#and are more focused on what they can do in the present and trying to find who they are now

[mandarinmoons]

dad!spencer

DAD SPENCER SPENCER AS DAD

yknow that scene where JJ calls Will and Henry over the phone so she can read to Henry? or atleast I think she read to him it was so long ago that I watched 😭 anyway, what about that with Spencer and a toddler Bailey? he’s on a case but he still wants to make sure he’s present for his daughter even if he’s not physically there

<333

Your ears rang as Bailey’s cries echoed through the house. She had been fussy and inconsolable for days and you knew why, her dad was gone.

Spencer flew out to a case all the way in Nebraska leaving you to take care of Bailey all by yourself until he got back. You weren’t cross with him, you knew his schedule was hectic and that he tried his best to be a part of both of your lives.

For Bailey however it was a different story. The second her dad walked out the door she was upset and ran to the door to run after him. The only way she would fall asleep is by draping one of Spencer’s shirts over her, her breathing would calm down and a moment later she would be at ease.

It had been four days since Spencer left and there had only been limited text messages between you two. The case turned out to be more complicated than initially thought and it was taking up more of the team’s time.

You and Bailey were cuddling on the couch watching one of her favorite cartoons. Bailey had a crying fit and after some time she managed to calm down a bit and now here you were, caressing her back as her tear filled eyes were focused on the TV in front of her.

As you felt yourself doze off and your head leaned to the side, your phone rang which caused Bailey to get fuzzy.

“Shh there there,” you sat up and pulled Bailey into your lap as you dug your phone out of your pocket, seeing it was Spencer calling you sighed in relief and immediately put it on speaker.

“Hey Agent Daddy,” hearing your words made Spencer chuckle and Bailey’s eyes went big as she heard the laughter.

“Hey you two, how are my favorite girls doing?”

“We’re doing okay, Bailey misses you a lot.”

“She does?” Bailey immediately made grabby hands at the phone.

“C’mon, say hi to daddy.”

Bailey got the phone in her hands and chanted “daddy, daddy, daddy!” in an excited voice.

“Hi baby, do you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“Hey, daddy will be home soon, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Spence, do you think you could sing to her a bit?”

“Yes yes, daddy sing!”

Both you and Spencer laughed as Bailey grew excited over hearing her dad sing to her.

As Spencer sang along to the lullaby he recited to Bailey every night before bed, she nuzzled into your chest as her cheek was squished against you, her eyes fluttering shut as she relaxed.

You pried the phone from her hands gently and took it off from speaker mode, pressed it to your ear and quietly spoke as to not wake up your daughter.

“She’s finally asleep.”

“Has she really not slept these past few days?”

“Well only when she tires herself out from crying.”

Spencer chuckled lightly, “I feel bad now.”

“Hey it’s okay. You’ll be home soon so she’ll feel better in no time.”

“I hope so.”

Silence took over the line for a moment and you could hear Spencer trying to cover up a yawn, he was dead tired but still managed to make time to call you.

“You should go to sleep, I don’t want to keep you up for too long. You still have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah,” Spencer yawned and rubbed his eyes as he looked at the time, 8:47 PM in the evening and yet it felt like it was 1 AM for him.

“Be safe, yeah? Think about how happy Bailey will be once you get home.”

Spencer smiled as he thought about his little girl running into his arms as soon as he walked through the front door.

“Give her a kiss from me please.”

“I will, good night.”

“Good night.”

As the call ended you looked down at Bailey and watched her sleep peacefully in your arms. Her hand was gripping your shirt and you chuckled as you remembered what you wore, the same shirt of Spencer’s that you draped on her as she slept.

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @themarauderseraslut @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai

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[flowergirlzz]

✿ his

possession (noun) - the state of having, owning or controlling something

one might argue that growing up with next to nothing can make a person extra possessive of his or hers things. taking pride in, protecting and taking care of the things they have instead of focusing on what they don't have.

making the things they are or once have been short of extra special, cherishing them. whether it'd be material things or connections with people around them.

simon riley was one of those people.

when something came into his possession and became his, it was his and his only.

and that definitely included you.

since the moment he met you at a rugged pub his teammates had dragged him to (against his will), he in a way claimed you.

at first glance, first words, first laugh.

oh he had already made you his.

not that he would show it to you though. being respectful and careful around you at first, seemingly on a mission to make you comfortable around his tall, broad frame, terrifying balaclava and dark sarcastic humor.

simons possessive nature became prominent to both you and the people around you a few months into dating him. a couple of your friends even asking you if you were okay with his controlling tendencies. asking you if he even was any good for you.

but they didn't know what it felt like to be with a man like simon riley now did they?

they didn't know how safe he made you feel when outside. his arm draped around your shoulders while taking a walk. his hand on the back of your neck or waist when walking through a big crowd. no guys even daring to look your way in fear of what the big man behind you might be capable of doing to them.

they didn't know the way he learned to read you. knowing exactly what you were feeling with nothing more than one look at your face or the tone of your voice. the way he would arrive at your doorstep with your favorite snacks when you sounded off on the phone or the way he immediately softened around you when he noticed you were annoyed or anxious. always attending to your wants and needs, making sure you're content. or when he needed you. the nights he held onto you as if you were the only thing grounding him to the present. the nights you helped him calm his breathing and slowed his racing heart down.

they didn't know how he felt when took you to bed, stretching you out and whispering calming praises into your ear. making your legs tremble from merely his choice of words while pushing himself in and out of you. again and again. harder and faster.

until your eyes were glossy with tears of pleasure and voice shaky when trying to let out coherent words.

they didn't know how vulnerable he looked when he let himself go inside of you. holding your face in both his hands and caressing your cheekbone while making you look him in the eye. so close that you almost were able to taste the groans and moans which continuously escaped his mouth while he pushed himself into you as far as possible, filling you up.

they didn't know how sweet he got afterwards. stroking your hair and littering kisses all over your face while repeatedly telling you that you are his.

