#Allie Has Coherent Thoughts

[houndsrending]

I do think the thing of like us as trans people need to take into consideration like everyones right to bodily autonomy including the right to choose to undergo certain surgeries or like Hormone Treatments and such even when "medically unnecessary" is really important Im glad we're all talking about that more honestly. Theres like a Stigma around surgery that really comes through in regards to trans stuff when people start on the whole like "why would you want to just GET RID OF a PART OF YOUR BODY?" type shit in regards to hysterectomys/masectomys/vaginoplastys and I think it effects everyone. Like people really do take a moralistic view on wanting to do something to your own body without the excuse of it being a life or death scenario

[lauraannegilman]

Read this. Yes, it’s long. READ IT. More to the point, share this. Particularly with any undecided voters you may know. Talk with them about it.

———-

From Dr. Richardson.

“I stand corrected. I thought this year’s October surprise was the reality that Trump’s mental state had slipped so badly he could not campaign in any coherent way.

It turns out that the 2024 October surprise was the Trump campaign’s fascist rally at Madison Square Garden, a rally so extreme that Republicans running for office have been denouncing it all over social media tonight.

There was never any question that this rally was going to be anything but an attempt to inflame Trump’s base. The plan for a rally at Madison Square Garden itself deliberately evoked its predecessor: a Nazi rally at the old Madison Square Garden on February 20, 1939. About 18,000 people showed up for that “true Americanism” event, held on a stage that featured a huge portrait of George Washington in his Continental Army uniform flanked by swastikas.

Like that earlier event, Trump’s rally was supposed to demonstrate power and inspire his base to violence.

Apparently in anticipation of the rally, Trump on Friday night replaced his signature blue suit and red tie with the black and gold of the neofascist Proud Boys. That extremist group was central to the January 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol and has been rebuilding to support Trump again in 2024.

On Saturday the Trump campaign released a list of 29 people set to be on the stage at the rally. Notably, the list was all MAGA Republicans, including vice presidential nominee Ohio senator J.D. Vance, House speaker Mike Johnson (LA), Representative Elise Stefanik (NY), Representative Byron Donalds (FL), Trump backer Elon Musk, Trump ally Rudy Giuliani, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., right-wing host Tucker Carlson, Trump sons Don Jr. and Eric, and Eric’s wife, Republican National Committee co-chair Lara Trump.

Libbey Dean of NewsNation noted that none of the seven Republicans running in New York’s competitive House races were on the list. When asked why not, according to Dean, Trump senior advisor Jason Miller said: “The demand, the request for people to speak, is quite extensive.” Asked if the campaign had turned down anyone who asked to speak, Miller said no.

Meanwhile, the decision of the owners of the Los Angeles Times and the Washington Post not to endorse Democratic presidential candidate Vice President Kamala Harris seems to have sparked a backlash. As Will Bunch of the Philadelphia Inquirer noted, “in a strange way the papers did perform a public service: showing American voters what life under a dictator would feel like.”

Early on October 26, the Washington Post itself went after Trump backer billionaire Elon Musk with a major story highlighting the information that Musk, an immigrant from South Africa, had worked illegally when he started his career in the U.S. Musk “did not have the legal right to work” in the U.S. when he started his first successful company. As part of the Trump campaign, Musk has emphasized his opposition to undocumented immigrants.

The New York Times has tended to downplay Trump’s outrageous statements, but on Saturday it ran a round-up of Trump’s threats in the center of the front page, above the fold. It noted that Trump has vowed to expand presidential power, prosecute his political opponents, and crack down on immigration with mass deportations and detention camps. It went on to list his determination to undermine the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), use the U.S. military against Mexican drug cartels “in potential violation of international law,” and use federal troops against U.S. citizens. It added that he plans to “upend trade” with sweeping new tariffs that will raise consumer prices, and to rein in regulatory agencies.

“To help achieve these and other goals,” the paper concluded, “his advisers are vetting lawyers seen as more likely to embrace aggressive legal theories about the scope of his power.”

On Sunday the front page of the New York Times opinion section read, in giant capital letters: “DONALD TRUMP/ SAYS HE WILL PROSECUTE HIS ENEMIES/ ORDER MASS DEPORTATIONS/ USE SOLDIERS AGAINST CITIZENS/ ABANDON ALLIES/ PLAY POLITICS WITH DISASTERS/ BELIEVE HIM.” And then, inside the section, the paper provided the receipts: Trump’s own words outlining his fascist plans. “BELIEVE HIM,” the paper said.

On CNN’s State of the Union this morning, host Jake Tapper refused to permit Trump’s running mate, Ohio senator J.D. Vance, to gaslight viewers. Vance angrily denied that Trump has repeatedly called for using the U.S. military against Americans, but Tapper came with receipts that proved the very things Vance denied.

Trump’s rally at Madison Square Garden began in the early afternoon. The hateful performances of the early participants set the tone for the rally. Early on, comedian Tony Hinchcliffe, who goes by Kill Tony, delivered a steamingly racist set. He said, for example: “There’s literally a floating island of garbage in the middle of the ocean right now. I think it’s called Puerto Rico.” He went on: “And these Latinos, they love making babies too. Just know that. They do. They do. There’s no pulling out. They don’t do that. They come inside. Just like they did to our country.” Hinchcliffe also talked about Black people carving watermelons instead of pumpkins.

The speakers who followed Hinchcliffe called Vice President Kamala Harris “the Antichrist” and “the devil.” They called former secretary of state Hillary Clinton “a sick son of a b*tch,” and they railed against “f*cking illegals.” They insulted Latinos generally, Black Americans, Palestinians and Jews. Trump advisor Stephen Miller’s claim that “America is for Americans and Americans only” directly echoed the statement of Adolf Hitler that "Germany is for Germans and Germans only.”

Trump took the stage about two hours late, prompting people to stream toward the exits before he finished speaking. He hit his usual highlights, notably undermining Vance’s argument from earlier in the day by saying that, indeed, he believes fellow Americans are “the enemy within.”

But Trump perhaps gave away the game with his inflammatory language and with an aside, seemingly aimed at House speaker Johnson. “I think with our little secret we are gonna do really well with the House, right? Our little secret is having a big impact, he and I have a secret, we will tell you what it is when the race is over,” Trump said.

It seems possible—probable, even—that Trump was alluding to putting in play the plan his people tried in 2020. That plan was to create enough chaos over the certification of electoral votes in the states to throw the election into the House of Representatives. There, each state delegation gets a single vote, so if the Republicans have control of more states than the Democrats, Trump could pull out a victory even if he had dramatically lost the popular vote.

Since he has made virtually no effort to win votes in 2024, this seems his likely plan.

But to do that, he needs at least a plausibly close election, or at least to convince his supporters that the election has been stolen from him. Tonight’s rally badly hurt that plan.

As Hinchcliffe was talking about Puerto Rico as a floating island of garbage, Democratic presidential nominee Vice President Kamala Harris was at a Puerto Rican restaurant in Philadelphia talking about her plan to spread her opportunity economy to Puerto Rico. She has called for strengthening Puerto Rico’s energy grid and making it easier to get permits to build there.

After the “floating island of garbage” comment, Puerto Rican superstar musician Bad Bunny, who has more than 45 million followers on Instagram, posted Harris’s plan for Puerto Rico, and his spokesperson said he is endorsing Harris.

Puerto Rican singer and actor Ricky Martin shared a clip from Hinchcliffe’s set with his 16 million followers. His caption read: “This is what they think of us.” Singer and actress Jennifer Lopez, who has 250 million Instagram followers, posted Harris’s plan. Later, singer-songwriter and actress Ariana Grande posted that she had voted for Harris. Grande has 376 million followers on Instagram. Singer Luis Fonsi, who has 16 million followers, also called out the “constant hate.”

The headlines were brutal. “MAGA speakers unleash ugly rhetoric at Trump's MSG rally,” read Axios. Politico wrote: “Trump’s New York homecoming sparks backlash over racist and vulgar remarks.” “Racist Remarks and Insults Mark Trump’s Madison Square Garden Rally,” the New York Times announced. “Speakers at Trump rally make racist comments, hurl insults,” read CNN.

But the biggest sign of the damage the rally did was the frantic backpedaling from Republicans in tight elections, who distanced themselves as fast as they could from the insults against Puerto Ricans, especially. The Trump campaign itself tried to distance itself from the “floating island of garbage” quotation, only to be met with comments pointing out that Hinchcliffe’s set had been vetted and uploaded to the teleprompters.

As the clips spread like wildfire, political writer Charlotte Clymer pointed out that almost 6 million Puerto Ricans live in the states—about a million in Florida, half a million in Pennsylvania, 100,000 in Georgia, 100,000 in Michigan, 100,000 in North Carolina, 45,000 in Arizona, and 40,000 in Nevada—and that over half of them voted in 2020.

In 1939, as about 18,000 American Nazis rallied inside Madison Square Garden, newspapers reported that a crowd of about 100,000 anti-Nazis gathered outside to protest. It took 1,700 police officers, the largest number of officers ever before detailed for a single event, to hold them back from storming the venue.”

Source and verification links:

[robboyblunder]

As promised I went ahead and continued my "ghoul guide" with a part 2 (part one linked in replies)! This one covers stuff specifically with a made up lore guide of in-world ghoul stuff as if they were a sort of unique magic entity.

This one wound up way longer and had to be split so expect a third final one eventually lmao. for now though... I'm gonna take a break and yell. Bonus extra info plus the transcript under the cut!

ID in ALT text!

Bonus note: While not portrayed in the guide, it’s important to know a detail about ghouls’ origin called “memory echoes”. While ghouls are formed from humans past who lose all memory of their previous self while maintaining an assumed personality from before, at times certain instances of events, actions, items, and otherwise can trigger these “echoes”. Echoes are very rare, but a valued treasure to ghouls; they make them feel more connected to their past and more “human”. Upon triggering an echo, a ghoul will become completely listless, unable to respond or react until the echo has completed, usually within seconds.

“Memory echoes” are described as blurry faded memories that often show featureless shapes and colors, but a very strong “feeling” of a Deja-vu of the moment. They feel viscerally real and can have a mix of the senses i.e. touch and smell, but produce no recognizable faces or imagery of the self. No ghoul has ever reported fully remembering one, nor any semblance of their true past beyond the haunting leftovers.

Begin Transcript:

A Compendium of Hell’s Derivates

While there are many theories on the demonic nature of ghouls,

The true source is surprisingly Human.

Souls cannot be recreated; rather, they’re Recycled and Reborn

The cycle of ghoul creation started for unknown reasons…

But one thing is Certain:

Natural forces do not change easily.

Raw elements collide with the fuel of life itself until one connects

by His command

A violent injection of pure elemental magic

Rewrites and erases all memory and one’s past, drastically altering the soul…

These new powers lend to the powerful allies of the ministry,

However….

… new powers are a dangerous toy.

While coined as “Feral”, new ghouls would better be designated “Raw”, “Unbound”, and “Lawlessly Dangerous”

First formed, they are still elements;

Torrential, Aimless,

Incapable of coherent thought or rules

-but with time, coherence returns to the individual

Who grows much like a life cycle’s stages without necessarily aging.

The overall cycle is the same per ghoul, yet varied enough each rises differently…

First form: “Raw” – Second form (1): “Feral” – Second form (2) – Third form: “Stabilized”

Catalyst, violent, poor formation – Unaware, wild, chaotic – Conscious; can act like oneself; less raw – fully formed and recognizable

The first form, “Raw”, is notably so violent the devil himself does not release them until stage two.

The second form in stage one of a “Feral” ghoul is much like the forces of nature; free willed and wild, understanding minimal speech.

Take caution: they can be mischievous and cause decent damage.

In the second stage of a “Feral” ghoul, they behave like typical people; however, they’re still very free and may choose to never fully stabilize.

Note: you can tell they’ve reached this stage by presence of a tail and civil habits.

If desired, a ghoul reaches the final form: “Stabilized”. They’re transformed into a stable humanoid body, a form less powerful but safer.

Note: Talented ghouls can change form at will in this stage between secondary Feral and Stable.

