and it always has been, like it or not, love it or leave it. Somehow the killer doll movie has turned into a 35 year long and counting love affair, a found extended nuclear family both on screen and off.

And perhaps the best part is how much the queerness has been given a chance to flourish, going from a whisper of an influence in early films, to campy comedy later, to fully realized queer relationships in the series. Not only that, but it's always seemed to treat its atypical protagonists with a humanity and respect few other media properties manage. The young Andy works so well because he's an actual character, not just some kid, treated like a capable and thinking human. Tiff and Glen/Glenda are bizarre but never dehumanized, never treated as undeserving of human kindness. And Nica, a paraplegic, is amazing, with her disabilities informing the plot, but not innately treated as some definitive limit or inspiration porn. It's rare for so many disenfranchised characters to get such a human treatment, and frankly bizarre that the murder doll series is the one to do it. But that's kind of the real beauty of Chucky. Every character is human first, before anything else.

In fact, there is only one character who is genuinely human second, and it's Chucky himself. Now I'm not saying there's no room for complex antagonists, but in all Chucy movies, the one constant is this: Chucky is a total dick. Not evil, not a menace, just a pure all out asshole. Chucky is a piece of shit person first, murderer second, and that's GREAT. You will never be in a position where you hope the evil murder doll succeeds (Tiff excepted). You will never stop and wonder "Gosh maybe Chucky is secretly a good guy deep down." Chucky is always a gaslighting selfish prick who wants to live for ever and kill everyone, full stop. It's beautiful, it frees the mind to dwell on the humanity of other characters because you never once are getting asked to give the lying cheating manipulative little fucker the benefit of the doubt.

I don't know what it is, but Mancini just gets it. He gets the best and the worst of people and that's what makes this whole machine tick. It's huge and overwhelming to think of how many people and plotlines and stories are encompassed by Chucky and then like a falling air-conditioner it just slams into my head: "Oh yeah, this is about a killer doll."

[queers-gambit]

I can for some reason imagine that in the WPMP verse, Alicent being so paranoid about the reader’s loyalties, etc, would make the reader walk after giving birth in order to check the legitimacy of the child, just as she did to Rhaenyra and that would PUSH Aemond over the edge.

And Criston would be like: I have no eyes or ears 🫣, just pretend I don’t see this happening.

[ When Pride Married Prejudice // part two - for those interested ]

okay, so, i'm all for the drama so i'll take two stances on this 'cause i can see two different things:

one: it wouldn't happen simply because it's obvious (for years) that sweet girl and Aemond are absolutely obsessed with each other. so, i kinda tried to make the point that Alicent actually *likes* her daughter-by-law, so, i would imagine that the idea of checking the babes would make Alicent feel guilty enough she wouldn't do it. like, she's seen firsthand how in-love her son and his wife are (mutually) and the idea of thinking sweet girl was unfaithful is just unfathomable to Alicent. so, she'll stuff her nerves down and just wait - because let's be honest, Aemond is a Mama's Boy, and he'd go to get her first to meet his kid. so, she knows she'll see the babe (or babes) soon enough and wouldn't want to risk her son's rage. he's got a reputation and Alicent's seen how Aemond snaps when Aegon makes back-handed comments that lack cleverness. she's cautious and lets him come to get her - and feels silly when she sees the trademark white tuffs of hair.

two: let's say that Alicent does act on her suspicions and sends for sweet girl the moment she's given birth because she wants to see the babe. sweet girl is old enough to remember Alicent doing it to her mother, so, she's not truly shocked, but the midwives won't let Aemond in the room until the afterbirth is delivered. then, he's coming in, and very similarly, watching in confusion as she dresses and wonders where she's going. sweet girl is very casual about it, telling Aemond that his mother has sent for her and the babe, and oh, holy shit, he's enraged. maybe that's why she's so calm about it - she's anticipating this reaction. he demands she stay put but sweet girl lives for drama, so, she convinces him to help her and they go see Alicent with the baby. she's absolutely shocked to see Aemond, but he's surging up to her and getting right in her face, sneering that if she can't be decent and trust his wife, then there's no reason to remain in the Red Keep. Alicent is confused by this, asking what he means, and Aemond's assuring that if she doesn't get her shit together, he'd take his wife and baby and go across the Narrow Sea. somewhere she can't find them, where she'll never know what becomes of them all, and then, he turns and ushers you from the room. but he pauses sarcastically, turns you back, and only reveals the baby's head - that shows tuffs of pure white hair. Cole's def standing at the door, trying not to watch, but it's hard. the Prince is pissed off and it's hard not to pay attention to the commotion, especially when he's charged with the Queen's safety but even he wouldn't dare step between an angry Aemond and his target. he'll understand what happened between Alicent and Rhaenyra and why Aliecent chose to send for you - but the Prince's reaction makes him advert his attention to the floor and just wait. he doesn't think Aemond will actually attack and feels intrusive on a family moment, so, he'll just stare at the floor. in fact, he'll actually hold his breath at the end when Aemond shows his mother the babes' head; desperate not to laugh as your husband takes you away.