"mine, mine, mine" he would say in between kisses.

"and this is all yours" he would continue while taking your hand in his big one and guiding it to the left side of his chest, gently holding it there while leaning his forehead against yours and closing his eyes.

"all yours sweetheart"

they didn't know what it felt like to be his.

[is-this-yuri]

have you been doomscrolling? feeling awful about it? do you feel out of control? does it seem your autonomy has been swallowed by the ever present beast that is the internet?

we live in the most overwhelmingly stimulating age of humanity ever seen, and it's only getting worse. our brains are sponges, soaking up whatever we smear them across, and it seems more and more difficult to find a clean surface to rest on. i'm no expert or professional, but ive been born and raised into the internet, and i'd like to hand out some wisdom regarding this.

the main issue: brain poison

since the brain absorbs whatever it's exposed to, media consumption is unsurprisingly going to effect it. the type of media, the amount of media, and the frequency of the media all play a factor.

it's not the internet itself that's bad here. it's the media on the internet, and the platforms designed to suck in our attention and keep it there until we're rotting inside our skulls.

we're never going to escape the internet. it's just a fact of life now, and a tool that can be used for wonderful things. so how do we learn to live with the internet and take advantage of its potential?

treat it like a dietary balance

staying aware of what goes in your brain is just as important as being aware of what you're eating. if you eat carelessly, don't listen to how your body feels after you eat certain things, and ignore any sickness that might result from rotten food, you're going to have a bad time and wreck your guts. the same goes for the brain.

you want to have a good mix of various types of media in the right amounts, or approximately so. if things are feeling bland, maybe diversify. if things are feeling stupid, try something more intellectual. if it's feeling too much, cut back on all of it

the following are three things you can do to maintain a sense of control and awareness over your media diet. this isnt a step by step and is in no particular order, theyre just ideas to carry forward in general any time it could be helpful.

1. digest

this is the process of thinking about and remembering what youve done throughout your time on the internet. it could apply to any period of time. so you might think, 'man, i've done nothing but watch tiktok all day.' or 'i've been scrolling twitter a lot more this past week.'

i feel like most people already do this to some extent, but it manifests as a fleeting sense of anxiety or shame that doesn't lead anywhere. analyze that feeling, and ask if it's really true or helpful.

ask if your media consumption is making you feel less focused, distracted, putting you into a brain fog, making you fall asleep when you don't want to, making you irritable and angry, drawing you into arguments, keeping you awake at night, or upsetting/disrupting you in any way.

digestion also means appreciating the good stuff and recognizing the good feelings you get too. so also ask if it's enriching you, helping you learn something new, giving you a new perspective, exposing you to something beautiful, passing the time, relaxing you, honing your focus, or generally lifting your mood.

2. cut

cut certain types of content from your life once you've decided they're not good for your media diet. block people. move on. tell youtube to stop reccomending that channel. block them. unfollow people. unfollow tags. block the tags. blacklist things. do it. forget the awful things that make your brain hurty. click the block button. uninstall the app. you know you want to

consider removing yourself entirely from websites that are designed to be attention predators. if you consistently feel like youre 'stuck' on a site and cant leave, it's probably best to just delete your account and get out of there. tiktok is NOTORIOUS for this.

i also tend to keep my following or subscribed count low. keeping the stream of content short forces me to find other things to do with my time. this goes hand in hand with things like turning off infinite scroll. it provides an 'end point' where the repetitive action of scrolling down stops bearing fruit, breaking the doomscrolling cycle. the internet is almost an infinite place, and its up to you to build walls around yourself so you arent lost in it forever.

its also important to get off the internet in general sometimes. i know this is obvious, but literally touch grass on occasion. doing anything with your physical body away from the screen will be more enriching than sitting there scrolling for hours. whether it's just a 5 minute walk around your house to stretch your legs or a 6 hour hike every weekend, part of cutting media will mean replacing it with real life. looking at some plants, doing a pushup, or working on a knitting project can be like rinsing your brain sponge under some cold, clean water.

3. curate

the flip side of cutting is curating. you'll want to be looking for media that makes you happy and feels productive or meaningful in some way. anything that not only doesnt make you feel like you wasted your time, but specifically makes you feel like you spent your time well, is a green flag.

keep in mind entertainment just for entertainment's sake is good for you too. you don't have to be watching university lectures and tutorials and stuff all day. finding high quality entertainment, such as personalities you enjoy, good production values, and inventive ideas can be really difficult. find the people who dont make you feel like a cocomelon baby and stick with them. from there you should be able to find similar content.

what's good for your soul is going to depend very much on you as an individual. this is also going to be an ongoing process as not only you but the internet both change and evolve. the important thing about this step is that you Make Decisions about what to consume. even bad decisions! it's all part of the process, and it's all about reclaiming your autonomy.