When it comes to location, each form is most likely to be found:

Raw: Hell, contained

Feral (Stage 1): wilds/natural areas

Feral (Stage 2): wilds and civil areas

Stabilized: anywhere people go

Seeing feral ghouls is not uncommon, and can even be considered lucky!

They tend to provide free protection to keep their home

Ghouls can only stabilize via ministry ritual;

One can assume they’re ministry members if stable, even off duty.

Ghouls are uncommon, but found most places if looked for;

This seems especially true near ministry placements.

Ghouls only form from adults and don’t “age” traditionally, yet they’re still mortal

Deceased ghouls do not seem to return or recycle.

Summoning intentionally pulls only second stage feral ghouls or stable ghouls from anywhere,

They don’t always like this however (see other guide).

The cycle of ghouls serves a main purpose – as forces for the Dark One, in return for rebirth

However, there are two channels through which they serve.

1) Natural defense against corrupted holy magic

Non-stable ghouls defend at will naturally where they live

2) training to fight, protect, and uphold the ministry’s efforts in the name of the Devil.

Contrary to belief, summonings cannot grab from “nothing”;

Like the creation of a ghoul,

Their element, once developed, is what becomes pulled by nature

The force of such pull is incredible,

A disorientating test of will so great…

…it can render even the most sound minds rather violent.

This is why while some choose to stabilize, others may not;

But should a mind change, they can be freed or re-summoned.

Alternative to wild summoning, one can summon from trained ghouls over feral;

Many ghouls are trained for ministry positions all over, but any can be summoned if unassigned.

Though stabilized, unassigned ghouls are not contractually bound to anyone until assigned.

They’re great for extra work hands and being able to know what kind of team mates you’ll get without leaving it to chance.

Summoning any ghoul however reverts them to feral form, and the challenge to tame them remains the same.

Just because you know a ghoul does not mean an easy summon.

Finally, be warned: forcing unwanted breaking or upholding of a summoning contract

Will have dire consequences.

Aside from rarity of an element, there are “power classes” within each element.

Tiers:

Rarity of an element does not equal strength.

The break down is as follows:

Rare – extreme and dangerous power. These ghouls earn a specialized title.

Quite strong, stand out in their class and very sought after.

Most common tier; average and decent powers that are expectable.

Weak powers, but some uses are applicable.

Uncommon – ghouls who possess little to no powers. Ghouls in this tier may at times suddenly change power tier without warning to any other category.

S-Tier ghouls are quite rare and a sight to behold- truly, they embody nature’s power.

End transcript.

[shipmansflannels]

"who asked first" with the yellowjackets

yay! I'm back! the decision to open a new blog just for yellowjackets wasn't easy at all, but since it's been a year since this obsession has barely gone away and I already had an extremely confusing blog with layouts and the like, I wanted to start over with this one. hope you like it. I'll make a very simple and small prompt first, and then I'll make the masterlist and the oneshots/fanfics. stay tuned! sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

--------

who asked first with the yellowjackets girls...

jackie taylor.

well, if we're going to be honest here, you definitely asked first.

of course, jackie had already been rehearsing for weeks how he would ask you out. but she's obviously a girlfaillure, so you definitely asked first.

it was probably when she least expected it. it could be at soccer practice, or when you were coming home from school together and you had the audacity to ask her to go out with her to some hypothetical and boring place in the middle of the street… whatever.

all I know is that this little loser was eager for you to ask, and she definitely rolled out the classic, "took you too long…"

shauna shipman.

again, you asked first.

shauna doesn't have the social tact to ask you out (she's just like me), and drunk is even worse, so you actually had to make the first move most of the time.

just like jackie, it could have been when she was at soccer practice, or when she was alone enough to vent to her journal and you were able to get close to her without scaring her. anyway, the thing is, shauna was already secretly expecting this to happen (a lot of her journal pages were about you btw), so it wasn't a surprise either when you asked her out.

despite everything, you didn't have any difficulties on your first date. she's pleasant company, I suppose.

natalie scatorccio.

one of the rare exceptions where she asked first.

okay, don't be fooled, either. natalie is very cocky from time to time, but asking to go out with you is definitely one of the times she tends to weaken. so, kevyn probably dared her to do it and she just took advantage of her cooler personality to use it on you.

but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. in fact, it's kind of a good thing (and probably depressing for her) because she only felt like herself when she asked you. I see in nat a huge tendency to ignore some of her feelings, especially when it comes to people she likes.

the invitation was probably also full of teasing on her part, from body language to the words used for it. and somehow she made it look cool and convinced you to accept it.

things that only natalie scatorccio could do.

lottie matthews.

for some reason, I'm 100% sure you asked first.

I know many of us think of lottie as a completely carefree, liberal and often bitchy enough person to ask someone out on a date. but, if we count the pre-crash, I think she was a very insecure person and uncertain of her feelings, more due to the influence of the pills.

so, as incredible as it sounds, you asked first. it was in an extremely relaxed conversation between you that the invitation ended up unintentionally, and she was visibly panicked when she agreed.

lottie is probably the type of person who has a rehearsed speech in front of the mirror while getting ready, and with her enviable style and expensive clothes (some stolen), she would do anything to make your date the perfect date.

taissa turner.

she asked first.

taissa is confident enough to ask you out, I have no doubt about that. but she definitely spent weeks planning the perfect invitation, just in case everything went wrong and she needed to run (just like what happened when she thought about breaking allie's leg before nationals).

anyway, taissa would certainly ask first and it would be quite a surprise for you. taking into account that, from the moment you accepted, you would discover that van also knew about her friend's ideas, and later that half of the team also knew. it would be a shock because you wouldn't understand tai's intentions at first.

but none of them are necessarily bad. one, is that tai was really excited if you accepted, and her anxiety couldn't stop her from wanting to tell the world. two, because she was overly excited that you had agreed to go out with her, and wanted the world to know it as well.

van palmer.

as much as I would really like to prove otherwise, you asked first.

van has the same problem as lottie, but in her case, it's excessively because of the sarcasm jokes and high charisma. she thinks she's being too much for you and that asking for something like that on this level would end up scaring you away.

in the end, it's totally the opposite, but it's going to take van a long time to figure that out, specifically. the invitation would happen when she least expected it, probably when you were feeling confident enough to pass notes to her during classes.

it's a cute invitation, and one that van would hold in question for a long, long time.

misty quigley.

there would be no other answer. she asked first.

misty has no shame in admitting that she has a crush on you. and of course, to ask you out on a date, this shame decreases even more. she doesn't even care if she will be made fun of by her colleagues, what really matters is that she planned everything for you to accept.

and when I say everything, it really means everything.

from the moment she will slide up to your table and quietly ask if you accept, to the tone of voice she will use to persuade your brain to accept, to the place she will take you hand in hand and then let it slide. … she literally thought of every detail.

and, well, knowing misty quigley's ability to create plans, the whole thing worked out… until you figured it all out and admitted that you liked it even more, much to her surprise.

laura lee.

you asked first, of course. there would be no other answer either.

of course, not ruling out the possibility of laura lee asking first, given her hidden impulsive personality, but, in this case, taking the obviousness into account, you asked, and had to be careful with every line said in the invitation.

of course, it needed to be at a time when you were alone, because you were afraid that pressure from other people would make you feel suffocated. this, of course, did not happen. she thought it was a classic weekend outing, like you guys usually did, until she realized your real intentions.

and, truly, at no point did it make her feel restrained or scared. she was ready to be vulnerable and be herself around you, no matter what.

(but, if you casually ask lottie at some point, she will definitely claim that she saw laura lee rehearsing some speeches and compliments for you in the locker room mirror…)

[heartz-for-de]

been thinking about katsuki with reader who’s hardheaded and loud with their friends, but a crybaby and could barely speak a sentence clearly with katsuki (he has to practically kiss your face to hear you sort of thing)

Here’s a little Drabble!!!

NOT PROOFREAD SORRYYYY

Warnings- cussing, mentions of bullying, insecure reader

——

“Watch what the hell you say to me, bitch.” Your spat out harshly to some girl from 1b. You didn’t know much about her, just that she had been shot talking your abilities.

“Don’t think I will, I mean cmon. Your quirk is like bottom teir at best, it’s a waste of space for a student in 1A.” You had felt a pang in your heart, and suddenly your throat was tightening up.

You had always been somewhat insecure of your quirk, but once you had made it to UA it had simmered down a little bit, until now.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous. What you never been told no in your life? All of that daddy’s money and you still couldn’t get into the top class. How unfortunate.” You mustered out a few more sentences before walking off with a scoff. The girl did nothing but clench her firsts and growl behind her teeth.

You felt your eyes burning and your bottom lip began to tremble.

Your eyes scanned for the nearest empty classroom and the second you spotted one you were quick to open the door and insert yourself into the room.

Tears were streaming down your face uncontrollably, you had been holding them back as hard as you could, but now that you were alone? It was over.

Your breaths were becoming short and shallow as you let out harsh sobs.

Your phone began to buzz—it was Katsuki.

You didn’t want to answer, but you knew how worried he’d be if you didn’t.

You reluctantly picked up the phone.

“Where the hell are you? Mina said she saw— are you crying.” He cut off his own thought once he’d heard your strained breaths and sniffles.

“I-I’m so—rry.” You could barely form coherent sentences, the air in your lungs becoming sharp.

“Drop your pin, I’m coming.” Was all your boyfriend had said before he hung up the phone. This was common in you and Katsukis relationship.

Growing up you were torn down and bullied a lot because of your quirk, so once middle school hit your only defense mechanism was to out bitch them. And man were you good at it.

But deep down you were still some insecure kid whose confidence was ruined by a couple of 9 year olds. So even when you let loose with your cruel words and ugly glares, you couldn’t help but feel your eyes burning.

As you tried to calm your breathing the door had swung open and scanning the room with frantic eyes was Katsuki.

This wasn’t unusual, he knew your routine. He tried his best to be there whenever you did breakdown, but most times you choose to be less rational when he isn’t around.

“C’mere.” He mumbled as you let out another sob at the sight of your boyfriend.

You flopped into his arms, the two of you now leaned against a desk. You felt his hand come to push the hair out of your face, a few pieces wet and stuck to your cheeks from your relentless crying.

Katsuki was in no means gentle, in fact he was more so known for the opposite. But whenever moments like this occurred he treated you as if he were handing glass. You never understood why he’d put up with your emotional roller coasters, not even a small complaint ever leaving his lips.

His lips planted a soft kiss upon your forehead and you finally felt your heartbeat slow down a little.

“Jus’ tell me when you’re ready.” He muttered into your hair as he continued placing feather soft kisses across your face.

Once you’d finally regulated your breathing you looked up at him with red eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“I’m sorry—kats. I was arguing—with some girl and she said some re—ally rude stuff about my quirk and I just…I got really mad, i guess.” Hiccups interrupted you every few words, but Katsuki had no trouble understanding.

He continued his kisses as he nodded his head to show you he was listening.

You sat for a moment, still a little on edge with your emotions as you pulled Katsuki back for a moment.

He gave you a confused look but nonetheless stepped back.

“Why do you put up with me? I’m a hot fucking m—ess.” You voice trembled out again, and it took everything in you not to cry.

“Because I love you, all of you. Event the weird shit you do, or whenever you feel like really using that big ass mouth of yours, I still love you.” He answered quickly, and even though his words seemed harsh they melted your heart.

“I love you too, kats.” You pulled him back into a soft embrace.

“I’d hope so, with all the shit I have to put up with.” He grumbled softly.

——

Sorry this def isn’t my best work, but I rlly liked your idea bc it reminded me a bit of myself lololol but I do love ur ideas!!! Don’t be shit to request again:))))

[gremnda]

My realm sona!!! I did a bit of brainstorming last night and I've got some more doodles sketched out, i'll post them all soon :]]

Literally the last time i got so excited about making a sona was back in dsmp days with the subtwt academies, when i made my parentstwt academy sona jhjkhjdf

Hopefully semi-coherent lore ramble under the cut

Okay so guys. Hear me out.