edit: i’m so fucking rude and forgot to thank you for sending this. I love reading your guys’ thoughts and ideas about this story 😭 all my love 🖤

[b00ks1ut]

It’s All About Trust

Joe Liebgott X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, war, fluff (an attempt anyway I think), swearing, Briefly mention of reader being a medic, reader has a shit ton of siblings (relatable), not that many physical descriptions if any, mentions of death, normal Band of Brothers stuff

Sorry if this is bad. I’ve never written any BoB fanfiction and really have like hardly any writing experience at all so hopefully this isn’t horrible. Please give me feed back if you want. Thank you! Also sorry for the ending. It’s kinda abrupt but it’s the best I could get lol

Bois Jacques is hell. A very very cold hell. Nothing could truly combat the cold that seeps into everyone around me. Not even the plainish slop they feed us in an attempt at food. Or in the current case, cold, hard “pancakes”, or that’s what Domingus says they are.

Don pokes at his and calls after our ever so kind cook, “Joe these smell like my armpit!”

“At least your armpit is warm.” Skip grumbles from Malarkey’s side as he holds his pancake up for emphasis.

“You want syrup with that?” Domingus sasses back to him.

“Joe, be honest, what’s in these things anyway?” Don asks the retreating man.

“Nothing you won’t eat, Malarkey.” He replies.

“I won’t eat Malarkey.” Spina shoots back quickly causing us all grouped up to let out a chorus of laughs.

Julian brings back the topic of Babe and Spina’s run in with a German on their search for 3rd Battalion. “Hey, maybe Hinkle would like your share, huh?”

This happens to hit my funny bone and I let out a snort leading to the rest of the men’s laughter to only further increase until Peacock comes around looking for Dike.

“Try battalion CP, sir.” I tell the man. The rest of us wait for him to walk away on his hunt for the company CO before we break our into giggles again.

“Try Paris.” Skip laughs.

“Try Hinkle.” Malarkey adds, only increasing our laughter and before I know it tears are pricking my eyes.

Spina begins his less than great German impression and I have to leave before I piss myself laughing.

I seem to run into a brick wall in my way back to my foxhole, tears of laughter still stinging my eyes.

“Sorry ‘bout that (y/n/n).” A deep southern voice speaks from above me.

I take a look and send a smile at the blonde who’s got me held by the shoulders.

“You’re all good Bull, no harm done.” I tell him as I step out of his hold. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm done.” He repeats before walking away with a smile sent to me.

I continue to make my way back to my temporary home of a frozen foxhole. I look down to find none other than Joseph Liebgott.

I’ve always had a soft spot for the rageful Jew. I don’t think it’s any specific thing that made me so drawn to him but rather his whole entire being.

On the other hand he’s never shown any direct attraction to me. Sure nearly all the men of Easy have sent me a glance at least once but I don’t blame them, I’m one of the few women they’ve interacted with past a single night in around 2 years. But past a glance none of the boys have soberly tried anything.

Especially Joe. He’s not unfriendly to me but he’s never really gone out of his way to interact with me. Not until now.

He’s sitting alone in my foxhole, hands tucked under his armpits, gun leaning in the dirt next to him, and his eyes intensely trained on the line.

“Joe? Did you get lost?” I ask him with a small laugh.

“Uh?” He looks up at me and gives me a small smile. “Not lost, just looking for someone to talk to.”

“Luz’s hole is like 2 over that way.” I told him pointing in the direction of the jester’s own hiding place.

“Well good thing I wasn’t looking for George then, yeah?” He says with his trademark smirk. “I can leave if you’d like me to, though.”

"You're fine, but can I ask a question?" I asked as I began the short descent into the frozen foxhole.

