#I would just like to say that I could elaborate so much more on the sibling falling out thing because I’ve been cooking for YEARS

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

You don’t get to tell me about sad

Previous chapter

a/n part three! I’m brain dead so sorry for the wait. I hope you will all enjoy this. 🫧🫶🏻

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

warning: past trauma, scars, injuries, blood.

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You were sure that your lip was going to burst from the way you kept biting on it, trying to suppress the laugh as the carriage rolled through the misty autumn forest. Convinced that nothing was ever going to top the sight of Azriel, squished the opposite of you. He was scowling so hard that he was most definitely the reason why the sky had ripped open. Pouring rain drowned the lush forest since the early morning. It looked like you were driving to a funeral at best, gruesome execution at best. 

“Don’t start with me today," Azriel grunts, his eyes burning into yours. Yet now that he acknowledged you, the smile only seemed to spread wider. He lets out a grunt, and a quiet giggle slips past your lips. "Princess, life suits you," you mumble, making Azriel roll his eyes. “Come on now; it’s not so bad. Don’t huff”, you nudge his leg with your heel, earning yet another glare.

“Could have winnowed us there”, “You did almost all the way”, you point out. And you would have happily obliged, but the murmurs about something being wrong with the high lord’s family had started. So Lucien and Eris had made their outing. If not for the rain, you would have done just the same. Take a walk through the main streets. But now seeing the family carriage and your face through the glass would have to be enough. 

“Why do you hate autumn so much?”, It’s a bold statement to make. You’re not sure if he even hates it. Well, considering the amount of frowning he does, he has to. “I have my reasons," Azriel answers as bluntly as he can. “Care to elaborate?", you turn to him, ready to dig an answer out of him if you had to. He owned you, considering his creeping around your room. But your eyes fall on the way he’s trying to subtly rub his palms together. The scarred skin—humidity must be making the bones ache too. He’s impossible to read, but you’re convinced that the discomfort hunts some of his features. You don’t care. You shouldn’t care, yet you still inch closer. There’s not much space inside the carriage considering that man’s size, but it’s enough for you to brush your legs against him. As expected, Azriel’s hands instantly reached to put distance between you both. But that’s when you yank the side of your cloak up, draping the fur-lined material over his scared palms. 

“What are you?", "Shhhh," you say quickly. He tries to pull them out, but you catch his gaze—a daring look there. “Know your”, but you cut him off once more, “Next words out of your mouth better be, thank you, princess," you muse. Azriel clenches his jaw. But he doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t fight the warmth slowly seeping through the stiff skin. “I thought you hated that nickname, princess," he says. One thing this man hadn’t learned in life was dealing with women. Clearly. You shrug, “Not so bad when it’s you who calls me that," you muse, watching as a glimpse of surprise washes over his features, and then the scowling coldness returns. 

Azriel doesn’t like it here. The thought alone had unsettled him ever since Lucien had announced the need to go back. “The High Lord needs to make a statement," Lucien had stated. Azriel itched to say that Eris wasn’t his high lord. But he knew that regardless of Eris’s wishes, he would have gone. Because you were going there. So here he was, standing outside the forest house. Not daring to go forward alone. You had waved him off. Told him to go inside while you checked on the horses. But he refused to step inside. So he stood there, trying to memorize every window.

“Who’s snooping now?", your voice fills Azriel’s ear as he slowly turns to you. Arms crossed as you grin at him. He wonders why you hadn’t mentioned that night in your room. Why you brushed it off so easily. “I just needed to stretch my wings." It’s not so much of a lie. It had been a disaster of a trip here. You barely manage to open your lips when an unfamiliar voice comes from behind, “Yn, Yn.“

Azriel pushes you behind him, his hand reaching for his dagger. But you slip out of his grasp, glancing over his shoulder. And then you’re stepping forward. “Makoa?”, it’s a whisper, and Azriel doubts that a disheveled-looking boy would hear it. But he does. And that name alone makes Azriel uneasy. The same boy you had sneaked out with. And just like that Azriel decides that he hates Makoa.

"Wait," you push again Azriel's arm, but his grip doesn’t falter. “Anyone can be a threat," the spymaster points out. “I know him," and it’s the desperation that makes Azriel back up. The same one that he had when he called out to Mor. To Elain. The lost kind. One that had you hanging up on things that weren’t there. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you," Makoa mutters once he is in arms reach of you. Azriel has to bite his tongue because nothing about that statement seems genuine. “You can imagine it’s been busy over here," and your voice is different too. Hazy almost. You bite at Azriel. Spewing venom. And here, this boy makes you behave like a youngling with your first-ever crush. “You could have written to me; I’ve missed you." Makoa raises his hand, and Azriel instantly inches to step forward, but then the boy is leaning in, his lips brushing over yours. Making Azriel lower his head. A strange sort of feeling brews within him. One that’s not welcome here. So he turns back onto his heel, heading deeper into the woods. To clear his consciousness. His logical thinking. His heart.

“Everyone missed you," Makoa points out, your hands clasped in his. The feeling is strange. It’s all so wrong  because, yes, he has been vocal about courting you, but this… To be kissed in front of someone he doesn’t even know. You glance back. Eyes scanning the front gardens. He’s not there. Azriel isn’t there, and a dreadful sort of uneasiness pools in your stomach. 

“It’s just been a couple of days," you brush his statement off. You were trying to find joy in something you had dreamed of ever since you slipped that book beneath the floorboards. “You’re behaving strangely," Makoa mutters, his hand reaching out for your forehead, but you bat it away. “I’m just tired," but you’re more than tired. You need answers, and quite frankly, you’re willing to do about anything to get them. 

You can trust the man in front of you. His mother used to do laundry for your family. Until Beron changed his mind or whatever happened. As if reading your mind, Makoa reaches up, cupping your cheek, “What is it you can tell me?" A part of you is screaming to just drop it. Talk to Azriel first. But then he wasn’t there. He wouldn’t know. 

“Do you remember the night on the harvest moon, well after it?”, you say quietly, looking over your shoulder for servants. “I walked you home," Makoa shrugs. Well, he did more than that, but sure, that will do for now. “Someone was waiting for me," you admit. “I didn’t go inside; I went to the barn to feed the horses." It was misty and cold outside. You didn’t catch their face. Just a hooded figure.

“I... someone tried to slice my throat open." Brushing your hair to the side, you let the white line shine in the midday sun. Makoa watches. But he doesn’t frown. There’s almost no reaction. Azriel looked more concerned when you caught him brushing his fingers over it that night. Genuine concern. Or maybe you were just imagining it. 

Makoa brings you into his chest. “What a shame," he breathes out, and your hands are instantly pushing against his chest. "Pardon," you huff, brows knit together. “I mean, it’s horrible, yes," he says, lifting his arms in defiance. You shake your head. Too tired. Too tired for this. After all, you didn’t expect him to take you seriously. He was too wild. Too carefree for that. 

"Look, just be careful, okay?", you mutter, your eyes searching him, but he only shoots you a wicked smile. “You don’t have to worry about me," he muses. You burn to tell him that you both are no longer kids. There are serious matters, but you don’t have it in you to fight another battle today. “I’ll see you in the party," you say as you step back, letting your fingers slip out of his grasp. But then he’s pulling you back. Hand on the side of your face. An eager kiss smothered against your lips, “I wouldn’t miss the spectacle.”

Azriel’s task this weekend was easy. If he was being honest, he didn’t quite grasp why exactly he was asked to come. But then Eris might have just done it to spite him. All he was responsible for was keeping an eye on you when Eris and Lucien couldn’t. So essentially, babysit a grown woman. Now he was standing with his back against your door. Throwing his knife up and down in his hands. Trying to beat his record of spins before it lands back into his palm. 

“Okay, am...", your voice breaks the second-floor silence, making Azriel pause. “Can you get Maria?”, Azriel shakes his head even if you can’t see him, “She just went outside for the flower arrangements." The elderly woman had pinched his cheek way too many times, but as much as he hated it, she reminded Azriel of his own mom. 

"Fuck," the sound of things falling inside the room, makes Azriel press his ear to the door.“What’s going on?”, he demands. Silence falls. “I...", you start, but it ends with a frustrated sigh. “Well, let’s hear it," he muses, hoping for yet another privileged little dig he could throw back at you. 

“I can’t reach the back of the dress to do the..." It’s a whisper. A frustrated one at that. “We have twenty minutes," Azriel points out. “I know, tree man, I know," you growl in frustration, cursing to yourself as you continue to struggle. 

“I'm coming in," Azriel states, instantly frowning at his own words. "No, you are not," you snarl, and he is sure that you are frowning. “On three," the spymaster warns. But he doesn’t even get a chance to start the countdown. “Fucking, Azriel,” you say, yanking the door open. Rosy cheeks. Slightly disheveled hair. And that deep red satin dress. So far different from the one he had seen you in the first time you both met. That was a girl. This… You were meant to be in red. In…

“Eyes up here, moron," you say, reaching up to flick his nose. One arm holding the material upfront. You turn away from him. The smooth back exposed to his scared hands. Azriel shakes those thoughts away. “I’ve seen females before," he states, reaching for the golden buttons. “Really? I would have taken you for a virgin," you snort, shaking your head ever so slightly. Azriel fake gasps, earning a glimmer in your eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”, he says in the most dramatic way possible. You bite your lip, trying to hide that smile. He knows it. Feels it.

“Just do the dress up," you urge him, motioning to your back. Azriel halts, letting his hands drop to his side. “Start with a please," he says proudly. You glance up at him, “Are you being serious?” Surely a man who just completed about the amount of time you had wasn’t going to start playing games. “I decided that etiquette lessons are in order," he shrugs, making you roll your eyes. “I will spit in your drink tonight. How is that for your etiquette lessons?” You flash him one of your fake smiles. “Delightful, just how I like it," and it’s so unexpected that you are left slack-jawed for a split second, and then he grabs your shoulder and turns you around, nudging you forward. “You’re disgusting," you say, pushing your heel against his leg, making a little rumble of laughter fill the space. “Says you," he breathes practically against your skin, sending shivers down your back. 