I rewatched Good Omens a few days ago and you Know i'm mixing my hyperfixations together LMFAO

tr!Grem, goes by he/him, probably has been alive for 2000 years, a newer demon, his job in Hell is to handle documents of every new damned person. So imagine Furfur from season 2 but it's my little demon guy instead. Absolutely hates his job, wants to escape and somehow ends up in the Realm (he switches himself with another new red faction player. probably kills & replaces them)

So now you have this demon guy who is not exactly telling people he's a demon but definitely not trying to hide it- at red faction, with a kill quota every week.

He very much has a salesman type of personality. He opens a flower shop as disguise, so when people question him about his murders he can look innocent and say he's just a flower boy. He's absolutely delighted about setting up traps, and doesn't care he has to kill people, ESP bc this realm is his ticket out of Hell.

Once he resets, Hell will catch up to him so he's running on desperation pretty much :] the ”yuor dead” graffiti and ”they never did learn to spell” is a reference to hell, they're very much looking for him but can't get a hold of him. (server whitelist of something idk)

Probably gets along really well with tr!Pili, Ros and Beky- just bc he thinks they're evil af and thinks it's super cool LMAO He's allies with tr!Bad but Bad might not like him very much after his 3rd fall trap in cathedral. 100% offered to kill tr!Pangi more than once for Pili during their many pangili divorce eras. Lets tr!Aimsey run tests on him for the funsies.

I'm thinking it'd be cool if he does get skulked later on but i haven't thought that far ahead tbh LMAO

Thank you for reading if you read this far!! Please can we get everyone to make Realm sonas so we can have our little characters hang out and vibe, it'd be so cool :3c

[lionwitch]

Tim Drake Edits Reality

Hear me out. Tim Drake has always loved photography, that's wildly accepted and known. But what if he has powers too?

What if whatever Tim edits into his pictures becomes the truth?

The first time it happened, Tim was just starting his photography hobby. His parents bought him a camera and he was so exited! He took a picture of his mom's Rosebush, a single rose in the entire bush, half Withered.

Tim found the picture beautiful, and he started messing with photoshop, editing the withered flower back to the bright red it used to be. He decided it looked lonely and sad, the bush dry and the rose edited to be lively but alone in the middle. So he edited the dry areas of the bush back to the lively green and more roses in it. The picture looked very different from the original, but it was beautiful. Satisfied, he saved the end result.

That afternoon, when he walked through the garden, the very same dry rosebush he photographed looked just like his edited picture: lively, with rich colors and plenty of roses.

It made no sense, but he ignored it.

He kept taking pictures and editing them, though the changes were small, like the lighting and all that. Sometimes he made small changes, and he definitely noticed them and thought it was weird, but didn't quite connect the dots. He was kind of in denial. He couldn't be a meta or anything! Right?

And then his parents left for a few months and he was lonely, but he didn't want to admit it. And at school everyone was talking about their pets, and he messed up and lied. "I just adopted a Border Collie puppy!" he lied, thinking that would be it, people would forget, he would get out of the awkward situation (why did everyone have pets?) and nothing would happen. Well turns out, everyone wanted to see his puppy.

So Tim came home and prepared his camera, in his trusted tripod to look like it had been taken by someone else, and took pictures of himself, a whole photoshoot, with his arms stretched like carrying a dog, and then sitting like he was playing with it.

He searched for a perfect Border Collie puppy, one who had a whole photoshoot just for that one, so he could be sure the pictures were coherent and no one would question them. He carefully edited them and memorized every feature of his supposed dog in case anyone asked, to keep his story straight. Once satisfied, he sent them to those who asked for pictures, and received plenty of "cute dog!" compliments. It had taken him all day, so he went to bed almost immediately after, already past midnight.

He woke up to the very same blue eyed fluffy Border Collier puppy he edited into his pictures, licking his face, the same blue harness and leash hung on his door, and even the bed and bowls he put in the background were on the corner of his room now.

He freaked out, of course, but the small pup didn't seem all that worried. And apparently he now had a puppy? Well, he's always wanted one. He named her Frankie, because her multiple colors and patterns clashed like Frankenstein's monster, like she had been made for from mismatched parts.

He loved Frankie. She was so smart! And Frankie was quite loyal and enamored by him, too. He was her whole world, and she was his heart, his companion and confidant, his best friend and ally in his too-big house.

He did decide to experiment though. He needed more research.

When a boy at school picked on him, he edited his picture bald, and that same day his father shaved his hair. He tried again with another boy who picked on Jason (Jason doesn't know Tim exists yet, but Tim keeps an eye out for him), editing his hair bright barbie pink, and this time he added a date to the corner, writing the date of a week ago, two days before the pictures for his football team were taken.

When Tim saw the football team's pictures displayed at school, the boy had pink hair in them, that he didn't yesterday. He asked around, if the pictures looked different to anyone else.

"yeah, I don't know what persuaded him to dye his hair pink before picture day and the tournament."

"I asked him two days ago, he said he lost a bet."

Two days ago. Tim's mind was reeling. He asked the boy himself when he dyed his hair, and he replied with the date Tim edited on the corner of the picture.

Did Tim just... Edit reality?

He later uses this power to his advantage on patrol, and before that while watching the Bats.

Jason is surrounded? He takes a picture and edits a few goons out of it quickly. They aren't there when he looks up.

Shit Joker escaped? He doesn't have the energy to deal with it right now. He edits tonight's date on a picture of Joker sitting peacefully in his cell and a few more guards for good measure.

His family doesn't understand why he takes a small discreet camera on patrol in his utility belt

[altocat]

timeline where genesis actually has a coherent thought for 20 minutes and comforts sephiroth in the reactor rather than going L + ratio + your mom's a monster

Sephiroth would have helped him. I firmly believe that. Sephiroth still cared about Genesis despite everything that happened, so much so that he was ready to abandon Shinra over it. I think if Genesis had been more tactful and less antagonistic, he could have easily won Sephiroth as an ally.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Making Arrangements Part One

Masterlist | Part Two

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked.

Length: 6.1K

Notes: It's a two-shot! Part two will have explicit content.

No beta, we die like Billy Kimber

Warnings: Arranged marriage; mentions of prostitution; canon-typical attitudes toward sex; slow burn; enemies to allies to lovers; Reader has a brother and an aunt; no physical descriptions of non-canon characters; Reader gets drunk

Summary: If you’d been involved with anyone, if there’d ever been a hint or a whisper of a beau recently, you might’ve been able to plead differently for your future. 

But you knew as well as your family that this was your best move, and with no great love waiting in the wings, there was nothing to be done but to marry the man. You secured your interests, the interests of your family. You gained a powerful ally—but you also gained powerful enemies. 

“D’you think you could bother to give them a smile?” 

On the face of it, it seemed a fair question, but all things considered, it made you want to punch Thomas Michael Shelby squarely in the jaw. You didn’t, of course—that conduct would be unbecoming of a bride in front of her new family. 

You’d been getting knowing looks from the women all night—pursed lips from Ada and Polly, and a wide smile from Esme. It was almost wolf-like, the way she watched you—welcome to the pack. 

“I could,” You conceded, nodding, casting your gaze around the party. The revels had only just begun. It was early enough that nearly everyone was coherent, on their feet, but you knew that in just a couple of hours, the party would likely turn to shit. These people would be drunk, coked out of their minds, dancing, and flirting…Probably fucking. You had no doubt that you would be expected to do your wifely chore that evening. 

Maybe that was why a permanent frown had been fixed on your lips from the time you’d put on your wedding dress, as you’d walked down the aisle, all the way through the fucking I Dos. 

“You’re still frowning.” 

You didn’t bother to hide your eye roll before you turned your head fully to look at him. He didn’t give you the same courtesy. He watched the revelers with the same bored speculation as you’d given them just moments ago. 

“And this is what your fucking grin looks like?” You snipped. He raised his cigarette to his lips, drawing in a deep drag that sank his cheeks. He managed to cast you a knowing glance, his brow raising. 

“It’s the most that you’ll get of me tonight.” 

“And of me. Don’t ask me to stoop to something that you won’t bother with. I’m your wife now. At least pretend to respect me in front of them,” You insisted, nodding toward the others. It took him a moment, but Tommy nodded. 

“And behind closed doors?” He asked. 

“That’ll be none of their concern. And you’ll have to take it up with me later.” 

“I intend to.” 

--  

You sat on the edge of the bed, and watched. All Tommy did was light up another damn cigarette. You weren’t sure if you married a man or a chimney. 

You could hardly believe that you had married the man at all. 

Your family had never been a big player in Birmingham, or Camden. You’d kept your head down, stayed out of the way, operated cleanly. When the Shelbys had come to you with a proposition, it hadn’t been for your minor operations in the UK—it had been for your connections in America. They were looking to expand, offered you a good deal, and a union between the two households. 

When it had first been brought to your attention, you’d thought that it was a pretty good idea. But when it came down the line that Thomas Shelby had specified an interest in marrying you, well—the thought had become less and less appealing. If you’d cared less for your family, or known less about the mounting tensions that they were facing overseas, you would’ve laughed the idea off. If you’d been involved with anyone, if there’d ever been a hint or a whisper of a beau recently, you might’ve been able to plead differently for your future. 

But you knew as well as your family that this was your best move, and with no great love waiting in the wings, there was nothing to be done but to marry the man. 

You secured your interests, the interests of your family. You gained a powerful ally—but you also gained powerful enemies. 

Tommy had spoken to you only once before your wedding day. The meeting had been brief, and he’d done all of the talking. He’d promised to protect you, sworn to never raise a hand against you. 

“You know as well as I do,” He’d insisted, “That this is the best way forward for our families. And I know,” He’d leaned in a touch, “That you want what’s best for your people.” He’d reached into his pocket and drawn out a small velvet box, setting it on the table before he stood, straightening his waistcoat. 

“You have until tomorrow night. I need an answer.” 

You’d sent him your reply—a single slip of paper sent with your brother Lewis that simply read: Yes 

“...It was a nice party,” You offered now, unable to stand the silence any longer. 

“You didn’t seem to particularly enjoy it.” 

“No one left with a bullet wound. In my family, we consider that a successful bash.” 

Tommy’s lips quirked just a touch as he nodded. 

“Our brothers seemed to get on,” You hedged, desperate to draw this out. You worried that once you stopped speaking, he may…Want to consummate the marriage. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. You’d heard rumors, whispers that Tommy was a good lover, but you weren’t sure that you were ready to find that out yourself. 

“They did,” Tommy nodded again. “Lewis and John already seem thick as thieves.” 

“Yes.” 

The two of you fell into quiet again, and it was a harrowing few moments before Tommy pushed himself off of the dresser. Your hands dropped instinctively to the bed, grasping at the sheets—but Tommy turned and went for the door. 

“G’night, then.” 

Your brow furrowed as you glanced around. Goodnight? But—

“Where will you sleep?” 

Tommy stopped in the open doorway, nodding behind himself. “I’ve a room down the hall.” He turned away, adding, “Shout if you need something.” 

You hesitated a few moments longer before you sprung up, darting forward and shoving the door closed before locking it. You drew in a deep breath, closing your eyes and letting your forehead rest against the dark, cool wood grain. 

He didn’t take. 

You had gone into the room expecting shoving hands and a quick coupling, but Tommy kept his distance. You weren’t sure if you were more relieved or insulted. You turned away from the door, leaning back against it and peering around your dim new living quarters. 

Relieved, you decided. 

--  

Insulted, you decided. 

Tommy had the gall to lean in and peck your cheek when he’d come down to breakfast that morning. 

It took everything in you not to shove him away.

Polly made no comment on how wane you looked the next morning, nor did Ada or Esme cast you knowing grins or teases. They all watched Tommy, and the little slip of a shadow that you’d met last night—a birch-pale, dark-haired woman named Lizzie. 

You didn’t think that the news had made it back to your family—the fact that your husband had just spent his first night as a newly-married man with a prostitute-turned-secretary while you slept alone in an unfamiliar room wearing the lacy nightie that you’d bought specifically for your honeymoon. 

Esme and Ada excused themselves as quickly as they could, but Polly lingered, and offered,

“He’s a prickly sort, and these things take time. Men have their needs and urges.”

“...Right,” You pronounced crisply as you stirred some sugar into your tea, “And I’m a novice in a nunnery.” 