"Shoot away (y/l/n)." The Californian told me, looking back at the line across the cold, white field.

"Why are you talking to me? I'm don't mean to be rude but you've never put any effort into having any interaction with me." I asked sitting across from him and stuffing my frozen hands into my jacket pockets.

"I'm just trying to be friendly. No time better than the present, right? Do you have a problem with that? I can leave if you need me to." Joe had begun to get a little defensive but that's hardly surprising when he'll jump at a chance to be upset, whether isn’t reasonable or not.

"Why now? There's hardly a point in making friends when fucking Babe and Spina barely just ran from a Kraut fucking foxhole so excuse my confusion at your extremely sudden olive branch when we're all about to be sent home either on a stretcher or in an enveloped as a piece of shitty metal with our names stamped into it!" I grabbed my dog tags and shook them for emphasis. It took all of my self control to not start yelling or crying, but I could feel the sting of unshed tears at my eyes. "We're all going to be blown to kingdom come by all of this damned artillery." I whisperd.

"Hey. That's not true. We've made it this far but look at us. Sitting in this frozen hell hole and you're alive, I'm alive, and so is Bull and George, Don, Babe, Doc, Skip, Penkala, Perco, and Buck and Lip." He began listing some of the guys we had been with for so long. "I know it's scary and there's not a single thing I can promise you to make anything seem ok, because I'm scared and I have no clue what's going to happen even 10 seconds from now but one thing I can tell you that might make you feel slightly better is that you've made it this far. You made it through Sobel's shitty personalty, Normandy, Carentan, and I know that if you have made it this far without a scratch then what can take you down? You’re what, one of nine kids back at home, you managed to talk and work your way into the airborne and then continue to be an absolute badass throughout boot camp and combat!” He took a break to really look at me and I took that as an opportunity to defend myself and my feelings.

“I’m really flattered but don’t you think I’ve been too lucky? I’ve come so far with nothing more than a bruise and I’m sure the next thing you know I’ll be blown to pieces! I don’t know why I thought I could do this, Joe! I’m fucking terrified and there’s no where to go!” I can feel the tears beginning to well in my eyes and in a sorry attempt to stop them I look to the sky. “I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore.”

“Hey, you can’t go thinking like that. You’re going to make it out of here alive. I need you to believe that because trust me when I say that you are the toughest damned woman I’ve ever met in my life.” He scooted closer to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.

The tears couldn’t be held any longer and the dam broke, salty waves rolling down the sides of face into my hair line. A sob escaped my lips before I could muffle it with a fist that had been stuffed between my lips only seconds too late.

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, (y/n), we’re all feeling it, you’re the only one brave enough to let anyone see it.”

I let out a scoff. ‘Brave’ is not the right word to use. “I’m pathetic. I’m sitting here crying, doing nothing to help anyone around me who has it worse. I’m a a medic for fuck’s sake, I shouldn’t be crying when I routinely see how bad I could have it.”

Joe had only pulled me closer and wrapped his other arm around me, essentially cradling my shaking form. “Don’t you see? That’s what makes you so brave, (y/n). You see all these men in so much pain and put yourself in harms way to make sure they get patched up and safe. You are completely allowed to be overwhelmed and scared and cold and any other feeling a person can have. Not one man here would blame you for being upset right now. They know that as long as you are safe so are they, because when shit goes down you’re always there to help us.” He was talking so softly and so gently that I couldn’t help but cry harder.

“Oh fuck.” I muttered , wiping at my eyes. “I’m sorry Joe.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Doll.” He gave me an affectionate pat. “Just know that you are such a light in the dark here, and not one of the men in these woods would judge you right now.”

I gave him a weak smile and sniffed, wiping at my eyes and nose. “Thank you, Joe, really. I’m forever grateful.”

“Oh don’t mention it, just don’t go telling anyone that I give out cuddles, I can’t have my reputation ruined like that.” Joe snickered with his smirk and a pat to my side.

“Your secret is safe with me as long as you don’t go telling people I cry.” I tittered and wrapped my arm around his neck.

“Your secret is safe with me, (y/n).”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“It’s all about trust. I trust you, you trust me; that’s how this has to work, yeah?” I was nearly bumping noses with him and if I wanted to I could just lean in a little and kiss him. The thought quickly crosses my mind but part of me knows better.

“I trust you, Joseph Liebgott.” I meant it, with more of my heart than I thought was still there.