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#that will be your crowning glory
music-in-my-veins14 · 2 months
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Dear little girl, You are terribly blessed But it's your heart of gold I love the best
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benjicotblackwood · 1 year
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still thinking about that post that goes. in my dreams I see my mother with the love of her life and no children. she looks happier than I’ve ever seen her. paired with pictures of alicent
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crybaby-writings · 4 months
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why yes, i DO, have your crowning glory from the princess diaries 2 on my leona x ash selfship playlist. why do you ask?
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Knowing Bailey would be a Paladin but not liking any of the existing Oaths for her is extremely frustrating
Gavin, on the other hand, fits very easily into the role of a Warlock with a Fiend for a patron
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neithergodsnormen · 1 year
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Viserys Tag Drop
🎭
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conteuse · 2 years
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tag drop.
#[ ✧*:・゚ INTERACTIONS: ELSA ] LET THE CROWN BE STRONG,AND LET YOUR LOVE BE TRUE.#[ ✧*:・゚ MUSINGS: ELSA ] GOODBYE TO DARK AND FEAR,LET’S FILL THIS WORLD WITH LIGHT & LOVE.#[ ✧*:・゚ AESTHETIC: ELSA ] NORTHERN GLORY,OUR GOLDEN SISTER,THE HEIR TO KINGS OF OLD.#[ ✧*:・゚ INTERACTIONS: ELLA ] IF YOU KEEP ON BELIEVING,THE DREAM THAT YOU WISH WILL COME TRUE.#[ ✧*:・゚ MUSINGS: ELLA ] SO THIS IS THE MIRACLE THAT I'VE BEEN DREAMING OF.#[ ✧*:・゚ AESTHETIC: ELLA ] SING,SWEET NIGHTINGALE.#[ ✧*:・゚ INTERACTIONS: ARIEL ] I'LL TELL YOU A TALE OF THE BOTTOMLESS BLUE.#[ ✧*:・゚ MUSINGS: ARIEL ] MY HEART IS PIERCED BY CUPID I DISDAIN ALL GLITTERING GOLD.#[ ✧*:・゚ AESTHETIC: ARIEL ] BRIGHT YOUNG WOMEN SICK OF SWIMMIN’ READY TO STAND.#[ ✧*:・゚ INTERACTIONS: TIANA ] DREAMS DO COME TRUE IN NEW ORLEANS.#[ ✧*:・゚ MUSINGS: TIANA ] AIN’T GOT TIME FOR MESSIN AROUND,AND IT’S NOT MY STYLE.#[ ✧*:・゚ AESTHETIC: TIANA ] FOOD AND LOVE –– WHICH IS OF COURSE THE SAME THING.#[ ✧*:・゚ INTERACTIONS: LOTTIE ] BACK INTO THE FRAY!#[ ✧*:・゚ MUSINGS: LOTTIE ] I WOULD DO IT! I WOULD KISS A FROG! I WOULD KISS A HUNDRED FROGS IF I COULD MARRY A PRINCE AND BE A PRINCESS!#[ ✧*:・゚ AESTHETIC: LOTTIE ] THERE’S MAGIC IN THE AIR TONIGHT AND ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN.#[ ✧*:・゚ INTERACTIONS: BELLE ] TALE AS OLD AS TIME.#[ ✧*:・゚ MUSINGS: BELLE ] I WANT SO MUCH MORE THAN THEY’VE GOT PLANNED.#[ ✧*:・゚ AESTHETIC: BELLE ] A MOST PECULIAR MADEMOISELLE.
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chantlight · 7 months
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honestly, although Matthias and Tigana's wealth had been seized by the crown and Anthony + Cassandra didn't really inherit anything [just a few items], growing up in the Prelate of the Mortalitasi's manse was pretty bougie. especially since Vestalus regularly brought his work home. sections of the manse were magically temperature controlled. the kitchen probably had the equivalent of a refrigerator / refrigerated section if not a freezer as well. there would be charms to regulate pests, both mundane and supernatural. mage lights wouldn't be uncommon. basically, everything you need to keep the corpses in good shape [which is pretty standard in necropoleis, at least for families who can afford it] + a few extra amenities because of his position.
it wasn't palatial, though. it wasn't a manor house. definitely large, definitely beautiful, definitely well-appointed, but not to the point of opulence. and, it wasn't purely residential. Mortalitasi live in necropoleis, but they are only caretakers of these cities; they belong to the dead. I like the use of the word manse in canon. they were probably trying to imply a mansion, but I really do think of a manse which was the home of a clergyman. a decent-sized property but one the priest could maintain himself. I do think the prelate's manse is larger than that and they had a small staff, but the religious associations are spot-on.
