#I will likely keep using this one elsewhere

[lexiputellas]

The Real Victory

You’re horny. Like, dangerously horny.

Alexia is on the pitch, locked into the Champions League match against Manchester City. She lost the last game, and you know how badly she wants this one. You should be focused too. Supportive. Cheering.

But you're six months pregnant and your entire body is buzzing.

And all you can think about is her.

Not the game. Not the score.

Just her

The way her thighs flex when she sprints, thick and powerful. The way her brow furrows when she’s concentrating, that sharp little frown. The way her hands settle on her hips when something doesn’t go her way, fuck.That posture alone sends a direct electric shock to your clit, like a livewire.

It’s unbearable.

You can’t hear the crowd. You barely notice the plays. It’s just her, her, her.

“Oh, that ref is shit. He should’ve called that a foul,” Alba mutters beside you, snapping you out of your haze.

“What?” you blink.

“The ref,” she says, nodding at the pitch.

“Oh. Right. Yeah,” you say, pretending to care. She’s already turned back to the game.

But you? You’re dying.

This feeling is consuming you, melting you from the inside out. You feel like you’re going to burst. Your hands are clenched in your lap, trying to behave, but your legs keep pressing together. You're sweating under your dress, soaked through your underwear, every shift in your seat making you want to whimper.

You can't take it anymore.

You grab your phone and open Alexia’s contact, fingers trembling as you type:

— if after 30 minutes of the game you don’t fuck me and give me at least 2 orgasms i will expose you to the internet. i’m not joking. i’m feral.

You hit send.

She won’t read it now, obviously. But when she gets back to the locker room, when she finally checks her phone, you want her to know what she did to you.

You type again:

— i’m a mess. i’m so wet it’s probably running through my dress and dripping onto the fucking seats. this is 100% your fault.

You stare at the screen, your heart pounding harder than the crowd’s chants.

Final whistle.

Barça wins.

The stadium erupts. People are screaming, waving flags. Fireworks. Hugs. Applause.

You don't care.

Finale. They’re going to the goddamn finale.

And all you want is her.

All you want is home

All you want is to be touched.

You turn to Alba. “Let’s go.”

She glances at you, a little surprised. “Already?”

“Help me up.”

She does, and you wobble a bit, pregnant belly leading the way. You make your way to the VIP lounge and ask for a bottle of water. Your heart is racing like you played 90 minutes.

“You having dinner with us?” you ask Alba casually, your brain screaming please say no please say no please say no—

“I don’t think so, actually. I promised Julia I’d have dinner with her tonight. Been a while.”

YES.

“Oh, okay,” you say, masking the desperate joy clawing at your throat. “I just thought—”

“I’m sorry!” she smiles. “We can have dinner later this week.”

You nod, but your mind is elsewhere. All you can think is: Where the fuck is Alexia?

Why is she not here yet? Is she still giving interviews? Talking to people? Laughing with teammates while you’re over here throbbing?

Then, finally, she walks through the doors.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Your entire body clenches. She looks so fucking good. Post-game glow, loose ponytail, jersey stuck to her skin, thighs still tense from running. She’s flushed. Confident. Unreal.

You bite your lip. Hard. Press your thighs together again.

You love her. You hate her. You want to murder her and climb her at the same time.

“Oi, bebé,” she murmurs, kissing your cheek, arms wrapping around you.

You give her a dry peck back, but your eyes are blazing. She hugs Alba next.

“Hey, you coming to dinner?”

“Oh, can’t. Was just waiting for you to show up. I’ve got plans.”

“Okay,” Alexia nods. Alba leaves.

“Dinner out or do you want to order in?” she asks, turning to you with that too-casual tone.

“Order,” you narrow your eyes. She was really about to take you to a restaurant like she didn’t just read those texts? Is she insane?

Then again, she is insane. She's mean. She's hot. She’s yours. So so yours.

“Okay, let’s go,” she says, grabbing your purse and holding out her hand.

You walk with her, past a few teammates. She says her goodbyes. Opens the car door for you. Puts her gear in the trunk. Starts the engine.

She’s humming along to the song on the radio. Calm. Collected.

You look at her. Really look.

What kind of monster leaves their pregnant, needy, drenched wife like this?

The way her fingers grip the wheel. The muscles in her forearms. The little furrow of concentration on her brow.

It’s criminal.

“What?” she says suddenly, catching your stare.

“You’re so mean,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

“What? How am I mean?”

“You read the messages. And you chose to ignore me. You ignored your pregnant, unholy, unsatisfied wife”

“I didn’t ignore you,” she smirks. “I just wanted to see when you’d break.”

“When I’d— WHAT KIND OF MONSTER SAYS THAT? I hate you!” you yell, dramatic and breathless.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do! I hate you so much!”

She looks at you sideways, eyes dark and smug, and then slowly lets one hand slide off the wheel, straight to your thigh.

You gasp.

Her fingers press into your skin, spreading a little warmth, a little promise.

“You don’t hate me,” she says, low and certain.

And god help you, she’s right.

Her hand stays there hot, firm, steady on your thigh. Not moving. Just existing. Like a warning. Like a fucking claim.

And you're trembling.

“You don't hate me,” she says again, softer this time, almost teasing, like she already knows you're seconds from falling apart. “You’re just mad I made you wait.”

You twist toward her in your seat, glaring. “I wasn’t mad. I was dying. There’s a difference. You left me like that for ninety minutes. In public.”

“In a stadium,” she corrects, her thumb now rubbing slow, maddening circles over your skin. “While my team fought for the Champions League.”

“I fought for my life. ”

She laughs, actually laughs, and you nearly claw at her. “You think this is funny?”

“I think it’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” you nearly shriek. “I threatened you. I explicitly said two orgasms and you acted like I said two cappuccinos,”

“I saw that,” she says, grinning wider. “And the one after. The part about your dress. And the seats.”

Your mouth goes dry.

“And?” you snap, voice shaky.

She hums, dragging the tip of her fingernail up and down your thigh now. You shiver. “And I guess we’ll see if you were exaggerating.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I hope not.”

You make a noise that’s somewhere between a groan and a growl. Your hands are fisted in your lap again, trying not to beg her in traffic.

The city blurs outside the window, but all you see is her profile, focused, gorgeous, unfazed. Your whole body is throbbing and she’s just…driving. Calmly. Like you’re not about to crawl into her lap.

You glance down at her hand on your leg. Her thumb is drifting closer to the inside of your thigh now. Dangerous territory. Too close. You spread your legs slightly without thinking.

She doesn’t say anything. Just flicks her eyes toward you with a slow smirk.

