#and and thinking that it means they will survive this together

[writeriguess]

katsuki x reader where they've only been dating for a short period of time and reader walks in on him changing

The door to Katsuki’s dorm is slightly ajar when you arrive, a sign he must’ve forgotten to lock it after his shower. You hesitate for a moment, knuckles hovering over the wood, ready to knock. Your relationship is still new, fragile in its unfamiliarity. The way he looks at you—sharp, yet soft in his own way—keeps you on edge, always uncertain if you’re stepping too far.

Taking a breath, you decide to push the door open gently, thinking it might not be a big deal. You’ve both spent time together in his dorm before. Besides, you’re only here to drop off the notebook he left at your place last night. Nothing more.

The moment you step inside, the soft click of the door behind you is too loud in the otherwise quiet room. Steam lingers in the air, a reminder of the shower that had ended just before you arrived. Your eyes scan the space, expecting to find Katsuki at his desk or lounging on his bed, but instead, your gaze is drawn to something else entirely.

He's standing near his dresser, his back to you, bare and dripping with leftover beads of water that gleam under the faint light of his dorm. The towel slung low on his hips is barely hanging on, and for a brief second, your heart stops. His muscles flex with the simplest of movements, toned and scarred, every inch of his skin telling a story of battles fought and survived.

You don’t mean to stare, but your eyes betray you. They dip lower, tracing the defined line of his back down to where the towel rests, and before you can even stop yourself, you're looking just below it—where the fabric clings to him.

Shit.

The heat rushes to your cheeks so fast you feel lightheaded. You snap your head up, averting your gaze, trying to focus on anything—anything—but him. The wall. The floor. The stupid notebook in your hand. But it’s too late. The damage is done.

Katsuki spins around at the sound of your movement, eyes wide at first before narrowing into a dangerous, fiery glare. His body tenses, muscles bunching as if preparing for a fight, though this one is not against any villain but rather his own embarrassment.

“The hell are you doing here?!” His voice is rough, laced with anger but edged with something else, something uncomfortable. His hand jerks toward the towel, yanking it tighter around his waist as his face flushes a deep shade of red that you’ve only ever seen in the heat of his temper. You’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment or fury—probably both.

“I-I’m sorry!” You stammer, words tumbling out of your mouth as you instinctively take a step back. “I didn’t— I just came to drop this off.” You hold up the notebook like a peace offering, but your hand shakes just slightly.

He growls, a sound so guttural it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “You couldn’t knock first? Damn it, I forgot to lock the door,” he mutters, clearly more to himself, though you catch every word.

“I didn’t mean to—” you start, but he cuts you off, stepping forward, closing the distance between the two of you with quick, aggressive strides.

“Don’t act like you didn’t see anything,” he snaps, his voice low and venomous, but there’s something raw in his eyes—an uncharacteristic vulnerability. Katsuki Bakugo, so strong, so self-assured, now standing in front of you, exposed and… unsure.

“I didn’t see anything!” You blurt, though it’s a lie, and you both know it. The way his jaw clenches, the way his hands grip the edge of the towel tighter… He knows.

“You’re a shit liar.” His voice is gruff, but his posture shifts, ever so slightly. There’s a tension in the air, heavy and electric. You’ve seen Katsuki angry countless times before, but this feels different. He’s not just mad—he’s embarrassed. The faint pink coloring his cheeks betrays the harshness in his voice.

You swallow hard, trying to regain your composure. “I really didn’t mean to,” you murmur, looking anywhere but at him. Your eyes flicker to the wall, to the floor, to your shoes—anywhere that isn’t Katsuki’s half-naked body. But even with your gaze averted, you can still feel the heat radiating off of him, can still hear the sound of his breathing, heavy and uneven.

“I should’ve knocked.” You finally manage to meet his eyes, only for a second before looking away again, unable to handle the intensity of his stare. He’s still scowling, but there’s something softer underneath it, like he doesn’t quite know how to handle the situation either.

Katsuki lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his damp hair, making it stick up even more than usual. “Yeah, you should’ve,” he mutters, but his tone has lost its sharp edge. He shifts awkwardly, still holding the towel tightly around his waist as if he doesn’t quite trust you to not look again.

You stand there, frozen in place, unsure of what to do or say. The tension between you is palpable, thick enough to cut through. It feels like an eternity before he finally speaks again, his voice quieter this time, more gruff than angry.

“Just… get out for a sec,” he grumbles, glancing away as his ears turn an even deeper shade of red. “I need to put some damn clothes on.”

You blink, startled by the sudden shift in his tone. He’s still angry, yes, but now he just sounds… embarrassed. It’s almost endearing, seeing the usually brash and confident Katsuki Bakugo so flustered.

“Right, yeah, of course,” you mumble, turning quickly on your heel. You fumble with the door handle for a second before finally managing to open it. Before stepping out, you glance over your shoulder one last time, and your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. Even though he’s furious, there’s something almost vulnerable about the way he stands there, towel clutched tightly, eyes still glaring but with a faint hint of uncertainty.

As the door clicks shut behind you, you lean against it, your heart racing in your chest. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down, but your mind is still reeling. You’ve seen Katsuki angry before, but this was different. It wasn’t just the anger—it was the way his cheeks flushed, the way his body tensed with embarrassment.

After what feels like an eternity, the door swings open again, and you turn to see Katsuki standing there, now fully dressed in his usual black tank and sweatpants. His expression is still annoyed, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something softer, more vulnerable.

“Next time, knock,” he mutters, looking away, his face still slightly red. But there’s no bite to his words, no real anger. It’s more of a warning, a way to cover up his embarrassment.

You nod quickly, trying not to let the awkwardness overwhelm you. “Yeah… I will.”

He grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Good. Now, give me that damn notebook,” he demands, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

And just like that, the tension starts to fade, replaced by the strange comfort that comes with knowing you’ve seen a side of Katsuki Bakugo that few others ever have.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[howtofightwrite]

So. There is no safe place (in the body) to be shot. There are places that are slightly safer than others to be stabbed (i.e. being stabbed in the meat of your calf is less likely to be lethal than your torso). For the purposes of an arrow wound, which feels like a combination of shot+stab for a swords n sorcery world, is there a “less lethal” place to take an arrow? My character is traveling with companions and gets into a fun little goblin skirmish. I need her to catch an arrow somewhere that will be concerning, but not immediately fatal. Magic Bullshit™️ will keep the wound from healing properly for a few days, but I’ve accounted for field wound care (cleaning and bandaging and such) as she’s being taken on horseback to get proper treatment.

Not deeply.

So, the problem with all of these is tissue disruption. If the injury gets deep enough, the chances that it will hit something vital (especially on the torso) increase dramatically. So, getting stabbed and having the blade catch bone, instead of getting in deeper is “relatively” safe. Similarly, getting stabbed (or shot) in the hand or foot is unlikely to kill you (though, those injuries are likely to result in permanent damage impairing the use of injured appendage.)

Arrows are a little different, in a couple of ways. First, if you get shot, you do not want to pull that off (nor break it off and push it through.) That will increase the risk of bleeding out. Arrows make fairly large holes in people, but if the arrow sticks in the wound (which, it should) it will actually limit the amount of bleeding. Effectively the wound has a partial plug in it. Pulling out the arrow means that plug is no longer there, and they can happily bleed to death on the spot.

The second thing about arrows is that they actually pin muscle together. Think of it a bit like holding two pieces of meat together with a toothpick. If the toothpick isn't there, the pieces can slide across each other without issue, but that's not possible when there's a wooden shaft running through them. Your muscles are a complex web of meat, that slide over each other as you move. Pinning those together means that part of your body will actually lock up. For example, if you're shot in the shoulder, you won't be able to adjust the position of your arm. It's been toothpicked, and it's not going anywhere.

Arrowheads can get wedged in bone. If it's a broad head, or hunting tip, that will be obnoxious to get out.