#OOC / HOLLY.#so it was like. a large manse or a small mansion y'know#some halfway point between the two#so very nice accommodations but not the height of wealth and luxury#important to note that it's not uncommon for Mortalitasi to inherit and to own property outside of necropoleis#Vestalus def has rooms in the palace since as prelate he's one of Markus' chief advisors#idk about him having other property but he Could#technically it's not illegal under Chantry law for mages to inherit; own property; marry; etc#it's just that due to the Circle system and stigma against mages it pretty much never happens#you get disinherited and shit. also the Chantry basically owns you 🙃 what's theirs is theirs and what's yours is theirs#Nevarra has very different attitudes toward mages tho esp since they came to power at court early in the Dragon Age#so it's not unheard of for Mortalitasi to inherit; own property; even marry#I wanna say one was once crowned and that was a Whole Thing#ANYWAY it happens altho it's more common during some periods than others#and there's also always been a religious association with the Mortalitasi akin to the priesthood#so there's often an expectation to forego worldly wealth and glory y'know#they don't technically swear oaths of poverty [and ofc the ideal doesn't always match reality even if they did swear such oaths]#but they are like sworn to serve spirits and the dead etc and they're caretakers of necropoleis so [hand waves]#long story short Cassandra grew up well off but not RICH rich#like upper middle class y'know?
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magnusmodig · 10 months
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TAG DUMP.
( ic . ) — son of odin . the crown is a heavy burden for thee . ( ooc . ) — stories that leap from the page . ( dash comm . ) — connected by the bifrost . ( crack . ) — the elevator's not worthy . ( fosterson . ) — i believe that fate brought us together . ( mischiefmodig . ) — we grew up together . played together . i thought the world of you . ( answered . ) — black feathers fall to a raven's call . ( headcanon . ) — glory to the man who toils for his land . may it ever prosper . ( iisms . ) — love like cleansing rain . rage like smoldering fire . ( meta . ) — son of cosmos . lightning flows through thy veins . ( album . ) — roots of yggdrasil . ( aes . ) — on your head a circlet . tarnished silver and gold . ( odin . ) — let my blade strike true . ( frigga . ) — the wisest woman of all asgard . ( loki . ) — round and round we go . ( thor . ) — if he be worthy . ( jane . ) — earth to asgard . ( avengers . ) — earth's mightiest heroes .
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rainintheevening · 7 months
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Rules: pick a song for each letter of your URL and tag that many people.
Tagged by @sailforvalinor, and thank you this looks like fun!
Remember and Proclaim (Andrew Peterson)
All I Ask of You (Jackie Evancho)
Innocence (Nathan Wagner)
Níl Sé'n Lá (Celtic Woman)
I Still Need a Savior (Billy Sprague)
No Strings (Ed Sheeran)
Take Me Back Road (Tim & the Glory Boys)
How Great is Our God (Chris Tomlin)
Everything Sad is Coming Untrue (Jason Grey)
El-Shaddai (Amy Grant)
Voice of Truth (Casting Crowns)
Endlessly (Amaranthe)
Not Alone (Red)
I'm an Open Road (Paul Brandt)
Never Leave Your Side (Sam Tinnesz)
Good to Be Alive (Skillet)
Hoo boy, can I think of sixteen people?