You clench your fists tighter.

“You’re a menace,” you mutter.

“You married me.”

“I was tricked.”

She chuckles again, completely in control, and your pulse is in your ears. She's wearing that smug, satisfied post-match look, jersey still sticking to her skin, and all you can think about is how much you need her on you, in you, now now now.

“Alexia,” you whisper, desperate.

She exhales through her nose, leans forward to turn down the music, then returns her hand to your thighs, this time higher, much higher.

“Shhh, bebé. Almost home.”

Your hips twitch toward her.

“No, not shhh. I’m going to die,” you say breathlessly. “You’re going to have to explain to the paramedics that you edged your pregnant wife into a cardiac event.”

She grins. “I’ll just say it was hormones.”

You whimper. Actually whimper.

“You’re evil.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she says, but her voice is lower now, quieter, slipping into that tone you know means trouble.

Then she turns onto your street.

Your breathing stutters.

You’re seconds away from sobbing, from tearing the fabric of your dress apart, from climbing her while the engine’s still on. She parks the car and the moment it clicks into place, you undo your seatbelt and twist to her.

She hasn’t even opened her door yet.

You lean toward her, breath warm, hands shaking.

“I swear to God,” you whisper, “if you make me wait one more second,”

But she’s already moving. Turning to you. Hand slipping behind your neck and pulling you in for a deep, hot kiss. It hits you like fireneedy, claiming, hungry. Her tongue sweeps over yours and her fingers dig into your skin and just like that, you’re gone.

Your moan gets swallowed in her mouth.

She reaches down, pulls the lever, and shoves the driver’s seat all the way back.

Your breath catches.

“Come here,” she says, low.

“What?”

“You heard me. Come here.”

You scramble over the center console, breathless, messy, belly in the way, everything awkward and unhinged. But she helps you, strong arms around you, guiding you to straddle her lap. Her hands slide under your thighs, lifting you so you’re not too heavy, easing you down until you're sitting right against her.

The moment you're seated, your soaked center pressed against the firm muscle of her thigh, your arms around her neck, she kisses you.

Hard.

Messy.

Open-mouthed and fucking relentless.

You moan into her, rocking instinctively, already rolling your hips against her. Her hands slip up under your dress, grabbing the back of your thighs, your ass, your hips, tugging you closer until you're gasping into her mouth.

“Ale, fuck, I’m gonna explode”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, lips wet, eyes glassy.

Her hand slides between your legs. Straight under your underwear.

And when she feels how wet you are?

Her jaw clenches.

“You’re soaked.”

“I told you,” you gasp.

“Sit up,” she orders, and you barely register what she’s doing before she slides her fingers inside: slow, deep, no warning.

Your whole body jerks.

“FUCK”

Her other hand grips your hip, grounding you, holding you in place.

“You gonna ride me like you threatened to?” she breathes into your neck. “Or do I have to make you beg for it?”

You’re already moving. Hips grinding down, your belly tight against her chest, your thighs trembling with the effort.

“God, yes, yes, please, Alexia”

“You’re so desperate,” she whispers. “So messy. You wanted to come in my car so bad? Do it.”

Her fingers are already soaked, dripping, knuckles buried in your cunt as you grind against her like you’ve forgotten how to breathe. She’s letting you do the work, just watching, controlling the rhythm with the slow flex of her hand.

“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” she mutters, voice low, forehead pressed to yours. “Dripping all over me. Can you feel how wet you are?“

Your jaw drops. You moan, raw, desperate and she doesn't give you space to recover.

Her fingers curl inside you, deep and mean, rubbing against that swollen, electric spot that sends sparks flying up your spine. Her palm drags hard over your clit. Again and again and again.

You fall apart.

Your back arches, your belly tight and shaking, and then your cunt clenches down so hard on her fingers it hurts. You don’t just moan, you wail, the sound tearing from your throat like a sob. Your head tips back, body locking, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

She’s right there, whispering filth into your skin.

“That's it. Give it to me, bebé. Let me feel it. Let me feel all of it.”

You try to breathe, but your lungs won’t work. Your whole body is twitching, seized by the orgasm, soaking her wrist, her palm, the fucking seat. You’re gushing, crying, shaking in her lap like your body’s been possessed.

She holds you there through it gripping your ass with one hand, still inside you with the other, riding it out until you're limp and clinging to her.

When you finally collapse forward, she’s panting against your ear, voice rough with praise.

“Good girl,” she whispers. “You came so hard for me. Fuck.”

Your whole body buzzes. You’re not sure if you’re still crying or just breathless, but her jersey is wet with sweat, and your thighs are shaking.

“That’s one,” she says, slowly pulling her fingers out, wet, slick, obscene. She lifts them to her mouth and licks them clean while you just stare, wrecked and speechless.

Then, with a grin that’s all teeth:

“You still owe me another.”

“And I haven’t even ripped your fucking dress yet.”

[sharieb]

hello! just wanted to say I LOVEEE the way you do non-mc content. that being said could i request a headcanon on: lets say non-mc and the LI’s broke up because the dudes were still hung up on MC (they end up regretting it lol). then later on see non-mc in public who has moved on to someone else who is doing everything they guys failed to do.

The One Who Never Got It Right

Pairing: LADs x Non-Mc reader Genre: Angst (Breakup regrets) Writer's notes: Thought I could be getting more fluffs to do, but instead I got slapped in the face with this one, welp, no rest for the wicked, I guess 😅

He sees you across the bustling Skyhaven terminal—laughing, radiant, clinging to the arm of someone who isn’t him.

The man by your side is kind-eyed, attentive. He holds your bag, listens intently, and actually smiles when you talk. He doesn’t look distracted or distant—he’s there. Present.

Caleb halts mid-stride, fingers curling around the edge of his datapad. For a moment, it’s like the mission debrief in his hand doesn’t even exist.

He remembers every time he cut conversations short, gave you half his presence, let you walk beside him in silence because his mind was always elsewhere—on MC.

He thought you didn’t notice. That you’d wait. That maybe you’d always be around until he figured himself out.

Now you’re smiling in ways he never earned.

The worst part? You glance his way. See him. Then look away just as easily, returning to your conversation without missing a beat.

He used to be the safe place. Now, he's just a distant name in your past.

Later that night, he types a message to you. Deletes it. Writes it again.

In the end, he just stares at your contact photo for hours, then shuts off the holoscreen. And for the first time in a long time, Caleb can’t strategise his way out of the ache in his chest.