You fidget with your sleeve as you and Azriel make your way towards the main part of the event. Public outings still felt strange. The big crowd overwhelmed you. But you had missed out on so many great things  and parties, especially when you were growing up. That now….

“Only a weirdo disappears like that," you halt suddenly, leaving Azriel to walk along until he too stops. Turning to face you. You quickly put a finger against your lips, stepping closer to the second-floor railing. “That’s what I told Makoa”. You know those voices. You don’t even need to look down the staircase to know who they belong to. 

“Daddy beat her, I heard," and it’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you. Tingles spread through your body like fire.“ She lived beneath the floorboards; I doubt she knows how to interact with living things." You let the words slash at you. After so many years, they don’t make a difference. It’s the fact that every time you feel as if you found someone willing to look past it, they still end up stabbing you in the back. 

That’s when your eyes fall on Azriel, practically charging towards the stairs. "Don't," you hiss, reaching to grab at his wrist, pulling him back. “It’s disrespectful, and I’m being very polite with my words here," he grunts. Venom. Purest of venom painting his features, and yet you cut him off. “I said don't," you step in front of him, pressing your palms against his chest. “It’s just another joke for them. You throwing a fit and acting all gruff won’t change a thing.”

Azriel watches you for a moment before a bitter laugh crawls up his throat. “And those are your friends? People that you think are not a threat to you? ”, he points downstairs in frustration. A wave of guilt. Shame. Fills you in seconds. You feel that familiar sting in your eyes. But you brush it beneath all the other pain. “Daddy got them for me; I didn’t have a chance to choose; my apologies," you purr through gritted teeth. 

And it’s as if you threw a comeback punch. The arrow shooting once again. Azriel’s shoulders sag. “Yn...", he breathes out, but you don’t want it. Don’t want pity. The sad eyes. The smothering. To hell with it. “We should go find my brothers." You pick at the skirt of your dress, turning to the stairs. “It was insensitive of me," Azriel’s words slam into the wall you had built, making you close your eyes for a moment. “Don’t get tangled in this; this has nothing to do with you," you mutter, not turning back to face him. Forcing your legs forward. Azriel stands at the top of the staircase for a heartbeat, watching you. Then he glances over his shoulder. One heartbeat. Two. And he unleashes his shadows to the first floor. 

The terrace is buzzing with people. If it were up to Azriel, he would be right by the platform, but there are Eris’s guards here. So he’s just standing by. That prick had it in him to suggest wine. Azriel, of course, took it. Before dumping it right next to Eris’s shoes. Rhys told him to behave, yes. And so he was, because the second option was to punch the fireling in his face. Pick and choose.

Azriel catches a glimpse of you. Well, more like all he had been doing was catching glimpses of you. Like a moth to a flame. Even if he tells himself not to, his eyes always seem to find you. That distant look in your eyes. Like you’re not here, even if your body is. He also doesn’t doubt that it’s partly because of the things the people said. Why not fight back? You seem to be fine doing that when it comes to him. But crumple the moment the people who are meant to be closest to you are involved. 

As if by coincidence, your eyes glance up, meeting Azriel’s. He should be scowling, yet he finds himself smiling. Just a little. He puts a finger beneath his chin, pushing it higher. Encouragement of sorts. You’re supposed to radiate power, not look like a damsel in distress. You return it with an eye roll, making the corners of Azriel’s lips curve even more. Deny it or not. You do lift your head up. That tingle of fire blazing just a bit brighter. That will do. It would have to be enough to get you through it. 

The music dies, and Eris walks close to the platform edge, that fox-line smile on his face. “It’s an honor to have you all here, so I thank you for finding time to join us," the high lord begins. “I know that the court is facing some challenging times, but you should not be afraid." Azriel crosses his arms over his chest as he listens. “I will do everything that is in my power to protect our people and be a true and fair high lord." Then the Autumn High Lord turns back breathy. “And... I’ll have my family to aid me in these matters," motioning for his two siblings to come to stand closer. “Lucien and Y/n Vanserra will be taking their rightful place on the throne." The crowd explodes with chairs and joyful applause. As the three siblings smile in unison.

“And…”, But there’s no and. Nothing comes after it. As if someone had stolen all of the other promises. Azriel feels it too. It hits his senses. Making them restless. There’s something wrong. Something that doesn’t feel right. A banner behind the platform bursts into flames. The hot tongues, lapping at the family insignia. Some people back up. Eris waves for his guards, ordering them into action. People are bringing buckets full of water while Eris and Lucien try to wield the wildfire. 

It’s the lightest of the sounds that follow next. It flickers, and... "Y/n," Azriel calls, making you snap your head sideways. “Y/n," he breathes out, and then he’s winnowing. His hands already stretched out. He has to make it. He will make it. There is no other option. So Azriel doesn’t let the what-ifs set in. Shrieks echo. Chaos breaks out. And then he’s up there. On the platform. One arm behind your body, the other on the arrow. 

The time stops. Your wide eyes are looking at him. Green so deep that Azriel knows he has never seen anything like it. The freckles seem even darker now that your skin has paled almost to snow white. His fingers are trembling. He can’t see it. Can’t fucking see it; the bunched-up fabric is making it hard to judge. Had the arrow met its target? Your heart seems to beat beneath his palm. But are those the last beats? Then the red fabric turns an even deeper shade of red. 

Every muscle tenses in Azriel’s body. "No," he mutters under his breath. He’s not letting you die just like that. Not on his watch. Not in some pointless death just because someone has a bone to pick with your brother. Your eyelashes flutter, and just for a heartbeat, Azriel is too slow to catch you. Your body sags, but the arrow stays there in Azriel’s head. It didn’t meet its target. Not fully, at least. Just nicked the skin. It feels as if someone rolled a mountain off of his chest. 

"Azriel," it’s so light he almost misses it. The plea. The fear. Your fingers reach up for his leg. His darkness swirls around you both. And quite frankly, the spymaster is not too sure as to what’s going on outside. The world might as well be going to shit for all he cares. Kneeling, Azriel takes hold of your trembling hands, “I’ve got you, darling; I won’t let anything happen to you." He’s not sure if you even hear him. Eyes fixed on something as if you’re looking right past him.“I'm here; I'm with you," Azrie promises, moving to drape your arms over his shoulders. “Are you with me, love?” You’ve gone into shock, that he can tell. Yet you blink. Fingers gripped onto his flying leathers as you nod. "Good," he says, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “Hold onto me, fireheart”.

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Taglist: @emryb @glitterypirateduck @xxtakeachancexx @justyouraveragekleemain @5onedirection5 @paleidiot

[gojossocks]

Ex to FWB! Gojo

Ex to FWB! Gojo x Reader content: angst, hurt/comfort, smut

I LOVE A YEARNING SATORU SO MUCH

Ex to FWB! Gojo who broke up with you out of the blue after a 3 year relationship with you without ever telling you why. He just told you that he lost the spark and he simply grew out of the relationship. He didn’t bother coming to get his things and just disappeared out of your life completely. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who you saw after a year of no contact in a house party. He’s still as handsome as ever and he went over to you as if you didn’t go through a shitty break up. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who had this elaborate plan to win you back but only let out a shaky sigh when he’s face to face with you. He misses you, he realizes— so much so that he feels as though he would combust if he doesn’t hold you right now and he wonders how he could endure an entire year without being by your side, without meaning something to you other than the jerk who broke your heart. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo got desperate when you seem to be uninterested with whatever he has to say so he asked you to be fwb with him instead. 

“use me, then.” His words sounded so weirdly nonchalant but you could see the desperation in his eyes as he looked at you with so much intensity. 

and how could you resist him when he’s practically right where you imagine him to be? pleading so much that you’re sure that he’ll beg on his knees if you asked him to. So for your own self-satisfaction you said yes, and his face beamed so bright that it reminded you of the complex history you had with him you desperately try to unrecall. 

So you laid out the rules, He’s not allowed to kiss you during sex, hold you afterwards, or even make a genuine connection during the time you’re hooking up, then lastly, both of you are allowed to date whoever and the arrangement wouldn’t continue anymore if any.

He scoffed when you told him the rules but you noticed the way he looked so nervous under the flashing lights.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who kisses you like he needs you to breathe, slipping his tongue when your mouth slightly parted, groaning when he finally gets to taste you. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo died and almost went to heaven (cum in his pants)  when you breathily whispered his name—”Satoru”,  for the first time since he broke up with you. He had to teleport the both of you to his bedroom before he rips your dress off for everyone to see. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo holds your hand while he’s fucking you, the other wandering your body until it reaches your clit, drawing fast  harsh circles until it has you writhing underneath him. He remembers your body too well, even more than you do. He buries his face in the crook of your neck to prevent himself from kissing you. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who fucks you like there’s no tomorrow, pounding into you harshly that you couldn’t even think anymore. He got you so cockdrunk that the only word you remember is his name. It doesn’t even register to you when the bed frame breaks.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who desperately wants to kiss you but bites your neck instead when he cums deep inside you. He doesn’t stop thrusting even when you’ve both already came because he wanted a few more minutes to cage you in his arms because it’s the only time he only gets to do it. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo felt disappointed when you left after the two of you fucked. He feels a hole punctured in his chest after you left him alone in his own apartment, he didn’t get to sleep that night. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo getting frustrated when you’re adamant to follow the rules you made after 2 months of fucking. Each time he tries to make his actions genuine, you ask him to go faster and be rougher with you. He thought that little ‘act’ of yours is just a front to make him win you back but he soon realizes that you were being serious and you’re really only using him for your own sexual pleasure— all because he’s good in bed and he knows your body well. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo fakes his sleep to see what you’re going to do with him—if you’re going to run your hands through his hair, caress his cheek, kiss his forehead or speak to him when you think he’s asleep. Those little things that he took for granted during the course of your relationship that he misses so much. Instead, you get dressed and leave. The hole in his chest expanded tenfold after that. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who ‘coincidentally’  shows up near your apartment or the place where you work, claiming that he just happened to hang near where you’re at. He attempts to talk to you only to be met by subtle rejections and your fake excuses to go somewhere else. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who finally realizes the damage he has done with your relationship and how good he had it with you. He regrets not talking things out with you and leaving you without explaining the truth, that really, he’s just scared that he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he loses you because of the nature of his work or you realize that you deserve someone better than him.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who misses it when you used to look at him with soft, loving eyes. Not the one driven out of primal need and lust you always give him before the two of you fuck. He loves the scratches you give down his back, he thinks it’s a tangible proof that he still somehow has a hold on you and you’re still not completely out of his life, at least not yet.  He wishes he could just show you how much he’s in love with you still— if only you’d let him. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who jokes about you staying the night, coaxing you to agree with him to just sleep in his place because your apartment is far away, you’re tired, and you have work tomorrow. Not because he wants more of you. (his whole being is shaking with need) 

Ex to FWB! Gojo yearns for you so much that he couldn’t hide his despondent face anymore when you rejected his attempt to ask you out to stay over for the third time.