@griseldabanks @kraytwriter @kingofattolia @catkin-morgs @clawedandcute @nerdychristianfanboy @steampunk-archer @sergeanttomycaptain @smhalltheurlsaretaken @scribblermerlin @authortobenamedlater @stainedleather @mrtobenamedlater @mrgartist @get-loved-nerd @a-fount-of-blessings (Ignore if this is a repeat tag. Unless you want to do it again. Up to you. :)
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music-in-my-veins14 · 2 months
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Some girls are fair Some are jolly and fit Some have a well-bred air Or a well-honed wit
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astraystayyh · 1 month
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seungmin thinks you’re the prettiest at your most ordinary. fluff and softness. pre-established relationship. (happy (very late) birthday to youuu my @starsandrqindrops i love u 💓)
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there is an uncharacteristic tiredness that’s weighing on seungmin’s bones, making the mere act of moving his limbs draining. a faint headache pulsates from the base of his temple, and he shuts his eyes closed, forcing darkness to surround his senses, hoping that it’ll muffle the ache latching to his being.
but what soothes his senses is the sound of running water, more so the knowledge that you are near, just out of reach. you’ll come out soon of the shower and seungmin will be okay.
he doesn’t voice these thoughts to you as you come into the room, towel in hand as you dry your hair, clad in one of his old t-shirts. but his body seems to speak for him, eyes snapping open at the sound of you padding to the bed, spine readjusting so he’d sit against the headboard, eager to look at you more intently.
“tired?” you ask, planting a kiss on his temple before retrieving your hair bush from the bedside drawer. the pain in his head subsides, your existence the antidote for all his ailments.
“no, how was your day?” he asks softly, his warm palm resting on your bare knee. you quickly glance at him, at the way his eyebrows scrunch together ever so slightly, as if begging you to speak, to weave the dreadful silence with your sweet voice.
“it was good, i tried a new restaurant today,” you speak gently, combing slowly through your hair.
“yeah, what is it called?” he says, thumb circling your soft skin. he is no longer angry at the light, for it highlights every contour of your features. he no longer yearns for the dark, as in its absence he gets to see you. in all your ordinary glory.
and you look so beautiful.
“blossom, they have the cutest pastries. i think you’d really like their cheesecake. it’s decorated with edible flowers. and their coffee is to die for,” you recall excitedly, your eyes locking on his every now and then.
“mm,” he says absentmindedly, laying his head atop your lap. “what else did you do?”
“i had the most boring class today, you know the one with…” your voice fades into the background of seungmin’s mind, lingering like a sweet dream that doesn’t disappear even after you wake.
he’s focused on your bare face, and the way your lips move with each word you utter, he sees your gleaming eyes, radiant under the light, although unnecessary— the star you harbor for heart enough to lighten you up. he sees your hair settling into the curls he loves the most, wet droplets falling into your shirt—his. he sees the slate of your nose that he loves to peck and the cheeks he always cradles before sleeping. he sees you, at your most vulnerable state, at your most beautiful one, and he loves you. god, does he love you so much.
“are you even listening to me?” you giggle, running your hand through his black hair, the one you dyed between giddy kisses in the bathroom.
“you are so pretty,” he whispers, voice suddenly hoarse with emotion. he doesn’t know where this love tide came from, but he knows that the weariness is gone, that a warmth only you can produce has replaced it.
your cheeks are no longer devoid of color, a faint pink hue seeping through them. you smile, widely, with no hand before your mouth, no intent to hide from him. “i love you, you are the pretty one.”
“i know,” he smiles cheekily, further burying his head in your lap, arms wound around your legs. “keep talking.”
“what am i? your asmr podcast?” you chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of his head. his headache is long gone.
“yes, you are mine. only mine, right?” he adds, a bit vulnerably, voice weaker.
“only yours.”
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izukuszn · 3 months
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𝟗:𝟐𝟑 𝐚.𝐦
“Baby?” Someone lightly shakes your shoulder, but you only groan in response, clutching at the covers and pulling them further up your body. 
“Wake up, sleepy head,” the voice says, a bit louder this time, laced with amusement. When they rub at your shoulder, hard enough to rouse you but still gentle, you lazily open an eye, revealing Satoru, sitting on the side of the bed. 
The blinds are pulled open behind him, early morning sunlight pouring in, highlighting the edges of his hair. He’s not wearing any eye-coverings, so you get to see him in all his glory, azure eyes set on you. His skin crinkles in the corners as he gives you a soft smile. “How’s my angel?” He asks, leaning down to place a lingering kiss on your forehead, brushing your hair back with a warm hand.
You pout, grumpy that he’s woken you up, but pleased that he’s the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes. “Mornin’,” you say.
“Good morning. ‘Missed you.” Satoru’s hand settles on the side of your face, thumb stroking your skin as he talks. “You’ve been sleeping for too long, there’s only so much you can dream about when all you need is right in front of you, you know.”