At the risk of reading too much into your setting, goblins often means poisons, or other nastiness. Though, really, even just getting a tetanus infection (it used to be called “lock jaw”) from their blades is a pretty horrific potential fate. Even if the wounds themselves were relatively minor (cuts and scrapes, maybe a graze or two), a couple days might still result in some pretty horrific harm after the fact.

Also, remember, it's unlikely that bacteria will be understood by the medical science of your setting. So, first aid would still run a real risk of secondary infections.

Depending on their skill in first aid, anything outside of a severed artery or catastrophic organ damage should be (technically) survivable, though the wounds could easily result in permanent impairments, depending on exactly what was hit. A punctured lung might not kill her, but it could result in permanent respiratory issues, such as a cough, and chronic pain while breathing heavily from then on. It could also result in pneumonia and death, which is also, usually, pretty permanent.

Some of this depends more on where you want to land on a spectrum between dark fantasy and swords & sorcery. The genres are similar (and potentially overlapping), but can scatter out into dramatically different works. But, you do have some options on how you want to proceed.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[rosemariiaa]

~Lasts Firsts~

pairing: Paige x Azzi

a/n: yes i did lose my mind writing this but i had to! this is also my apology for the last fic.. 🤗 this is pretty long so take your time babe, also some tags @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @bueckerscore @juspeaks

themes: fluff, teasing

Enjoy!!!

It was barely 8:00 AM when Paige rolled over, her arm draping across the empty space next to her. She blinked into the early morning light, trying to shake off the sleep. She could already hear Azzi in the bathroom, humming softly, the sound so familiar it brought a small smile to her lips.

Last media day together.

The thought lingered like a weight on her chest, bittersweet and heavy. She dragged herself out of bed, feeling that familiar ache in her muscles from practice the day before, and made her way to the bathroom.

Azzi was standing in front of the mirror, twisting one of her curls between her fingers. Paige leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of her girlfriend’s morning routine—how peaceful she looked, even though they both knew today was going to be pretty emotional.

“Ready for the chaos?” Paige mumbled, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Azzi turned her head, giving Paige that small smile she always had when she knew Paige was nervous about something. “You asking me or yourself?”

Paige snorted, stepping closer until she was leaning against the counter beside Azzi. “Both, I guess.”

They didn’t say much after that, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Paige stared at her reflection for a moment, the weight of everything finally sinking in. Last media day, last season. After this? The WNBA.

“You think we’ll survive?” Paige asked quietly, her tone light but not really joking. Azzi met her eyes in the mirror, and for a second, Paige saw all the emotions they hadn’t really said out loud. There was excitement, sure, but underneath it was that uncertainty, the looming unknown of what came next.

“Paige,” Azzi said, her voice softer than usual. “You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna be fine. You’ve been ready for this.”

Paige didn’t respond at first, just dropped her gaze to the sink. She’d been thinking about this a lot more than she’d let on. The WNBA wasn’t just another level—it was the next chapter of her life. And as much as she knew she wanted it, there was a part of her that was terrified.

“What if I’m not, though?” Paige’s voice came out quieter than she meant. “What if I mess this up? I mean… WNBA? That’s a whole new ballgame.”

Azzi turned around fully now, leaning her hip against the counter. She reached out, gently grabbing Paige’s wrist, thumb brushing over her skin in that way that always calmed her down.

“You’ve been playing against pros for years, P. You’re gonna go in there and do exactly what you do best. And… don’t forget you’ll be up against Diana, you’re probably gonna block her shots and then she’ll talk all kinds of shit you know how she gets,” Azzi teased, trying to pull Paige out of her thoughts.

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension in her chest easing just a little. “I can’t wait for Diana to “hate” me.” Azzi smirked. “Just don’t embarrass her too much.”

“Oh, I will. But not before embarrassing your Aces,” Paige shot back, her grin widening as Azzi’s eyes narrowed in mock warning.

“Excuse me?” Azzi gasped dramatically. “You better not mess with my team. If you even think about beating them, I’ll fly out there and beat you up.”

Paige laughed, leaning into Azzi, her forehead resting against hers. “You’re cute when you threaten me.”

“Not a threat, babe,” Azzi replied, her smile softening as she tilted her head just slightly, brushing her nose against Paige’s. “I’m dead serious. Leave the Aces alone.”

Paige wrapped her arms loosely around Azzi’s waist, finally letting herself breathe. For a second, she could forget about the future. It was just the two of them again, standing in their shared apartment, holding on to each other before the world outside came rushing in.

———-

By the time they arrived in the gym, the chaos was already in full swing, with half the girls making tiktok’s and going crazy per usual. The cameras, the bright lights, the reporters—it was all routine by now, but this time, everything felt heightened. It was their last one. The final first.

Paige watched as Azzi stepped in front of the camera, her expression automatically settling into her “game face,” the serious one she always had before interviews. Paige stood to the side, arms crossed, watching with amusement.

“You look like you’re about to kill somebody,” she muttered under her breath as she moved to stand beside Azzi for their photos. Azzi shot her a look. “I’m just focused.”

“Focused on terrifying everyone,” Paige teased, nudging her with her shoulder.

Azzi tried not to smile, but it broke through anyway, and Paige could feel the tension between them melt a little as they fell into the easy rhythm of their chemistry. They took their usual photos, Paige throwing her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, and their traditional piggyback pose, the same way they’ve done a thousand times before. But this time, the air between them felt different—heavier, full of all the memories they shared.

After the cameras stopped flashing, they hung back for a bit, watching the rest of the team get their moments in front of the lens.

“This feels… weird, right?” Paige said, her voice a little quieter now.

Azzi just nodded. “Yeah. But… it’s also kinda nice, knowing we did this together.”

Paige looked at her, her chest tightening with that familiar feeling of bittersweetness. “You’re gonna make me cry.” Azzi gave her a teasing smirk. “That’s my plan.”

———-

The media day madness finally wrapped up, and before Azzi could even think about unwinding, Paige had dragged her back home with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“What are you planning, Bueckers?” Azzi asked, standing in the doorway of their apartment, her arms crossed. “You’ll see. Just get dressed,” Paige said with a grin, shooing her toward the bedroom.

Azzi rolled her eyes but went along with it, emerging a few minutes later in the white tube top with Paige’s pink cover-up and those low-waisted jeans that Paige always went quiet about. She gave a little twirl, watching Paige’s eyes darken slightly.

“Stole my clothes again, huh?” Paige asked, leaning against the wall, trying to look unfazed.

Azzi smirked. “You love it.”

Paige just shook her head. “Get in the car, weirdo.”

They spent the car ride to the restaurant in comfortable silence, the only sound being Paige’s playlist—songs she’d carefully picked over the years, ones that always made her think of Azzi. At some point, Mitski came on, and Azzi hummed softly to the tune, stealing glances at Paige, who was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

“So, P,” Azzi started casually, “how nervous are you to play against Diana?”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not nervous are ut playing against Diana. I’m nervous about her kicking my ass after I block her.” Azzi laughed, the sound light and warm. “She probably will. I’ll be sitting courtside, watching her destroy you.”

“Thanks for the support babe,” Paige muttered, but she was smiling. Azzi always knew how to pull her out of her head when she got too wrapped up in her own thoughts.

“And just remember,” Azzi said, her tone a little more serious but still playful, “if you mess with the Aces, I will find you madison.”

Paige threw her a sideways glance. “Oh, I know. You won’t have to find me—I’ll be waiting for you.”

Azzi grinned. “You better be.”

———-

When they got to the restaurant, Paige made sure they sat in a booth—one where she could sit across from Azzi and just look at her. It wasn’t the most subtle thing in the world, but Paige didn’t care. Azzi caught on, of course, giving her a raised eyebrow.

“What? I just like looking at you,” Paige said with a shrug, grinning like she hadn’t just been caught.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re ridiculous.”

They were mid-conversation when the waiter came over, a girl with a bright smile who seemed way too interested in Azzi. Paige noticed immediately, her smile dropping slightly as the woman complimented Azzi’s hair, her outfit, even her smile. Azzi, as usual, was completely oblivious.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, flashing the girl a casual smile, but Paige could see what was going on, and it annoyed her just enough to act on it.