Ex to FWB! Gojo who heard from your mutual best friend, Shoko,  that you’re going on a blind date next week and that you’re planning to break up the arrangement that week too. 

Ex to FWB! Gojo who wishes you would give him a chance to explain everything, to win you back and allow him in your life again.

[momojedi]

Could I have #88 and #97 with Captain Rex, pretty please...??

JUST MARRIED PAIRING: Captain Rex x GN! Reader

#88 | “Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married…” #97 | “I want you and I know you want me too.”

GENRE: Fluff WARNING: none A/N: Since I got prompted #88 by an anon who asked for no one in particular, I mixed up your request with theirs. Thanks for requesting!

MASTERLIST | MOMOJEDI'S 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

"Mhi solus tome,

Mhi solus dar’tome.

Mhi me’dinui an,

Mhi ba’juri verde."

Intense concentration furrows my brow as I massage my temples, striving to translate the unfamiliar words. "For fuck's sake," I mutter, frustration punctuating each syllable as I kick a nearby pebble with surprising strength, eliciting a muffled groan and the metallic clang of beskar as it ricochets off a distant helmet.

Two weeks may not seem long, especially when operating undercover among a terrorist faction whilst the galaxy is engulfed in war. It would probably be advisable to keep a cool head and avoid making a big deal out of insignificant subjects—such as unfamiliar phrases. However, when those words escape the lips of your longtime crush, delivered with an unexpected fervor while locking passionate eyes with you in a language foreign to your ears...

Well, needless to say, I've devoted more time to overthinking it than I care to admit.

When General Skywalker tasked us with shadowing Death Watch until the Jedi Council reached more intel, I hadn't given it much thought... admittedly, he hadn't specified that by "us" he didn't mean Ahsoka and me, as usual, but rather the captain of the 501st and myself—the very someone I've harboured feelings for since the day we met.

Nevertheless, I maintained my composure, played my part, and stayed under the radar, much like Rex, until Death Watch proposed an elaborate ceremony—a ceremony whose name I could barely pronounce, let alone understand its significance. Before any suspicion could arise, Rex quickly agreed in my place, and now here I am, entangled in some eerie ritual with a military captain whose gaze seemed entranced, so intense was his focus.

"If I had my datapad right now...," I hiss under my breath, casting blame on whoever decided I should leave my sole translation device behind. Likely Skywalker.

The crunch of gravel under heavy boots interrupts my daydreaming. I spin around sharply, only to find the very man haunting my mind approaching. "I figured I'd find you here," Rex hums as he settles beside me. "Yeah," I reply with a dry laugh, brushing the dust off my hands. "Sorry, I suppose I just needed... alone time. After everything yesterday, you know?" Rex's eyes widen almost comically, and he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "Oh... yeah."

The ensuing silence gnaws at my nerves, prompting me to pop the question after another agonising five minutes. "Hey, about that... what did those words mean, anyway?" "I'm not sure what you're referring to," Rex responds, avoiding my gaze. I gulp. He can't have forgotten, can he? "Come on, Rex... It seemed significant." After a moment's hesitation, Rex sighs, running a hand over his buzzcut before raising his head to face me, though still evading it. "I..." "Yes?" "Alright, fine. [Name], don't panic, but... we might have accidentally... gotten married."

...

"WHAT?"

"Shh!" Rex quiets me with a gentle hand over my mouth, his eyes darting cautiously around us before he releases me. I shake my head slowly, puzzled. "Sorry, but what?" "The, um, the words... they were Mandalorian wedding vows," he admits, his tone tinged with uncertainty. I can't help but laugh. Married? Us? "You're joking." "Unfortunately not," he replies, a slight smile tugging at his lips, before his expression shifts to sheepishness as he rubs the back of his neck. "Though I do believe you'd make an excellent partner." Suppressing a chuckle, I ignore the warmth creeping into my cheeks.

"Actually, I realized we needed a distraction when I overheard some members gossiping behind our backs. They were growing suspicious, so I thought perhaps they'd relax if we participated in some traditions." Rex sighs, examining a pebble he's picked up. I shoot him a hopeful sidelong glance before quickly looking away, feeling my heart quicken.

Force, this man is captivating.

Silence envelops us once more as we both drift deeper into our own thoughts. When I sense the gravel shifting under his weight, I raise an eyebrow. "It wouldn't bother me, you know?" A lump forms in my throat, causing a series of coughs to escape at his words. "Wh-what?" "Being with you." Suddenly, his warm yet weighty hand finds mine. Sweat prickles at my heated skin as I keep my gaze fixed ahead.

"R-rex, are you suggesting...?" "[Name]," he interrupts, turning to face me. Before I can evade his gaze, he gently lifts my chin, compelling me to meet his eyes. I run my tongue over my dry lips, which his gaze is now fixated on. "I want you. And I know you want me, too." His proximity sends shivers down my spine as goosebumps ripple over my arms and back. His newfound confidence is palpable. "I've noticed the way you look at me, how you stare. I know, [name]," he murmurs against my lips, "what do you think?"

I flush, gripping his wrist as I lock eyes with his warm gaze. "I think you're right." Rex chuckles deeply, resonating like a rumble in his chest. "Good." And before I realize it, his lips meet mine,

Time seems to slip away as I surrender completely to the kiss. Eventually, Rex pulls back, leaving me breathless, and flashes me a mischievous grin.

“So, about that wedding night…”

[ofbreathandflame]

Well, again, the issue is not that Rhys has done bad things, it’s how those actions are framed in the story. Let’s think about this – if Rhysand’s actions UTM were framed as negative then perhaps we would not be having this conversation.

Of course, we can argue that Rhysand (1) has developed negative coping mechanisms / perspective (2) Rhysand’s trauma informs the things that he does (both pre, during, and after UTM), and (3) Rhysand’s position was uniquely isolating because of the nature of the role he was forced to play. These are points that I believe can be argued and offer an interesting view; but for any of that to happen, we have to acknowledge that the behaviors are negative. That’s often the problem with the arguments that begin to arise – no one wants to admit that Rhysand has developed (or just has) negative qualities and behaviors. No one wants to contend with the reality of consequences. “Rhysand has always admitted that he would be willing to do terrible things for his family” – and yet there’s no elaboration on those “terrible things.” No one wants to talk about those proposed negative qualities. The story (and the audience) don’t want to admit that Rhys doesn’t really have a solid moral high ground over Tamlin, or admittedly other villains. Just because Rhysand “admits” he’s prone to basically being abusive doesn’t…make it any less abusive.

My proposed argument about Rhysand’s actions UTM are this: he chose to sexually assault Feyre, he chose to “protect” Feyre in ways that were extremely sexually explicit. I believe these are choices that Rhys chooses to make – and I believe they say something about him. It’s noted, to me, that Amarantha scarcely makes Rhys do anything that he does to Feyre. I also believe that his actions regarding Feyre were done with an air of autonomy; as in, I believe Rhysand takes these measures into his own hands. Ultimately, I believe that while Rhysand has to contend with the horrors, he himself becomes beholden to them at some point and ends up perpetrating the same behaviors.

We cannot argue that Rhysand sexually assaulted Feyre, and then argue that it doesn’t say something about him. It does. In the realm of the story – from a writing standpoint – I think a good author can still make a character like that sympathetic and understandable (see: Nahadoth and Itempas from N.K. Jemisin’s Hundred Thousand Kingdom). If I were analyzing Rhysand’s actions, I would simply make the argument that perhaps Rhysand’s abuse of Feyre mirror’s his own abuse by Amarantha hands, and he potentially sees Feyre (and her hope) as something to be threatened – or even shamed by. If Rhysand’s actions were written in a way that clearly exemplified that his actions are not meant to be praised (and are NOT are reflection of love) then he could be salvaged. I actually believe a lot of the abusive things Rhysand does makes sense given the environment and if the story leaned into this from a storytelling perspective and did away with needing to moralize, then this would all be fine. Framing Rhysand’s abuse of Feyre as something to be praised, admired, and loved for is actually quite insane. If we frame his actions as purely preservational and self-serving, that would make so much sense. Imagine being in Rhysand’s position; I guarantee everyone would do whatever they could to stop such extreme amounts of abuse and sexual violence. And even then, the story could still create a narrative that warns of the danger of sexual violence and consent, it would just be subtextual and more allegorical than concretely written in the text. Starting Feyre and Rhysand off in such a tragic place, having Feyre and Rhysand acknowledged truly what happened, having them discuss ways for both of them to move forward while building up the mating bond in the background. Have Feyre acknowledge this untrusting, sly, slick part of Rhysand and have her not assume her mate does everything out of the kindness of his heart. Build their romance out of a place of mutual atonement – play on the theme of guilt Feyre feels and the whole premise of the court. Let the connection between Feyre and Rhys be that they truly acknowledge each others darkness (and also let Feyre do selfish things – maybe she knew damn well Clare Beddor’s family might suffer a bad fate but its not her family and Feyre would do anything for them; Let Feyre kill those fairies with ease because she cares about her life. Let her contend with reality that she would actually do anything for her family and then have that be a connection between Rhys and Feyre.