Laughing, you sit up, sheets pooling at your waist, and you reach over to envelop him in a cozy hug as a greeting. You feel him sniff your hair, nose at your neck, rub his large palms up and down your back. Slowly, he maneuvers you back down and settles on top of you, making sure to keep half of his weight on the mattress so you’re not crushed. He ends up with his head resting on your chest, his arms wrapped around you, tangled with you and the sheets. His palms are warm, crawling underneath your shirt to feel your bare skin. 
You place your own arms around his shoulders, one of your hands carding through his pillowy hair. You close your eyes as he invades your senses, content to just lay like this. To bask in this morning with him, knowing that you’re here together. That you’ve been granted this luxury, at least for today. 
“Is someone feeling clingy?” You tease. 
He whines, burying further into you. “So mean to me, baby. What did I ever do to deserve this?”
Giggling, you place a kiss on the crown of his head, and you can hear him sigh against you, satisfied with your affection. 
“Love you, ‘Toru,” you say. You mean it more than anything. 
He momentarily brings his face up for a kiss, grinning at you in that lovesick way that does terrible things to your heart. “I love you too,” he responds, then giving you another. 
The two of you lay there, content to love each other, and enjoy this moment. 
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lokisgoodgirl · 3 months
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Believe Me [Loki x Reader]
A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Home from a mission in the dead of night, Loki requires absolution (w/c 1.4k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Avenger!Loki. Established relationship. Mild sub!loki, non-toxic jealously, 'authorised' mild infidelity (missions, innit).
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You had dozed, slipping between the fleeting embrace of slumber. Snatches came and went, the cool of your pillow turning hot before you turned it again.
Fat feathers crisped as you lowered your head. The finest Asgardian goose. Loki insisted. With each wave of consciousness, you tried not to think of your lover destructively flirting his way through a honeytrap mission tonight. The poor mark didn’t stand a chance. You checked the clock. 03.23.
But something feels different.
Sitting up, you squinted beyond the darkness.
On the far side of the room, a wing-back chair rose in the gloom. The draped silk of your discarded robe still hung over the armrest, but it shimmered. It was moving. Black became grey as your eyes adjusted, seeing pale fingers weaving silk between them.
You saw him now.
Legs crossed, back straight and chin dipped as he watched you sleep while he bathed in shadow. Curls sat effortlessly back from his face, slices of cheekbone protruding from blackest night.
The shade of his suit was at one with the leather behind, but Loki’s bright eyes smouldered; embers of starlight and dying galaxies deep in the darkness. “I didn’t wish to wake you, love” he murmured, pulling the silk hem through his fingers a final time before letting it fall.
One long leg unfurled over the other, the click of his heel meeting the floor making you clench beneath the bed-covers. You were wet already. So wet. Like your body could sense his presence, if not yet your mind. She always could.
Like a dream, you cast the duvet back and rose; bare feet padding across the boards towards him. Cool air sent gooseflesh rippling up your thighs, your arms; the curves of your body protected only by a flimsy camisole. Only a few more steps. The leather of the chair squeaked as his thighs spread against the sides. “Loki,” you breathed, cupping his face.
No sooner had the name left your lips than a row of candles flickered to life, illuminating him from behind. They floated in the air, rivulets of wax already spilling soft rolls down the sides. “Hel-lo,” he purred teasingly. One eyebrow cocked. And the threat of a smirk pressing against his cheeks.
For the first time, you noticed his unusual attire. A three piece suit, with its crowning glory the drip of starched ruffles cascading down his chest to the high waist of his trousers. He shifted in the chair, the pad of a fingertip brushing a close-lipped smile.
“Steve really went Ken-doll on you tonight, huh?” you teased, mirth ebbing to renewed desire as he drew the fingers to the bow-tie fastened at his neck.
He shrugged, tugging it slowly, letting the silk unfurl. It hung perfectly around his collar. You wondered if he would tie you up with it. You hoped he would.
In a flash, two large hands cupped your ass, pulling you down to his lap. With a gasp you managed to straddle him, slotting your knees on either side of his thick trunk. You kissed him deeply, savouring the softness of his tongue as it welled and licked and loved you. The ceremony was about to begin. His fingers spread against your cheeks, pulling and massaging as he groaned into your throat.