Without a second thought, Paige reached across the table, placing her hand firmly over Azzi’s. The waiter glanced down, her smile faltering as she realized the situation, quickly taking their order and backing off with a stiff nod.

Azzi blinked, glancing down at their hands before looking back up at Paige with an amused expression. “Was that jealousy?” Paige scoffed. “No, that was me stopping her from embarrassing herself.”

Azzi grinned, squeezing Paige’s hand. “Uh-huh. Sure, Paige.”

After dinner, the laughter between them hadn’t stopped. Even as they waved goodbye to their server, still teasing each other about that moment of jealousy, the warmth between them stayed, making the whole night feel like a dream.

Azzi didn’t even bother pulling out her card when the check arrived. The second she started reaching for her wallet, Paige shot her a look, the kind of look that said, don’t even think about it. Azzi had seen that look so many times before and just grinned, leaning back in her seat as Paige effortlessly snatched the check, sliding her own card inside before Azzi even got a chance to protest.

“Every time?” Azzi asked, her tone half-amused, half-resigned.

Paige just shrugged, a cocky smile on her lips. “I like spoiling you. What can I say?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the truth was she loved it too. It was a Paige thing—doing little things like this without asking, always showing she cared in her own way.

After they walked out of the restaurant, Paige naturally slipped her arm around Azzi’s waist like she always did. It wasn’t even a conscious move anymore; it was just how Paige was. Her hand rested comfortably against Azzi’s side, pulling her a little closer as they walked down the quiet street. Azzi leaned into her touch, feeling the warmth from Paige’s body and the comfort that always came with being this close.

Paige’s grip was gentle but firm, protective in a way that Azzi had always loved. It was something Paige did, even when she didn’t realize it—holding her close, like she was making sure Azzi knew she was always there, no matter what. It made Azzi smile, thinking about how many times Paige had held her like this over the years, whether after a tough game, during quiet moments between them, or just walking down the street like this.

They kept walking, laughing softly, the cool night air brushing against their faces, but neither of them seemed to notice. Everything felt easy between them, and Paige, in her usual way, kept the conversation light. Azzi could tell Paige was doing it on purpose, making her laugh to keep them from thinking too much about all the changes on the horizon.

They were about halfway to the car when Azzi suddenly slowed her pace, and Paige’s arm tightened slightly around her waist, glancing over with a curious look.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her voice casual but her gaze full of affection.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She stopped, turning toward Paige and stepping in closer. Paige’s arm never left her waist, holding her in place like she always did, her body warm against Azzi’s side. Azzi stared at Paige for a long moment, just taking her in—the messy hair, the soft smile, the way she was always so present, so hers.

“I love you,” Azzi said suddenly, her voice soft but full of all the emotion she had been holding in. It wasn’t planned—it just came out, like it had been sitting on her chest, waiting for the right moment.

Paige blinked, a smile tugging at her lips as her eyes softened. Her hand on Azzi’s waist tightened slightly, pulling her just a bit closer. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice gentle, almost like she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to hear those words.

They both stood there for a second, letting the words hang between them. Then, without thinking, Azzi reached up and cupped Paige’s face, pulling her in for a kiss. Paige didn’t hesitate, meeting her halfway, her lips soft and warm as they kissed in the middle of the street, the world around them fading away.

Paige’s arm stayed wrapped securely around Azzi’s waist as their kiss deepened, and it felt like everything else just melted away. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was slow and full of love, the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.

Azzi could feel Paige’s heartbeat against her own, steady and strong, and she knew, in that moment, that no matter what happened, no matter how far apart they might be in the future, they’d always have this. They’d always have each other.

When they finally pulled back, Paige’s forehead rested against Azzi’s, their breaths mixing in the cool night air. Paige smiled, her hand gently caressing Azzi’s side. “You’re stuck with me, you know that?” she whispered, her voice teasing but full of love.

Azzi grinned, her thumb tracing along Paige’s cheek. “Forever.”

———-

yeaa…that was a lot and so darn cute 🥹

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Sirius's worst nightmare comes true when both you and Remus get your time of the months together.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Wolfstar x Reader

Sirius paced back and forth in the small living room, his fingers raking through his long hair, muttering under his breath. He could hear you and Remus in the bedroom, murmuring, laughing, then suddenly going quiet—an eerie calm before the next storm. He winced, thinking about the past few days of chaos.

You were on your period, and Remus was nearing the full moon. Mood swings? More like a tsunami of emotions, and Sirius was caught right in the middle.

He glanced at the bedroom door, half-expecting one of you to storm out, shouting at him for some unknown reason, or worse—crying uncontrollably over something he didn’t even understand. It had been like this all week.

"Merlin, what am I supposed to do?" Sirius whispered dramatically to the air. He grabbed his phone and dialed James’s number.

“Pads? What’s going on, mate?” James answered, sounding cheery.

“They're driving me mad!” Sirius whispered harshly. “Y/N’s got her period, and Remus is so close to the full moon he’s practically howling, and they’re both—both insane! I swear, James, they’re like… like pregnant women! And I’m in the middle of it all!”

James chuckled, but Sirius wasn’t amused.

“It’s not funny!” Sirius snapped. “I don’t know whether they’re going to shout at me or cry or smother me in affection! Yesterday, Remus hugged me for ten minutes straight, and then Y/N told me I was the worst person in the world because I didn’t put the dishes away properly!”

James was practically wheezing with laughter on the other end. “Mate, you’re gonna have to deal with this yourself. It’s called being in a relationship!”

“Oh, brilliant, thanks for the help. Maybe I’ll just die here in a storm of emotions while you and Lily live happily ever after,” Sirius grumbled.

“Pads, relax,” James said, still laughing. “Just go check on them. See what they need.”

“Oh no. No, I am not going in there. You don’t know what it’s like! One minute they’re calling for me, all sweet, and the next, I’m getting death glares because I forgot to buy extra chocolate! It's a bloody blood bath!”

As if on cue, your voice floated down the hallway. “Sirius, can you come here for a second?”

Sirius froze, eyes wide with panic. “See?! They’re plotting something!”

“Mate, you’re being dramatic. Just go. You’ll be fine,” James said, completely unbothered.

“I won’t survive this,” Sirius muttered darkly, hanging up. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever awaited him on the other side of the door. With a final prayer to Merlin, he walked into the bedroom.

You and Remus were sitting on the bed, both looking at him with big, pleading eyes. Sirius’s heart clenched. Oh no, here we go again.

“Sirius,” Remus began softly, his voice a little shaky, “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded, looking equally regretful. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. We’re just… so emotional right now, and everything’s overwhelming.”

Sirius blinked. “Wait, are you… both apologizing?”

Remus smiled, though his eyes were tired. “We are.”

You reached out for Sirius’s hand, and he stepped closer, letting you pull him down between the two of you on the bed. You snuggled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. Remus followed suit, resting his head against Sirius’s other shoulder.

Sirius could feel the tension slowly melting away as you both wrapped yourselves around him. He let out a deep breath, wrapping his arms around the two of you. “Well… this isn’t so bad,” he mumbled, his lips quirking into a small smile.

“We love you, you know,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Remus hummed in agreement. “Yeah, you’re the best, Pads. We don’t deserve you.”

Sirius chuckled softly. “Finally, some appreciation.”

But just as he started to relax, you suddenly lifted your head, your brows furrowing. “Wait… did you eat the last of the ice cream?”

Sirius’s smile froze on his face. “What? No! Why would you—”

Remus sat up too, narrowing his eyes. “Sirius. You know how much we needed that.”

“I didn’t eat it!” Sirius exclaimed, eyes wide. “I swear!”

But you both stared at him suspiciously, and just like that, the storm was back.

“I knew it!” you accused. “You don’t care about us!”

“Oh, Merlin, help me,” Sirius groaned, his head falling back in exasperation. “I’m not gonna survive this.”

You crossed your arms, looking deeply offended, while Remus sighed heavily, clearly upset again.

Sirius pulled out his phone, sending a frantic text to James and Lily.