Something that has always bothered me about the “we don’t talk enough about Rhysand’s trauma” argument that gets thrown around when we earnestly discuss the validity of his actions is the presumption of innocence in that statement. The unwritten statement is that the trauma somehow explains and simultaneously absolves him of the implications of his actions. I objectively agree with the sentiment – Rhysand’s trauma is not talked about enough and it should be. The argument dancing in the corner is the fact that people believe that Rhysand’s extreme amount of trauma absolves him – even going as far as essentially say that Rhysand’s abuse operates out of fear (or because of fear) which is essentially the exact same ideology the book bashed Tamlin for. In the end, the cycle just comes back around and the abuse gets pushed into the backdrop.

[xbomboi]

YOU 🤝 ME

SCREENWRITING

Could you possibly elaborate more on your EQ movies?? I'm really interested in this Cove Sunset... 👀

oh yeah actually i would love to talk more about that! so basically i wrote two movies intended to be the penultimate and the final installment in the Equestria Girls series since that’s definitely never going to get an official ending. i wanted to tie up loose ends…

i made a poster for the second one of the two that i made a few years back right here. but anyway…

the first of the two is called “Royal Nightmare.” the premise is as follows: it’s now spring of the girls’ senior year, and rarity has made the decision to run for queen of the spring fling after being robbed by sunset she tried to run for princess years ago. but when rarity gets possessed by dark magic, sunset has to confront her repressed baggage from the past if she wants to save her friend before it’s too late.

basically, this one deals a lot with sunset’s past with rarity. the film has a mix of the events taking place in the present day as well as flashbacks to the past, being the girls’ freshman year. it covers stuff like sunset arriving for the first time, her meeting flash, how she rose to power, and what she did to rarity (i changed it up just a tad because the junior novelization is a Weird book). it also has a lot of focus on rarijack as well.

the other one, intended as a finale movie, is titled “Forever Friendship.” after finally graduating from canterlot high, the girls are about to move onto the next stages in each of their lives. however, sunset still has unfinished business in regards to herself. together, the girls set out on one last adventure to uncover the truth behind sunset’s family and the sunset from their world. but could this be end?

this one is basically, like, giving sunset closure. in it i explore sunset’s origin and the truth about the Other sunset shimmer. it has an entire conflict that revolves around a discussion of the moral dilemma that comes with having magic in the human world. at heart it’s about sunset finding her purpose once and for all. i can’t say much else without spoiling it.

royal nightmare is complete in THEORY but needs a lot of, like, extra fleshing out and possibly the addition of a few more scenes. also, forever friendship is now missing a song or two because i removed one scene entirely and instead repurposed the song for royal nightmare. also ALSO, they’re a bit old now and i approached them differently than i did when writing for ever after high. i wasn’t totally thinking about completely matching the tone and more about cinematics. it’s not that i bumped the ratings up, but i let dialogue be lengthy and… idk, nuanced? i guess? more so in forever friendship than royal nightmare, at least. and there’s probably an occasional typo in them both.

i would share them, but the thing that makes me hesitant is the fact that for the songs, i made an unlisted youtube playlist of myself singing them each just for people who read them to have reference when the scenes pop up. it wasn’t so embarrassing when it was just being shared between myself and my friends, but the audio is kinda bad and there’s no music it’s just me singing. i didn’t even have the same range as i wanted for some of the songs or the characters so i sound wonky in it. and i can’t redo it now because i’m older and my voice has dropped so that’s a no-go.

idk, maybe i could give in with enough convincing.

[erikahenningsen]

Regina takes up 2/3 of the bed but it works for them because Cady sleeps curled up in a little ball. Regina hates having to sleep without Cady because sometimes she has nightmares and she always feels guilty about calling Cady in the middle of the night.

Now, please do this 😔🙏, or if you could, elaborate more. I'm currently in the midst of brainrot.

#grad school universe / Angie's fic

Regina wakes up just as the bus is about to hit her, breathing hard.

For a moment, she's completely disoriented, before she realizes she's in her bed, her apartment dark and silent.

Regina presses a hand to her forehead and finds it tacky with sweat, and her throat is a bit tender. She wonders if she had been screaming in her sleep. That's happened before—and completely scared the shit out of Cady the first time.

Cady.

Instinctively, Regina reaches to Cady's side of the bed, and finds it cold and empty. Right. Cady is at her apartment in New Haven. Regina is still getting used to spending more nights apart than together. She'd never tell Cady, but she thinks the nightmares have become more frequent as a result.

Regina wants to call Cady. She needs to hear her voice. It's the only thing that slows her heart, which is still pounding inside her chest with panic. But it's the middle of the night, and Cady has class in the morning.

Regina rolls over and tries to ignore it, to will herself back to sleep—or at least into a calmer state. But every time she closes her eyes, all she sees is Cady staring at her with horror as the bus plows into her body. Sometimes, in the dreams, the bus hits Cady instead. Those are the worst ones.

After a couple of minutes of trying to relax by sheer force of will, Regina tries deep breathing. She tries listening to some calming music. She even tries a free meditation video on YouTube, even though she thinks it's stupid. But she doesn't feel even a little bit better.

Before she can overthink it, she taps on Cady's contact and holds her breath as the phone rings.

Just as Regina thinks the call is going to time out, Cady picks up. The screen is dark, but Regina can make out part of Cady's face on the screen.

"Regina?" Cady mumbles sleepily. She squints against the light of her phone. "You okay?"

"Hi, baby," Regina whispers. She feels guilt flare in her stomach at Cady's sleepy face, but she already feels less like she's having a heart attack.

Cady runs a hand down her face. "Did you have a bad dream?" she asks.

Regina cringes a little at the wording—it makes it sound like she's four years old—but now is not the time.

"Yeah," Regina says. "I just needed to see you."

Cady makes a vague gesture that might be a wave. "Here I am."

"And so beautiful, as always," Regina says. She's always found it quite unfair how Cady looks gorgeous all the time, even in the middle of the night.

"I love you," Cady says, with so much affection that Regina physically aches to be with her. "I'm glad you're alive."

"Me, too," Regina says. "Most of the time."

Cady makes a displeased noise, and Regina knows if it weren't the middle of the night and they weren't in separate states Cady would insist on having A Conversation about the most of the time part.

For a few moments, Regina just looks at Cady's face. Well, more like half of her face. At a weird angle. But her breathing has returned almost to normal, and she isn't trembling anymore.

"I'm gonna fall asleep," Cady admits, eyelids drooping, "but I'll leave my phone on."

"Good night," Regina says. "I love you."

Cady kisses the tips of her fingers and taps them against the screen as her eyes close.

It'll have to do, for now.

[seramilla]

Okay Vaggies emotional turmoil I 100% understand and I am LIVING for the angst but can we touch on Carmilla, Clara, and Odette? They just learned that their daughter and sister, their BABY sister is not only alive but also a full grown adult at this time.

They missed everything. All of her firsts and all her heart breaks. They weren’t there when she needed advice. Or for any of her awkward questions. They missed getting to grow up with her. Getting to raise her. Getting to know her. I KNOW they want some way to get that family back together.

And she missed having a family. Having anyone. Unless you count the exorcist cause in a way they are her sisters.

Either way more angst for your mind. And if you write about it more content for me to consume.

Carmilla does meet Vaggie at the door to her compound this time, just as she'd promised. When the angel arrives, the district of warehouses and workers loading and unloading trucks is deserted. The street is still empty and eerily quiet. Vaggie suspects Carmilla’s people are still stocking up from the Extermination. Not much manufacturing to be done while fresh angelic weapons are still lining the streets, waiting to be salvaged.

Vaggie doesn’t even need to buzz the door — as soon as she comes within sight of the camera, the door lifts, and Carmilla is standing there. Just as tall and intimidating as ever, especially compared to her, but her eyes communicate the exact opposite of the impatience they had the last time she'd been here. Now, she really seems like she’s trying to see Vaggie, see into her, instead of like the intruder she'd been before. Vaggie shifts between her feet awkwardly.

“Umm, hi, Carmilla,” Vaggie says, making a waving motion with her hand. What was that, idiot?! Vaggie screams at herself. Why are you such a fucking putz?

"Hello, dear," Carmilla greets her, warm and inviting and so unlike that fierce warrior that taught her all that fancy footwork a week prior. Now she's looking at the angel like she has something to prove. "I'm glad to see you again. Would you come in?"

"Yeah." Vaggie agrees, rubbing the back of her head nervously, and following her inside. The warehouse is just as dark and depressing as the last time she'd been here, and just as empty. No one else is around, and Vaggie wonders why Carmilla is here on her own.

They don't go far. A short trip up the elaborate staircase, and Carmilla turns them toward a small office space at the very top. She opens the door, letting the little angel head inside first, before entering herself and turning on a light. It's much more inviting in here, with big windows and lots of natural light. The space is meant to look like a small apartment, maybe one Carmilla stays in when she's overseeing her workers. A futon and coffee table sit in the corner, with an industrial-sized desk on the other side of the room, covered with papers.

"Sit anywhere you'd like, dear," Carmilla instructs. There's really only one place to sit, other than Carmilla's big executive office chair, so Vaggie takes one edge of the futon. Suddenly, Carmilla reappears with two cups of tea in her hand. She gives one to Vaggie. "I made some tea for your arrival. Hope you like chamomile."

"Th-thank you," Vaggie says, taking her cup. She doesn't drink right away, just rubs her fingers against the rough ceramic surface for a moment, before finally taking a sip. Carmilla sits on the opposite end of the futon beside her. Both women just co-exist in the space for a while, letting the silence permeate, unsure of where to begin. Ultimately, it's Vaggie who breaks the silence.