Mission Log 6.14.3A — Deleted Draft I saw her today. Not MC. Her. The one who asked me to be present. To try. To stop living like the past was all I had left. I thought letting her go would make me noble. Thought I was sparing her the weight of being second to a ghost. But maybe she wasn’t second. Maybe I just never gave her the space to be first. And someone else did. I hope he keeps holding her the way I never learned how to. I hope he never makes her feel like a placeholder. …I hope she never looks back.

He saw you at a gallery opening.

You're dressed in something elegant, arm-in-arm with a gentle-faced man who looks at you like you're art incarnate.

The moment hits him like a palette knife to the ribs.

You’re glowing—not in a spotlight way, but in a quiet, contented kind of joy he never could give.

He flashes his usual grin to the crowd, but his fingers twitch at his side.

Because of that new guy? He’s whispering something in your ear. And you’re laughing. That laugh used to belong to Rafayel, once.

But he made jokes about still missing MC. Let you hear silence when you needed security. Let you fade beside someone else’s memory.

Now?

Someone else painting you with attention. Frames you with love.

He downs his champagne and pretends to care about the next exhibit, but he draws you three times from memory that night.

None of them capture your smile the way he just did.

He doesn’t stop drawing until dawn. Each page is more desperate than the last.

 Sketchbook Entry — Page Torn Out She asked me once what I thought love looked like. I told her it was impossible to capture - always shifting, always out of reach. But she caught it. She was it. And I? I framed her in glass and called it finished. She wanted a mess. Partnership. Splattered hands and stained shirts. I gave her monologues and empty wine glasses. I thought she was a phase. A warm red before I returned to ash. But she was permanent. I saw her smile today. It wasn’t for me. And for once, I couldn’t paint a damn thing.

He was leaning on the railing of a shadowed walkway, scanning the crowd below on a recon run, when he spotted you.

You're tucked into the side of someone unfamiliar—someone laughing with you, their hand laced with yours, feeding you a bite of something sweet.

The softness on your face is devastating. It used to be his. It was once the only softness he’d let himself keep.

He stays hidden, watching.

That guy kisses your knuckles. And you smile like you trust him completely.

His chest tightens, fingers twitching. He almost drops the comms unit in his hand.

You’d begged him once to try, to stop comparing you to MC. To see you. He hadn’t known how to let go back then. Now?

He’s thinking about how that man just wiped whipped cream from your lip without flinching—and how he never even learned your coffee order.

“Idiot,” he mutters to himself, pushing off the railing.

But he doesn’t go down there. He’s already done enough damage.

And this time… someone else didn’t waste the chance. He hates it. He admires it.

Mostly, he regrets that it wasn’t him who made you stay.

Encrypted Voice Log – Never Sent SYLUS.ENTRY_097.BURNOUT Timestamp: Corrupted “She looks better without me. You’d think that’d piss me off, wouldn’t you?” “It doesn’t.” “Not really.” “He holds her like he’s not afraid she’ll disappear. Like he’s not too busy sharpening knives to hold her with both hands.” “I didn’t know how to do that. Couldn’t stop chasing shadows.” “I told myself she was a game. A way to forget.” “But she was never small. Never temporary. She waited for me to look up. I never did.” “He did.” [long pause] “She’s not coming back. Good. Let her stay gone. Let her stay whole.”

It’s late in the museum observatory, and Xavier’s here to recalibrate a projection model—until he looks down from the upper dome and sees you.

You're walking hand-in-hand with someone else through the starlit halls. Laughing. Calm.

The person beside you spins you under their arm, and you twirl without hesitation, radiant under the artificial cosmos.

He stands frozen in the upper dome, unseen.

You once asked Xavier to dance. He hesitated, too quiet and too caught up in thoughts of MC to say yes.

But that stranger below? He didn’t hesitate at all.

And you look so light in his arms. So free.

Xavier leans his forehead against the glass, breathing deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, even though you can’t hear him.

His star map reboots beside him, scattering constellations. But for the first time, he doesn’t reach out to correct them.

Because he knows now, you weren’t meant to orbit him forever.

And you didn’t. You became your own universe. One that he was never brave enough to explore.

Private Memoir Entry – Unpublished I was always afraid I’d look at her and see someone else. So I never truly looked. Not the way she deserved. She asked me once if I was choosing to heal with her or without her. I said, “Without.” She nodded. Didn’t cry. Just left. And now I’ve healed. Or so I pretend. But sometimes I think healing isn’t a choice. Sometimes it’s a cost. I gave up the one person who saw me in the shadows and stayed. And someone else saw her light and danced into it.

You’re seated in a corner café with a man Zayne doesn’t recognise—easy smiles, shared laughter, his coat wrapped around your shoulders.

Zayne was on his way to deliver lab files to the main district med unit but now… he can’t move.

His gaze locks on the way the man leans in to tuck your hair behind your ear. How your eyes crinkle with joy.

It’s the kind of comfort Zayne never offered you—not because he didn’t care, but because he was too distracted chasing clarity with MC.

You once told him you felt like his second choice. He never answered that. And now, someone else treats you like you're the only choice.

He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t approach.

But that image burns in his mind for weeks. It replays in the sterile quiet of his clinic, on late nights when no one needs stitching up.

And when he returns home, he finds one of your old letters still tucked inside his medical textbook.

He rereads it, fingers trembling, and realises too late—he could’ve loved you right, if only he’d let himself try.

His next patient finds him staring into nothing, stethoscope in hand, utterly elsewhere.

Medical Log – Never Filed Patient: N/A Status: Unreachable Treatment note: Emotional detachment leads to unintentional abandonment. Prognosis: Permanent loss. Notes: She used to come into my clinic with little things. Fake injuries. Paper cuts. Just to be near me. I knew. And I let her pretend. I let myself believe I had time. That once I stopped thinking about MC, I could finally give this girl the pieces I hadn’t sealed away. But healing is slow. And people… they don’t always wait for your hands to stop trembling. She’s warm now. She’s whole. And I still wear gloves to hold my regrets.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Fan translation only. Accuracy not 100%. Please expect grammatical errors. Creative liberties are taken. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere, claim them as your own, or use them without my permission. Thank you for your support! ☾.

We couldn’t catch a carriage after work, so we were walking down the street at night.

(The moon’s so pretty tonight…..)

Reflecting on the Thames, the moon is a perfectly round, soft, creamy color.

The cool night breeze paired with the lovely moon made me feel both refreshed, and my steps lighter.

Not long after, I was walking a step ahead of Jude.

Jude: Ain’t helpin’ ya if take a tumble.

Kate: Pff- Yes, I know.

Having said that, I know that if I really do fall, he’ll help me.