He tasted like jealousy. Traces of expensive perfume lingering on his skin and the faint hang of some rich whisky doing its best to conceal it. A thrill flooded through you, imagining the mark's desire roaring through her blood as she felt his muscle ripple beneath her touch. But Loki would never betray you, not beyond the emotionless tactics his position required.
Your thumb skated up his cheek, catching a patch of forgotten lipstick near his ear. Forgotten? No. You knew better than that. Whenever Loki came home from ensnaring a target with his wiles, he never missed the chance to make sure you knew who he belonged to. It was a mission. It was nothing. But ceremony must be upheld. His lips waxed and waned deeper, firing passion setting you alight. Every swallow was harsher and deeper than the last. Like he might lose you in the darkness. Loki grunted wetly as you scooted closer on his lap, chest flush to your colossus of a lover while his fingers wound in your hair. Your digits slid down his chest, feeling the ropes of muscle bound beneath starched folds. You broke apart just long enough to whisper the question he was waiting for. "You had to kiss this one?" You let the playful mist of a snarl hang on the air. Loki growled in response while you began working down his chin, along the long blade of his jawline. Letting the tip of your tongue run over the angle of his bone structure.
“Yes,” he rasped while you dropped lower, fastening to the slender muscle of his neck. You took a moment to appreciate his Adam’s apple work as he swallowed hard, ragged breaths ripping the air. His head fell back. “Only for a minute,” he panted to the ceiling. “It was perfunctory.”
Honestly from the god of lies, you’d found, was the greatest aphrodisiac of all.
“Where?” you asked, closing your eyes against his skin. “Against the wall,” he choked. His breaths were short. Loki’s fingernails grazed down the exposed skin between your shoulder-blades while you began to gently gyrate in circles. The god’s thick cock snaked down his thigh, ferociously hard against the tight fabric. At the mercy of your movements.
His brow creased as you slid back and forth, wetted lips parting with a needy gasp. “Did she want you?” you goaded, sliding the heel of your palm over one of his cheekbones. It raked through his hair. "Of course," he strummed, thighs beginning to tremble beneath your hips. Loki's hands ran in worship up the curve of your waist. "And did you want her?" you asked coyly. Loki pouted before a gentle tug of the camisole made your breasts spilled into his waiting hands. “Never,” he breathed; eyes flashing dangerously as he lifted them to meet yours. “Never.” You slid a hand down his torso, through the mass of white foliage ruffles which lapped against your palm in flickering candlelight. They were hard, and yet soft. Just like him. And stiff. That too, was a common attribute.
Slowly, you reached the button of his trousers. Loki thrust into the touch, biting his lip with a flinch. His brows knitted together.
One button popped beneath your fingers. Then two.
He leant forward, pushing your cleavage together and burying his face deep. The god’s nose slotted perfectly between the mounds of flesh he sought, drowning himself in the scent of you. The feel of you. His muffled moans of anticipation made you squirm on his lap, rubbing your bare pussy against his sprung manhood.
Pants and wet grunts of desire filled the air before Loki surfaced, kissing manically up the path to your lips. He consumed you again, his palm skating up the nape of your neck in a violent embrace. Waves of stiff ruffles grazed your nipples, sending electric shocks of pleasure to your dripping core. Had you ever needed him more than this? You were certain you had. But you couldn’t remember when.
Loki’s hands massaged your ass, pulling you deeper against his face. His shirt ruffles scratched your inner thighs, the tender caress making you mewl his name to the ceiling.
“Say you believe me,” he gasped in desperation.
It was a dark prayer. And a desperate one, at that. A ring of saliva was smeared across his lower face. The words chanted on repeat as your searching fingers lined him up between your slick thighs.
“Say you believe me,” he pleaded, slurring. His throat clung to the final syllable, rasping it through a torturous exhale.
The tip of his cock jarred against your slit, a sticky mess of pre-cum and arousal webbing with each slow buck. He was trembling with the effort of resistance.
He would not. Not until the ceremony of his forgiveness was complete.