--  

“You should’a seen the girls at the party last night,” Lewis groaned.

For all of your irritation during the last few days, you’d been happy, truly happy to see your family enjoying themselves. Carving out your space in the literary scene of London and running a few underground print shops wasn’t exactly a serene existence. You constantly had to move operations, vet workers, stop-up leaks in production cycles and deal with snitches. Your entire family was dedicated to the business, but your brother was the most determined of the lot. Lewis had become the man of the house at a young age, after your father had been hauled into prison for treason. 

So to see him let loose a little—well, more than a little, truth be told—was a heartening sight. 

“I don’t think I would’ve quite enjoyed them the way you did,” You raised a brow, smile widening as he ducked his head bashfully, “But I’m glad you had a good time.” 

“And you?”

The pointed question came from just behind you. You didn’t dare turn to look at your Aunt Pearl. She knew you far too well. You could hide your feelings and concerns well enough from Lew—you had plenty of practice. But Pearl had been a motherly figure, a guiding hand in what would’ve been an otherwise rudderless life. She learned to read you like an open book when you were young, and you had been powerless to change the way that she understood you, even as the seasons of your life had passed. 

You turned your head back toward her just a touch, biting the inside of your cheek as you waited for her to go on. It was a few moments of quiet before she urged: “Lewis, go get some air.” 

You drew a deep breath in through your nose, fighting to steady yourself, and giving Lewis an encouraging smile and nod before he stood, pushing away from the kitchen table and heading outside. You saw him tipping his head back toward you, trying to catch on the line of questions that Pearl was about to level—as if neither of you knew any better to wait until he was fully out of earshot. 

“Who’s Lizzie?” She finally asked. You weren’t sure how to answer at first. You scrubbed your hand over the back of your neck, making sure that you heard the door shutting behind Lewis. 

“It’s just…Growing pains,” You finally offered, gaze set stalwartly on the table. “Every couple has them.” 

“Where was he last night?” 

“How should I know?” “He’s your husband. You’re supposed to know.” 

You didn’t have a chance to argue before she strode closer, her hand resting on your shoulder. You didn’t flinch, or draw away. You were used to her hand on your shoulder, her nails digging into your skin. She didn’t dig her nails in just now—she merely rested and waited. 

“Growing pains,” You finally offered again as you looked straight ahead. It was as if Polly had her hand on your other shoulder, and was staring you down in warning. 

“Pains?” Pearl repeated. “Physical?” 

You don’t want to answer, but—

“Emotional,” You blurted. It was another moment of quiet before she hummed. You stopped yourself from turning to look at Pearl—to catch the no doubt heavy judgment in her dark eyes, and the twist of displeasure to her small mouth. 

“I see.” 

“It’s early,” You insisted. She hummed again, stepping around you to walk toward the window. It didn’t take much to glance over, to see where Lewis was playfully fighting with John and Finn. 

“Do they know?” Pearl asked. 

“About where he was?” You shook your head. “I’m sure his brothers do.” 

“And?” 

“And what?” You scoffed. “It’s no business of theirs. Our marriage is between myself and Thomas.” 

Pearl turned to face you with a crisp smoothness, her eyes narrowed as she cocked a hip.

“And that’s all you have to say about it?” She asked. You pursed your lips. You had plenty to say about it, but it would land on deaf ears. Any of Pearl’s meddling would spell trouble, and you weren’t about to sic the dogs less than twenty-four hours into wedded bliss. 

“Yes,” You nodded firmly. Pearl’s eyes narrowed further before she hummed, turning back toward the window. 

“...This is good for us, Pearl,” You reminded her. “The Shelby’s are strong, they know what they’re doing. I just have to hold up my end.” 

“And what end is that?” 

“That of a doting wife.” 

“And mother?” 

Doubtful. Thomas couldn’t even be bothered to touch you as it was. But it was early, you reminded yourself. Things could still change. Things would change. They had to. 

“Perhaps,” You leveled evenly. “Someday. Time will tell.” 

“Time,” Peal repeated, nodding as she rounded you. “Well, if we’re going on time, so far, you’re not managing it particularly well.” 

You slid down in your seat a little as Pearl finally left the dining room. Your interest in the day’s paper had been sapped; your tea had gone cold. You didn’t want anything to do with Thomas Shelby, or with his family, not anymore. If you were going to make it through at least one year of marriage, you needed to nip this in the bud. 

-- 

“I need to talk to you.” 

Tommy didn’t so much as glance at you, his gaze trained steadily on a horse. You waited a moment, shifting from foot to foot, but perhaps you shouldn’t have waited. You’d spent nearly two weeks waiting. Maybe he hadn't heard you? You stepped a little closer and raised a hand to touch him. You couldn’t bring yourself to make contact, and your hand curled in on itself just before it could brush his waistcoat. 

“Thomas?” You pressed. 

“I’m busy.” 

“When can we speak, then?” 

“Tonight.” 

Certain that he meant it earnestly, you turned away and left.

But the evening came and went, and you found yourself sitting alone, stewing in front of your uneaten dinner and eyeing his empty plate. The house was too quiet, and your thoughts were far too loud. You needed to clear your buzzing head—you wanted a drink, and some fun. 

-- 

“You can’t let them push you around.”

The warning was spoken knowingly. You knew that she was right, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet Esme’s eye. Her gaze was so heavy, so all-knowing—nothing like the bright, uninterested gaze that Thomas often offered you. But Esme was having none of it. She dipped her head into your field of vision and clapped her hand over yours where it rested on the table beside your drink. You shook her hand away lightly, reaching for your drink instead. Maybe coming to the office to nip out of the bottle Polly kept in her desk had been a bad idea. But you couldn’t bring yourself to just sit in that house and rot in your anger. 

“No one is pushing me anywhere,” You grumbled.

Esme let out a soft, cruel chuckle. 

“I know what it is,” She insisted, “To come into this family and feel on the outside, feel that you don’t have a voice. Becomin’ a Shelby doesn’t erase who you were before.” She reached out again, taking up your drink and drawing in a deep pull before you could argue. As annoyed as you were, you knew that she was right. You nodded slowly, topping the glass up when she set it back down. 

“...Should I not bother replacing Polly’s alcohol, then?” 

Esme’s smile grew as yours did, and the two descended into quiet giggles. 

-- 

“We need to talk.” 

It was steely when it left you this time. Despite that, Thomas still paid you no mind. In fact, he went out of his way to take his time drawing on his cigarette before fishing into his waistcoat. He pointedly drew out his pocket watch, flipping it open and eyeing the time. The tick tick tick of the second hand passed for several long moments before he flipped it shut again, lifting his gaze to the hustle and bustle of the office around him. 

“Later,” He offered. 

Later, always later. Weeks of later, of hearing Lizzie’s footsteps and the creaking across the floor as she left the house before you were up and about for the morning. Weeks of sitting alone in that empty house, putting on a brave face for Pearl and Lewis. Weeks of anger and shame eating through your gut. 

“Now,” You spat.

He turned his head toward you, brows ticking up. You could feel the pace of the others in the shop around you slow just a bit, and speeding up again as Thomas shot them a glance.

“Alright,” He murmured, resting his hand on your lower back. You let him steer you toward his office, resolute in your irritation. He opened the door for you, waving you inside and shutting the door behind the two of you. 

“What is so urgent that you pulled me away from my work?” 

“Your work of watching other people count your money?” You quipped in irritation. 

“...What is it that you want to discuss.” 

“You need to keep your whoring private.” 

Thomas’s brows jumped with intrigue, his chin tipping down toward you.

“Explain.” 

“I understand that we went into this with our eyes open and a mutual understanding that the actions that we were taking were for the good of our families, but to the rest of the world, we are husband and wife. I will not ask you to stop your carrying on, as I can't imagine that you’d abide by it if I did, but keep it private. I will not step out on you publicly, and I expect to be given that same respect.” 

Thomas blinked before he straightened, pushing away from the door and stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray on the desk. He muttered something that you couldn’t hear, and you frowned. 

“Pardon me?” 

“Publicly,” He repeated firmly. “You said that you wouldn’t step out on me publicly.” 

“I did,” You nodded. 

“Do I get to know the lucky man’s name?”

Your face went hot with indignation. Was he trying to embarrass you? Whether he was or not, it was working. You folded your arms across your chest. 

“You’re missing my point.” 

“I take your point. You want me to treat you as my partner, and as my wife, you have that right.” 

“And will you?” 

“You can trust me to be discreet.” 

“I don’t trust you to do anything.” 

Thomas’ expression closed off, his eyes narrowing a touch, and your stomach twisted with nerves. 

“And might I ask why.” 

“What have you done to earn it? In our, what, two weeks of marriage, I have hardly seen you. You’ve made no point to acquaint me with your family or your business, and you’ve spent your nights down the hall with another woman. I’m not your wife, I’m a boarder.” 

Thomas considered for a moment before he gave a short nod. 

“I understand. I will make changes.” “Thomas—” 

“I will.” 

You pursed your lips together, pushing a sigh out through your nose before you gave a small nod of concession. 

“Alright.” 

“Anything else?” 

“...No.” And, just to seal the deal, “Thank you for your time. And for listening.” 

Thomas nodded, straightening up and opening the door for you. You strode toward it, and were nearly through before he rested a hand on your shoulder. You went still, turning your head toward him just a touch. Before you could get a good look at him, Thomas leaned in, brushing a kiss to your cheek. It was the most that he’d touched you since he’d kissed you the morning after your wedding. You thought that he may be making a show of affection for the office, but Thomas turned his head, brushing his lips against your ear.

“If I ever find out that another man has touched you,” He murmured, “I’ll take off the bastard’s hands and give them to you as an anniversary present.” 

You balked, shock wracking your chest as he placed a final kiss to your temple before he gave your ass a pat, spurring you into action and sending your scurrying back into the office, and out of his reach. 

--  

“It’ll be nice for you to fix up the place and make it your own,” Polly commented. 

“She was always going to get around to it of course,” Pearl insisted. You didn’t dare look away from the row of dressers. The one that you had in your bedroom was fine, but it was a bit small. You’d ordered several new pieces of clothing on Tommy’s account—well, on your joint account. Giving the name Mrs. Shelby had incited stunned, wide eyes from the shop keeper’s assistant and prompted fawning and a healthy discount. 

Still, as much as you were trying to bring your families together, you realized belatedly that in this case, it was an awful idea. Polly and Pearl had taken every opportunity to take digs at one another, leveling backhanded compliments with smug smiles and drags of their respective cigarettes. The two of them were so painfully similar, and perhaps that was why they seemed to hate one another so much. 

“Of course,” Polly echoed placidly.

“I want this one,” You pointed to the one in front of you.

“I’ll find the assistant,” Polly offered, brushing past you. You sighed heavily, shaking your head. 

“Please pull it together,” You muttered.

“I’ve nothing to pull together,” Pearl pronounced.

“Please,” You bit out again. “I can’t make any of this work if you and the others don’t, either.” 

You heard a deep sigh, chased by the tapping of her cigarette ash beside you. 

“I will be myself.” 

“I don’t need you to be yourself, Pearl. I need you to be pleasant.” 

A little knot of tension unwound as Pearl chuckled. 

“Becoming a missus really has given you fangs.” 

“I’d rather not use them, if possible.” 

“I understand.” 

“Thank you.” 

“...Are you going to give Miss Sourpuss the same talking-to when she gets back?” 

“Lord above.” 

--  

“You look like you’ve had a marvelous time.” 

Bringing Pearl and Polly to a somewhat peaceful place had been shock enough for that evening, but this took the absolute biscuit.

You might’ve yelped in fear at the sound of his voice if you hadn’t spotted the burning cigarette in the ashtray mere seconds before he spoke. As it was, you didn’t answer right away. You plastered yourself against the backdoor, your hands curled around your key and your purse. Thomas just arched a brow, expectant and silent. He wasn’t supposed to be there. You’d been told that he had business, and you had figured that once that had concluded, he would take care of other…Matters. You'd thought you’d have the house to yourself and have a nice cuppa before going to bed. 

You finally managed to push yourself forward, away from the door, your face hot with drink and embarrassment. 