4. eat your junk food

this isn't a military drill or an exact science. i'm just a guy on tumblr with an intimate connection to his own brain and a LOT of time on the internet. that's my only credential. sometimes i want to turn that brain off and just mindlessly consume without putting any thought into what dirty dishwater is soaking into my sponge. sometimes adhd brain wants me to watch a shitty B movie in recap form so i dont have to commit to a full movie. sometimes i get stuck in the youtube shorts for like 3 hours.

that's fine. the most important part of any kind of self care is that a little bit is better than nothing. even just being aware that youre consuming something bad for you and knowing you arent ready to stop just yet is better than nothing.

thats it!!

now you should be prepared to take back some control over your media consumption. be gentle with yourself and take your time. eventually this stuff will become second nature, and you'll be effortlessly digesting, curating, and cutting media like it's just part of your personality. remember YOU have control over what the internet thinks you want to see. dont let it force feed you nasty slop anymore. let it be a reflection of your mind, not the other way around.

and good luck!

[feyhunter78]

The Tower of the Wolf

Description: You, one of the last remaining ladies of Dowager Queen Alicent are brought before Cregan Stark, acting Hand of the King.

You attempt to cling to the former Dowager Queen like a child, your nails digging into her skirts. The fabric once beautiful, a vibrant green now dirtied and torn, her pale shaking hands holding your wrists trying to keep you with her. The both of you sobbing as Northmen pull you from her, ignoring your tears and your lady's pleas for your life. Your lady was good, she cared, she fought for you, even now in chains she fought for you, not only because you were her niece, but for you were a cherished member of her court

“She has done nothing wrong, have you no compassion, you beasts?” She spits out the word like it is poison, her nails digging into your skin, leaving raised marks as they drag you from her grip.

“Please, do not take me from her, she is my lady, my duty is to remain by her side!” You try to fight against them, clawing at the man's face, neck, hands, any skin you can reach, you will not leave your lady. Not when she is all you have left, not when you fear what they will do to her if she is alone. The Brothel Queens.

That horrid fool Mushroom had spread the tale, laughing at the way all color drained from your face. It had not been done, the usurper Rhaenyra had died before it could be, but who is to say it could not still be put in place? There are cruel men that remain within the Keep, cruel men who would see your lady punished for the Greens’ actions.

The Northmen clearly grow tired of your protests, and one backhands you. “Waste of time trying to reason with Hightower whores, Lord Stark should just get rid of them.” The force of the slap sending you stumbling into the wall as your lady cries out, tugging at the chains that keep you beyond her reach.

You hold your hand to your cheek, trying to scramble back to her, but you are caught before you can take a step.

“Quit struggling.” Another man snarls, before he flings you over his shoulder, your chin slamming against his armored back, the metallic taste of blood blooms on your tongue, and your vision blurs as more tears pour forth.

You can hear Lady Alicent’s cries as they carry you away. The agonized screams tear at your heart, echoing in your ears even when the door to the dungeons is slammed shut, and you find yourself back in the relative quiet of the Keep’s halls.

The Hour of the Wolf, that is what they are calling it, and you curse the whole of House Stark. How dare they, how dare they come here and act as saviors? You have not even seen Jaehaera since you were thrown in the dungeon with your lady, is she even alive?

You try to calm yourself, focusing on the floor, counting the marble tiles as your captor takes a brisk pace through the halls, muttering to himself in that barbaric northern way. He is taking you to the Tower of the Hand, and your stomach lurches. The screams of your cousin Helaena, sweet, kind Helaena return to your mind, the blood, Jaehaerys’ little body. It was beyond cruel that plot of cursed Daemon Targaryen, beyond cruel that Princess Rhaenyra would go along with it having lost her own son. How could she wish that pain upon sweet Helaena, a girl who had done her no wrong?

Finally, your captor lets you down, dropping you like a sack of potatoes, pain flaring through your body at your ungraceful landing upon the hard stone floor. Someone had removed the carpet, perhaps it had been dirtied. The remainder of the decorations were still present, the rounded window letting light spill in, the hearth empty and boarded up to prevent any assassins from sneaking in. Besides that, it was pristine, untouched by the havoc outside its walls. Though you and Lady Alicent had been allowed to bathe—to walk towards the Stranger in rags, but not filth—before Lord Stark had sent word that you both would be moved, you still felt dirty. Still felt as though the stench of death, the filth of grief, clung to your skin and hair.

“Lord Bolton, I asked you to escort Lady y/n, not drag her here as if she is a common criminal.”

“Apologies, My Lord, but she attacked my men.”

“Attacked?” You can hear the suspicion in his voice, picture the raised eyebrow.

“She attempted to claw their eyes out.”

He laughs, the damned Stark lord laughs, as if it is humorous that you feared so greatly for your life. “If your men are so easily caught off guard perhaps, they need to spend more time training, it does no good to have an army so easily defeated by a single woman.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, uncaring if more blood fills your mouth, you cannot stand to hear his voice, cannot even raise your head to look at him. Will he kill you? You were not a key player in the war, merely a lady-in-waiting, a loyal one, a third daughter of a second son who did not leave her aunt even when she ordered you to. Perhaps you can make a deal, offer yourself as a bedwarmer while the Stark lord is here? Attempt to convince him your lady should be sent back to Oldtown to remain under house arrest with what little family you and her had left. Though he is a Stark and their honor is known, he would not take a mistress…

Bowing your head, you take hold of the seven-pointed star around your neck, a gift from Lady Alicent. You swear that you will go with him, back to the frigid North, if it means your lady would not die in a cell haunted by the ghosts of this cursed keep.