Jude: ……Kate.

Kate: Yeah? Oh!

When I turned at my name being called, something was suddenly tossed to me.

The character for “to thow” is used. However, it can also mean “to toss.” Given the distance from each other and the setting, I feel like toss is more appropriate than throw.

Kate: What’s with the random box?

Jude looked more serious than usual.

Jude: Just open it.

Sensing that something was out of the ordinary, I gingerly opened the box given to me, and found a silver ring inside—

Kate: Jude, what is this….

When I looked up in shock, he appeared exasperated.

Jude: Daft princess, dont’cha get what it means?

Kate: Huh?

Jude: Guess not. Yer a perverted masochist who doesn’t know when to quit, who keep’s comin’ at me, ‘n who’s so foolish it makes me wanna weep.

Kate: Why are you saying mean things about me?!

However, he was looking straight at me, so his insults didn’t even register.

Jude: But yer the only one I have.

The night breeze passes between us, leaving space for one person.

Jude: Ya didn’t ridicule my dream about goin’ to the moon, ‘n ya accepted us cursin’ each other.

Jude: Yer the only woman who can laugh like an idiot, ‘n keep her resolve.

The moonlight shone upon us like we were the only ones in the universe.

Jude: My mind’s been made up since the day I started goin’ steady with ya.

Jude: To give ya my last name. Marry me, Kate.

His words strike my heart, warming my entire being and causing tears to well up in my eyes.

While I was unable to contain my sobs any longer, Jude gave me the most gentle smile I’d ever seen.

Jude: S’what’s it gonna be, Kate.

I nodded repeatedly as I wiped away my tears.

Still, they start pouring again as I clutched the ring and cried out.

Kate: Please make me your wife, Jude!

He laughed at my weepy reply.

Jude: That’s damn fine answer.

He hugged me, smiled as he wiped away my tears and kissed me—

The morning after the happy proposal, I was taking a walk while staring at the engagement ring when Ellis appeared.

Ellis: Oh, that’s...

Kate: Oh, this is...

Ellis smiled before bringing up Jude.

The line literally reads, “Ellis smiled before speaking to Jude.” However, Jude isn’t present at the time as you’ll see in the line below, and he never directly speaks to Jude, so I opted to translate the line this way.

Ellis: Jude finally gave it to you. Congratulations, Kate.

Kate: ….Finally?

As I tilt my head, Ellis whispers.

Ellis: Jude’s been preparing to give you a ring for a long time now Kate.

Kate: What…..

In astonishment I try to look at the ring again, but a hand reaches out from behind and hugs me.

Jude: The hell ya blabberin’ on about.

When Jude appeared, Ellis grinned and silently waved his hand as he walked away.

(So he’s been getting this ready for a long time….)

Jude: What’cha smilin’ fer?

Kate: Heh…..

As I smiled at the surprising fact I just learned, he grabbed my cheeks and forced me to look up.

His amethyst eyes were annoyed, but still looked at me lovingly.

(Yeah….I’m so hopelessly in love with this guy.)

I wanted to tell him just how much I love him.

Kate: Jude, I love you.

Kate: I’ll love you forever.

In both lines, Kate uses “大好き” (Daisuki), which means to “like very much.” It is holds a lot of affection, and is more commonly used to express love.

He blinked in surprise at my declaration and then instantly changed his expression.

Jude: I love you.

Jude uses the kanji “愛” (Ai). If you don’t know this is a HUGE thing to say….especially for him. It also means "I love you", but it's used very rarely. Typically only for special occasions such as proposals, weddings, deathbeds, that sort of thing. It carries the weight of unconditional or sacrificial love, and loving for the other person’s sake.

Smiling softly, he kissed my lips.

To fulfill our promise to curse each other until the very end—

I will live with you.

[Event Master List]

If you are 18+ years old and wish to be added to my tags list, please feel free to comment or dm me. Please specify if you want to be tagged in all translations or a specific suitor. If you wish to be removed from the list, please feel free to comment or dm me as well.

Tag list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @yuoi-the-magnificent @husbandosandladders @nawlink @justgiulia @vickietickie @greedyqueensfavourite @sharigax @belphiesleftpinkytoe @reimy1164 @barellorkilaam @goustmilk @aceuuuuu @yamaguchisaori @hiphiphooray4val @mika797 @spectraphobic-blog @kiyomizuki @cosmowgyral @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul @kraiyne @midnightsrunaway @czechmatee7

[ddarker-dreams]

m-miss lock pls s-spare us some blade content pls feed us

this blurb takes place in the light warden universe !! reader here is fem.

“Something on your mind?” 

Kafka’s voice thrums through the air, pleasant as a melody yet piercing as a knife. Blade’s frown deepens. This almost imperceptible change feeds her amusement. If she were a kinder woman, she might soothe the worries festering in the swordsman's mind, but the urge to tease is irresistible. 

Stoic as Blade may be, he has his tells. Namely, the way his eyes keep scanning his surroundings, despite combat being featured in neither of their upcoming scripts. Those vermilion hues consistently land on the room’s various entrances. There they linger, until it’s evident no one’s coming. Then, setting his jaw, he finds another doorway, only to repeat the process ad nauseam. 

Rather than acknowledge Kafka’s pointed words, Blade comments, “The girl’s not here.” 

“Who?” Kafka tilts her head, feigning ignorance. “Silver Wolf? Firefly?” 

Blade gives her an unusually stern look, as if to say, you know who. 

“If you’re referring to my little warden…” she trails off, suppressing a laugh at the expression he makes at the word my. “She’s elsewhere.” 

He crosses his arms, expecting a more thorough explanation. When it becomes evident Kafka won’t offer one, not without some concession on his part, he sighs, the skin between his eyes wrinkling. 

“With?” 

“Herself.” 

The implication settles over him in waves. By the time he sees the full picture, he’s like a rope drawn taut, ready to snap. “... She’s unaccompanied?” 

Blade’s past the point of avoiding the trap they both know Kafka’s set for him. It almost surprises her, his willingness to do away with his pretense the instant you’re involved. The mara slumbering within him stirs, a ravenous beast she’d rather not have to subdue. She’s had enough fun; she’ll put the smitten man out of his misery. 

“Her script calls for it. No harm will befall her,” Kafka reassures. “If you miss her, you could always call her.” 

Blade quietly scoffs, but she notes the way his hand twitches, suppressing the urge to follow through with her suggestion. 

Feeling a pang of benevolence, she shoots you a barrage of messages when he isn’t looking.  

Bladie’s feeling neglected 

Ignore him for too long and even I don’t know what he’ll do… 

Mind sending him a text?