“I didn’t think you’d be in,” You admitted. 

“You didn’t think I would be spending the evening in my own house?” 

“Esme told me there was a family meeting. She said that they can run late.” 

“You were misinformed.” 

“Clearly.” 

You watched Thomas warily as he drifted closer, going tense as he stepped around behind you. You hardly dared breathe for a moment, then let it out as you felt him slide your coat from your shoulders. 

“Thank you,” You mumbled as he stepped away with it.

“Were you with Esme?” He asked, tossing your coat over the back of a chair. 

“Mhm,” You nodded, taking a few steps deeper into the kitchen. “And Ada, Polly…And Pearl.” 

“Where were you?” 

“Polly’s house.” 

“Mm.” 

You watched Tommy round the counter, taking up a clean glass and a bottle of whiskey. You nodded, stepping closer. “Please.” 

He poured a good amount before setting the glass on the table. You sat down, watching him do the same. The light in the kitchen was low, casting an orange glow about the room. You felt almost like you were being interrogated as Tommy tucked his cigarette between his lips for another drag. You took your drink up in turn, giving your hands something to do. Besides, finding your husband at home had harshly staunched your blissfully tipsy mood, and you were desperate to get it back. Tommy made no comment as you took a deep swig, and you fought away a wince at the taste and burned as you gulped it down greedily. 

“How was the meeting?” You asked.

“Fine…Would you like to know what it’s about?” 

“If you’d like to tell me.” 

You figured he would let it go there, but he gave a short nod, offering: “We’ve reached a trade agreement with your man in New York.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” 

“Lewis can fill you in on the particulars later.” 

Your brows jumped. “Lewis was there?” 

“The business concerned him, I made sure he was in attendance.” 

“I’m sure he appreciated it.” 

He hummed, leaning back in his seat. You took another deep swig from your glass, but you couldn’t bring yourself to draw your gaze away from Tommy’s. He seemed so relaxed—though, maybe it was absurd to find a man relaxed simply because he had removed his suit jacket. Still, he looked irritatingly dashing in his waistcoat. 

“Tell me about yourself,” He ordered as you lowered your glass to the table. You cleared your throat, shaking your swimming head to try and clear that, too.

“Pardon me?” 

“Well,” Tommy plucked up the bottle again, topping your glass up. “As you have reminded me, you are my wife. I ought to know something about you.” 

“...Are you drunk?”

His lips quirked with a small smile. “No. But if you keep on like that, you will be.”

“I’ll be fine.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I do say so, thank you.”

“I have to be drunk to want to learn about my wife?”

My wife. It made you feel oddly warm as he said it…Though perhaps that was the whiskey. 

“We didn’t exactly have the most conventional courtship, or wedding,” You reminded him.  

“All the more reason for me to learn about you now.” 

“I don’t know where to start.” 

“How about with the things you like.” 

“I will tell you,” You nod slowly, “But only if you tell me about yourself in turn.” 

Thomas seemed to purse his lips before he sat up in his seat. He held his hand out, the gold of his wedding ring glinting in the light. 

“You have a deal.” 

You hesitated for a few moments, certain that he was putting you on. But when he didn’t draw it back, you raised your hand in turn, grasping his and giving it a shake. 

--  

The first hint of light made you wince and turn away. Your mouth was obscenely dry; your head was pounding harshly. You groaned, rolling away from the window. Oh…You did not feel good. Your head felt like it was going to burst; your stomach rolled like you were taking a rocky transatlantic crossing. Oh, god…Were you going to be sick?

You peeked an eye open, then squeezed it shut again. Oh, no. You weren’t sure which was worse, having your eyes open or keeping them closed. You hesitantly opened both eyes, then groaned more loudly, tucking your head beneath your pillow. No. Having your eyes open was definitely worse. 

You heard a harsh thudding, as if a giant has managed to get into your room. What on earth—

The pillow lifted away, and you tipped your head up into the cool brush of fingertips against your forehead. 

“How’s our Sleeping Beauty?” 

You weren’t sure what flustered you more: the teasing tone of Tommy’s voice, or the way the word beauty sounded coming out of his mouth. 

“Right as rain,” You mumbled. “Or I will be, once you stop yelling.”

His chuckle brushed your forehead. 

“Pearl is on her way to look in on you. Apparently Esme is doing just as well as you are this morning.” 

“I don’t wish this on my worst enemy.” 

“Rest up.” 

“I wasn't planning on doing anything else.” 

“Good girl.” 

Before you could ask, or argue, or throw a hand out to slap him on the shoulder, he brushed a kiss to your forehead, then drew away fully. You listened to the retreat of his footsteps, a pause, the scraping of the curtains being drawn closed, and the gentle scruuuuuuh—thump of him shutting your bedroom door behind himself. You only dared look around after a few minutes, when you were certain he was gone. You rolled onto your back, sighing and trying to ignore the thud-thud-thud behind your eyes. 

You feel like hell, but last night was sort of…Nice. 

Drinking with the girls and breaking down some of the barriers before your families had been a success, but coming home to Thomas was…New. It wasn’t unpleasant, as you would’ve previously thought. You scrubbed your hand gently across your eyes, trying to recall your conversation. You had it in bits and pieces—his love of horses, his devotion to his family, his worries for Arthur and John. You wondered if he told you those things because you’d been spifflicated that he didn’t think you’d remember a damn thing. But you remembered. 

You remembered the almost kind way that he’d smiled at you a couple of times. You remembered the way he’d taken your hand and led you up the stairs, steadying you when you’d wobbled and taken uneasy steps. You remembered him turning his back as you’d gotten undressed, waiting for you to get into bed before bidding you a goodnight. 

A knocking on the door drew you up from your recollection, and you winced at the sound. 

“Yes?” You croaked. The door opened, and to your surprise, two heads poked through. 

“You’re in a state,” Polly chuckled before Pearl opened your door the rest of the way. The two entered your room, each eyeing the furnishings that were soon to be replaced. You pushed yourself up, wincing as your head spun. 

“Had a night, did you?” Pearl settled onto the bed beside you. 

“Could you lower your voice, please,” You grumbled. 

“Did you go right to bed when you came home?” 

“I meant to.” 

“But you didn’t?” Polly chimed in. 

“No.” You winced as you raised your voice just a touch. “I…I had a conversation with my husband.” 

Polly and Pearl cast one another curious glances, so unlike the cutting looks they’d leveled at one another just a couple of days ago. 

“It was fine,” You added. “It was…” Nice? Enlightening? Something you would be happy to have again? “Cordial.” 

“Was he drinking?” Polly plied.

“We both were.” 

Polly and Pearl each hissed, chased by sympathetic tuts.

“You should’ve quit while you were ahead,” Pearl admonished. 

“I certainly know that now.” 

Polly took another look at you before she patted Pearl’s shoulder, offering, “I’ll put the kettle on.” 

“You’re a saint,” Pearl smiled. You sagged back against the headboard, scrubbing a hand over your brow as Polly disappeared.

“Since when are the two of you so friendly?” You asked. Pearl shrugged. 

“We’ve come to an understanding…As you have with your husband, apparently.” 

“I think it may be a very different kind of understanding.” 

“D’you mind if I smoke?” 

“...I don’t mean to sound harsh, but if you smoke, Pearl, I will be sick.”

“Better out than in.” 

“Please, no.” 

-- 

It wasn’t every night—it wasn’t even most nights, but you began to spend time with Thomas. It started with him coming home just as you finished dinner, and progressed to Thomas making it home just in time for dinner. Conversation wasn’t always freely flowing, and a few of those first dinners were a little quiet, and awkward. But as you spent more and more time together, those silences became more and more rare, and when conversation wilted, the quiet was comfortable. 

You still slept apart, but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d heard Lizzie creeping out of the house as you awoke. Maybe she’d managed to work out which floorboards didn’t creak; maybe Thomas had stopped having her in the house…Or having her at all. 

You were certain that the second possibility was the most likely. It still wasn’t the ideal situation, but you appreciated it all the same. Not only had Thomas kept his promise and been discreet, but he was taking the pains to distance you from his romantic liaisons. It was…Almost sweet, all things considered. 

--  

“...What are you reading?” 

You jolted at the question, sucking in a gasp and dropping the manuscript that had been in your hand. Thomas’ brows rose as he walked deeper into the sitting room. 

“You scared me,” You grumbled. “How long have you been here?” 

“A few minutes. I called out twice when I came in.” 

“Oh,” You frowned. “I’m sorry, I must not have heard you.” 

“Clearly.” 

He walked deeper into the room, taking up the fallen manuscript and sitting on the green velvet settee beside you. You let your gaze linger, sweeping over him. His jacket had always been removed, though his waistcoat was still intact. His cool eyes swept over the page, brow furrowing a touch as he took in the content. His head began to turn toward you, and you hurriedly stood, rounding to the bar cart. 

“Would you like a drink?” You asked. 

“Sure.” 

You plucked up the bottle of whiskey, uncapping it and pouring a good amount. You rounded back to him, holding the glass out. He crossed his legs, resting the manuscript against it before he took the drink with one hand, patting the seat beside him with the other. You lowered yourself back down hesitantly, acutely aware of the way your thighs brushed. 

“What is this?” He asked, nodding toward the pages. 

“A book that was sent to us.” 

“Topside?” 

You smiled a little. Topside was how your family had always referred to the legitimate side of your publishing operations. You were certain that you and the others had said it around Tommy and his family before, but you were surprised he remembered. 

“Yes,” You nodded. 

“D’you like it?” 

“Ah…” You considered before you blew softly between your lips. “I’ve read worse.” 

“I’m not sure if that’s an indictment or praise.” 

You chuckled. “It’s got a good frame, but the writing is unpolished. Could be good, with a little bit of work.” 

“Will you work on it yourself?” 

“I may. Need something to do with my time.” It felt like the wrong thing to say as soon as you said it—but Thomas simply hummed, turning the page as he lifted his drink to his lips. 

“Redecorating hasn’t been enough of a challenge?” He asked after a moment. 

“Well it was, but I’m nearly through. The only room in the house that I haven’t touched is yours.”

“And why is that?” His eyes slid toward you, and the sudden shock of blue made your stomach flip. You shrugged a little, shaking your head. 

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” 

Thomas nodded before he turned back to the pages. The two of you fell into silence, and you leaned in a little, reading over his shoulder.  

“...Dinner’ll be ready soon,” You told him after a few moments. He nodded, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth, away from you. 

“What’re we having?” 

“Roast chicken.” 

“Vegetables?” 

“Potatoes and carrots.” 

“Gravy?” 

“Of course. I’m not an animal.” 

Thomas huffed a soft laugh through his nose. He turned his head toward you a little, his lips brushing your temple. The touch made your eyes slide closed, your stomach fluttering at the sensation. You were so caught up that you nearly missed what he said next:

“We’re going to London tomorrow.” 

You frowned, glancing up toward him. “Why?” 

“I’ve a meeting.” 

“A meeting that involves me?” 

“I want you with me.” He turned his head a little more, nuzzling lightly against your hair. “Besides, it’ll be good for you to get out of the house for a bit.” 

“I get out enough.” 

“I think you could do with a bit more.” 

You hummed thoughtfully before you leaned away, patting his thigh lightly. 

“I’ll go check on the bird.” 

You only managed to get up and take a single step before Thomas caught hold of your hand. You glanced back as he raised it to his lips, brushing a tender kiss to your knuckles. The action was so small, yet so intimate that it made your breath catch in your throat. He gave your hand a squeeze before letting go of it, letting his arm drift up to rest on the settee. You turned away, hurrying toward the kitchen. 

Once you were alone, you braced your hands on the counter, drawing in a deep breath and pushing it out again. Your skin seemed to tingle where he kissed it, and you glanced down, as if you could see some discernible change. You shook your head, shaking your hand before you turned to the oven. 

Dinner, get dinner together. You could worry about Thomas’ touch and the trip to London later. 