You are too lost in your thoughts to notice that Lord Stark has dismissed Lord Bolton and is kneeling before you, his eyes fixated on the blood trickling from your lip, the ever-forming bruise on your cheek.

“Lady y/n?” He asks softly, much too softly for a man in his position.

You swallow hard and force yourself to raise your eyes, your mouth still tastes of iron, and you know you must force your spine to be made of it as well.

Lord Cregan Stark is handsome, strong jaw, dark hair, eyes like storm clouds, full lips and a scattering of stubble and roguish scars. But his handsome looks do nothing to dampen the raw strength, the aura of a warrior, a man who has killed and will again, that cannot be hidden beneath cloaks and clothing. Broad shoulders, large, calloused hands, and arms that tell of training and hard work, he towers over you even as he kneels, and you are terrified.

“My Lord?” You answer his question with a question, unwilling to give anything away to this beast.

“Are you hurt? You are bleeding.” Cregan says, reaching inside his cloak and pulling out a handkerchief, gently dabbing at your wounded lip.

You flinch back, and he pulls away slowly, his hand still outstretched, leaving the handkerchief between you. “I did not mean to hurt you, my apologies.”

“It was not your fault.” You say quietly, your eyes downcast, focusing on the handkerchief, the pristine white cloth marred by scarlet, blood scattered amongst snow.

“I will have those men disciplined, you are a lady, and should be treated as such.” He sounds earnest, you can detect no falsehoods, but still you are wary.

“Thank you, My Lord, but it is not necessary. I am a prisoner of war; I do not expect to be treated as an honored guest.” You say demurely, clasping your hands in front of you, wincing when you see the blood that covers them.

Cregan takes a waterskin from the desk behind him, the very desk Lord Hightower used to sit at, and wets his handkerchief before gently reaching for your hands. You watch as he cleans the blood from them, using soft circular motions, his calloused hands warm against your much smaller ones, and he does not release them until they are clean.

“This is your home, is it not? You should not be treated as such in your home.” His voice is warm, warmer than his hands, and if you close your eyes you can pretend. Pretend he is a brave knight who has rescued you, not a barbarian from the North who aided those who keep you prisoner.

“This is my lady’s home as well, and she is treated far worse than I.” You protest, praying that he will not grow angry and strike you.

“Your aunt—the Dowager Queen has been sorely mistreated; I arrested the men who cast her into those foul dungeons, and she should be returned to her chamber by the time we have finished here.” Cregan says, folding the handkerchief and setting it with the waterskin on the desk behind him once more.

“I am glad to hear that.” You say, finally able to meet his eyes.

“I am honored I could lighten your spirits.” He says, a wolfish grin gracing his lips, his gray eyes flashing with an unreadable light.

This is what you have prepared yourself for, you must do it, for the good of your lady, for Jaehaera if she still lives, for the realm. All women know a satiated man does not wage war, does not continue the fight when it has been won, he simply takes his prize and returns home. You gather your courage and place your hand upon Cregan’s, looking up at him through your lashes, hoping you do not look as horrid as you feel. “Perhaps you would allow me to show you how glad I am, My Lord?”

He sucks in a breath, almost imperceptibly, a blush blooming across his face, his eyes widening a fraction, and for a moment he does not seem so beastly.

“I cannot imagine you had many comforts on your journey, it is such a long way from Winterfell, is it not? And now after all that fighting you must hold a war-torn city apart until others come to a decision, how awful.” You pout at him, for him, and allow one of the torn sleeves of your gown to slip off your shoulder.

“Aye, it was a long journey.” He manages to say, his fingers twitching beneath your hand, his breath catching in his throat when you move your hand to his wrist.

His shuttered breaths embolden you, and you shift forward, placing your other hand on his thigh, the muscle is firm to the touch, you note. “Such things must weigh so heavily upon you…if I am able to lighten that burden, I would be more than happy to.”

“You do not need to.” He says, his eyes flickering from yours to your hand on his thigh. “Truly, Lady y/n, I would never press myself upon you, I am not that kind of man.”

“But I want to, I want to help.” The lie rolls off your tongue easily, for it is half-truth. You cannot deny Cregan is attractive, but he still holds your life in his hands and could easily crush it at any time. There is something dangerously appealing about that, though, and you find that despite the dangers, you are desperate for the warmth he radiates.

Cregan’s eyes darken, and he groans low in his throat, closing the distance between you, stopping a hairsbreadth from your lips. “Tell me to stop, push me away, scream, slap me, I will not fight you, I will have you seen back to your lady, there will be no punishment.”

Liquid heat rolls through your veins at the sound of his desperate rasp, the restraint he possesses to not surge forward and claim you as his own. “Lord Sta—”

“Cregan.” He corrects softly, “I wish to hear you say my name.”

“Cregan, I do not wish you to stop.” You tell him, head spinning with the way his mere presence overwhelms your senses, the scent of pine and campfire smoke, his warm hands, his eyes, so dark, so deep you may drown.

Cregan’s lips meet yours, tasting of salt and honey, an oddly pleasant combination, his hands on your waist, beacons of warmth and civility, as his lips take you under, whispering heated words every time you part for air. “Say it again, I beg of you.”