Sirius: Send help. I’m not making it out of this alive.

“Sirius!” you and Remus shouted at the same time, drawing his attention back to you both.

“Okay, okay!” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll go buy more ice cream. Just… please stop looking at me like that. I feel like I’m in the middle of a war.”

Remus and you exchanged glances before looking back at him. “Hurry,” you both said in unison, and then, as if nothing happened, you both wrapped your arms around him again, squeezing him tight.

Sirius sighed dramatically, feeling your heads resting on his shoulders once more. “I’m doomed,” he whispered under his breath.

James's response came through.

James: You’ll be fine, mate. Just wait till they start crying again.

Sirius groaned, muttering to himself. “Why did I ever think dating both of you was a good idea?”

“Because you love us,” you whispered sleepily.

“And we love you,” Remus added with a small smile.

Sirius smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and Remus’s. “Yeah, I do.”

But then, just as the moment turned peaceful, you both tensed up again. Remus sat up abruptly, eyes wide. “Wait. Did you really eat the last of the ice cream?”

Sirius groaned dramatically, falling back onto the bed. "Merlin’s beard, I'm dead."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Ideas: 170 Character Quirks

Quirk—a peculiar trait; idiosyncrasy; memorable little things about a character’s personality that make them charming, endearing, weird, or unique; can be cute habits; is anything worth describing about a character.

PERSONALITY QUIRKS

Very introverted, quiet and reserved, keeps to themselves

Highly extroverted, loves socializing and meeting new people

Mega control freak who has to have everything their way

Neat freak (often coincides with control freak)

Total slob who never knows where anything is

Super stubborn and will never admit when they’re wrong

Brutally honest and can’t lie to save their life

Extremely judgmental of other people

Short-tempered, especially when irritated

Always patient, even when frustrated

Hilarious or odd sense of humor

Very hard to make them laugh

Loves to eat and is obsessed with food

Loves to drink and is constantly partying

Constantly complains about everything

Extremely loyal and will do anything for their friends/family

Adventurous and willing to try anything

Cautious and careful no matter what

Energetic, hardly ever needs to rest

Sleeps all the time and still gets tired during the day

Horrible sense of direction and constantly gets lost

Overachiever who loves school/structure

Really modest and won’t ever brag about themselves

Extremely emotional and will cry at the drop of a hat

Stoic and detached, rarely shows emotion

Wildcard whose behavior is unpredictable, even to their friends

Notoriously two-faced and will betray anyone

Charismatic and can convince anyone to do their bidding

Very proper and always polite to others

Dates tons of people and has a new boyfriend or girlfriend every week

Obsessive personality — whether it’s a TV show, brand, musical artist, or even another person, they’ll get attached and think/talk about it constantly

PHYSICAL QUIRKS

Unique eye or hair color

Has two different eye colors

Extremely short or tall

Some discerning physical mark — birthmark, freckles, mole, or scar

Wears unusual glasses

Has braces and headgear

Large feet — may mean they’re clumsy

Bites their nails/lips or chews on their hair

Constantly fidgeting and can’t sit still

Acne, eczema, or other skin problems

Many tattoos or piercings

Often sick or has allergies (constantly sniffling/blowing their nose)

Talks very loudly or quietly

Says everything like it’s a question

Terrible breath — may be a coffee drinker

Gets sweaty easily (especially when nervous)

Unusually hairy arms or legs

Very long painted nails

Always wears a faceful of makeup

Has a stutter or other speech impediment

Incessantly clicks a pen

Often tucks their hair behind their ears

Constantly chews gum

Has a toothpick dangling from their mouth

Always picking their teeth

Smokes and has a raspy voice

Breathes heavily or snores

Is extremely muscular

Walks very slowly or quickly

Left-handed or ambidextrous

Constantly scratching themselves

Has some noticeable physical tic, like a twitch

Always wears a distinct item of clothing or accessory — a favorite pair of socks, a lucky jersey, or even a particular shade of lipstick

STRENGTHS/TALENTS

Fantastic cook or baker

Skilled musician (piano, guitar, violin, etc.)

Artistic talent (drawing, painting, sculpting, etc.)

Model athlete (football, hockey, swimming, etc.)

Great at voices/ventriloquy

Can do sleight-of-hand — may be a pickpocket

Speaks multiple languages, even obscure ones

Knows everything about history

Mathematical or scientific genius

Brilliant coder and can hack into any database

Skilled mechanical inventor

Can build or put together anything

Super-quick logical reasoning

Exceptional memory/genius IQ (several of the above might fall under this)

Special connection with animals

Super empathetic and understanding of other people

Extremely fast runner

Contortionist (can twist their body into any shape)

Psychic talent (can predict the future)

Amazing mechanic

Super strength, flying, invisibility or other superpowers

Unusually high tolerance for pain

Survival skills like hunting and fishing

Quick reflexes, acts fast in a crisis

Brave and fearless, not scared of anything

Able to talk their way out of any trouble/invent stories on the fly

WEAKNESSES/NEGATIVE TRAITS

Awful driver

Always running late

Illegible handwriting

Terrible at public speaking

Socially awkward — hard for them to make friends

Has tons of credit card debt from online shopping

Self-destructive and always wants what’s worst for them

Gets blackout drunk every time they go out

Extremely conceited or arrogant

Compulsive liar

Manipulative of friends

Gets jealous over nothing

Often mean for no reason

Unbelievably self-centered

Extremely passive-aggressive

Is a hero who doesn’t like using their superpowers

Arachnophobia (irrational fear of spiders)

Coulrophobia (irrational fear of clowns)

Agoraphobia (irrational fear of leaving the house)

Pantophobia (fear of everything)

COMMONLY USED QUIRKS

Pale skin

Crooked smile

“Intense” stare

Relentless clumsiness

Artificial hair colors that are supposedly natural

Characters thinking they’re unattractive when everyone else thinks they’re beautiful

OTHER QUIRKS

Dresses all in one color

Bedroom is decorated exactly like a Pinterest picture

Won’t drink still water, only sparkling

Refuses to use headphones and blasts their music in public

Always dresses too nicely for the occasion

Walks around barefoot, even in stores and other public places

Hates being inside, sleeps and goes to the bathroom outdoors

Can’t help but look in every mirror they pass

Wears a small plastic backpack everywhere

Preps their meals three weeks in advance

Drinks shots of espresso all day long

Sings opera in the shower

Always sneezes around pets

Has a collection of something mundane

Makes their own (terrible) abstract art and hangs it on their walls

Gets super excited about Christmas and then really depressed in January

Refuses to wear glasses even though they need them

Carries around a secret teddy bear

Has been wearing the same friendship bracelet for three years

Fastidiously lint-rolls all their clothing

Will leave a shop or restaurant if someone walks in with a baby

Extremely superstitious (knocks on wood, avoids the number 13, etc.)

Drops everything other people ask them to hold

Likes to go out dancing by themselves

Prefers to have the lights off or dimmed at all times

Only reads books written before 1900

Only watches movies that get really bad reviews

Always wears multiple sweaters on top of each other

Won’t eat anything that doesn’t have bread (at least on the side)

Thinks they’re a time-traveler from the medieval era

Gives friends and family excellent homemade presents

Leaves the office last every day so they can push all the chairs in

Hates jagged numbers (always fills their gas tank to the dollar, sends emails on the hour, etc.)

Has an imaginary friend they still talk to, even in adulthood

Owns a lizard that they try and use as a guard dog

Listens exclusively to Britney Spears

Leaves little notes in library books for future readers

Uses tissues to hold onto poles on public transportation

Wears their hair in Princess Leia buns

Never goes a day without talking to their mom

Hums “In the Hall of the Mountain King” when they get stressed

Clucks their tongue while walking, so they sound like a horse

Quotes Pulp Fiction all the time

Loves hanging out in completely empty places

Convinced they’re going to die in a freak accident

Grows all their own food in their vegetable garden

Never pays for train or bus tickets

Can recite Shakespearean sonnets

Recycles and eats vegetarian, but only out of guilt

Has a “vision board” posted on their ceiling

Loves the beach but hates swimming

Flicks people in the forehead when they get annoyed

Laughs at everything, even bad jokes

Curates a great Instagram feed of street art

Sources: 1 2

[howi99]

I wonder what i should call the team of the 3 blondsketers + Weiss. JWWW (Jewelry) JWSY (Juicy) JWWN (Jaune) or something else.