Next Part

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ;  @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce

[brazenautomaton]

concept that would be better than "instead of fighting off the alien invasion humans ally with aliens to destroy earth fascism":

alien emissaries from beyond the stars come to Earth. immediately alien-worship cults arise. one by one governments of the world fall to them and proclaim that the aliens are our allies and there's nothing to fear. the aliens have released a brainwashing virus that converts humans to be their slaves. human resistance fighters dwindle and are pushed back every day. the resistance all know one of their own who has fallen to the alien brainwashing and tried to get them to accept their new masters, and regard it with utter dread. our perspective character makes his spouse / best friend promise that if he falls and becomes one of them, to kill him.

of course he gets captured and put in a prison camp for alien brainwashing. except that... there's no aliens. and it's like a regular prison POW camp like on normal earth. and his "re-education" is just explaining in an increasingly exasperated tone that no, the aliens are not invading, they can't even live here, they want Venus. We're so unlike them that their view toward us is like how we regard hypothetical plants in the Amazon that could cure cancer: worth keeping around just in case it turns out to be useful, if you destroy it then you might be sorry you did. New installations of alien technology are all built and controlled by humans because why the fuck would they expect us to trust them to put up pylons with tech we don't understand. the aliens have been working on negotiations to create a mutual system that ensures we won't attack each other since they know there's so many humans that as a species we cannot coherently make or keep promises. the crazed cultists at the outset were people who were already fucking wackadoo. there is no brainwashing virus because how the fuck would they know how to make one for a species whose biology is so utterly unlike their own? everyone who was "brainwashed" just had someone actually explain to them what is actually going on and realized they were wrong.

so the central metaphor there is the idea that radicalization is good in itself, the fear and disgust at changing your own views -- especially political ones -- even though presumably if you change your views in the future it's because you have a better reason to believe they are true.

after this we have the perspective character try and figure out "how do I reach the resistance with the message 'no these guys are actually not malevolent, like actually, no really, it is actually not a problem' when anything that could possibly convey that concept is discarded as a lie.

then of course our perspective character is killed by his best friend / spouse who promised to do so if he ever fell to the pro-alien side. the guy pleads that he didn't understand before, it's not what he thought at all, there's no reason to do this, but before he'd said "no matter what happens no matter how much I plead or try to justify it or explain, don't listen, it's not really me," so she shoots him dead.

she has also been "re-educated" to see the truth that the aliens are not that big a deal and everything we were afraid of was made up in our own heads, but she considers keeping promises to be the most important thing. we leave on the question: did she do the right thing?

[enden-k]

May i ask about Anaxa and Aglae rambles and how you see their dynamic?

I got where the divorced couple can be taken from. But i didnt felt like it was that present. Maybe i just autopiloted that part so hard my brain didnt pick it up.

Not hating on it of course, i would just like another view on their relationship

--🐉

cant ramble much or coherently bc im tired and have a bit of an headache so im just throwing some words out in hopes ppl understand what i mean

its the kinda opposites clashing and yet the same thing they have going on, a dynamic that is complicated bc theyre not simply enemies hating each other nor allies and most of their thoughts and feelings abt the other is smth you mostly get from their words ABOUT the other, not directly TO the other. divorced couple is funny to call it but prolly somewhat close to whatever is going on; knowing theres bad tension between them but also history and perhaps even more

anaxa bore the coreflame of reason while aglaea was the demigod of romance; the titans who were canonically lovers. not that it necessarily has any effect or meaning for them but an interesting thing to mention that connects them and shows their contrast at the same time (also sun and moon again)

anaxa lost his body while aglaea lost her humanity; both being shells of themselves. anaxa, the "heretic" who rejects the titans and the prophecy and aglaea the believer. they keep their distance from each other (and are being kept from each other by the others) but they hold respect for the other (they lit say so abt the other when talked to them). while they do clash w each other bc of their differences in beliefs etc, theres clearly more beneath it, one example is aglaea being clearly shaken for maybe the first time we know her? when the crowd demands for anaxas execution (he actually manages to get a rise out of her a few times, you rarely see that). plus that whole "we should have been honest w each other" thing as their final talk. lit like a divorced couple finally making up so they can leave without regrets or smth, thats just me babbling tho and obv all that stuff i just babbled abt can be taken platonically or romantically or nothing at all

please do feel free to correct me bc its been a bit since i finished those parts and anaxa infodumped a lot. im currently replaying on old acc here and there to properly process everything in detail, maybe ill come back to this in the future and talk more

anw just a dynamic i personally enjoy, i like conflict or contrasts or some good amount of toxicity etc in my ships and i very rarely see it in m/f ships. so im just gonna use that ask to generally mention that personally i dont see either of them interested in anyone, other than perhaps in each other so please no one ask me abt any ships w them (esp anaxa. i dont really like any anaxa ships bc i dont see it and i dont want phainon and mydei separated nor including him or anyone else)

[nightingaletrash]

Solstice pt.1 finale spoilers

And an attempt to make my thoughts on That somewhat coherent. If you haven't played the finale yet, go do that first. Trust me, it is best to go into this quest absolutely blind. This post will still be here when you're done, and you'll be able to engage with it more meaningfully if you have the full context for the discussion.

So. Gabrielle and Darien. How to even begin breaking this all down. I'm gonna do my best to keep this coherent and well-connected but I make no promises.

1. Gabrielle's Sacrifice

So I can't be the only one who suspected that it was ultimately going to come down to a Gabrielle for Darien situation, right? I know a few years ago I speculated that she might offer herself to take Darien's place as the Golden Knight so that he could be free, so it's not surprising that ZOS took this route. In both of her post-Coldharbour appearances (Dark Brotherhood and Greymoor), Gabrielle is specifically trying to locate Darien and bring him back, and depending on what content the player has completed, we can offer her information as part of her endeavour. If you found Darien's note in Wrothgar, you can tell her about it in Anvil. If you completed Summerset's main story, we can tell her about that in Solitude.

The Season of the Worm prologue was the first post-Coldharbour Gabrielle appearance where Darien wasn't her first and foremost concern due to the crisis with the guilds and the Worm Cult. But even though her priorities are elsewhere, Darien is never far from her thoughts. Just being at the Meridian temple reminds her of him, and no doubt she planned to get right back to trying to find him once the situation with the Worm Cult was resolved.

Cue the Gift of Death and its function - to restore someone to life in exchange for the sacrifice of a willing soul. The moment we learned about that, I just knew how it was going to end. Gabrielle was going to give her life for Darien's in return. I was actually a little surprised that she said nothing that suggested the idea when we told her about the Gift's abilities, but I can imagine that for a moment, she realised that she might have a way to bring Darien back. Maybe her mind didn't go straight to giving her life for his, but maybe the idea of studying it, experimenting, figuring out a way to use its power to bring him back without the cost of someone else. Whatever was going through her head, I really do think that she realised that she was close to her goal of rescuing Darien, it was just a matter of how.

A question that was of course answered by Farinor when she stabbed Gabrielle with the poisoned knife. Because now its an easy decision: let Gabrielle die in exchange for Darien's soul, or let her die and leave Darien to the Void. For her its no contest; she's dying, she's going to die, you might as well let her sacrifice herself for Darien. That way you still have an ally, one equipped for fighting the forces of Molag Bal, and her death will fulfill a purpose. Maybe it'll even impact Wormblood's ritual (which it does). But that doesn't change the fact that you lose a friend, and if you played Covenant, you're losing a friend you've known from the very beginning, all the way back in Glenumbra.

On the one hand, at least ZOS didn't have a perfectly healthy and capable Gabrielle just off herself for Darien instead of trying to study the Gift to circumvent the Ultimate Sacrifice bit, and it played into the reveal that Wormblood was planning to double-cross us with a fake Vanus just like how we double-crossed him with the Coloured Rooms trick (ironically she falls for the exact same trick that Vanus fell for which led to his capture in the first place). On the other hand, damnit ZOS, she deserved better!

But regardless, Gabrielle dies, Darien returns and we immediately get the sense that something might not be quite right with our beloved bread boy, which leads into...

2. Darien's Memory Loss?

Now I'll say it up front, I don't know if we're intended to be reading Solstice!Darien as him having lost his memories. This storyline is intended to be a direct sequel to the basegame and so probably doesn't want to lean too hard on Summerset's characterisation of him because of the whole 'play in any order' corner ZOS backed themselves into. But let's assume that this characterisation is on purpose and that something's not quite right with our boy Darien.

First off, let's look at Darien's final words from Summerset:

Right off the bat, Darien warns the reader to never trust a Daedric Prince, and tells them how Meridia deceived him with promises of freedom. What happened after his sacrifice has all but guaranteed that he has no trust for her whatsoever. Fastforward to his Solstice dialogue:

That last line doesn't sound like something you'd say about someone who you've learned not to trust and who you know betrayed you once before. Then there's this following dialogue regarding Summerset:

This does not sound like someone who remembers that emotionally harrowing adventure we went on. In Summerset, Darien was affected enough by the deaths of the Sapiarchs that he helped a Mephala worshipper escape Artaeum so they could go and ask for her help because he couldn't abide by the way the Psijics were doing things anymore. And his sacrifice and Meridia's 'betrayal' of her promise (which we'll get to) were important enough that he willed his final message into existence so he could warn others never to trust Meridia or any Prince, and to convey his love for his friends one last time.

Yet none of these things seem to have any weight here. The focus is on Meridia and his purpose. Almost like he doesn't remember. And here's the thing, Summerset!Darien didn't lack memories between Coldharbour and Summerset. He remembered his time in the Coloured Rooms and Meridia's lectures and such, yet the Darien we encounter here doesn't seem to have the same consistency of memories. Again this could just be ZOS writing, prioritising the base game's characterisation over Summerset's for the sake of 'play in any order' (like how they butched Eveli in Gates of Oblivion by using her initial characterisation during the early portions of Orsinium) but I just get the feeling that there's more to it than that. After all, Darien being Meridia's servant was only revealed in Summerset - while his oddness cropped up in the base game, it was only ever implied and then he vanished. To bring up his being Meridia's servant is then relying on Summerset's main story, and thus its characterisation.

So if it is intentional and not just ZOS' play-any-way writing at work, what does this mean for our beloved bread boy? Well, here's where we really get into the speculative stuff.

3. Meridia's Shadiness

It's revealed in the finale that the Gift of Death is in fact a corrupted Light of Meridia that was purified when used in the Coloured Rooms to restore Darien. Presumably it was corrupted by Molag Bal or a servant of his, maybe by Mannimarco himself. Maybe it was a slight to Meridia or intended to serve as a safety net, just in case. I imagine we'll learn more in Eastern Solstice, but whatever the case, it's now back to being a Light of Meridia, and it was used to restore her servant.

We know that ZOS hasn't forgotten about their villain!Meridia set up from previous stories, as seen in the Broken Light Temple quest where one of Meridia's own faithful begged for her power source in the temple to be destroyed so that she could be freed from being Meridia's vessel. It's also established that being Purified is not some honour as High Priest Eraamine believed it would be, but actually a very sinister means of control. The whole quest serves as a point that Meridia is not a good and benevolent master as her reputation as an enemy of necromancy would have you believe, and there's a dark side to her.

So does Meridia have anything to do with the apparent inconsistencies in Darien's memory? Perhaps. For starters, we know that Meridia values control, as mentioned above. The Purified are practically a symbol of that - enemies and followers alike are stripped of their freewill and forced to carry out her will, whether they're willing or not as seen in the Depths of Malatar dungeon and again in Broken Light Temple. She also openly admits in the conclusion of the base game that reality is a game to her, and encourages the player to either learn to play or be a pawn, fit only to be sacrificed.

Then in Summerset, she tells us about Darien's true nature, and as she does so, she refers to him only as an 'it' and 'my knight' - he is not a person, he is a thing, a tool to be used, and most importantly, he is her property. She also claims that meeting the Vestige changed Darien, affected him, but if you paid any attention to Darien in the Covenant questline, you know that that's bullshit. Darien cared about people from the first moment you meet him. He refuses to simply comply with your goals until you've helped him achieve his goal of protecting the people of Camlorn. Everywhere he goes, he's trying to enjoy life despite the shitty situations he finds himself in, he's saving innocent people's lives and protecting them, and when he lets the flirtatious playboy mask drop, he takes his duties as a protector very seriously.