"I was hoping I could talk to you about...the other day," Vaggie admits, still not able to meet Carmilla's gaze. Carmilla doesn't have that problem. She's staring straight at Vaggie, overly hopeful, fighting the urge to reach over to her, and grasp her shoulder. Vaggie notices the subtle shift in her movement, like she's trying to hold herself back. She smiles...it's a sad smile. One that speaks of unspoken feelings rather than genuine happiness. Vaggie wants that to change. Why is this so difficult?

"It's okay," Vaggie says, finally able to look Carmilla in the eye. "I'm not really a touchy-feely person, except with Charlie. But you can hug me, if you want."

Carmilla had gotten so used to doing it that first day in the hospital. Vaggie can tell she wants to do it again. They'd both been so confused, and desperate for one another's affection. Leaning toward Vaggie slowly, so as not to scare her away, Carmilla scooches closer to her on the futon, and puts one arm around the angel.

Like she'd said, Vaggie is not normally a touchy person, except with Charlie. She gets the impression Carmilla isn't either, except with her daughters. Even so, Vaggie turns her small body into the older woman, and falls into her embrace. Carmilla moves in even closer, short of wrapping herself around the girl again, and starts stroking her long hair, like she'd done at the hospital. It had helped calm Vaggie down then.

For some reason, the movement sets Vaggie off this time, and she struggles so badly not to cry. Pushing away slightly, she rubs her good eye with the back of her hand, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," Vaggie says, ashamed at how easily she crumbles in front of this woman. She's normally made of better stuff than this. "I didn't come here to do this again. I really wanted to talk."

Vaggie keeps rubbing at her good eye, and then at her eyepatch, as if it's hurting her. She does so until the skin on her face and arm starts to turn red and raw. Carmilla pulls Vaggie's arm away, placing it between them in her lap.

"Don't." Carmilla says, squeezing Vaggie's hand. "Don't hurt yourself. I've been doing a lot of that the last few days, too. It's okay. You don't have to hide it."

"It's not okay!" Vaggie exclaims, getting frustrated with herself again. "I came here to ask questions, and maybe give you answers, too. This isn't how it was supposed to go."

"We've got time," Carmilla says, pulling her closer again. Vaggie is thankful for it. At least she can hide her embarrassment in Carmilla's chest, where she doesn't have to acknowledge her tears. "We can just sit here, and talk some more. We can do whatever you want."

Then, hesitating, not sure if Vaggie is ready yet, but Carmilla adds the caveat anyway, "My daugh--Odette and Clara will be here shortly. They've been out gathering supplies. You don't have to, but would you...want to meet them?"

Vaggie remembers Carmilla's other girls. They'd delivered Sir Pentious' weapons that day, when he still found everyone at the hotel so untrustworthy. She'd never given the two women much thought before at all, but admittedly, she is very curious now. She doesn't know what they will make of her...but if they're also family, if there's something she can learn about her would-have-been life from before...there's a part of her that really wants to know.

"Would they...be okay with that?" Vaggie asks. "Do they even know about me?"

"They know about you, yes," Carmilla answers. "I can't...say with certainty how they'll react. They are their own people. But if we want to try and make this work...?"

Carmilla leaves the statement open-ended. Vaggie gets it. These one-on-one rendezvous with Carmilla could go on ad nauseam, and a part of her is okay with that...but another part really wants to know all the extended members of her family. She's not unfamiliar with having sisters before. In a sense, all the Exorcists had been her sisters. They worked together, and trained together. Made small talk, and had each other's backs (most of the time). Maybe this wouldn't be much different.

"Yeah," Vaggie says, acknowledging what Carmilla had been trying to convey before. It won't be easy, but...maybe it's another step they can take together. "I am nervous, but...I'd like to meet them. If that's okay with you."

[cloudlessly-light]

The darkest parts of me (5/5)

A/N: Thanks to everyone who’s encouraged and read this little story of mine! I’ll be back to posting pure filth soon!

Title: The darkest parts of me (5/5) Summary: They find each other in a dark world where they do twisted things. The only way things could have become more dangerous, is if they were together. Funny how life turns out.

Unsub!Hotchniss AU.   Word count: 2,2k Rating: Explicit Warnings (for most or all chapters): smut, descriptions of violence, descriptions of murder, gore (nothing too explicit), mentions of weapons

David Rossi stands in a parking lot looking at the ground where only hours before a man’s body had been lying. A body that knew was a from the murders he’s spent the better part of a year hunting. They had gotten the call early, a quick description of the scene, but witnesses in the diner had described a couple, and he knew they had to go to California to see it for themselves. They had never been so close to catching them.

His phone rings, sounding loud even though there’s people everywhere and he looks down to see Jason’s name flash on the screen.

“Hey.”

“I’m leaving the ME’s now. It looks like a snapped neck, the man was an ex-marine.” Jason speaks as he walks to the car. “Wife and kids at home.”

“This wasn’t premeditated.” Dave says as he looks around and realizes that in the dead of night there was no way no one would be able to see the murder take place. “He had recognized the unsubs from the news and went to confront the woman while the man was in the bathroom. He was on with 911 when it happened.”

“So they’re close by.” Jason concluded for him.

“They have to be.” Dave walks around the crime scene as he holds the phone to his ear. “The roadblocks are up, every cop in the state knows to be on the lookout. They won’t get away. Not this time.”

There’s a beat of silence and Dave waits for Jason to say what they both were thinking.

“Let’s hope so.”

*

“We can’t stay here.” Aaron told her, surprisingly calm considering the circumstances.

“I know.” She says, her bag already packed, her gun cold against the small of her back where it rests in the lining of her jeans. “I think we need to get out of the country. It’s time”

“Where do you want to go?” He cups the back of her neck, the hand that only a couple of hours before had snapped a guy’s neck, was now so gentle as he brushed his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Anywhere we want.” She smiles when she hands him the passports that Clyde had made for them. “As long as we go fast.”

He nods, because they had planned for this, had planned for what they would do if something went wrong. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. But they had a plan, actually had multiple ways to leave and somewhere in the back of his mind he thanks whatever lucky star for Emily’s funds.

She watches as he carries their bags to the car with a small smile. She knew she should be worried, that she should be scared because at any moment they could be found. But she isn’t, she’s excited, a familiar rush running through her at the thought of a chase. It’s a new kind of adrenaline, and she wonders if she’s found another way to get the high she’s always chasing.

They drive on backroads, not caring that the drive would take much longer, because they knew that any highway was a road to getting caught. His hand rests on her thighs as they drive, her smaller one on top of his and when she squeezes it he looks at her.

“Do you feel bad?” She asks and he knows what she means without her having to elaborate.

“We don’t know if that man deserved to die, but he put us in danger. It was worth it.” He offers her a small smile and she squeezes his hand again, a smirk on her face.

“It was sexy.” She says, dark eyes gleaming and he chuckles.

“My dirty girl.” He always loved how much his killing turned her on and it took every ounce of willpower not to put the car in park to have his way with her. But they needed to get to Arizona, from there they’d be able to get on a flight. It was a long drive, hours on the road, and they didn’t have time to stop.

“Once we’re safe, I’ll show you just how dirty I can be.” She feels his fingers dig into her thigh and she grins.

“You think you haven’t shown me exactly how filthy you can be yet, sweetheart?” He chuckles, but there’s an uncomfortable ache in the pit of his stomach, want quickly settling between his legs.

“I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.” She leans over the center console and licks his neck, her teeth grazing the skin there slowly before he urges her back into her seat.

 “You’re sure we can trust Clyde with this right?” He asks, needing to think about something else, anything else, than how much he wanted her.

“Yes. He’s already made arrangements, we’re flying early tomorrow morning.” She knew that Aaron didn’t fully trust Clyde, but he had been the only one to help her when she decided to get away from her old life, had helped her again after she killed Ian. If there was anybody she trusted except for Aaron, it was him.

“How did you meet him?” He realized he had never asked her.

“His dad worked for my dad, and when he got older, he just like me, wanted another life. When I decided to leave, when I decided to become someone else, I reached out to him and he lived in the Netherlands, I went there and he helped me become Lauren Reynolds. We didn’t speak again until Ian, but he has connections everywhere, can make anyone disappear and he helped me again.” She didn’t talk much about life with Ian, much less about her time with her parents and she knew Aaron was hanging onto every word.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to still be in contact with him? If he has ties to your parents and your old life?” He knew that Emily was intelligent, that she wouldn’t take unnecessary risks with her life.

“He, just like me, changed everything about himself, he technically doesn’t exist. He made it look like he died in a plane crash years ago.” She took his hand again. “Trust me, we don’t have to worry about him.”

“Okay sweetheart.” He pulls her into a kiss, a quick thing stamped onto her lips that she smiles into. “We better hope we don’t get caught before we get to the plane.” He winks at her, and she knows that he’s finding this just as thrilling as she did.

*

They had been looking for hours, had every cop in the city out patrolling the streets. But still, the unsubs were gone.

“It’s like catching smoke.” Dave grunts as he sits in the precinct with Jason, a cup of bad coffee in front of him on the table.

“No killer is unstoppable, but maybe we simply got here  too late.” He says, his own cup untouched in front of him. “They know we’re after them, they had a head start.”

“What are you thinking Jason?” He looks at the look of sadness on his friend’s face.

“We know that they have money, that they’ve travelled the country for a long time, the woman seems like a ghost, she doesn’t exist anywhere. They’re getting ready to leave the country. And we might not be able to stop them.”

“I’m calling the airports.” The detective that’s seated with them says and Jason nods, but as he looks at Dave he knows that he’s thinking the same thing he is. The unsubs had an escape plan, and now they’re stuck playing catchup.

*

Emily yawns as she drives on the deserted roads, it was late, they had been driving for most of the day and night. She looks over to Aaron who’s sleeping beside her, his usually intense face as relaxed as it’ll ever be and she smiles. They were getting close to the private airport, they were close to escaping. She wondered what their new life was going to be like.