Anyway

Yang: So, let me get this straight; you entered Beacon without any real training, using false transcripts forged by Roman motherfucking Torchwick and you survived initiation with ice queen as your partner?

Jaune: That's uh... That's pretty much it, yeah.

Yang: Hm, not bad.

Sun: *nodding* I agree, most people would be dead against a single grimm. And you held your own against a deathstalker and led us to victory. *Shrug* Your paper may be false, but you ain't.

Weiss: *crossing her arm* See? I told you they would be fine with it. And you probably got the best team to train with. *Sigh then smile* Honestly, you really think we'd give up on you because of that?

Jaune: *scratching the back of his neck, laughing nervously* I mean, you could have gotten a better fighter, right?

Weiss: *roll her eyes* Sure, we could have. We also could have gotten Cardin. Beside, you are the best at making plans on the spot so that's a plus.

Yang: And it's not like we got nothing to work with! You got almost as much Aura as us three combined! *Rubbing her hands together* Eheheh, i'm going to have fun, training you until you can't walk.

Jaune: ... Should i be scared?

Sun: *putting his hand on Jaune's shoulder* Yes, you are going to wish death when we will be finished with you.

Jaune: .... *Sigh* Can't complain since I chose this path.

Weiss: *nod* Good.

[corviiids]

shi-long lang

ykw i dont have strong views on this im open to being convinced.

verdict: could defeat kira but only with miles edgeworth's help. this goes both ways

could he intuit the mechanics of the death note

no. on basis of him being a character who you have to rebut and therefore being locked into the position of 'characters who see a locked room mystery and assume the culprit is someone in the locked room' (vs phoenix who is in the position of 'characters who see a locked room mystery and pivot to assuming the culprit is the pigeon who flew in through the skylight somehow').

so i think he would fall for whatever fake murder scenario light set up. however:

could he identify light yagami

yes but i think this would happen by accident for the wrong reason. like lang wouldn't figure out the notebook but the scene would be like light frames miles edgeworth for the murder by putting miles' fingerprints on a knife that the victim falls on top of or something. miles proves his own innocence and is like we need to find another suspect. and then lang would be like "this kid was a block away and he had steak for lunch which means he had a knife. arrest him"

i think once miles proves the existence of a magic murder notebook lang would be helpful in working out the rest of it. i also think lang is instrumental in forcing miles to accept the existence of a magic murder notebook to begin with so really they need each other here. miles would be like i cant fucking believe what im about to prove and lang is like do you need to sit down? do i need to get you a dish of sugar water like you are a fucking bee, or hummingbird

could he survive

yes i think he survives owing to the rules of the ace attorney universe which he brought with him, namely that a culprit in ace attorney will politely sit and cooperate while you argue with them and will admit when you've defeated them in argument, which is the least realistic thing about ace attorney. so i think light wouldn't make a move to try and kill lang until his Culprit Breakdown, at which point lang could simply kick him in the shins and pluck the notebook out of his hands because light is three toothpicks taped together.

[holytragedycat]

Let's count the connections that Harry and Voldemort have in canon

1- Destiny: A prophecy binds them together saying that they cannot live while the other survives and that one will be marked by the other.

2- Sister wands: rare phenomenon when a phoenix gives more than one feather for wands. And that adds magical connection (3).

4- Horcrux: Harry has kept Voldemort's soul inside himself all his life and has lived perfectly well like that (until he enters the wizarding world, then it hurts) He is an anchor for Voldemort

5- Blood: Voldemort has Harry's blood inside him, he is an anchor for Harry.

6- Family: They are distant cousins, after the Peverell brothers.

7- Eyes: They are complementary colors.

8- Life: Voldemort is a mirror villain, meaning he's like Harry, but at the same time he is everything Harry is not. Add points like; lonely childhood (9), orphans for as long as they can remember (10), bad experiences with muggles in childhood (11).

12- Parsel: In the whole saga they are the only ones who can speak the language, it is only between them two.

13: Physical: In the 2nd book Tom mentions that they look physically alike.

14: They were born on the same day (one in summer and the other in winter)

15: Dark Magic: Harry can do dark magic with ease and Voldemort realizes this in the order of the phoenix at the end.

16: Emotions: Harry in the books can tell how much Voldemort is angry or happy, we can't know Voldemort's point of view but maybe sometimes it went both ways.

17: Visions: Harry can have visions of things Voldemort is doing, but Voldemort can also send him false visions. We don't know, but perhaps Voldemort once saw through Harry's eyes as Harry saw through his.

18: Fear: Harry was not afraid of Voldemort, and what Voldemort was afraid of, Harry respected. Voldemort couldn't think of dying, but Harry thought that dying could be better than many other things.

19: Dying: This is never made clear to us, it's more of a theory, but Harry couldn't possibly die if he wasn't killed by Voldemort and Voldemort couldn't die if it wasn't for Harry. It is a theory of prophecy.

20: Feelings: Harry feels empathy for young Tom Riddle because they both had Hogwarts as their first home, he also thinks a lot about how beautiful he was and is horrified when he sees what Tom becomes in the memories.

21: Pain: Harry feels pain thanks to Voldemort, but we don't know if Voldemort can feel anything thanks to Harry.

22: Wandless Magic: Do we see Voldemort do wandless magic in canon? No, but he could fly without a broom and that's enough to know (also, he did do wandless magic at will in the orphanage as a child). Harry, on the other hand, only does wandless magic once in the series (5th book) and he does it with ease.

23: They look like their fathers, but they have their mothers' eyes.

24: Enemies: They are enemies, like REALLY ENEMIES, that's appreciated.

[syndrossi]

Estaba viendo en los comentarios que no estabas seguro de realmente integrar a Laena en la historia, así que lo pensé.

Realmente puedo entender tu punto sobre no estar seguro de incluirla. Entonces, ¿por qué no haces un AU donde ella esté incluida en la dinámica familiar como un mundo alternativo, de la misma manera que se hizo Reverberant.

Yeah, there are so many ways the story could go differently given X or Y happening, which is why so many named AUs have sprung up! I think a Laena marriage AU would be one where Laena survives her second childbirth and she and Daemon remain together. Which means Laenor as eventual King-Consort!

[caterina-celestia]

How did Dmitry feel during the life-saving kiss he shared with Lane? ❤️

Dmitry would have felt an intense mix of emotions throughout the entire ordeal. As someone who is normally composed and guarded, this situation would push him to his emotional limits, exposing feelings he has been suppressing for a long time. Here’s a breakdown of how Dmitry likely felt:

1. Panic and Desperation: Dmitry’s primary emotion would have been sheer panic when he saw Lane fall through the ice. Despite being a seasoned General used to high-stakes situations, seeing her in danger would have triggered a deep fear of losing her. The stakes are higher for him emotionally because Lane means more to him than he’d openly admit. His mind would be racing, thinking about how he cannot afford to let her slip away, both physically and metaphorically.

2. Possessive Protection: As he dives in after her and struggles against the current, Dmitry’s protective instincts would have kicked into overdrive. His possessiveness is driven by the fear of losing her. He’s not just fighting the current or the cold water—he’s fighting the idea of Lane slipping out of his life. His grip on her is symbolic of his unwillingness to let her go, not just in this moment, but in general. His tenacity shows that he will hold on to her, no matter what forces try to pull them apart.

3. Shock and Intensity During the Kiss: When Lane doesn’t push him away but instead opens her mouth and pulls him closer, Dmitry would feel a surge of emotions that go beyond mere relief. He’s probably shocked by her willingness to let him save her in such an intimate way, given how much tension there’s been between them. The fact that she not only accepts but reciprocates his life-saving gesture would hit him hard. It would be a mixture of awe, respect, and an intense surge of protectiveness, with an underlying current of possessiveness that she is his to protect.