“Cregan, please, do not stop.” You oblige him, grabbing at his tunic, pulling him impossibly closer, desperate for him to do something. Like sully that Stark honor and bind himself to you forever, giving you some kind of foothold in this new era that he has helped usher in.

He pulls back, breathing ragged, and he looks at you, truly looks at you. “If I do not stop now, My Lady, I will not be able to stop at all and I—”

“I wish to hear you say my name.” You echo his words from before, threading your fingers in his dark locks, and guiding his lips back to yours, but turning at the last moment and pressing your lips to his jaw.

“Y/N, please, if you do not stop me”—he lets out a strangled curse when your lips drift lower finding a seemingly sensitive spot, your teeth making a home there—“I am a man, an honorable one, and I have fought and won a war, and I am tempted, by the gods I am tempted, but I do not wish to view you as a prize.”

“Why not? I wish to be your war prize.” You press the words into the skin of his neck, reddened marks blooming in your wake, his grip on you tightens at your words, his head falling back exposing more of his skin.

“Others take me, will you truly have me live up to their stories, the barbarians of the North who steal innocent maidens away from their homes?” Cregan asks, even as he leans into your touch, moaning when you shift in his lap.

“My home is where my lord husband is, wherever he will have me.” Your words drip with implications, your lips pressed to his ear.

He shivers at the sensation, his eyes impossibly dark, his voice low, heady with lust. “I will have you in Winterfell.”

TL: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305, @solkara, @simpinonyouz, @lorarri

[mistresscitrusslice]

I will never get why some people think Jayce and Viktor’s arcs aren’t connected enough. Like, did y’all not see how so much of what they did impacted the other? They’ll literally say there weren’t genuine moments between the two and still have the gall to post this shit on the Jayvik tag and say they could do a better job writing the show than the actual writers.

The point IS that they’re growing apart and not resolving their problems jointly throughout the series. Jayce gets drawn in by the worst parts of Piltover and Viktor gets drawn in by the worst parts of Zaun. That’s- that’s literally spoonfed in the “We lost our way” scene.

Their plots seem disconnected BECAUSE THEY’RE INTENDED TO BE. Because Jayce’s priority list is a mess of incomprehensible scribbles and Viktor’s go-to move is to lock himself in the lab, fuck everything else. That’s. The point. They lost sight of their goal just as they lost sight of each other. If Caitvi is an example of how Piltover and Zaun can work together, Jayvik is an example of how Piltover and Zaun can fall apart.

There are still people out there saying that Jayce doesn’t express worry for Viktor’s impending death outside of the hospital scene. And apparently there wasn’t enough story emphasis on Jayce insulting the people of the Undercity. That Jayce and Viktor “really don’t act like good friends or anything” AND THEN POST THIS IN THE JAYVIK TAG AS DIRECT PROVOCATION. If you can’t see that they’re close, then you’re denser than the brick wall I feel like I’m talking to. This isn’t even about shipping. Some people LITERALLY cannot see the platonic love waving its arms in front of you.

Jayce can’t figure out priorities, but we DO see him working with Viktor on the Hexcore, trying to influence the way it reacts to organic matter. In fact, I think the only time he spends in lab after becoming councilor IS TRYING TO SAVE VIKTOR.

Viktor also pushed him away at the start, saying not to worry, and Jayce respected his wishes. He only starts accepting Jayce’s help after getting sent to the emergency room.

You know what else he does to try to save his partner? HE DEPOSES THE HEAD OF THE STATE. (Besties, if your bf won’t dethrone a ruler for you, he ain’t your bf <3) As soon as Heimerdinger said he would destroy the one chance they had at saving Viktor’s life, Jayce took immediate action and removed that obstacle for them.

Wdym they never focused again on the fact that Jayce insulted Viktor’s people? We see that that line had IMMEDIATE AND DIRECT AND LASTING CONSEQUENCES. It’s implied that Viktor would have told Jayce about the shimmer since he said, “Jayce will understand,” but decides not to tell him anything after Jayce says that bullshit. Without someone to bounce ideas off of while using the shimmer and the Hexcore on himself, he gets a lot more reckless and Sky goes poof.

One thing leads to another. Just because it wasn’t spoonfed to you doesn’t mean you can’t use your brain and make the connection. Besides, Jayce eventually writes up the proposal to free Zaun. Viktor presents this peace treaty to the Council alongside Jayce, so we can assume that it has been at least partially resolved between them, but likely that we will see more of it in season 2, or so you need that spelled out for you as well?

I said this a in a response already, but seeing as it was deleted to curate this user’s echo chamber, i still felt the need to post this where people could see it. Fuck you, but you can’t see this anyway, so nobody’s feelings will be hurt.

[bisaster-energy]

Merlin but Merlin loses it when Arthur dies and instinctively starts a time loop and every time Arthur dies it automatically resets...for angst purposes it could stay tragic..no matter what he does to change the past kilgharra was right. no one can change their destiny nor can they escape it. or by starting this time loop at all he's doing is preventing the rise of the once and future king so by staving off Arthur's death he's actually preventing anyone from ever really living again. a never ending story with one character aware of the narrative but powerless to change it. a puppet with a brain but no autonomy to put it to use. A tragedy of his own making instead the one prophesized

[marcusagrippa]

becoming more invested in one random side character who is fucking dead by the time my main plot starts than the actual protagonist is just a rite of passage for my writing process at this point

[tigergendermoved]

I'm ngl the longer it's been since I've played TOTK the less I like it I think

[bar-les-coucougnes]

you can really see a character's true nature shine when theyre under pressure

cant wait to hate krauss and rudolf's guts by the end of ep3

[firebirdsdaughter]

Suddenly struck again…

… By how much better the 01 vincinexts coulda been if it was a spy/detective genre about Horobi and Fuwa going vigilante w/ Jin as their smart mouth side kick while Naki and Yua operated in a more official capacity but covertly passed them info and asked them to handle stuff off the books, while Ikazuchi is just periodically already in the establishment like a cat someone fed once.