Or maybe a slightly risqué selfie? ♡

[redheadsramblings]

Ship Sleep Dynamics

I was tagged by the lovely @aetherflowers for this 🥰

I need more screenshots of the two of them. All the ones I have, someone has their eyes closed or is pulling a weird face 🤣

So I have to keep reusing the few good ones 😅

💚Emmrich Volkarin 💀 Rowan "Rook" Ingellvar💜

How often do they sleep together?

Once the relationship is a go every night, but not in a sexual sense as Rowan is not ready (also I haven't quite decided if their first time is the coffin or not) and he would never ever think of rushing her. Emmrich is horrified when he sees Rowan's sleeping situation at the Lighthouse. And will not hear of leaving his darling to sleep in a cold, damp room on that abominable sofa with nary a pillow or blanket that isn't her pack and cloak (his exact words).

It starts with them just in the same bed, he being a gentleman offers to go sleep elsewhere, but Rowan asks him to stay. So he puts a bolster pillow down the centre of the bed so she feels safe and as a barrier. Which lasts all of her first nightmare. He knew she sleepwalked because of bad dreams, what he didn't know was how it all started before she started walking. Lots of whimpering, talking in her sleep (he didn't know his heart could break over such innocuous phrases like No, Don't, or It hurts) so how can he not hold her and try to soothe her and the rest is history (OK the rest is kind of written but not really, and I want to keep some things a mystery for later fic chapters)

Where do they sleep?

Once the relationship is a go they're both in Emmrich's bed in his room at the Lighthouse (I am an Emmrich has a secret bedroom behind a bookcase truther) and again in Emmrich's bed in his flat/house in Nevarra once they go home. Before, Rowan didn't have a bed either in the Lighthouse or Nevarra. She barely had a room in the Necropolis before she had to leave after the War of the Banners.

How do they prepare to sleep?

Emmrich I see as have a very structured routine. A bath followed by applying his various lotions and potions to his hair and skin, I'm not saying the man has the Thedas equivalent to a Korean skincare regime, but I'm also not not saying it. Puts oh his fancy pyjamas (he strikes me as a silk pjs kind of man) then a calming cup of tea before brushing his teeth, getting his clothes ready for the next day, putting the ones from that day in the laundry basket. Then finally gets in to bed to read for a while before going to sleep.

Rowan in comparison is a lot simpler, not because she doesn't want to, but because she couldn't afford the lotions etc and never had the time or space. A wash if she can, then braids her hair, puts on her old worn shift and heavily darned socks (she's always cold), brushes her teeth, and then crashes out on the nearest flat surface. If she even bothers going to bed in the first place. She, Lucanis and Neve are giving each other a run for the worst insomniac in the Veilguard. Bellara is disqualified because she actually falls asleep while she's working.

Once they're sharing a bed, suddenly Rowan has a multitude of lotions, potions, and oils that Emmrich gifts her. She also has beautiful nightwear and warm slippers, stockings, and wraps to wear if she gets cold. Her old shift may have "accidentally" got burnt after a mysterious, very localised fire.

What do they wear to sleep?

Emmrich is an absolute silk pyjamas man and nothing will make me change my mind. In sumptuous jewel colours and no doubt embroidered with gold wherever it won't be itchy.

Rowan had a simple linen shift that is very old, faded, much mended and while it used to be black it is now a dingy grey shapeless thing that she has slept in for years. It's also the shift she wears under her "formal" dress when needed, or is her other dress that she wears when she's not on an expedition or patrol. It's ugly, shapeless, but it's all she has.

After Emmrich sees it, he makes it his mission to a) make sure she has beautiful things to sleep in and b) remove that shift from existence entirely. It's not that he doesn't think she's beautiful in it, she is stunning in his eyes no matter what she wears or looks like. It's the sheer magnitude of neglect and a life bare of anything like kindness or affection, it encompasses.

Do they cuddle?

Yes. Rowan is always cold and Emmrich is warm, so she always ends up draped over him and snuggled in, no matter her intention when she goes to sleep. Add in her nightmares and Emmrich noting that if he holds her, they are less frequent, then he sees no reason why they should deny themselves the pleasure of sleeping in each other's arms.

What are their preferred sleep positions?

Emmrich is a side sleeper preferably and Rowan is a curl up as small as I can to keep warm and maybe no one will find me if I'm small sleeper by necessity/upbringing to start. Once they're in the sharing a bed stage, then Emmrich is still a side sleeper with Rowan cuddled to his chest with her legs draped over his hips and her arm over her chest.

They do also often end up with Emmrich on his back and Rowan draped over his chest more often than not. She's unconsciously trying to get as much of her on his warmth, and even in his sleep he could never refuse her anything.

How easy do they fall asleep?

Emmrich falls asleep relatively easily, as long as he's not deep in his research or too deep in his own head.

Rowan just doesn't sleep unless she is just about ready to pass out, and even then it depends on how much caffeine she can get in her system before she crashes. Until she's sharing a bed with Emmrich. It's the first time she feels absolutely safe and secure, add in how warm she is, and she's out like a light.

It's not always effective as she's very good at ignoring her body's needs, but Emmrich knows if he can get her horizontal and next to him, then she'll sleep. That's the easy part. Catching her and getting her to listen is the hard part.

Do they toss and turn a lot?

Emmrich no unless he's in his own head.

Rowan to start, yes. She has nightmares, or a Dread Wolf in her head, or just bad headspace. Again, it gets better once they're sharing.

Do they snore?

Emmrich has been known to on occasion snore, but it's not all the time. And it's more gentle wuffles than full on snoring.

Rowan doesn't.

Who hogs the blanket?

Emmrich. Mostly only at the start and because he's used to having blankets to hog. Rowan doesn't fight for herself, even in her sleep. But as they're usually cuddles together, the blanket hogging quickly becomes a non entity.

What do they dream about?

Emmrich has mostly innocuous dreams, lots of whimsy and fade walking. He does have nightmares occasionally of losing his parents, losing Manfred after Blackthorn and after Tearstone losing Rowan and his fear of death.

Rowan has nightmares more than dreams. It's part of why she doesn't like to sleep. Not going to go into her nightmare subjects because a) Spoilers and b) dark subject maters.

How easily do they wake up?

Emmrich wakes up easily, but he typically sleeps deeply, so he doesn't wake up to every noise or movement once he's asleep.

Rowan sleeps like a 9-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory. She sleeps poorly if she even sleeps at all and every little noise or movement wakes her. It's from all her years of solo expeditions deep in the Necropolis, where sleeping too deeply was the fastest way to die quickly.