4. Hope and Determination: Dmitry is a fighter, both in battle and in life, so even as the situation seems dire, he would be driven by the hope that they can survive. Lane’s response—her pulling him closer, gripping his vest—would fill him with determination. He’s not saving someone who’s passive or giving up; she’s fighting with him. This unity in their struggle fuels his desire to push through, no matter how impossible the situation may seem. Her actions would reassure him that they are in this together.

5. Conflicted Emotions: As the physical intensity of the moment plays out, Dmitry would be conflicted emotionally. On one hand, he’s trying to save her life; on the other, there’s a deep emotional undercurrent of how much she means to him. The kiss, though life-saving, is still a kiss, and he would be acutely aware of that. The feel of her lips, the closeness of her body, and her pulling him nearer would blur the line between duty and desire. He’s saving her, but in doing so, he’s also letting himself feel something more, something he’s been resisting.

6. Possessive Satisfaction and Fear of Loss: When Lane pulls him closer and doesn’t reject him, there’s an element of possessive satisfaction in Dmitry. In this moment, she is his, and he is hers—they are united in survival. Her choice to pull him closer and not push him away affirms that she trusts him, depends on him, and maybe feels something for him too. However, this would also fuel his fear of losing her even more. Now that she’s shown this level of trust and connection, the stakes are even higher for him emotionally. The idea of failing to save her would be unbearable.

7. Relief Mixed with Uncertainty: By the end of the ordeal, once they make it to the surface, Dmitry would be overwhelmed with a combination of relief and uncertainty. He would be relieved that Lane survived, but he would also be unsure about what this means for them going forward. The intimacy of the situation, her response to him, and the raw emotions it brought out would leave him questioning what comes next. He’s never been one to easily show his emotions, and now everything is on the table in a way that can’t be ignored.

In conclusion, Dmitry likely felt a whirlwind of emotions: desperation, protectiveness, possessiveness, awe, hope, and deep fear of losing Lane. Her pulling him closer during the kiss would have been a pivotal moment for him, affirming their connection and forcing him to confront the depth of his feelings for her. It would leave him feeling conflicted—both possessively satisfied that she didn’t push him away and fearful of what their growing closeness could mean in the dangerous world they inhabit.

[astroavez]

as the (self-proclaimed) biggest fischer frey apologist in the world, here’s how i would handle his (potential) arc this season.

assuming that fischer isn’t once again a one-off character thrown in for no reason & given screen time only to be forgotten about in the very next chapter with no explanation whatsoever, i think now would be the best time to really push his relationship with mc & get some much needed character development in there.

fischer frey has … a lot of catching up up to do in terms of redemption. as far as fleshed out characters go — he’s just not there yet, no matter how many scenarios i like to create in my head. he’s the oldest twin, but other than the fact that he’s mean, we don’t really know a whole lot about him.

i really think this season would be a great opportunity to do a deep dive into his character. he was obviously trying to impress his peers with his troll story in the first chapter — understandable. he’s a fourteen year old boy, he wants people to think he’s cool (as most kids do). the twins are not popular. on the social totem pole, they struggle to keep a standing, if at all. they don’t get invited to things, cassandra has friends other than them — they don’t have friends. they have each other.

i truly believe that deep in his heart, fischer knows that colby could make friends - easily. i think that fischer struggles socially. his personality, he’s found, turns people away; so, fischer keeps colby on a short leash. colby isn’t allowed friends due to the simple fact that fischer doesn’t want to be alone. he knows he doesn’t have friends, but he does have a brother that he can pull down with him so that he doesn’t look like a complete loser. fischer realizes he doesn’t really need anyone, just as long as he’s one step ahead of colby.

that being said, no matter how bad you want to seem cool — nobody is going to risk their life to go into the forbidden forest to do it. why does it matter so much to him? that should be focused on, i think. mc has a habit of putting other people’s needs before their own, and fischer needs someone other than cassandra, (whom uses the twins as guard dogs more or less) and colby, (whom wants to do his own thing.) fischer needs someone that genuinely wants to be his friend. someone that is able to slowly wean him off of colby and make him realize that he’ll be okay without his brother.

making fischer a core character, whether it be in this season or a future one is so important to the twins’ storylines as a whole. i really hope that the game takes a similar route, because when the twins inevitably have a falling out, there needs to be a common ground between the two — someone that goes out of their way to bring them together again, and i don’t mean cassandra. in order to do that, mc has to make some sort of connection to fischer, as that bond with colby has already been formed.

in a perfect world, they’ll survive near death experiences together & next time fischer decides to impress his whole class with a story, it won’t be a lie.

[reachexceedinggrasp]

I have a feeling you might relate to this or you might have even related this on your blog already, but I was just thinking of that Ghoul quotation water water everywhere and not a drop to drink

I think probably my favourite, maybe ever, quiet point of characterisation in a sort of villainous or Beast love interest is his or her having a poet's soul... whether that is conscious or unconscious romantic meditation. It's like Kylo musing to Rey when he says 'You have that look in your eyes. From the forest. When you called me a monster' I love that sort of wistful observation, especially because it evokes such potent imagery ('when we fought together in the forest and then you marked yourself on my face'). Or more literally something like Ghoul citing a line of literature, even when none around except for Lucy would know what he's referencing, it's for his own arrestment and amusement, this is how he sees/interacts with the world

I guess in that way, it reveals something new about their perspective on the world, even when they're somebody seemingly cut off from it - monstrous, othered, repellent, ugly - when they're able to articulate a certain beauty which other characters may not remark upon. It's sort of covetous in that sense, but I think it also sort of helps explain what might interest them about a Beauty, after all, there's something they long for and value (spiritual, aesthetic, existential beauty).

I thought you might be able to relate 🥰

Oh, totally. And with Cooper and Ben, specifically, which is a parallel I hadn't actually noticed until you've just pointed it out, we're being shown their sensitivity as characters. Not in the sense of being considerate, but that they're aware and alert to beauty and meaning in the world despite currently occupying a narrative role which might make us think they're simply destructive or nihilistic figures. Despite the cynicism they're both ostensibly espousing.

Cooper quotes or alludes to literature practically constantly relative to how little he speaks, always knowing people almost certainly won't understand him, and that's especially fascinating because he didn't make those kinds of references in the flashbacks. We could take this in a whole direction about how he created the Ghoul as a character to shield himself from the things he had to do to survive and is living within a meta-narrative deconstructing the reactionary anti-hero who overtook the white hat sheriff he used to play in his movies. The anti-hero he never wanted to be. He makes allusions because his life has become a story he's telling himself to stay sane. He's his own wry Dickensian narrator making asides to an imagined audience about dramatic irony and social commentary.

And an important part of his presentation to others before the war was painting himself as not sophisticated. Just a cowboy and then just a guy who plays a cowboy in the movies. He wants nothing to do with politics either in an interpersonal or broader sense, and disclaims any pretensions to being savvy despite being in a very theoretically powerful position as a rich, connected major film star. I think he was genuinely naive, but I also think he often played dumb to avoid social conflict. He was complacent and his image helped him remain complacent. Obviously he was very willing to be confrontational when he saw wrong or injustice right in front of him (he goes after Bud Askins directly to his face about marines getting killed by shitty equipment, he challenges Moldaver when she calls him out), but pre-bombs he mostly uses his empathic perceptiveness and charisma to keep everyone around him happy.

In the wasteland we often see him doing the opposite and deliberately riling people up in order to gather information and assess or eliminate them as threats, but he's also only gotten better at disarming people when he wants to. As a handsome charming film star he pretended not to know anything, as a scary intimidating monster he pretends he knows everything.

What I'm curious about as far as all this goes is whether Cooper had a secret nerdy side and read all the classics as a teenager or perhaps while waiting between shots when he was working as a stuntman or whether he wanted to fit in when he started to make it in Hollywood so tried to become cultured before realising that wasn't what anyone wanted from him. Or if he just spent 200 years alone and read anything he could find as a way to cling to his humanity. We know he was at least a bit intellectually curious before the war, because of his reading and retaining some article about studies on torture.