The Golden Knight did not become Darien because of the Vestige, he was already Darien when we met him. Meridia cannot comprehend her Knight developing free will of its own accord, however, and as the Vestige is a Hero with the capacity for defying all odds, they become a reasonable explanation as to why her vessel is suddenly acting like it's a person now and has wants and desires outside of serving her will.

The thing is, Meridia is NOT a fan of her servants caring about things outside of her. And she is even less of a fan when those servants prioritise someone or something else over her entirely. In Summerset, Darien does as she commands, he performs his role and sacrifices his Light to restore the Dawnbreaker, yet she not only denies him the freedom she promised, but she goes on to claim that he betrayed her, as seen here in this message in Dragonhold:

Darien did everything Meridia asked, so what betrayal is she talking about? We have no outright answers, but with everything we know about Meridia, it is most likely the fact that his final sacrifice was committed for the Vestige and not her. Right before he does it, he says that he 'wouldn't do this for anyone else' and reaffirms that fact in his final words, saying 'I did that for my friend, not Meridia'. This sentiment alone constitutes a betrayal in Meridia's eyes because he served his purpose in the name of another instead of her. A similar comparison I can think of is Mystra in Baldur's Gate 3, and what Elminster says about her offer of forgiveness if Gale blows himself up with the Orb. It will be 'her idea of forgiveness'. As a Daedric Prince, what Meridia considers a betrayal might not necessarily be what we would consider a betrayal.

As for the mistake, maybe its to ensure that this time, she will have a perfect vessel that cares only for her and her cause. Maybe the Vestige is the mistake - ZOS still hasn't debunked the theory that the Hooded Messenger from the now disabled quest starter for Soul Shriven in Coldharbour wasn't Meridia in disguise - because they 'changed' her Golden Knight or because they could become a threat to her, so now she has to find a way to deal with them. A Vestige who's completed the base game can even tell Tharayya that she's 'an enemy of an enemy, but not our friend' in Depths of Malatar, meaning they're aware of the fact that she is not someone to be trusted.

To bring this all back to Solstice, we know for a fact that Meridia is suspicious as hell and not to be trusted. She feels betrayed by Darien and was actively seeking a replacement for him after Summerset. She was also suspiciously absent at Mount Kilkreath to the point that some of her followers felt abandoned and lost their faith, and was also absent in Solstice despite the importance her temple played in the finale and as a quest hub, and the fact that she's actively worshipped on Solstice alongside Nocturnal and Azura. The fact that Darien - her Golden Knight - is back and without a peep from her... She's definitely up to something.

4. Conclusions

So we have Darien back but Darien's not Quite Right. And Darien himself even said in his final message that he was fading, and that the Darien we knew would no longer exist, and if we met again, he wouldn't be the same anymore. He was resurrected by a now-purified Light of Meridia in exchange for Gabrielle's life, so what possibilities might we be presented with?

Meridia actively tampered with the resurrection process. She allowed the identity of Darien to be restored to her Knight, but altered and removed memories that inspired his distrust of her, making him a loyal tool once more.

Darien's time in the Void is what affected him and his memories, and Gabrielle's sacrifice wasn't able to undo all of the damage.

Gabrielle's sacrifice restored Darien's identity to the Golden Knight, but he retained only his basegame memories because of Gabrielle's absence in Summerset, which works in Meridia's favour.

If you read all of that, well done to you because this is about 2k words long and this is me when I cut down on the rambling. The raw, unfiltered flow of consciousness would be so much worse and incomprehensible, trust me.

Lemme know what you guys think about all of this and what we might see coming up in Eastern Solstice. I for one really hope against hope that Gabrielle might not be gone for good and that maybe there's more to the Gift of Death's resurrection process than just being a magical macguffin. Of course, Gabrielle coming back would likely mean coming back as a pawn of Meridia's and that would break my fucking heart ;-;

[purplecatghostposts]

I’ve just learned you’re a Homestuck fan and I am overjoyed. What are your thoughts on a Homestuck ML au? 👀 (I may or may not be making one and seeking others’ thoughts to compare…)

Ooooohhh boy you are in luck. It’s old but one of the FIRST things I did when writing down fanfic ideas was go, “Hey, what would these kids GodTiers look like?” And I still have some of those notes. Might have to refine them but here we go! Hopefully this is coherent-

(Also I did not stick to the ‘One Aspect and One Class per session’ rule so… Maybe they’re all from different games and accidentally merge together?)

Marinette- She is SUCH a Space Player that it’s not even funny. Space being about creation? Space Players commonly being into Fashion? Space Players being one of two HIGHLY important Players and needed to create the Genesis Frog so they can literally create a whole new world for themselves? Yeah, there’s not a doubt in my mind. I never decided on a Class before but I think Mage definitely fits her really well, understanding the good and bad of her aspect and all. You COULD also argue Sylph though considering the Miraculous Cure is all about healing and putting things back where they belong.

Adrien- You could say Time for him due to the duality of Time & Space and how it’s the other most important aspect needed for a game, plus Time having to do with death and endings, but Doom just fits him so so well too. I think Knight of Doom would work well given a Knight’s whole thing is about putting up a persona and eventually learning to drop it, plus also generally taking their Aspects and using them to the fullest for Chat Noir is a great fit. He’d probably have a whole arc about having to see both the good and bad of Doom in order to fully utilize it to help all his friends. That being said, the Heart Aspect also fits Adrien because he has so many personas that you could argue they’re all splinters of him. Chat Noir? Cat Walker? Aspik? Alliance Adrien? Radiant, Carefree, Dreamy Adrien? Are you sure you know which one is you, Adrien? Do you like your splinters or do you resent them? If I could give them both to Adrien, I would, but alas.

Félix- It took me ages to decide on one I liked best for Félix but I think he comes out as a bit of an unconventional Rogue of Void (sorry to steal your GodTier, Roxy). Void is all about secrets, making something out of nothing, and is a deceptively powerful Aspect, so long as you know what you’re doing, and I think that suits him very well. On the flip side, Rogues are about stealing but in a Robin Hood way. You might have to do some convincing to give Félix the impression that you are on his side but if he sees you as any ally, he’ll share some secrets that’ll help you out.

Kagami- That girl is a Maid of Breath if I’ve ever seen one. Breath is about both freedom and literal air, which Ryuko learns to control, but Maids start out not having a lot of their Aspect/not knowing what to do with it. They gotta learn how to grow into it and control it but once they do, they’re incredibly powerful and sure of themselves and that is just Kagami’s arc in a nutshell. She has to work to find her freedom, not having it organically, but she truly flourishes once she does.

Alya- Choosing her as a Seer was easy. Someone who naturally seeks out the answers to things in order to better understand everything around them, then share that knowledge with others is great. Plus they typically start out a little amateur-ish but steadily grow into someone more knowledgeable and reliable, which is perfect for Alya. Choosing her Aspect was a little harder because I COULD choose Light but I think Void fits the nature of the Fox a little better? Seeking out secrets and investigating the nothingness… Plus I think she’d generally just be badass with it. Maybe a Seer of Void CAN do some illusions, who knows?

Nino- Nino is a bit harder because while the Blood Aspect’s features of like, the bonds between people and loyalty and promises and such fit him pretty decently, I think Life fits Carapace a bit better? Although now that I think about it, maybe Nino could use the Blood Aspect to create a shield and generally protect his friends… Yeah okay, we’re gonna say Blood. As for a Class, I’m thinking either Knight or Sylph. Leaning a bit more towards Knight because they’re all about protecting others but I could see him as a very fussy Sylph just trying to make sure all his friends are okay and keeping things calm between them.

Luka- The most Rogue of Time character I’ve ever seen. Guy who is willing to sacrifice parts of himself for your safety and security is for SURE a Rogue and Time is pretty self explanatory. He steals time to turn it back and help his friends. It doesn’t matter how many loops it takes. It doesn’t matter how exhausting it is for him. He’s going to help you. He WILL help you.

Alix- On the flip side from our time duo, we have miss Witch of Time. Bunnyx knows all and knows how to use her powers well. Witches not only have tremendous amounts of power but also are known to be pretty strong willed people. She’s GONNA change the timeline for the better and the only thing she doesn’t have time for this bullshit. It’s perfect for her.

Lila- Thief of Heart in the most terrifying ways. She takes on new personas like they’re going out of style. She sheds old ones like they’re easily disposable. A Thief who only takes and serves themselves, never learning to benefit her team. As a Heart Player, she has many splinters to point to, and probably works together with them, making things that much more complicated. Are you sure you know which Lila you’re talking to? They all start out different but they can change their appearance at the drop of a hat. Are you sure you know how many of them there are? Are you sure she hasn’t snuck into your life already without you noticing?

Rose- Heir of Hope without a doubt. Despite it all, she finds hope in the worst situations. She’s filled with it and embodies it, and Hope is a very powerful aspect. Need a pick me up? She’s got you. Need someone to defend you? She’s got that too. Rose IS hope and she does it well.

Juleka- Hear me out, I think Juleka is either a Page or Maid of Rage. She’s got a lot of pent up emotions inside of her and she doesn’t know how to let them out in the way she wants to. Learning that it’s not just okay but good to get a little mad sometimes and scream her heart out is exactly what she needs I think.

Chloé- For SURE a Thief Player who learns to grow and help her team instead of only doing things to benefit herself, but maybe takes a while to get there. I could see her going Grimdark for a hot minute imo, then probably disappearing for a while worrying everyone hates her now but steadily building herself back up. As for an Aspect, you could argue a few things but I like the sound of Life due to it also being about abundance and riches, two things Chloé is known for. Plus maybe she can switch between Team Healer and Team Powerhouse!

Zoé- Could also easily fit Life and could be a nice parallel to Chloé but I also think the Heart Aspect works for her in terms of identity! Page of Heart mayhaps? Figuring herself out but steadily getting there and growing stronger as she does? See my vision?

Max- Mind Player. Without a doubt. Heir of Mind works pretty well considering his interest in academics comes pretty naturally but you could argue Seer or Mage if you really wanted to! Hell I’d listen to arguments for Sylph or Witch. He’s just undeniably a Mind Player to me.

Kim- If anyone is a Bard, I think it’s Kim. Bards being generally laid back and passively destructive just kinda fits him imo. I was gonna say Bard of Breath but honestly, Bard of Doom fits better? Accidental destroying rules, fate, and general doom seems kinda his style.

Mylène- Because of her connection to the Mouse Miraculous, I wanna say Heart, but I could see her also as a Breath Player!! Sylph of Breath maybe? I think the Sylph class fits her fairly nicely.

Ivan- Ohhhh a Rage Player who is scared of his own power. Sorry to all the canon characters whose GodTiers I’m stealing from but Prince of Rage mayhaps. Learns to embrace his power for the good of the team and trust himself eventually.

Sabrina- I wanna say Life, Hope, or Void Player who takes a while to come into her Aspect. Definitely Maid or Page vibes in terms of class but Sylph for any of those also works! She wants to be helpful but has to learn to do things for herself I think and REALLY grows once she does.

Nathaniel- Space Players are very creative and I think that could suit him very well!! Plus, again, they’re about creation itself, which works for Caprikid! In terms of class, you could also argue Mage for him like Marinette but I think Rogue or Knight ALSO can fit well for him.

Marc- I wanna say Light for him because knowledge/inspiration works well for the creative writing part of him but ALSO because Light has to do with Luck and being able to Make Things Happen in a way that kinda suits the Rooster and by proxy him? Rogue also suits him but I could see him as a Page or Maid too!

I thiiiink that’s everyone. My Classpecting is not perfect and I’m VERY curious to hear yours if you’ve got it!! I just think it’s fun to play around with :)

Hope you enjoyed <33

[bidisasterevankinard]

Tease tidbit Tuesday

Hey! I'm back with some frat boy and Buck on the date night in a dress

fratboys where Buck is like: I'm straight and I'm gonna appreciate the beauty of all my roommates as an ally:

“And the last, but not the least, our living room, where you can hang all the time and catch with the boys,” Eric, the guy who met him near the house and showed everything inside, ends his little tour around the house, where he more likely, as Evan hopes, will next four years. 

Evan nods, smiling at the older guy and then blushes when he catches the eyes of another three in the room. 