You looked down at him, head resting against the back of the chair. Carefully coiffured hair now hung around his cheekbones, jutting at mussed angles. Half-lidded eyes observed you with reverence, submission. A pilgrim awaiting absolution. You smiled. Leaning in, you traced the taut vein popping in his neck. Felt every bob and tighten as he swallowed on your ascent. The little mewls from his pretty lips. And all the while, his hips rocked; cock licking and caressing your glistening sex.
The swirl of your tongue tasted bitter. Remnants of perfume from her wrists as she wound her arms around his neck, perhaps. But it would be gone soon. It always was. They always were. And you? You remained. You always did.
You reached the soft skin beneath his ear, humming a little before sucking his delicate lobe between your lips. “I believe you, baby” you whispered.
It was no more than a breath. The truth needs no more than a breath, you’d found. And with a broken sob of gratitude, Loki felt you sink deep onto his leaking cock.
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Tags
@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland
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disneyprincemuke · 5 months
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midnights, 2 * mv1
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you were in the middle of eating dinner alone when you got the feeling of getting punched in the gut
pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader
warnings: i specialise in angst and heartbreak so B)
notes: man i shouldve just written this when my breakup was fresh, because when i tell you my heart was BROKE… (i love oversharing)
(prev) // (next)
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your eyes are glued to your phone in your hand, as the other works the chopsticks to grab yourself some noodles. the tv is switched on in the background for some background noise.
the deafening silence in your apartment has haunted you for the past weeks since the breakup. to battle it, the tv is always turned on in your presence to keep you grounded.
you’ve been on instagram scrolling for about 5 minutes when a strange sensation hits you in your stomach. your throat feels weird, and your arms slowly start to feel numb.
you put the chopsticks down onto the plate that sat peacefully on your coffee table. you take a deep breath and lay your phone down on the carpet, looking around the emptiness of your apartment.
it’s the sudden realisation that you almost didn’t have a place to stay after the breakup. you had sublet the apartment your sister when you moved into max’s, and since she got engaged to her boyfriend and bought their own place, you’ve thought about putting it back on the market.
good thing you hadn’t.
it’s the weird void you felt in your chest sitting here all by yourself. being alone has never felt so definite until now.
the silence that creeps up on you every waking moment you’re in here miserably haunts you. you miss the sounds of clicking from max’s driving simulator, or the random clangs of things when the cats were in a mood, and the mews that conveyed dissatisfaction from the food bowl being empty.
your apartment is barely a shell of the home you’ve gotten used to.
you come home to nothing every day. no cats with their affectionate head rubs against your feet, and absolutely no loving boyfriend at the door whose hands cup your cheeks while he greets you with a loving kiss to your lips.
“-max verstappen scores at least three points in the sprint on saturday evening in losail, he will be crowned 2023’s champion.”
the mention of the name makes you lift your head to the tv. there’s your ex-boyfriend in all his glory, spraying champagne and having fun.
being this hung up about the breakup feels almost illegal; like you had the least right out of everyone to be so heartbroken, seeing as you did initiate it.
your phone lights up, notifications from alexandra and kika flooding your lock screen. you admire their determination — you haven’t picked up their calls and responded to text messages in almost 4 days.
you sigh and turn your head, eyes landing on the framed picture of you with the cats. you miss them terribly, almost as much as you miss the man himself. but it’s way more complicated than just dropping by into your old home to visit the cats.
victoria has mentioned to you that it’s no problem if you do in the week, since max is away for a race. you just couldn’t handle the thought to even be in that apartment. you’d just miss him way too much, and you would fold immediately.
but the constant fights that occurred towards the end of your relationship keeps reminding you to stay away. it’s unfair to keep holding on when it hurts you both.
your eyes linger on the frame that’s faced down on your entertainment centre. you have the picture in it memorised: you and max in abu dhabi under the fireworks when he won his first championship.
it was when he had first said he loved you.
how did it dwindle down so quickly? you could have sworn max was everything you wanted in a person. how did his little quirks you once loved about him be the same thing that drew you away?
you glance at the tv screen, the reporter moving on to other news. you’re holding your own hands back from chucking the tv remote at it.