[tardis--dreams]

Shocking: student with steadily declining physical and mental health who swore that this semester would be different and they would keep on top of things, is currently behind on all their work and assignments and is considering dropping out of university just as it was the case in all previous semesters

[hua-fei-hua]

*lying in the dirt staring at the starry night sky* i think the secret to maintaining a good name online is to simply not share personal information, block the haters n libelers, and have a social life outside the internet

[kung-fu-cutbug]

you ever just take a randomly-generated Rogue Legacy 2 character and make them into a Guilty Gear OC just because you can

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

All my Lances have some flavor of gender fuckery/non binary going on with them however it's only sr!Lance who has sat down, thought about it hard and realized that "hmmm actually? To be completely honest? I kinda like being not a boy. It's nice, this is nice😊" Rest of them are too far gone for the Realization™, too deep in the shithole they have dug themselves in

[sarinatendouji]

honestly golden time would be a way better show if the opening and ending themes weren't entirely centered around banri and koko. by making koko the sole focus of the show, they make it seem as though there isn't even a slight possibility that banri could choose linda over koko, which really diminishes the effect of the emotional cheating drama when banri's feelings for linda resurface and koko witnesses it happen. really, i'd be all here for ghost!banri trying to ruin his present self's relationship with koko if the theme songs had just made the outcome a little more ambiguous! focusing on only one of the two love interests either makes it obvious from the beginning that the one girl wins, or it just ruins the ending if the other wins and it turns out that the intro/outro animations were a fake-out the whole time :|

[indecisivemuch]

Apples

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You tossed an apple to Luke without knowing the meaning of it in Greek Mythology (fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: Just wanted to write something lighthearted and funny. Since I saw somewhere that apparently throwing an apple at someone means something in Greek Mythology, thought I should use it as a prompt.

Word count: 3.1k

You have been at Camp Half-Blood for a year. Within that time, you’ve been claimed by your Godly parent, learned so many things about Greek mythology, and, best of all, made friends who understood exactly what you were going through and all whom you loved dearly. 

One of them was Luke Castellan. You two were relatively close friends, though you swore he treated you differently than he would with others at camp. But you didn’t want to be foolish and assumed it was something. That didn’t mean you don’t treat him differently than you would with other campers though. You have always had a soft spot for Luke in your heart. You weren’t exactly sure when it happened, but you found yourself thinking about him too often.

“Anyway, Percy. Don’t worry too much, honestly. We all have been through what you’re currently going through. You’ll fit right in, yeah?” the younger boy offered you a lope-sided smile as you patted his back and stood up. 

“Alright, boys, I have to go now, but I’ll see you later,” you said before grabbing your plate, which would have been empty if it wasn’t for the apple you hadn’t eaten. The rest of the table - which included Chris, Luke, and Percy - said their goodbyes before chattering again as you walked away. However, you halted as you changed your mind about wasting the apple.

You turned back to look at the group before calling out, “Hey, Castellan.” However, you were slightly caught off guard to see Luke already having his eyes on you.

Luke swore that you have always had him mesmerized. If he even heard a whisper of your voice, his head would immediately try to locate you. To make matters worse, Chris even started calling Luke a “lost puppy” when he realized how your departure would always leave Luke like one. 

“Catch,” you tossed your apple at Luke. 

Multiple heads turned in your direction as the red apple hurled through the air before landing neatly in Luke’s hands. The Hermes cabin counselor had his eyes glued onto the fruit that was in his palms. You almost halted in your steps from his and other camper’s reactions. Some started whispering to their friends, pointing at you. You even heard one gasp. But you ignored them, finding it strange that people cared so much about such a small interaction.

“You can have it. I don’t think I’ll have time to eat it,” with that, you vanished from the scene, leaving at least half of the camp agape, including Luke and your friends. 

Then, the strangest of things happened for the next few days. It started with Luke already stationed outside when you exited your cabin the morning after. He cheekily presented you with one singular flower in his hand, and you took it with playful words, “Ooh, what did I do to deserve this special treatment today?”

“Nothing, just thought I should show how much I appreciate you,” Luke put his arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to the dining pavilion. You could feel your cheeks flushing at his action. He has never done this before. With his arms around you, the sides of your bodies brushed as the two of you walked. You noticed almost immediately how every other person would have their eyes on the two of you. But you ignored the attention and focused on Luke instead.

The sweet actions didn’t stop at flowers or more physical touches. For the next three days, Luke was stuck to your hip. So it was quite strange that you have not spotted the Hermes cabin counselor in the last two hours. Hence why you were spending some time with Clarisse, another close friend of yours. However, you felt an arm swinging around your shoulders, and you instantly recognized who it was from the familiar touch.

“Hey, Clarisse, can I borrow Y/N real quick?” Luke asked, quickly muttering a “thank you” when your friend nodded. “So, I have something to give you…” your face must have shown how surprised you were because he chuckled at your reaction. However, when the boy pulled his gift out from his cargo pocket, your mouth fell slightly agape at the reveal. 