As she sits there, lost in her own thoughts her phone rings and Aaron grunts beside her as he wakes up.

“Yeah?” She already knew who it was, he was the only one who had her number.

“One of my men saw you passing him about a minute ago. Ditch the car, I’ll have him pick you up.” Clyde’s low voice sounds through the phone.

“Why?” She asks but still pulls off to the side of the road while keeping him on speakerphone so Aaron can hear.

“Because your rental is more noticeable than one of my cars.” She can hear his smirk through the phone. “Leave it where you are, about a mile down there’s a gas station, we’re waiting for you there.”

“What about the car we’re driving now?” She puts the car in park while Aaron rubs his eyes and stretches.

“We’ll make it disappear, it won’t be traced back to either of you. Come on darlin’, no need to be difficult about this.”

She looks to Aaron who nods, seemingly agreeing to the plan and they both get out of the car.

“Okay, see you soon.” She throws the phone to the ground and smashed it. She wouldn’t be needing it anymore.

*

It was almost 3AM when a young cop comes running into the small conference room they’re sitting in.

“They’re in Arizona! We got a call from a detective, they saw the suspects getting into a car at a gas station.”

“They have help.” Jason stands up at the same time as Dave.

“But they won’t be able to board a plane. Everyone knows to be on the lookout.” The cops says, his voice hopeful.

“They have money, connections. They’re probably flying out from a smaller airport, one that won’t be stopping them if given enough money.” Dave explains as they start to walk through the precinct, they didn’t have a lot of time.

“Like a bribe? But that’s illegal.”

Dave smiles at the other man’s innocence and squeezes his shoulder.

“Money will get you anywhere, kid.”

“Come on, we need to get there, we’re calling the team in Arizona on the way.” Jason is already holding the phone to his ear as he urges Dave to follow him. “We’ve got them.”

*

“The cops are coming, the whole fucking cavaliere.” Clyde says with a grin on his face, clearly enjoying the situation.

“How do you know?” Aaron asks as he sits on the small private plane next to Emily who’s leaning into his side, his arm around her shoulders.

“I have men everywhere, and I’ve gotten three calls already.” The British man looks at them with something close to glee. “You did always know how to make things interesting, darlin’”

Emily rolls her eyes but still smiles at his words. She feels Aaron’s hand tightening on her upper arm and she looks at him in amusement. She found his jealousy sexy, she always had, and he always wanted to put his claim on her, always wanted her to feel like his.

“Thank you for helping us out.” She says to the man across from her.

“I’ll always like helping an old friend out. For a fee that is.” He winks at her and she shakes her head at the way all Clyde always wanted was money. She takes the suitcase beside her and slides it over the table, her eyebrow arched as she waits for him to open it.

“That should be more than enough.” She swears she sees his eyes light up at the sight of the bills in neat stacks in the suitcase. “Now, get us out of here.” Her gun rests on the table and she picks it up casually and she feels Aaron tense against her side, always ready to back her up if needed.

“No need to get violent Em. You’ll be in the air in less than thirty.”

“We’ll have to be quicker than that.” Aaron says as he looks out the window where he sees blue lights in the distance. “We have to go now.”

*

Dave doesn’t think the devastation of making it only minutes too late would be something he’ll ever get over. He will never forget seeing the small plane take off, a shadow of a man looking back at him from the air.

He wouldn’t give up on finding them, but realistically he knew that he might never do. There was no trail where they had gone, no transactions to look into, no bank accounts, not even the people helping their unsubs had their real identeties. It wouldn’t have mattered if they did though, they were gone. All of them.

*

Aaron smiles his thanks at the bartender as he grabs their drinks. The sun was hot on his skin, the sand soft as he walked in his flipflops towards the sunbeds where Emily was laying. She looks up at him from behind her glasses, her skin shining from the lotion and sweat and he licks his lips at the sight.

When he hands her the colorful drink she had asked for, she sits up in her chair. She clinks her glass with his, a smile on her face. “We made it.”

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have a big google doc thing where I keep track of media and stuff (putting everything in loosely ranked categories), which is mostly just for my own reference so I know what tv shows I've already seen before, etc. and I never really look back through it, typically just a quick "okay, watched two movie in the past 8 months, need to quickly slap them somewhere in the lists. okay. done. save document. exit". But today I was actually reading through some of the old notes and there are like... MULTIPLE places where my comment is basically "It would have been good if it were about elves" or "I wish there was a fantasy show made in this same style" or "It's well made, but I just keep thinking about how I would like it more if everyone was an elf or was in old 1700s costumes" or etc like...... lol.... Most biased media ranking system on earth blatantly made by someone with an extremely hyperspecific range of narrow interests. It'd be like if a food reviewer only had 5 foods they actually liked, so they'd just go to a pizza place and be like "eh, the pizza was okay, but I just think it would be better if it was cereal instead. :/ ...2 out of 10"

[soll-amca]

Do you have any Alessi headcanons for someone desperate ?🫣 Too shy to come off anon to ask ..

uHHHHHHHH MAYHAps :) Thank you for the ask! I’ve been dying to write for awhile :) !

I legit don’t know what I have and haven’t posted yet since I haven’t been on tumblr for a hot minute but uhhh uhhhhhhhh. There’s lore-dumps near the top, but it gets better near the end I promise

Obligatory song for my headcanon posts. There’s no specific reason for this song, it’s just a banger, and I’m also trying to be very normal about Walid Toufic and not put his music for every single Alessi post

Alessi’s of Lebanese-Armenian descent, but extremely estranged from his Armenian roots due to internal family issues — mostly his father facing scorn from his intolerant side of the family for marrying an Armenian woman. Despite this, Alessi was very close with his mother and, even as a grown man, regrets not learning more from her. Of course, he’s never going to admit this, no matter how obvious it may be that he tries to pick up parts of the Armenian language and culture 

Alessi was born in Beirut, Lebanon in 1951, but was eventually forced out due to a civil war in 1975. Though, what gave him the final push to leave was a falling out with his siblings. With both their parents gone, his sister going off to a loveless marriage, and his brother wanting to join the war effort, Alessi loses control of Sethan during a confrontation and turns them into children. This ends up as a strange, happy accident as he would try keeping up the charade for a few days, exploiting their memory being reverted to fake a “happy family” in an effort to keep the last remnants of his old life from slipping away 

Things end horribly for Alessi as his siblings eventually find out and oust him from the home they all grew up in. With nothing left for him, he leaves and dedicates himself to mercenary work throughout the Middle East and Northern Africa to keep himself afloat

With fourteen years under his belt by SDC, Alessi’s considered one of the best in the region. And since he’s well-traveled, he’s proficient in a majority of the Arabic dialects, so nine times out of ten, nothing got past him in Dio’s mansion regardless of where the other assassins were from

The joke is that most Arabs don’t understand North Africans, but everyone can understand Egyptians, so whenever Alessi wants to phase out of a conversation, he’ll slowly change to to a dialect that’s “further out” and difficult to understand despite Levantine being his first

Since French is a secondary language in Lebanon, much more prevalent during Alessi’s time in schooling, and especially North Africa for mercenary work. He knows enough to get around like the basics, but can’t read or write for shit. His little brother was easily more fluent than him, so he has a weird sort of resentment yet fondness for the language. Whatever French he knew definitely came back when he was chasing around Polnareff in the Sethan arc

Very, very curly hair, but he doesn’t take care of it. Back as a kid, when he had his mom, she would help him and he was basically a puff-ball, but as an adult, he doesn’t have the slightest clue on how to style it while also maintaining his hair. If you catch him when he just wakes up, or immediately after a shower, it’s seemingly perfect but then he’ll proceed to douse himself in a can of hairspray 

The gun he uses in SDC isn’t his, it’s his late brother’s. But going into that right now on why and how he even got it should be it’s entirely own post so —

Any endearment at all related to babe/baby will have him throwing up in his mouth. It’s one thing to mention a child, it’s another to somehow relate it back to HIM. Honestly, Alessi doesn’t read as a “habibi” person to me, he’s too bitter to be a “habibi” person. Albi and eini come much more easily to him as petnames to call someone

He’s a sucker for trashy American television. He used to think he was above it, but now if you leave him alone for long enough, he’ll put on TLC and binge whatever’s on. Although back home, he had a thing for spaghetti westerns even if they were horribly dubbed in Arabic

Adding to the Western trend, he was super into Lucky Luke comics as a kid. Since they were really popular in the Middle East, and the translated ones were produced in Egypt. It’s definitely not a stretch that during the 80s and SDC, his grown, mercenary ass sat down to watch cartoons of his favorite cowboy. Would Alessi hog the mansion’s TV to watch Lucky Luke? Perchance. Would he stay cooped up in his Luxor hotel room to watch it? Also perchance

Tintin was popular, too, but I think I need an outside opinion on that. If a Tintin person could come back to me about this please help

Hol Horse fascinates him. Not in an admiration sort of way, but a “holyshit a real cowboy” sort of way. To Alessi, it’s like Hol crawled out of his family television and old comic books

I don’t know who it was, but I want to say back in like,, 2016ish one of the original Dio’s Fuckhouse blogs had a headcanon that Hol was actually from New England or something, but basically nowhere near “the Wild West” or even the South. So the image of Alessi being interested and asking him stuff while Hol Horse is just,, sweating bullets because he’s not a “real cowboy” is hilarious to me

Because of what happened with his sister, Alessi’s very standoffish when it comes to love. He’ll take any chance he can get to mock touchy couples and heckle anyone that he thinks is getting “too intimate” in public, but I think we all know he’s compensating for something

But the moment someone touches him or is very direct about making a move, he flusters and doesn’t know what to do with himself. Cheesy pick-up lines will only embarrass him and he can’t tell whether or not you’re making fun of him

Having gone through wide extremities of emotions when he was younger, and then having to suppress them all as a mercenary, Alessi wouldn’t understand sensitivities. Especially since he’d have to adopt a pragmaticism in his line of work to keep himself alive — and arguably sane. He’d get confused over someone being upset over an inconvenience that isn’t “up to par” to what he went through, but at the same time fly off the handle at small things happening to him since he bottles up all his emotions

If someone cries around him, he falls into the routine of having this initial frustration, stuffing it down to not make things worse, and eventually follow through with a weird shoulder pat — sorta like “there, there”. After that, he’s clueless

[trevanent]

I think one thing I will say about the finale was that the most problematic aspect of the concept of the show was how it feels like they had to use the Fionna and Cake plot to Trojan horse a resolution to a swathe of loose ends Simon and Betty's arcs had. They pulled it off even better than I ever wanted to let myself hope for for the most part but I would say my main issue if anything was how cramped the finale felt when I think they could have left a lot more up to season 2 speculations (especially with the resolutions for the alt universes, they didn't really feel necessary when they basically just had to egg Scarab).