But YES, him quoting poetry and being so interested and insightful about Lucy, specifically is a huge part of how he's framed as a romantic figure. And he's already by far the most romantic figure in the show. If it were solely about his tragedy, you'd think they would emphasise the contrast between his pre-fallen and post-fallen state by stripping him of his heroic trappings, but they don't. He's actually more romantic post-'curse'.

It also gets me because he's an extremely smart, socially adept person who doesn't let others see him for who he really is both consciously and unconsciously on multiple levels and that layers of identity shit is my crack. He was a profoundly honest person who thought he was simple, but actually he was a glorious maze of contradiction and complexity waiting to happen who is now a master manipulator.

[beauttifullife]

Together.

"Does that mean Freya will have two moms?" Joffrey asked, his innocent curiosity cutting through the moment like a knife. Just as I was taking a sip of my wine, I nearly choked, coughing as Freya stirred grumpily in my arms.

Rhaenyra's eyes widened in disbelief at her youngest son's bluntness—a trait I couldn't help but think he had inherited entirely from her. It was a moment of poetic justice, watching her grapple with the candidness she often displayed, even if it came at my expense.

"Joffrey," she began, her voice a mixture of surprise and a hint of amusement, "that's not—”

"But it is, isn’t it?" Joffrey pressed on, oblivious to the weight of the conversation we had just navigated. His face lit up with excitement, eyes sparkling as he looked between us. "Freya will have you and Elizabeth both! That’s like having the best of both worlds!”

Rhaenyra paused, momentarily at a loss for words, and I could see the tension ease from her shoulders, replaced by a reluctant smile.

“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” she finally replied, shooting me a glance that was both exasperated and affectionate.

The corners of my lips turned upward, warmed by the unanticipated joy that filled the room. Joffrey’s innocent enthusiasm was infectious, reminding us all of the love that bound us together, despite the complexities of our situation. I cradled Freya a little tighter, feeling the gentle weight of her against me as if she were the embodiment of hope itself.

"And we'll take care of her, right?" Joffrey continued, his expression serious now, though his eyes still shone with that childlike brightness. "We’ll make sure she has everything she needs."

I glanced at Rhaenyra, but before she could answer, I found myself speaking, my voice steady, filled with conviction.

“Absolutely,” I said, meeting Joffrey’s earnest gaze. "We will protect her, just like we protect each other.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rhaenyra turn toward me, her expression softening in a way that made my heart ache. There was something in her eyes, a depth of emotion I wasn’t sure I could fully grasp at that moment, but I could feel it—her gratitude, her trust, her love.

Lucerys, his earlier confusion now replaced by a wide grin, nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah! We’re a family now, right?” His voice was full of certainty, the kind that only children seem to possess—the unwavering belief that family, no matter how unconventional, would always hold strong.

Rhaenyra’s smile broadened as she turned her attention to her sons. There was a radiant mix of pride, love, and something deeper that glimmered in her violet eyes as she gazed at them, but when she finally answered, her eyes weren’t on them—they were on me.

“Yes,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “We are a family.”

The words hung in the air like a promise, heavier than they seemed. A warmth spread through me, a quiet assurance that, despite the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded us, this—what we had here—was real. It was something we could hold on to, something that could carry us through the battles ahead.

Freya stirred in my arms, her tiny fingers curling tighter around my thumb as she let out a soft coo, as if she, too, was claiming her place in this newfound family. I looked down at her, then back at Rhaenyra, and for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to believe in the flicker of hope that sparked within me—a hope that maybe, just maybe, we could survive this.

Together.

[linkito]

hello. my eye is still twitching but GOD the most recent rambles and rp bits that ange posted made my heart ACHE for scar. he's being so completely and totally overlooked here by multiple other hermits (like his own pain and trauma don't matter) and uuughhhghhghhghhg. anyway poking you to talk more about scar's thoughts and feelings throughout that all IF you would so like (so i can sob and weep and cry and continue to distract myself from work)

Oh gosh, it's bad honestly.

Because Scar knows where his heart is at, he knows he'd never do anything purposely cruel to Grian. But he can't speak for Grian's intentions. The Hermits are concerned that Grian is seeking out self-destruction with their antics and well... Scar just doesn't know.

The safest option for him is to simply wait it out. They put a pause to the rougher side of things, and honestly, that's fine! Scar could continue their relationship like this and he would still be happy. But...is it really their decision? Or are they letting other people think for them? People who don't know their experiences. People who don't know what it means, why they do these things in the first place.

But Scar feels like he has to keep these thoughts to himself. It feels impossible to remove his own desires from the equation if he speaks up, and he wants this to ultimately be Grian's choice.

(But keeping quiet means letting the Hermits have all the influence.)

He also feels like he's being held to a higher standard than is fair because of his seemingly violent nature. He has to appear more put-together and tame when he's around the Hermits. He has to hold back the claws, the teeth, the growling, and even his wings because they simply serve as reminders of his battered and ghastly nature.

And isn't it a little ironic to be hiding wings again? Somewhere where they're supposed to be safe to be themselves?

Grian's trauma results in him being withdrawn and skittish. People see that and pity him, which is a whole mess of its own, of course, but... Scar's trauma resulted in him growing defensive and on edge, ready to fight when normally he'd flee. ...It's harder to empathize with.

The Hermits don't realize what it is the two of them had to do to survive. All they see are sharp edges that they think need to be sanded down.

When the sleepover comes around, Scar practices a simple mantra: soft little kitten paws. Keep his claws retracted. Be gentle and charismatic-- all the aspects of the old Scar that the Hermits want him to be. He wears a dress shirt and a cozy-looking sweater vest. He gets a fresh haircut and combs it back. He uses his cane both because he's anxious and needs the crutch, but also because he hopes it makes him appear more harmless.

... and yet things still go wrong.

have a doodle for reading this far </3

[lilyharvord]

been thinking about AUs lately, mostly becuase I have had so little time to write due to craziness, and I got back on my bullshit about meeting your soulmate and their first word being tattooed on your skin. And just... the implications of that?

Mare with the word "thief" tattooed on her wrist and having to cover it so as to not give herself away in the Stilts, but when/if she gets caught by officers they see it while they detain her and even if she didn't do anything she ends up locked up for the night because of that word. So she comes to hate it with a passion and tried scrubbing it off, and mutilating it as she grew up to remove it, to hide herself better as she starts to steal more and more to survive. But she would wake up with it perfectly healed. And it is in such pretty penmanship, waaaaay too nice to be a Red's handwritting, or even an officer's in the Stilts. And that scares her, so she forces herself to hold onto the belief that maybe it belongs to some Red who assists a general or something and they have to write a lot and she will meet them at the Choke. When Kilorn sees it for the first time while he is helping clean her up after a particularly bad night in a cell, he realizes he can never be hers because it was no where near his first word to her.

Cal has the word "obviously", and it is so obviously the dumbest fucking word to have. It is literally the most common word. The amount of times he has heard the words "obviously" in his life and turned around only to realize it is someone he already knows? Stupid, absolutely ridiculous. And not to mention that the way it is written on his wrist is horrific and makes him question if this person ever really learned how to write properly. The good news? He can hide it underneath his flamemaker and forget about it if he needs to. And he does, pretty much decides that he'll probably just never meet whoever it is. Besides... he has to marry a lady of a High House, and he's already met all of them and none of them said that word to him on the first go. And it doesn't really matter... it is so rare for a future king to marry their soul mate through Queenstrial anyway. His father was just lucky with his mother, and his grandfather of course met his but got away with keeping him and marrying a Queen. And maybe it's for the best if he never meets this person, it would just be a twist of the knife if he is already married and meets the person who is meant to complete him.