Luke must have misinterpreted your reaction because he started nervously rambling, his voice a few octaves higher, “It’s not much, but honestly, this is all I can do with my arts and crafts skills. I’m just not really good with that y-”

“It’s perfect, Luke. Thank you so much!” you gave him a brief hug, but it was enough to stun him for a second. Luke felt this urgent sense of craving from how your bodies fit for a second. It’s as if he was made to hold you. He almost pulled you back into another hug but had to force himself to regain composure. Nevertheless, that didn’t last long because his eyes softened again at the sight of you trying on the bracelet he made. The beads in your favorite color, crafted with care, wrapped around your wrist perfectly, and you wonder how he knew just the right size to make it.

The truth was Luke had to ask Clarisse to steal one of your bracelets just so he could make a bracelet of the correct size. But you didn't need to know that, though - according to him.

The next night, there was a social gathering near the campfire. Luke reapproached the location with a hoodie in hand. Earlier, Luke excused himself to fetch the clothing item that was now in his hand that was meant for you. However, his brows scrunched as he spotted another figure next to you, sitting in the spot that he previously occupied. You were laughing at something they said. The way your laugh echoed in his head usually sounded like a lullaby or the enchanting voice of a siren. But right now, the idea that someone else elicited the same laugh made him want to hurl behind the bush he was standing next to.

Little did he know you were zoning out from whatever the other boy was speaking about, thus the fake laugh to not blow your cover. You were distracted just thinking about Luke and everything he has done so far - offering his portion of dessert to you because he knew it was your favorite; him winning Capture the Flag and ignoring everybody else to go hug you first, then having his eyes on you and only you afterwards; sneaking out of camp to go buy the items you mentioned once that you wish you had at camp and so on. 

Your mind quickly reminded you that the boy sitting next to you was still talking to you. However, when you snapped out of your thoughts again, you realized now he was looking at you expectantly and you scrambled your mind for a reply.

Thank Gods Luke plopped down on your other side, saving you from having to admit to the other boy that you were not listening to him. “Hey, you’re back,” you commented. Luke’s arm automatically threw itself around your shoulder and tugged you to him slightly. Your body leaned on the Hermes cabin counselor ever so naturally at this before you turned to him. Luke quickly set his clothing on your lap, and you stared at it questioningly.

“You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” your cheeks flushed again at how he knew without you telling him. You shivered maybe once or twice earlier due to the night air lowering the temperature, but it was so brief you were sure nobody had noticed. As you put on the hoodie, Luke averted his gaze from you to the guy on your other side. 

The Hermes cabin counselor arched one of his eyebrows in a challenging manner. Almost immediately, his ‘opponent’ slightly raised both of his hands. Luke internally snickered at the quick motion of surrender. 

“My bad, man,” you heard the other boy say as you managed to put your head through the clothing item and pull it down. Luke was physically preening at the other boy’s words and departure. Meanwhile, you were distracted by how you were engulfed by the smell of Luke from his hoodie. Your height difference also meant you were swimming in it, but it felt so comfortable.

“What was that?” you asked once the other boy was gone. 

“Nothing…” even the most oblivious person could see that Luke was lying. But, once again, you did not question his actions and carried on with the gathering. You could also feel other campers staring at the two of you, but you ignored that as well. 

That night - like every other night since four days ago - he walked you back to your cabin. You were honestly completely smitten by the attention he has given you, not that you would admit that to him. You were still not sure what caused the change, but you were still elated about it. Maybe he did return your feelings? Either way, everything felt perfect lately, and you went to sleep that night feeling like the stars aligned for you.

“I guess congratulations are in order?” Percy spoke up as you lined up for food the following day. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, taking the plate of food. Today’s meal consisted of mac n’ cheese, steak, and an apple. 

“You’re engaged?” you almost dropped your plate at that and gave the son of Poseidon a questioning look. “You proposed to Luke like a week ago?”

“What? When?”

“When you threw him the apple? That is considered a marriage proposal.”

“Since when?”

“Uh, in Ancient Greek culture, it’s considered a marriage proposal if a man throws an apple at a lady. But, I mean, it’s the 21st century, so I guess it can work both ways.” Percy finally took a plate of food for himself. “And if the recipient catches it, it’s considered an acceptance.”

“You saw this and knew this whole time without telling me?!?” 

“I thought you knew! And you two seem so smitten already, so I thought you did it on purpose.”

“Percy, no! Is this a well-known thing? Do you think other people who saw it too thought I proposed to Luke as well?” Seeing Percy’s look and how he was fumbling with his words, you quickly requested, “Actually, no, don’t answer that.” 

The two of you walked over to Luke and Chris with plates in hand. You picked up the apple on your plate and placed it on the table. 

“Luke, we need to talk,” You deliberately placed the fruit there, hoping the boy would get a hint about the topic you wanted to discuss. Luke’s eyes flicked from the fruit to you. Though the hint of amusement in his eyes and a sheepish grin made you realize he knew all along. Luke stood up and followed you out of sight and hearing distance from other campers whose eyes were trailing after the two of you.

“You knew what it meant, and you didn’t tell me?” You broke the silence as soon as you two were far away enough. 

“Listen, I appreciate your proposal. But, it’s a little bit fast, don’t you think?” Luke teased, and you instantly hit his arm at that, causing the boy to flinch slightly, but the smile on his face told you he was anything but mad at your action.