I feel I liked the understated melancholies of seeing Simon recontextualized and kinda infantilized in that temporary form hosting his mind, and some people have said the Casper and Nova thing felt hamfisted but I thought the vibes were too cute to care that it wasn't particularly "efficient" as far as metaphors go, but that does slow down the pace which probably crunched the ending a little harder :'). But it also worked in further showing the sad side-effect of the crown on Simon's relationships, including that of stunting his ability to have ever matured in his understandings of love and his relationship with Betty. I also think their last scene in the memory worked because it was Simon reconsidering how he viewed their relationship for the first time, even if his attempt to do for Betty what she did for him would have just been an inversion of their original flaw, the scene rests on them understanding it's unchangeable anyway, so that decision doesn't matter so much and it's not something for Simon to dwell on.

I also feel I liked the scene a lot in spite of how scarce it felt in the finale was because of what was most conspicuously unaddressed, which was just the sheer logistical impossibility of any different choices they made having possibly been any "better." It sticks out because Betty says they could have made better choices, which kinda seems to situate their relationship in a vacuum as if there wasn't a very high likelihood had they done anything different at that crossroads, they would have just been literally nuked into orbit regardless. Sure, it seems like enough time had passed for them to have worked out their relationship better at least and then died, but that kinda seems better by an arbitrarily less tragic amount, and really it seems the least tragic possibilities ever were either that they conceive their relationship more healthily, Simon finds the crown and protects Betty from exploding somehow and also doesn't warp her to the future, and they live some terrible survival life but at least they get a chance to live something kinda fulfilling and Betty probably would have taken care of Ice King decently for the remainder of her life once Simon was gone while also having a better understanding of what had happened to him. The only other hand would be that she also was still warped to the future he finds the crown but Simon had not enabled her self-sacrificial tendencies and so she becomes less undividedly obsessed with saving him and instead integrates into Ooo more properly and also accepts what had become of him (I find it hard to think she would have just let him die either way though lmao).

That all said, they had been around a long time to have reflected over everything. I think it is a bit of an issue that they don't really allude to that, but I find it easy to believe that they did recognize how thwarted a happy ending would ever be for them by all angles of their reality, yet they still had that tender ache of that simple and small tragedy just between them two that still exists within the torrent of catastrophe that engulfed them and the breadth of their fate. So much horror in their lives but they reconnect and find themselves primarily concerned with that last regret of not having been able to make the ideal relationship they quite thought they had.

[cak31ssuperi04]

Throwing my hat in the relationship chart ring. 1bit/beat charts credit to @//likesaly and @///silvercrane14, if this bothers either of you please let me know so I can delete it!

1bit relationship spaghetti breakdown:

Platonic

Romantic

Familial

Negative

[curiouschaosstarlight]

yessss do all of them. For gensh <3

(I had to take this off of the official numbered list because my rambles are just too rambly, and tumblr started yelling at me......) 1.) my beautiful cinnamon roll too good for this world fave: Bennett!! Bennett, Bennett, Bennett, I choose Bennett-- Also Chongyun and Freminent. Somft boys. Doing their best. Also could kick your ass. Also I have all of them. :3c (...Very sad that I had to take Chongyun off my main team, because Bennett's about to C6 and render him useless.)

2.) my trash-shit fave: I have no idea what this means, but I'm gonna guess that Dottore and Scaramouche belong here-- Especially Dottore; he's the guy giving me the MOST brainworms right now. (But I can't share most of the brainworms because I'd have to explain all the reasons why my version of him turned out the way he did, then be told I'm wrong anyway, so.) Anyways, I love Scaramouche/Wanderer's entire story, I love that he Has Problems but those problems aren't JUST that he's a little asshole bitch for no reason like fandom keeps trying to claim. Also I want!! Playable Dottore!! I want him so bad. Sure sure, to some people having him redeemed would be soooooo boring, but- Personally, I only have a certain amount of fun with villains that are villains for the evulz, and I LOVE characters with Potential (potential for both better and worse, sometimes even for the same reasons); also a lot of certain little details about Dottore gives me the vibes that he isn't the one-note crazy man basically everyone writes him as, which is apparently, supposedly backed up by the actual og Chinese writing of a few things. And I genuinely think that ANY way they go about redeeming him/making him playable -- be it revealing Tragic Backstory reasons, or a begrudging process, or "well I've decided I like and respect you, so sure, I'll behave, for now >:)" -- would be interesting no matter what they go for!! ...I'm genuinely gonna cry a bit if they do opt to just kill him off ;v; but if Gensh goes that route, I do hope it's at least to an epic boss fight or something. Full monster transformation, if possible.

3.) my I love to hate them fave: God, I have no idea, I'm not usually the type outside of very specific characters. I guess Signora might qualify? ...I'm not gonna earn much love with that one-- She's just, like...tragic backstory? Check. Pretty lady with beautiful theming and massive tits? Check. Front-story bitch? Yeah that's pretty fun! ...Why is it so hard to force her character to shift in writeys. Like, even thinking about alternate ways events could go on my own, it's like...she owns her own girlboss so hard, it borders on Ungrateful behavior (which tends to be one of the few kinds of behaviors characters can have that grind on my nerves). Apparently there's a chance she might get revived in Natlan, and honestly I'm hoping. I don't think it'll be the worst thing in the world if it doesn't happen, but I sure would like the excuse to put her back in the oven to bake some more, without having to wait for my brain to become actually hooked on her to do it.

4.) my I hate to love them fave: This one's gonna sound weird; Faruzan. ...Okay, okay, let me explain- So, y'all know how Faruzan had a boosted drop rate when Wanderer was first released? (...And I think it happened again when his banner came back around, but that's not important--) I was. SO. DAMN. DESPERATE. to get Wanderer. I had picked out a name for him months in advance (well, tentatively; some leaks a friend was looking at said you could name him, and I wasn't 100% convinced but I wanted to be PREPARED in case it really was true, and then it was!), both of my friends (including Devoid here <3) were pulling for him as well, and both got him before I did, which intensified my desire to get him. I had been saving up. I was doing SO MANY TEN PULLS. And I got. SO. MANY. FARUZANS. I think I had one ten pull that was, like, four Faruzans in a row. I had her C6'd extremely early on into my pulls, and then she just kept showing up. It was driving me mad. I don't really get too bothered by a character's in-game actions unless they're a specific kind of irksome, but messing with my pulls? That bothers me a lot-- Eventually I did get Wanderer, but I'd also gotten like...twenty or forty Faruzans in the process or something like that. It was ridiculous. And I was all set to just hate her forever. ...But then, like...her hangout comes out and that was really good. And then the event with Wanderer, Kaveh, Tighnari, and everyone happened, and THAT was also really good, and she's so affectionate towards Collei and hnnnnnn...Why's she have to be such a good character with such great taste in other characters?? Save me--

5.) my I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire non-fave: So, you know how I said that character actions don't tend to bother me outside of certain traits? Fucking. Royce. I hate Royce. I mean- I view Benny's entire ex-team rather unfavorably, but Royce's "almost-has-a-realization-just-to-backtrack-and-yell-at-Benny-again" behavior drives me up the goddamn wall. I'm sure there's other NPCs that piss me off but no one else I can remember by actual actions or name. I do have some playable characters I don't really like at all, but this category is very strongly worded for those feelings. (No hate to any Royce fans out there >////////< And also apologies, but this is probably the only time I'm gonna talk about him anyway, at least by name)

6.) my I didn’t care about them either way at first but the fandom makes such a big deal about them now I can’t stand them non-fave: I've been avoiding most fandom content precisely for this reason!! (...Unfortunately I've still gotten exposed to a bunch of shitty fan takes, but it for the most part hasn't shaken my character opinions much. My ship opinions however...) ...The most popular takes of Scaramouche and Dottore (by fans and non-fans alike) have only further solidified my personal vibes of wanting them more sympathetic and avoiding one-note portrayals like the plague. Signora has been on thin ice for a while because so many people are really fucking aggravating in regards to her, but she's yet to budge because I do feel mildly compelled about her. So hopefully that sticks. But I WILL absolutely despise Capitano out of sheer fan spite if he's revealed to be the 1st Harbinger, and there's a ~secret 10th Harbinger~, that is just, like...It's almost kinda neat, but so many people are being so bullheaded and shitty about it (mostly on reddit, I think), to the point it's invaded the wiki that I otherwise really respect for all the work that goes into it, that he just better fucking be the 10th or I will be UPSET.

7.) my I could take them or leave them kinda non-fave: Honestly, most of the cast. Up until about Sumeru, I really only cared about 2-5 characters per nation. Then with Sumeru and Fontaine, they've really knocked it out of the park with characters I absolutely adore and only one or two that kinda just fade out of my memory. I won't say which ones. !!!!!! IMPORTANT NOTE!! This has nothing to do with writing quality or design quality or "oh my subjective opinion is absolute fact and anyone who disagrees with me is a dumb stupid idiot with no taste" or anything like that- It's just that I wasn't vibing too strongly with most characters; not for any necessary particular reason or failure on Mihoyo's part or anything like that. Just how it turned out.