Once they're sharing a bed, she sleeps a bit better because she feels safe, but she still wakes up at the drop of a pin.

How awake they are afterwards?

Emmrich is fairly awake and chipper after waking, even if he had a late night.

Rowan is wide awake as soon as she opens her eyes and is usually on the move before then. She's not happy about it, but her survival hinged on it for too many years to easily unlearn it.

She gets more relaxed as they continue to share a bed and feel safe to grumble and take her time as she wakes up. But it's rare.

OK, this was so much fun, so I need to more people to do it so I can read about your ships and their sleep habits 😍

No pressure tagging:

@the-font-bandit @officialnostradamus @serbarris @emmg @themontess

@mosoderbergh @randomnonsensedragonage @galacticsparkles @sunny374940 @tinygameralec

@mistressandry @draco-illius-noctis @jukkaricity @holdingontojupiter @crimsen-khalessi

@pseudospaceship @notyourmamasdeerbat @curiouswisp @guacamolleee  @thequeenofthewinter

@queenmuzz @andthekitchensinkao3 @lavenderprose @caughtnyact @hedwigoprah

@sofiemystique @omabell-illustriert @soeasilyswayed @paramortality @theyearningghoul

@novaobscurity @ermagerdperpehs @kirain @razildor @mojo-bro-tho

@theshotsheardacrossworlds @dymme @mercars-musings @ar-ghilas-vir-banal @silshinobii

@serstolas @woundedsoul12 @dragonracer @starfleetteddybear @blightedcrow

@ferocious-notes @avoskorm @basic-x-witch

And anyone who sees this and fancies a go tag, you're it 😁

Dividers are by flowersforthemachines and can be found here

If you would like to go on my tag list, I have a post here where you can sign up

[scary-grace]

Ahhh I love that dark prompt list!! How about something shorter for:

¹¹⁾ a chair jammed under a doorhandle 

Thank you for the prompt! I went unhinged and pretty uncomfortable with this one, but I found it really inspiring. Apologies if it goes a bit too far. Canonverse, Tomura POV, content warning for AFO being absolutely disgusting. Nonconsensual voyeurism + other things I’m bad at describing. Dark.

There are no locked doors in Sensei’s house.

Tomura’s not even sure it is a house. When he was younger, he’d get lost in here, wandering barefoot on cold concrete floors for what felt like hours, until Sensei found him or he found his way back to somewhere familiar. There’s no part of this place Tomura’s banned from. He can go anywhere he wants, touch anything he’d like to touch. Even in Sensei’s study. That took some getting used to. Tomura was so scared the first time Sensei found him there that he almost threw up.

But Sensei smiled. Sensei always smiles for Tomura. Go on, he said, and gestured to the entire room. All the books and maps, computer screens and case files and things Tomura didn’t have names for. It’s all for you.

No locks, no limits, no rules. Tomura almost never hears the word “no”. But it goes the other way, too. Tomura might not hear “no”, but he doesn’t get to say it, either.

At first that was okay with Tomura. He was so happy to hear yes instead of no that it didn’t matter that he had to say yes, too. Now Tomura wishes he’d heard no a little more often. He wishes he’d said it more often. If he had, he wouldn’t have been so fucking surprised when he asked Sensei to take the cameras out of his bedroom and bathroom and Sensei said no.

Tomura hadn’t known the cameras were there, at least not until yesterday, when Sensei mentioned that he wasn’t happy with how Tomura’s been spending his downtime. Tomura thought he was talking about the gaming. “I’m doing better,” he said. “I haven’t wrecked my monitor in months.”

Sensei waved him off. “I’m talking about the pornography,” he said, and Tomura’s stomach lurched. “The time you spend on masturbation could be better spent elsewhere.”

Tomura’s face went instantly, horribly red. It took everything he had not to bring up his hands to hide it. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to run away. He wanted to claw his neck apart until he hit bone, and Sensei wouldn’t stop looking at him. How long had Sensei been looking at him? “You saw me?”

“Of course,” Sensei said. “It’s important to be aware of all aspects of my successor’s life.”

“Not that.” Tomura said the words, but his mind was down a thousand dark corridors, thinking about what Sensei must have seen and heard and watched him do. Seen Tomura clicking through videos, looking for the right ones. Seen what Tomura thinks the right ones are. Seen Tomura squirming in his bed, his legs shaking, his hands frantic as he jerks himself off. Seen him roll over onto his face afterward, relaxed for once, feeling good for once. Imagining another pair of hands touching him, some faceless, nameless person who wants him and wants him to feel good and wants to see it —

Tomura wants that. If he wants that, what business did he have telling Sensei to stop watching him? None, probably. But he said it anyway. “I don’t want you to watch me. Stop.”

Sensei smiled at Tomura. Tomura’s skin crawled. “No,” he said, almost gently. “In order to teach you properly, I need to know everything. Once you think about it, I’m sure you’ll understand.”

Did he need to know everything? Was Tomura wrong for wanting to keep some things to himself? The question kept Tomura up at night, all night, unable to sleep or eat, unable to do anything knowing Sensei was watching it all. By morning he came around to the truth. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Sensei does need to see. But Tomura isn’t going to let him see anything more.

There are no locked doors in Sensei’s house. Tomura jams a chair beneath the door handle, drags his desk halfway in front of it for good measure, and starts taking his room apart. He doesn’t know where the cameras are, or what they look like, but he’ll destroy everything in his room before he’ll let Sensei watch him for another night.

“Tomura,” Sensei says from outside the door, and Tomura slams his fist against a bookcase so hard that his knuckles crack, “don’t you think this is a little absurd?”

Tomura doesn’t answer him. The thought of Sensei listening to him is awful, but there’s something worse about seeing, something Tomura can’t live with. Sensei’s knock at the door grows more insistent. “Let me in.”

“No.”

“Tomura.” Sensei tsks at him, almost reproving. “When have I ever said no to you?”

Tomura squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t care what you said.”

Part of him is scared. He’s never seen Sensei get angry, but he knows it’s there somewhere, because something is always there. What’s Sensei going to do to him for saying no? It could be awful. It probably will be. But it’s not going to be worse than this. Tomura knows that for sure.

By the time Sensei gets the door open, Tomura’s room is completely bare. There’s nowhere left for a camera to hide, and as Sensei looks around, his response makes Tomura cringe. “I’m proud of you,” he says, smiling. “You’ve learned to channel your anger and embrace your true nature. I’ll have to think of a suitable reward.”

“No more cameras,” Tomura says, his voice rattling, and Sensei laughs.