And then, one night, on a dirt road, in the hours before night and dawn, when the stars are still out and the world is dreaming, a thief sticks her hand into the pocket of prince, who catches her wrist, and accuses her with a surprised and confused tone: "thief", and she tilts her head to the side, her eyes sparking as she replies "Obviously". And it takes everything for him not to flip her wrist over and look for the word he just uttered, but he lets go instead, terrified that this is the girl who is meant to come into his life and complete him. And she backs up a step, her eyes darkening as she looks him over anew. Neither comments, neither admits to anything. And Mare is glad for it, because the next day she learns he is a prince, and not just any prince, he is The Prince, and she immediately is relieved because there is no way in all of heaven and earth that she is paired with this man. She didn't see her reply on his wrist... she forces herself to believe that there is a different word tattooed there. That if she were to lift up his sleeve she would see something else, some meaningless word to her, that means everything to him. She never looks though, and he never takes off his flamemaker, so she never has the chance to see.

Then, one evening, in a soldiers barrack, on a Piedmont base in the middle of a summer shower, complete with the distant growl of thunder: Mare glances at his bare arm, wrapped around her bare waist. It would be so easy for her to just, gently turn it and look, to answer the question that has haunted her since a Blackrun fell from the sky, and he held her like they were going to die. She shivers subconsciously and gently reaches down to slide her fingers through his, her heart pounding against her ribs. She can't decide if she wants to see the word there, or if she doesn't. She doesn't know which way would be better, whether it would break her heart if it wasn't, or if she were be terrified if it were. He sighs against her neck and pulls her a little closer when she first goes to rotate his wrist, she freezes, tensing for a heartbeat. He's a soldier, they sleep lightly, and this feels like an invasion even though she has now seen and touched every part of him. For some reason this one spot of skin feels forbidden. Inhaling, she slowly rotates his wrist to face up, and her entire skin erupts in goosebumps as lightning illuminates the room and thunder crashes a heartbeat later. There is her hand writing, her ugly, horrific handwriting, and there is the word she said to him with such tenacity on a dirt road and changed their lives forever. She flips his hand back over and pressed it to her stomach, knots her fingers with his as she tries to slow her breathing back to a sleeping rate. It's no use though, his sigh against her neck is no longer a gentle whisper, but is instead one of relief. "I wanted you to look first." He murmurs against the vertebrae at the base of her skull, before lightly running his lips up to her ear. "I think knew in my heart since the Bowl of Bones." He squeezes her fingers softly, and they never speak of it.

Then he choses a crown, a crown over what those words on their wrists' mean. And that betrayal is so much worse than it ever could have been.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Virginia Woolf: On Words

Listen to the only surviving recording of Virginia Woolf’s voice.

A transcript of Woolf’s broadcast, ‘On Craftsmanship’, BBC, 29 April 1937.

Words, English words, are full of echoes, of memories, of associations.

They have been out and about, on people’s lips, in their houses, in the streets, in the fields, for so many centuries.

And that is one of the chief difficulties in writing them today — that they are stored with meanings, with memories, that they have contracted so many famous marriages in the past.

The splendid word ‘incarnadine’, for example — who can use it without remembering also ‘multitudinous seas’?

In the old days, of course, when English was a new language, writers could invent new words and use them.

Nowadays it is easy enough to invent new words — they spring to the lips whenever we see a new sight or feel a new sensation — but we cannot use them because the English language is old.

You cannot use a brand new word in an old language because of the very obvious yet always mysterious fact that a word is not a single and separate entity, but is part of other words.

Indeed it is not a word until it is part of a sentence.

Words belong to each other, although, of course, only a great poet knows that the word ‘incarnadine’ belongs to ‘multitudinous seas’.

To combine new words with old words is fatal to the constitution of the sentence. In order to use new words properly you would have to invent a whole new language; and that, though no doubt we shall come to it, is not at the moment our business.

Our business is to see what we can do with the old English language as it is.

How can we combine the old words in new orders so that they survive, so that they create beauty, so that they tell the truth?

That is the question.

And the person who could answer that question would deserve whatever crown of glory the world has to offer.

Think what it would mean if you could teach, or if you could learn, the art of writing.

Why, every book, every newspaper would tell the truth, or would create beauty.

But there is, it would appear, some obstacle in the way, some hindrance to the teaching of words.

For though at this moment at least a hundred professors are lecturing the literature of the past, at least a thousand critics are reviewing the literature of the present, and hundreds upon hundreds of young men and women are passing examinations in English literature with the utmost credit, still — do we write better, do we read better than we read and wrote four hundred years ago when we were unlectured, uncriticised, untaught?

Is our modern Georgian literature a patch on the Elizabethan?

Well, where are we to lay the blame?

Not on our professors; not on our reviewers; not on our writers; but on words.

It is words that are to blame. They are the wildest, freest, most irresponsible, most unteachable of all things.

Of course, you can catch them and sort them and place them in alphabetical order in dictionaries.

But words do not live in dictionaries; they live in the mind.

If you want proof of this, consider how often in moments of emotion when we most need words we find none.

Yet there is the dictionary; there at our disposal are some half-a-million words all in alphabetical order.

But can we use them? No, because words do not live in dictionaries, they live in the mind.

Look once more at the dictionary.

There beyond a doubt lie plays more splendid than Antony and Cleopatra; poems more lovely than the Ode to a Nightingale; novels beside which Pride and Prejudice or David Copperfield are the crude bunglings of amateurs.

It is only a question of finding the right words and putting them in the right order.

But we cannot do it because they do not live in dictionaries; they live in the mind. And how do they live in the mind?

Variously and strangely, much as human beings live, by ranging hither and thither, falling in love, and mating together.

It is true that they are much less bound by ceremony and convention than we are.

Royal words mate with commoners. English words marry French words, German words, Indian words, Negro words, if they have a fancy.

Indeed, the less we enquire into the past of our dear Mother English the better it will be for that lady’s reputation. For she has gone a-roving, a-roving fair maid.

Thus to lay down any laws for such irreclaimable vagabonds is worse than useless. A few trifling rules of grammar and spelling are all the constraint we can put on [words].

All we can say about them, as we peer at them over the edge of that deep, dark and only fitfully illuminated cavern in which they live — the mind — all we can say about them is that [words] seem to like people to think before they use them, and to feel before they use them, but to think and to feel not about them, but about something different.

They are highly sensitive, easily made self-conscious.

They do not like to have their purity or their impurity discussed.

If you start a Society for Pure English, they will show their resentment by starting another for Impure English — hence the unnatural violence of much modern speech; it is a protest against the puritans.

They are highly democratic, too; they believe that one word is as good as another; uneducated words are as good as educated words, uncultivated words as cultivated words, there are no ranks or titles in their society.

Nor do they like being lifted out on the point of a pen and examined separately.

They hang together, in sentences, in paragraphs, sometimes for whole pages at a time.

They hate being useful; they hate making money; they hate being lectured about in public.

In short, they hate anything that stamps them with one meaning or confines them to one attitude, for it is their nature to change.

Perhaps that is their most striking peculiarity — their need of change.

It is because the truth [words] try to catch is many-sided, and they convey it by being themselves many-sided, flashing first this way, then that. Thus they mean one thing to one person, another thing to another person; they are unintelligible to one generation, plain as a pikestaff to the next. And it is because of this complexity that they survive.

Perhaps then one reason why we have no great poet, novelist or critic writing to-day is that we refuse words their liberty.

We pin them down to one meaning, their useful meaning, the meaning which makes us catch the train, the meaning which makes us pass the examination.

And when words are pinned down they fold their wings and die.

Finally, and most emphatically, words, like ourselves, in order to live at their ease, need privacy.

Undoubtedly they like us to think, and they like us to feel, before we use them; but they also like us to pause; to become unconscious.

Our unconsciousness is their privacy; our darkness is their light...

That pause was made, that veil of darkness was dropped, to tempt words to come together in one of those swift marriages which are perfect images and create everlasting beauty.

But no — nothing of that sort is going to happen to-night.

The little wretches are out of temper; disobliging; disobedient; dumb. What is it that they are muttering? ‘Time’s up! Silence!’'

Source