8.) my I will go down with this ship and I won’t put my hands up and surrender, there will be no white flag above my door. I’m in love and always will be fave ship: Dottore x Scaramouche is my BIGGEST ship right now, especially onesided. Especially reluctantly reciprocated. Primarily on Dottore's side. Also Fem Traveler/Lumine/Lillian x Everyone. Also Enjou x his weird "go ahead and beat me up" fetish-- Keep being funky you strange, fiery demon man. Love him. (Also Alhaitham x Kaveh, though I generally don't like looking at the fandom art for it unless my friend handpicks out the art for me, because their ver of Kaveh did irreversible damage to my brain and now when I see trans!Alhaitham and cis!Kaveh, my brain gets SO CONFUSED. It's just like "????? But that should be reversed, tho, obviously???" Like...no brain...it's not obvious. It's fine. You're just Attached.)

9.) my dirtybadwrong fave ship: Apparently Scaramouche/Kabukimono x Niwa is real controversial, which is very sad because I fucking love it, and also it seems like such an obvious and easy-to-like pick to me :P Also Kaeya x Diluc, which I know would/will? get me headhunted if this post shows up for the majority of the fandom. I'm probably forgetting a good amount of ships at the moment, but... (+ Bonus for both 8 and 9, but my extra myriad of Dottore ships where I'd probably have to explain how I ended up where I ended up, which means I'd have to explain the way I write Dottore, which means I'd have to explain-) ...Also Neuvillette x Furina APPARENTLY fucking qualifies, because as we all know, if the girl is short and cute and femme, she's automatically a child!! :) Don't y'all totes know she's Neuvillette's little baby girl daughter and not an adult and totally wasn't RUNNING AN ENTIRE NATION AS THEIR ARCHON for LITERAL FUCKING CENTURIES? Nope! Neuvillette, the person that totally wasn't working under her that entire time, has all the power in that dynamic, and totes sees her as a daughter, so it's problematic!!

10.) my they’re cute together and I dig them but I’m not all that terribly invested kinda fave ship: Most ships in the fandom, tbh. See- the problem is I don't really like protag Aether takes, and I'm just amicable to about 70% of the cast. And I might be a massive multishipping slut with few standards, but I do need to Feel Something towards characters to then Feel Something towards the ships, and when the general vibes I have with a character is "ah, they're neat" or "I like 'em well enough" or even "I don't really like them", that's just the kind of ~amicable vibes~ that lends to me going "that's cute! ...Anyway"

11.) my I didn’t care about this ship either way at first but the fandom makes such a big deal about it now I can’t stand it non-fave ship: Well, I have two. I won't say one because I think my vaguing gets more obvious if I say it outright, but someone I was following seriously bashed [ship I like a lot] while going "why dont people like THIS ship instead??? It's WAY BETTER!!", and. lemme tell you. If you want me to UTTERLY DESPISE your fave character or ship, the best way to do that is praise your fave while bashing another character or ship!! Fuck me, it doesnt even have to be a character or ship I even like, but for some reason it always fucking is. Like the sheer amount of people that go "Why dont people like [character] more??? They're much better than ITTO!!" like. 1. fuck you. 2. Itto has a MUCH LOUDER presence than whatever character you're trying to praise. 3. why does everyone always try to go after [specific ship I like a lot], or Itto? It's always them. Like they're making some big sweeping statement of "oh THAT dumb thing is getting attention for no reason!!" when like...entertainment factor, you knuckleheads. They're just onscreen and instantly make an impression. I'm really, really sorry your fave doesn't get as much attention, I get it, I really do, I've had barely popular/outright bashed faves before, but y'all actively hurt your case rather than helping it when you try to tear other characters/ships down to build yours up. I get that you're frustrated, but it's not fucking helping. Cut that shit out and then get back to me. Anyways. The other one that bothers the shit out of me for far more petty reasons is Wriothesley x Neuvillette, which. I feel bad about, to be fair. I feel sorta guilty for not liking it, because it definitely has potential. There's just one problem-- one of my biggest fucking pet peeves is ship bashing/attempted ship sinking (-gestures at my sarcasm a bit earlier-, which also sums up half of why I despise "child-coding" and "oh!! this small girl character is TOTES the daughter to these two gay men and definitely not responsible or mature in her own right uwu totally needs to be babysat by her two gay dads!!") in conjunction with people obsessing over other ships, and with Wriotheo and Nuevy, it started BEFORE the update happened and we actually saw any interactions. Like. I get it. They're two hot men and gay ships are hella popular. But with it occurring way before the update, thus way before any canonical interactions, it just felt like people were fucking desperate to make sure neither character could be straight-shipped with the two "children" they were actually working with (two full-ass adults, Furina and Sigewinne), which just drives me up the fucking wall. (And I can understand being uncomfortable with shipping characters that kinda resemble children, but I've seen way too many people go above and beyond any reasonable reaction to that sorta thing.) I want to like this ship. I really do. It could definitely be really good. But it's gonna take, like, a year or two, when we're in Snezhnaya and my frustration becomes a petty dumb memory instead of something I want to rant over. (...I'm sure this is gonna come back to bite me pretty hard, 'cause if this post makes the rounds people are gonna rush to be like "oh you're not OPPRESSED by gay ships!!" -> No one ever says they are unless they're a real smooth-brained fuckhead, "Oh, so we can't just have fun anymore??" -> I'm apparently not allowed to have fun, so neither are y'all. :\ If I can take fifty-million fans constantly trying to call me a terrible person for liking any of the ships and characters and takes I like, y'all can take one "this got on my nerves and I'm still mad even though I know it's dumb and petty")

12.) my MAKE IT STOP non-fave ship: Ready for me to burn another bridge? ...Can't stand Yae Miko x Raiden Shogun. Like- I see it, I absolutely see it, and I think it absolutely works, but. well. guess what? Guess that happened?? Shitty fans. Shitty fans that INSIST Yae Miko is canonically a man-hating lesbian and froth at the mouth if you dare even imply she MIGHT be the tiniest bit interested in a guy. I can't quite articulate how much I HAAAAATE when people try to claim their headcanon as canon and then treat other fans like shit for "violating canon" (that doesn't actually exist -- and god, even if it did, some of the behavior I've seen really goes above and beyond any realm of acceptability), and yeah. This is one of the biggest offenders. In general, I've noticed way more vitriol and toxicity out of f/f fans than any other kind of fan lately, and that is...ugh. again, I get it. Out of the ship combinations, f/f is probably the least popular in general and all that, and when you feel like your favorite stuff is getting passed over again and again for stuff you can't see the appeal in (trust me, I can relate, I've been in a LOT of fandoms), it's really, really frustrating. But also can we stop being shitty to other fans over subjective opinions? Fandom's supposed to be fun. I shouldn't feel like every other fan I follow would hate my guts over the pettiest of preference differences. (Yes this goes for more than just f/f fans, ofc, it's just those are the ones I've noticed the most recently.) !!! -> Please don't feel bad about liking any of the ships I listed ;v; For any reason-- I did Not put them down to shame anyone, and I don't judge anyone for liking ships and characters I don't like. I do judge behavior towards other fans, and if someone's really hostile to "competing" ships/characters, that also bothers me, but that's it. It's not the content itself that has or will ever bother me, so I really do hope no one who's reading this feels bad about their preferences...

->-> Primarily Unrelated but One thing that I lovehate about this, aside from the fact that if a bunch of people see this entire thing I'm DEFINITELY getting hatemail/a callout/something, but it also gives the impression I'm massively into m/m, which is amusing and frustrating at the same time. (Not the first time this sort of thing has happened, and I'm always self-conscious about it, because I hate when people have Incorrect Takes about my feelings/opinions, especially when I've openly described them but the other person's like "lol nope, I associate you with this more, so this is the truth now". Hate that shit.)

I'm actually primarily a m/f shipper (which honestly might be more controversial on tumblr, specifically tumblr, I'm not an ignorant dumbass about other places on the internet), that's just not how it turned out for Gensh, where I wound up mostly into the guy characters. Before I got extremely into Scaramouche (and then Dottore), Lumine/Lillian was my primary favorite character and the one I was focused on shipping with. She was also, like...the female character I liked the most, which I'm given to understand is an odd thing to say, I guess? Because western people don't usually like the protags of games?? Which is so weird to me. (<- Fresh off the Persona fandom where the Persona protags are also in my, like, top 5 characters of their respective games, and that is a hugely unpopular take for some reason.) (Though I guess I'm pretty weird in how I tend to play games and develop the protagonist's personality in my head + I usually prefer to play the fem character -> the fem protag of a game tends to be in my top 10 favorite characters)

For anyone curious, my preferences go m/f -> f/f -> m/m (least favorite), but that is also extremely arbitrary because of a few different factors, but primarily because I will write basically anything and everything. If I'm writing it and I'm having fun, then nothing bothers me, and I'll come up with all sorts of ships for all sorts of reasons. (Usually ships occur on a whim during rps, which then makes it hard to explain how I got to that result outside of rps...)

Anyways, I hope I explained my reasonings well enough m(_ _)m I could definitely ruffle more feathers if I, like, posted a character tier list or something, and I'm kinda tempted anyway, because...I dunno, a tiny part of my brain is like "hehe, stick it to the man >:3c", I guess? Despite the fact I would definitely not be actually "sticking it" to anyone, like If no one cared what I thought before, they're super not gonna care after this--

[roaringroa]

i’m not crazy for shopping but there is a very confidence building feeling when i find something in my style that fits me 

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt how much I love oni's writing again... In particular, "a seed is planted" continues to be one of if not my favorite logs because despite the troubling details and implications that come with it, it's the one thing in the entirety of the decaying corpse of gravitas that genuinely leaves us with a grain of hope (a seed if you will) and makes oni as a whole a lot more bitter sweet as while earth may not have survived, the dupes did, and after their horrible origins and the shit that many of them went through, in due time they'll finally get to just live, they're free now, and even if Olivia's sleep is end of a tragedy, the world will keep moving forward with or without those who've been lost

[medicinemane]

.