It happens again, and again. Sensei replaces Tomura’s things, and Tomura destroys them again, and Sensei’s always proud of him. And when Sensei loses his fight with All Might and comes back with empty eye sockets in a ruined face, Tomura decides that there’s one thing and one thing only that he doesn’t hate All Might for.

[thesummerstorms]

Antaam Invasion of Antiva:

Almost all of this is repurposed from something else I was trying to work out for myself, before finding one single line of a codex entry that answered my question but I had somehow skipped every time prior to now. I figured it might still be a useful reference post for someone, so I reformatted, cut some stuff, and added some stuff.

Blue text is proven fact, red text is inference/supposition by me.

---

As of the quest, Coffee with the Crows, Antiva as a whole is still occupied by the Antaam.

Evidence: Codex: A Letter from House de Riva

"Now we have Qunari in control of all Antiva. Treviso is like their favorite toy. They flaunt the occupation here, showing off how they took charge of our poor, lawless people for their own good. I know you [Lucanis] just got out and too much has happened already, but we still have work to do."

----

2. The King of Antiva is still free, not under house arrest or a hostage, etc. However, he is not currently assisting with the resistance towards Qunari occupation.

Evidence: Multiple pieces of in game dialogue (sourced from the script file, but I have heard most in game) + Codex: King's Draft: Action on the Behalf of Antiva

Teia (Codex): We aren't required to give His Majesty a point-by-point, but he's your blood, Viago. It is a courtesy to let him know we are going to war."

Rook de Riva: "We Crows are all the army Antiva has, but it's not like we can field a garrison. Outside support?" Teia: "The king would say to call on us. The price for being patriots."

Ivenci: "Without you, the king would be forced to deal with this mess. To give proper power to real officials."

Teia: People are desperate. We need to arrange shipments of water from further inland. Viago : (snorts) Maybe the king can be convinced to build an aqueduct—if we involve his favorite sculptors. Teia : It is not a bad time to ask him for aid. Viago : (sighs) I'll go.

----

3. The Antaam started by invading Antiva and northern Rivain, then used that as a launch point to conquer half of the rest of northern Thedas.

Evidence: Codex Entry: The Antaam Invasion

When the Antaam invaded the South, the people there were completely unprepared. Antiva and northern Rivain were overrun quickly, with the invaders pushing down through the Green Dales to the Minanter River, leaving only the southernmost of the Free Marches spared. From there, the Antaam pushed west, overpowering Tevinter magic with gaatlok cannons and brute strength until the defenders finally held at Vyrantium. Nevarra was spared, likely due to the Antaam fears of necromancy and unwillingness to attack until Tevinter was conquered, but almost half of northern Thedas fell to Antaam rule in just a few years...

My messy PowerPoint annotated/color coded map:

(I had to guess where exactly counted as "southern Free Marches", but I feel like the Minanter River makes the most likely boundary given its explicit mention in the codex.)

----

4. Initial occupation of some parts of Antiva was implied to be particularly brutal, though no specifics are given.

Evidence: In game dialogue, confirmed by the script file.

Ivenci: "You know what the Antaam did elsewhere in Antiva. And in every other city they occupied."

----

4. Although the Antaam still hold all of Antiva, they have struggled with supply chains as none of their support teams defected with them. They have been reliant on seizing the resources of occupied territories, presenting a possible weakness.

Evidence: Codex Entry: The Antaam Invasion; in game dialogue

It is also important to note that the Antaam fought alone. With little in the way of supply lines or experts in food production—the craftspeople and strategic experts who would normally support them had not broken from the Qun when the Antaam did—the invaders needed to attack to keep eating. When they encountered resistance that would have forced a siege, the Antaam invasion stalled. The kithshoks who wished only to conquer now had to learn to rule the lands they would claim.

Lucanis: The Crows may have something. The Antaam are moving large quantities of supplies out of the city. Weapons, armor, gaatlok…And food. About half our remaining provisions. Enough to feed the Antaam navy.

Civilian 1: You went to the physician? Civilian 2 : She stitched it well enough. Gave me what she could to ward infection. Civilian 2 : What she could? Civilian 1 : The Antaam confiscated half her supplies. Said they need it for their army.

-----

5. Josephine Montilyet's family and their estate in Antiva City appear to be safe, and potentially operating somewhat normally . Antiva City is also the capital where the King reigns.

Source: Codex: Notes from the Inquisition (if Josephine was romanced); DA:I dialogue placing the family home in Antivan City, Eight Little Talons

"The family writes the weather back home is beautiful. I do miss our quiet times together." "When we return to Antiva, I will ask you, on the steps of the estate, if you will do me a great honor. And I dream you will say yes." "Yvette and Lord Otranto send their best wishes, and hope to see us back home in time to welcome their third child."

Josephine: Well. My parents are alive, and in good health. They live in our estate in Antiva City.

Teia snatched his walking stick and twirled it in the air. “Are you going straight home to Salle?” [Viago] sighed and shook his head. “Antiva City.” “To brief His Royal Fatherliness?” She balanced the stick on the tip of her boot.

-----

6. Teia and Viago have left behind their home territories of Rialto and Salle to join with Caterina in Treviso.

It's unknown if the presence of the Cantori Diamond predates the occupation, but this might mean they are choosing to show a united front in the city most threatened or most symbolic and move outward from there to then retake their own territories.

Possibly this is a deliberate alliance due to Teia, Viago, and Caterina being three of the four Talons to survive the initial attempt to sell Antiva out to the Antaam by a rival House.

Evidence: Eight Little Talons, Codex: A Letter from House de Riva

"Teia had a garden full of the bell shaped flowers in Rialto."

"Andoral [Teia's horse] rarely gets a chance to let loose in Rialto.

"Teia snatched [Viago's] walking stick and twirled it in the air. “Are you going straight home to Salle?”

Now we have Qunari in control of all Antiva. Treviso is like their favorite toy.

This might also be supported by the unimplemented Codex Entry: Many Houses, One Roost. However, many things in the game files were struck on purpose, or contradict the final canon.

7. The Antaam control the port in Treviso, limiting the availability of supplies. However, they don't entirely restrict entering ships, instead taking a "cut" of the foodstuffs they do permit.

Rivain at least is working to send supplies through anyway.

Evidence: Codex Entry: On the Invasion, in game dialogue, Note: Flour Covered Grocery List

Treviso has always been a free port. Even the Merchant Princes respect this. Their fortunes exist because we trade and work where we will. So of course, the first act of the Antaam invasion was to blockade our trading ships with their dreadnoughts

Crow Prisoner: The Antaam kept me alive so they could use me to trick Rivain into sending more supplies....Thank you for your timely arrival. I'll get the supplies to Treviso… and pay back the Antaam there.