“But you caught it. So, technically, you said yes,” you rebutted, sighing as you rubbed your face, “My Gods, does everybody at camp think we’re engaged? Wait, is this a substitute for an engagement ring? Did you give this to me because of that?” you pointed to the bracelet Luke gave you, your mind now understanding Clarisse’s teasing and her implications. You could see the way Luke was stifling a laugh. He settled with saying something else when he saw the pure panic on your face.

“Sweetheart, calm down.” the nickname successfully silenced you. You hated how it made you feel, but you would not mind hearing that daily. “No, it’s not an engagement ring.”

“Oh, so were you doing all of these romantic gestures and gifts on purpose to make fun of me and the situation?” you asked, though it was more with a lighthearted tone than one of temper. However, something shifted because the expression on Luke’s face changed from one of humor to earnestness.

“No, I didn’t do all this to make fun of the situation or you…” Luke’s voice fell off as tried to find the right words to say next. In that split second, Luke took a deep breath, and you could see how nervous he suddenly became, though he still kept a light tone. “I did it because I took it as a chance to maybe…win you over, and it also gives me an advantage because it fended off many other guys.” 

Undoubtedly, you were frozen in place, unable to register the words he was saying and the implications they bear. Neither did the boy in front of you act like the Luke you usually know - somebody who was usually confident, outgoing, always having his way with words. No, the person in front of you could not even hold eye contact, the pink hue on his cheeks now spreading to the tip of his ears as he shifted left and right. Luke broke the silence first, giving away the nerves that were gnawing him away from your lack of response.

“How about this? I’ll say ‘no’ to your mind-blowing marriage proposal for now,” you lightheartedly hit him again, rolling your eyes playfully. Seeing a positive reaction from you, Luke let out a small breath of relief, but the nerves quickly overtook again as he mustered up all the courage to utter his counter proposal: “But maybe we could start with something slower like going on a date? — Or I’ll even settle with you allowing me to try and ‘woo’ you.” Luke added the last bit as insurance, in case you didn’t want to take up on the date. Part of his mind wanted to scowl at himself for seeming so desperate - but Gods, he has always been a desperate man when it comes to you. 

“You’re such a dork.”

“Yet you still proposed to me.”

“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?” Luke only shook his head in response. Once again, you haven’t responded to his offer. Luke could see that you were in deep thought, the cogs turning in your head as you digested what he just said.

“You mean it? That you wanna go on a date? That you wanna “woo” me and sweep me off my feet?” you questioned. Despite the humor in your voice, there was also a hint of vulnerability and cautiousness. “Does this mean what you’ve been doing for the past few days…they are all genuine?”

“Is it that hard to believe that I like you? I don’t think you even fully understand the feelings I have for you. I’ve had my eyes on you for a year now, which is the entire time I know you, and I’m afraid I can’t see that changing any time soon.” Luke had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying more because he was sure he would never stop talking about you if he could. Maybe those unspoken words ought to be things Luke would disclose in the future. If you give him the chance, he will ensure you hear everything he adored about you.

“Well, that’s good then, ‘cause I happen to like you too,” your words made Luke’s eyes snap to yours, almost in disbelief. 

Luke felt as if his heart was blocking his airway by the way it was thumping so hard in his chest to the point he could feel the vibration in his neck. He held his breath over your confession and the way you were looking at him. Oh, Luke was convinced he was utterly doomed because how could he be so affected by one single look. He was suddenly unsure whether he would be able to handle your affections or ever live without it if it was taken from him. He’d spend the rest of eternity like a deprived man.

“Aw, look who is nervous now,” you teased, deciding to somewhat torture him and get him back for teasing you earlier. “I did not think I had this kind of effect on you, Castellan,” you approached him slowly, keeping eye contact with his now dilated pupils. 

“I mean…all I did was say a couple of words and you’re all tongue tied. What would happen to you if I do this?” you swiftly grabbed Luke’s camp beads and pulled him down, eliminating a significant amount of space between your faces, though not completely. To steady himself during your action, Luke’s hands steadied on your hips and stumbled slightly, though you did not mind the touch.

You never knew it was possible for his face to flush even more, but it did. Luke gulped and your eyes casted down on the way his Adam’s apple moved when he did so. The way he reacted to you only intoxicated you with power even more. You glanced upwards a bit, eyes observing his lips for a split second before looking back up at his eyes. You smirked when you caught his eyes flickering back to yours from your lips as well. 

Just as you were about to close the distance, Luke pulled back just a bit, finally able to speak, though his words were heavy warnings, “If this happens—” Luke stopped, unsure he should let you know. Luke shook his head lightly as his eyes traced over your features before continuing, “If we kiss, there is no going back for me. I don’t think I could just…forget about it. So, please, just be sure before you do it.” Your eyes softened at his words.

“I promise, Luke. I am sure,” you muttered, though Luke knew you meant the words by heart from the way you were looking at him. 

You finally pulled the boy down again using his camp necklace. 

As your lips touched Luke’s, he let out a content sigh. His hands clung onto your hips, pulling you flush against his own body while you caressed both sides of his face in your hands. Luke felt like the world was swallowing him whole. The boy now knew what your lips tasted like, and it felt like an addiction. He could feel his heart waving white flags at that moment, completely surrendering to you. He was right before. There was no going back from this. 

But oh, if Luke knew an apple was all it took, he would have tossed one to you himself.

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