“Evan, meet Marcus,” Eric nods at the blonde guy with incredible green eyes in the armchair, “Justin,” another blonde, who is lying on the lovesac in the middle of the room, but this one with piercing blue eyes, who smiles and winks and Evan, making him blush more, “Andrea,” beautiful latino guy sends him peace sign and Buck sends one back, “And the captain of the basketball team since this year and absolute icon of the college, who somehow is straight A student, with girls hanging on him constantly, Tommy,” the brunette, who’s lying alone on the couch the closest to the door, gets up.

“Nice to meet you, Evan,” Tommy shakes his hand with the smile that encourages Buck to smile back, feeling less anxious, “and welcome.”

and Buck in a dress:

Any skill to form any coherent thought runs away and all he can do is blink with an open mouth with his eyes running over his boyfriend's body and clothes. Or better say over a tight bright red dress, that hugs his boyfriends broad body almost like second skin, accentuating his pale skin, black ink of tattoos and highlighting his beautiful pink birthmark. 

The dress has a low square neck with thin shoulder-straps, and they leave so little on imagination that is hidden under them. Perfect lines of Evan’s pecs with pebbling nipples look so appealing under red thin soft material and Tommy wants to put his mouth on them right now. 

The perfect waist, Tommy held just two days ago fucking into this body, stands out and long for days legs look even longer with the dress ending just over the middle of man’s thigh. 

The way his brain short circuits, taking all the detail of his boyfriend's look, might be shown on his face, because Evan crosses his hands around himself, turning away from him.

“I can change if-if you are uncomfortable to go out with me wearing a dress.”

Tagged by @hippolotamus @tizniz @wikiangela 💙💙💙

Tagging @queerbuck @watchyourbuck @eddiiediaz @evnnkinard @rogerzsteven @theotherbuckley @pirrusstuff @saybiwithme @shortsighted-owl @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @devirnis @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @loveyouanyway @loserdiaz @cal-daisies-and-briars @bewilderedbuckley @bigfootsmom @eddiebabygirldiaz @neverevan @monsterrae1 and anyone who wants

[cheerysmores]

Heavier than sin (1/2)

Pairing: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford

Tags: Lavellan Inquisitor, Mage Inquisitor, Angst, Smut, (I just had a lot of thoughts about religious guilt)

Rating: E (18+)

Summary:

It takes him a moment to realise the hands against his chest are now pushing him away. She rolls off the desk as he steps back, her expression hidden by her hair. His heart plummets into his gut when she brushes it back. Her face is a pale mask, eyes shaking like a deer staring down a hunter’s bow.

It’s as if all the heat has been snatched away. He’s suddenly painfully aware of how loud he’s breathing, sharp bursts splintering the silence.

“Are you alright?” He tries to stifle his panic when she doesn’t answer. “Please. What did I–”

“I don’t want this.”

***

Cullen’s hands are on her face again. It’s almost funny how often they return to this, his thumb tracing the curving pine of her vallaslin and her cheeks flushing enough to warm through his gloves. Usually, such trysts are short: a smile, a breath, then a fleeting press of mouths and fingers before duty drags to opposite ends of this mountain. The same parting words always drifted between them.

‘Inquisitor.’

‘Commander.’

It’s different tonight. His briefing dismissed and the door bolted, he can feel the weight of their next conversation hanging between his office walls. There’s much he wants to say, perhaps too much, enough unspooled rambling to fill any Circle’s library. She stays silent as he tries to compress them into a coherent sentence. Her violet eyes are wide, the shadows under them deep as bruises. He touches one, wishes he could sponge away the thought that had deepened it.

He knows it’s Adamant.

The noise of that battle still clings to his mind as well, even these weeks later. He’s heard plenty of screams in his career: abominations falling, allies choking their last breath, enemies gargling on the tip of his own blade– none pierced so deep as hers as he watched her fall into the Fade. When he shuts his eyes he still sees her clawing at the air, then the hours he spent numb and bloody thinking her dead.

He pushes the thought away. It doesn’t matter. Not now. She’s here, warm and breathing and so alive between his palms.

He brushes the curve of her jaw, letting his gaze rest on her chin. “I find myself wondering what will happen after… when this is all over I mean. I do not know exactly what that will look like but I won't want to move on, not from you.” It’s almost too raw to admit. He can picture every inch of their battle-map, where to flank, to dig, to charge, but beyond that– nothing. It’s like some great blank abyss and her the only anchor within it. He feels his words trip against his tongue. “That is if you… I mean don’t know if you want–”

She cuts him off with a finger pressed to his bottom lip.

“I know,” she whispers, slipping her hand under his mantle and tugging until it falls behind him. “And I think that’s enough talking for now. Don’t you?”

Read the rest on AO3

[nonbinaryeye]

Forced to Take a Break

Written for @gortash-week

Day 4 - Relax

Enver Gortash is a busy man; he has no time to relax. Not of his own free will at least. Sometimes the circumstances force him though.

Read on AO3

...

His pocket watch is neatly tucked in his breast pocket. He assembled all the fragile metal parts, all the little cogs inside them, himself. Yet they keep betraying him over and over, again and again, by ticking a time away a bit too fast for his liking. He thought he had more time. He always thinks he has more time and no matter if it is true or not, he also always needs more time. Sometimes he is willing to cheat and buy it through any accessible means. Yet he is always surprised when the hour to pay the price arrives.

Gortash does not remember falling unconscious. He was working late, even later into the night than he usually does. There are so many changes he needs to make as the newest Director of Foundry and it is always so hard to find people who are not only loyal but also at least a bit competent. At one point he was doing the last revision of the newest instructions for Bane’s faithful – servants to himself as much as to their Dark Lord – and the next one he finds himself in a dream-like hastened state. He is still vaguely aware of everything happening around him but the reality seems to be several layers of thick fog away. It would be so easy to fully forget of it, if it had not been for the familiar voice cutting right through like a dagger through flesh.  

“Has someone finally managed to kill you or has the tyrant forgotten again that a body requires sleep?” The Dark Urge chuckles, tone filled with playful teasing reserved just for their Banite ally. They appear to stand right behind his chair. Gortash has not heard any steps nor doors or windows being opened. But even in a much more awake or straight out vigilant state it is almost impossible to notice them before they themselves wish to be noticed.

“For someone who criticised where I can fall asleep, your choices do not seem to be that much more comfortable…”

You can hardly compare falling asleep on the desk to taking naps in piles of viscera or freshly dug graves. Gortash attempts to scoff at them and slowly rise so he can with no doubt see them baring their deadly sharp teeth in amusement. But he cannot.

His limbs feel so heavy. Unmoving. No matter how hard he tries or how much he wills for them to raise up or at least twitch, his body is refusing to respond. Gone on a strike for the mistreatment he has put it through. No matter the effort he puts into it, no coherent sound comes out of his mouth. His tongue does not feel like part of his body right now, it is just a dead slug lying in his mouth uselessly.

“Enver…?” they do not let any sign of worry slip into their voice but the fact that they called him by his first name is proof enough of their concern on its own. As much as Gortash has a bit of complicated feelings towards his first name he enjoys the way they roll it on their tongue. But his mind is as slowed down as the rest of the body and he struggles to put his thoughts together properly, draw some conclusion from their worry, his name on their lips and how he is feeling about it.

Gortash senses them moving closer. The Dark Urge places their fingers on his neck to the side of his windpipe to check his pulse over his carotid artery. The deadly claws, so often covered in blood, so used to ripping throats, touch him gently and linger over him much longer than they need to. Gortash fails again trying to turn his head, wondering what expression might be on their face right now. What is going through their head?

“Hmph, this thing again,” the clinging sound of empty glass bottles meeting each other lets him know they have noticed the used-up speed potions. “You should be more careful with this stuff. It is not good for you,” they lecture him because they can never understand, they refuse to consider that sometimes his work cannot be postponed and he needs to push through to finish what he is doing. So sometimes he needs a little boost of energy.

The Dark Urge leans to his ear. He can feel the tingle of their icy cold breath – a feature of his dragonborn heritage. Their tongue must be almost licking his earlobe as he speaks.

“You would be so easy to kill like this,” morbid flirtation sneaks into their tone as their hand is placed on his throat again in suggestion of a longitudinal cut through his trachea. One movement, easy and natural for their sharp claws to make, and he would be dead.

That would not be very satisfying though, would it? To kill me like this? Gortash does not answer as he still cannot force his tongue to work. At this point even he recognizes he maybe should feel a sparkle of fear, being so helpless in the presence of a predator, but all his senses are too numb. Besides he knows them well enough to be able to tell when they mean their threats.

“What should I do with you like this, Enver?” they sigh and Gortash is not quite certain what they mean. This is their cue to leave. Maybe laugh at him for it later during their next meeting, start another pointless discussion about his habits and that he should be more careful about his substance abuse. To which he will point out that no one but them can sneak up on him unharmed by all his various traps and that he really did not intend to fall hastened and this is a really rare one-time occurrence which they unfortunately get to witness.

But they stay. He feels their arms wrapping around his body in an embrace and he does not realise what they are planning to do till he feels himself being picked up. He is not a lightest man and his muscles and limbs are uncooperative. Dead weight. Yet they do not seem to struggle at slightless in handling him. It should have not come as a surprise. They must have enough of experience in carrying unresponsive bodies around.

He instinctively tries to protest against being manhandled but there is nothing he can do nor say to stop them. Completely at the mercy of a bloodthirsty killer. They can choose to do with him whatever they desire.

And what they seem to desire to do is to carry him and put him in bed. He feels the silken sheets of his bedding welcome his immobile limbs as the Dark Urge lays him down. There is a pause and Gortash starts to suspect they are done with him, that maybe they left and his mind starts slipping to a proper darkness before he feels their hands on his body yet again. Tugging at his shoes, slipping a coat of his shoulder, rolling him around and undressing him before they wrap him under covers.

Maybe he should feel embarrassed over his ally seeing him like this. Helpless. Vulnerable. Defenseless. Weak. But only emotion embracing him and filling his mind is satisfaction, a strange pride because who else can say to have a murder incarnate tugging him gently in a bed.

“Your work will not run away from you, unlike mine,” they chuckle and Gortash would like to object. So what if the victim they set their mind to kill slips through their claws one evening. The Dark Urge could just get them the next one. There is no place in Baldur’s Gate to hide away from them. They do not really have to worry about work running from them. Gortash, on the other hand, is the one who needs to be always alert, every time he blinks there is a chance he missed some fleeing chance to further his goals.

Of course he says none of those things as he still cannot speak nor move and in the end there would be no point to saying any of this even if he could. Because he can imagine them being just as amused by his worry. They would argue that he is doing well enough, his achievement and their speed is impressive enough. Yes, he knows he is doing well but he could still be doing better. He has no time for their foolish suggestions that he should take more breaks from time to time. That it might even do him good.

“Get some rest for that brilliant mind of yours,” the Dark Urge brushes his hair off his face, their voice uncharacteristically gentle, filled with a suggestion of fondness he cannot properly decipher for now. “Sleep well, my tyrant,” their claw lingers on his face longer than necessary with gentleness that he did not believe they might be capable of. It feels right, and as crazy as such a thought must be, it feels safe. Something in Gortash yearns to reach for it, reach for them and pull them closer.

Luckily, he is still trapped in hastened state and so no matter how much he longs for their touch, how much he desires embrace of the deadliest assassin, his hands will not move and his mouth will not speak and even his eyelids remain shut.

He wonders if they are aware he can still hear them or if they think they are talking just to themselves. It already feels like a dream. He wonders how much of their action will he remember in his conscious state in the morning and how trustworthy he will find his own mind and memory.

Gortash hears them no more and that is as good indicator as any that they are probably gone for good. He has a lot of things to think about now but it is still as if he has forgotten even how to think. He needs to hold this feeling while it is still lingering in the room before it disappears with morning light. He needs to analyse and draw conclusions and make use of it. But the more he is trying to get his brain matter to work the quicker the final threads of consciousness seem to be slipping away from him. Till at last it all goes to black and he is embraced by peaceful darkness of dreamless sleep bringing him much needed rest.