A list in Lucanis's handwriting: -Spring onions -Green cabbage -Short-grain rice -Vinegar (white, for pickling) -Vinegar (dark, for dipping with bread) -Coffee beans (for Neve, when she is back) Cinnamon, please! —Bellara If it can be found. The Antaam's navy takes its share from whatever trading ships pass through Treviso. —Lucanis

8. The Antaam across nations aren't working together, but have broken into smaller bands. Any coordination seems to be from the Evanuris.

The Butcher seems primarily occupied with Treviso, so we have no information about who is occupying the rest of Antiva or any alliances they might have.

Evidence: Warlords of the Antaam

It is easy to think that the Antaam broke from the Qunari as one, but the reality is that of a vase shattering into countless shards, each broken in its own way, reflecting the warlord who now leads each kith. Some, like the Butcher in Treviso, use their new freedom to indulge in cultures long forbidden to them. Others, like Ataashok (Dragon King) or Isskatari (Master Killer) in Rivain, reject foreign cultures and either lean on the trappings of the Antaam or invent a heritage to inspire the loyalty of their soldiers. What seems consistent among the Antaam warlords is cruelty, from Baqounasaar (Flaming Wind), whose ships terrorize the northern coast, to Kashtaar (Jewel-Taker), whose kith have become a bandit army in the mountains outside Marothius.

-------------

Further cut information about the Antaam Invasion that can be found in the game files, but aren't technically canon due to remaining unimplemented: Codex Entry: Observations on the Antaam, Codex Entry: Many Houses, One Roost, Codex Entry: No Need for Armies

[white-hole-station]

[Headcanon]

The space program took a whole month off of development after Tektite's accident, so that Slate could have the time to perfect their leg. They'd already been working on articulated flaps for in-atmosphere steering for Feldspar's ship - conserves fuel to not use jets for that - and hey, an artificial ankle is just another type of flap to articulate, right?

Gossan wasn't so sure - especially with Slate's full-tilt approach to experimental engineering, at odds with Tektite's trepidation - but all of the founders agreed that the program could wait until their neighbour was back on their feet. And to Slate's credit, Gossan had never seen them show as much sheer methodical focus, before or since. This was somebody's limb here, after all: their ability to move of their own accord, their ability to get out and about in the community and do the things they love, their ability to still feel like their body is their own. Slate was hardly about to phone it in, or risk any wild experiments when it came to Tektite's comfort and requirements.

It took several iterations, and several difficult test walks around the town square gripping Slate's arm, but together the pair of them worked out a final model that's been serving Tektite well to this day.

(...Of course, the dedication and focus that so pleasantly surprised Gossan only made Slate's awkward avoidance of them after their own accident sting even more. Was it really that hard on their poor guilty conscience, to think about doing something similar for a friend, instead of darting their gaze away just short of Gossan's face?)

[crookedfivefingers]

Seriously though young people, y’all need to start reblogging original content instead of just ‘liking’ it. Do your part to keep fandom alive

[orcelito]

LARPing as a productive and clean adult is Going Well! Cleaned and set up the cat food/water station, then cleaned their litter box (and even SWEPT afterwards!!!!). Also brought in all the new stuff, & the dishes r set aside for now, but i went and washed all the towels... and FOLDED them after!!! And for the kitchen towels I bought, i even set one out in the kitchen!!! Hung on the handle of the oven like a normal person!!!! I may even dry my hands after using the kitchen sink instead of just letting them drip dry or wiping them on my clothes!!!!!

Having in-unit laundry is helping a Ton honestly. While my previous apartment had the laundry room in-building and it was next to my unit so I didnt even have to walk far for it, I still had to worry about quarters and all that business. And about grabbing my clothes from the washer and dryer as soon as they were done. It was an entire Production every time. But now, I can just toss some shit in the wash and get to it when I get to it. Still don't want it to sit for more than a few hours at the most in the wash, but theres still wiggle room!! And i did a 2nd load for blankets, put them in the dryer... and now im in bed!! Blankets still in the dryer, bc it doesnt matter!!! I will fold them tomorrow and they can stay in there for now. And since I don't have to pay per cycle, if my clothes arent entirely dry after the cycle ends, I can just put them in for a little bit longer!!!! No longer have to fucking hang dry my clothes on my bathroom shower curtain rod the rest of the way!!! Dry clothes every time!!!!!!

It's freeing. It makes it a lot easier to Do Stuff. And it's really really nice.

[sysig]

Starkly, sparkly (Patreon)

[mothric]

If you want to hear something really wild I’m pretty sure my cousin doesn’t get any PTO or benefits (including health insurance!!!) at her full-time job. Which like. I would say is completely wrong (and it is lmao) but she could totally work somewhere else if she wanted to, but she likes the ~vibes~ of this place and thinks they’re good people (it’s a really small, new business). They brought cake for everyone once which my cousin thought was great and I said “I’d rather have insurance than cake” 🤦‍♀️. I wasn’t popular for that one. Anyway that’s my rant lol

this is a reply to something I reblogged several weeks ago but I forgot to respond. anyway yea the job market in the US is appalling in many ways. no PTO for full time is horrendous even by our standards though. I hope she gets out of there

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

today on my When All You Have is a D10 project: Rolling a 6 with a D100.

-

1-16: Option 1

17-32: Option 2

33-48: Option 3

49-64: Option 4

65-80: Option 5

81-96: Option 6

97-100: Reroll

-

if you get that last one you can reroll the ones column, tens column, or both, up to you. tune in next time for so fucking help me i WILL find an efficient way to substitute dice for a deck of playing cards

[thedreadvampy]

oh boy the depression hole is deep and it is muddy

hahaha I fell into the classic trap! overidentify with your job and considering leaving it will trigger an existential crisis!!!!

[mistninja]

Have i mentioned that i love the one piece cover stories? I love the one piece cover stories

[talentforlying]

currently the house of mystery is only canon in his JLD verse but i gotta say, the symbolism of giving john constantine ownership of the house of cain, with all his family hang-ups? chef's fucking kiss for that one.

i do like to think that he ends up owning the house of mystery eventually in the main verse, because it would be an eventual solution to his endlessly unstable housing situation and i think he'd breathe a lot easier if he had a sanctum of a sort, but it definitely takes a while to come into his hands. post-hellblazer, pre-sandman universe presents in timeline speak. the man is 70, he deserves some interdimensional storage space and a reliable ("reliable") place to sleep.