“oh, god,” you mutter to yourself. the tv screen blacks out when you press the button on the remote.
you rub your forehead in frustration, feeling a headache creeping up from the back of your head. it’s the result from crying right before dinner.
the doorbell stops you from grabbing the faced down picture frame to hug— a habit you’ve gotten used to when you and max were separated due to work.
you tilt your head, eyebrows furrowing as you scramble to your feet. you push yourself off the floor and basically drag yourself over without asking who it is.
though, there’s a slight hope sparking up in your chest. could it be?
you unlock the door quickly, a small smile still stretching on your face when you realise who it is. it’s alexandra and kika, plastic bags decorating their hands and arms as they smile sadly at you.
“you really didn’t have to,” you frown, stepping aside and gesturing for them to come in.
“we can’t leave you all by yourself,” alexandra smiles, making a sharp turn for the kitchen.
you follow behind the pair, plastic bags laid down on the table slowly. it’s only then you realise the overnight bags on their shoulders, now neatly piled by the couch.
kika pulls out a bottle from a plastic bag, presenting it to you from where she is with a grin. “i am hoping you like red.”
“if you don’t,” alexandra pauses, taking out another bottle from another, “we have white wine.” she puts it down onto the table, slowly taking out bags of chips and tubs of ice cream. “but if you don’t feel like drinking, we have junk food.”
“we can eat our body weight,” kika smiles at you.
you frown, tears welling in your eyes at their thoughtfulness. “thank you,” you manage to huff out as your tears start falling out of your eyes. “this means so much to me.”
asking max for a breakup was never part of the plan that night. you still don’t even know where it came from because you know that you still want to be with him.
but when his silence filled the tiny room, eyes barely being able to meet yours, you knew that you basically had your answer. you didn’t fight for it any more after seeing the lifeless eyes that once used to be so bright.
maybe he had been beating around the bush. maybe he couldn’t bring himself to be the one to ask you for a breakup.
maybe you asking for it brought him relief, freeing him from the shackles of your deteriorating relationship.
in the flight back home, you were afraid that no one could ever love you as much as max did. but here are your friends, coming over unannounced to take care of you, despite the fact that you’ve been ignoring them.
kika and alexandra engulf you in a hug, one hand patting your hair and the other rubbing circles on your back. “we’re always here for you.”
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neithergodsnormen · 1 year
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Melisandre Tag Drop
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Dydd Gŵyl Dewi hapus i bawb!
That's right! It's WALES' BIRTHDAY*!!! Yaaaaayyyy today you are all Welsh. Enjoy your 24 hours of perfect harmonisation ability and utter disinterest in any celebrities. Watch out for the dragons.
*It is not Wales' birthday
I have decided to revive an old favourite of this blog to mark the occasion - prepare for a classic Pick The Fake Welsh Word Poll! And to super charge the Welshness today we are assessing the glory that is the daffodil - the national flower of Wales (lol not really, our national flower is the leek. And that's why queen Lizzie Two had to get coronated with a leek on her dress because we refused to let them use the daffodil even when the palace designer begged. Iconic.)
(But the daffodil is still a symbol of Wales, so it counts here.)
So! Let's go! Etymology at the end.
Etymology Notes
Croeso'r Gwanwyn - they flower in March! Hence the St David's Day link. One of the first flowers to bloom in spring.
Clych babi - the trumpet bit looks like a bell, I suppose, and has similar (make a noise' connotations. Why a baby? Dunno. Maybe a spring link again.
Gwayw brenin - the leaves are definitely spear-like, and the petals look a bit like a crown
Pibell felen - 'pibell' usually means a pipe in the sense of music, so another trumpet reference. Except we didn't have trumpets in Wales, so pipe it is
Gylfinog - the trumpet again. The word is often used for animals (morfil gylfinog is beaked whale, for example). Cognate with Cornish gelvinek, Irish gulba, etc.
Cenhinen Pedr - Peter is probably the saint. The leek is otherwise a Welsh emblem
Lily pengam - the angle of the flower head, maybe, makes it 'wry-headed'? And then the lily link, which turns up a few times
Melyn Clamai - yellow is obvious. Clamai is a corruption of Calan Mai - May Eve. Another reference to the time of year
Lili Clamai - lily again, Calan Mai again.
Dwndili - a corruption of the English word 'daffodil', and the lili again
Daffidondili - further corruption
Daffitwndili - corruption but with hypercorrection of the d to a t! Can you tell these ones are dialectic?
~~~
Enjoy!
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