#armie returns to IG

[cancmbyn]

Variety article today.

Case closed, no charges.

Hammer released a statement on Instagram, saying “I am very grateful to the District Attorney for conducting a thorough investigation and coming to the conclusion that I have stood by this entire time, that no crime was committed. I look forward to beginning what will be a long difficult process of putting my life back together now that my name is cleared.”

This blog has supported and continues to support Armie Hammer.

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: why is it so difficult to find high quality post-prison reid fbi vest gifs like I thought we were all sluts out here but Ig not

gif creds: @imagining-in-the-margins

Duality Of Man

Spencer Reid had never really considered himself to be a reckless man. He had always been a calculated, well thought out, methodical follower of the rules, for fear of being ridiculed further for breaking societal rules beyond the ones he couldn’t help via his neurodivergence. He enjoyed rules. Learning the rules of people, of their behavior, and of various board games that challenged his intellect, were some of his favorite pastimes, actually.

Spencer also would not have regarded himself as a particularly possessive or territorial person, prior to spending three months behind bars. They isolated him, kept him locked in a space with people that wanted him dead, like an animal raised in captivity being thrown into a cage of wild lions. Having nothing of his own changed the way in which Spencer viewed the world around him, once he was allowed to step back into it.

Yours had been the first face he had seen when he had set foot beyond the prison walls on the day of his release, and the moment he felt you return to his embrace, in a gesture the two of you had engaged in countless times, a form of physical contact that he was most comfortable sharing with you; Spencer felt that something was different. In a way that he didn’t quite understand, you were his, beyond the platonic confines he had previously forced over his own feelings for you. He was not overbearing and had never overstepped your boundaries, but he was more outwardly protective of you than anyone else.

It had only presented itself in small gestures and words: moving to stand slightly in front of you in any kind of tense situation to act as your human shield, checking in with you at every stage of the cases you worked together, prioritizing your safety over his, and, naturally being the first one to object when you volunteered to go undercover to seduce an unsub into revealing information.

“Absolutely not.” Spencer had uttered from where he sat beside you at the round table, shaking his head.

And you had rolled your eyes at him. “I’ll be fine, Spence, I can handle myself.”

He couldn’t argue with that, he had seen you stare down men twice your size on several occasions, which always made him smirk. Still, Spencer could not hide the sick feeling that twisted in his gut at the thought of you going undercover, and being in danger.

As he had often found, the feeling in Spencer’s gut had been right. The unsub had been clever enough to deduce that you were a deliberate victim, not one of happenstance, and as such, he took you to a second location, which he had not done with his previous victims.

Given it was not his usual mode of operation and he had acted on instinct, the unsub’s play was an amateur move; comparable to what Spencer was certain Gideon thought in their first chess games together, so many years prior. As clever as the ubsub had been in figuring out you were not who you said you were, he was not intelligent enough to outsmart the one man army of Doctor Spencer Reid when fuelled by a fire that he had never felt burning in him before. It took less than a day for the team of profilers to find the warehouse you were being kept in, and less than a minute for Spencer to completely disregard their carefully orchestrated plan to rescue an FBI agent with the regulated SWAT team.

He didn’t need a team behind him for this.

He would handle this bastard himself.

With a kick that Spencer was sure Derek Morgan would be proud of, the door to the warehouse was made obsolete. Gun and torch raised, Spencer stalked the dark warehouse, checking dusty room after dusty room, eagle eyes scanning every corner, until a figure dared step out of the shadows in front of him. Anyone foolish enough to make themselves a physical blockade that kept Spencer from getting to you was a waste of oxygen.

“So, you’re the one she’s convinced is coming to save her.” The unsub taunted, chuckling darkly as he raised his arms out to his side cockily. “C’mon then, show me what you’ve got. No weapons, just you and me, man to man.”

As if to prove the authenticity of his own words, he discarded his usual weapon of choice, the blade clattering against the warehouse floor.

Spencer eyed him like a wild lion in a cage, and he almost smirked at the irony, but kept his expression calm and collected. He glanced at the doorway of the dark room they stood in, knowing that protocols would advise him to call for assistance, to make the arrest with as little physical harm as possible. But when Spencer’s eyes gravitated back to the subject who was now very much known to him, his target was in his sights.

An icy glare stayed fixed on the man that took you as the sound of a torch and gun hitting the ground echoed through the otherwise empty room. The air was thick as Spencer unclipped his FBI bulletproof vest and tossed that to the ground, too. And with no sense of urgency, he popped the cufflinks of his shirt and rolled his long sleeves up to his elbows.

An invitation to beat the life out of someone that took you? Hurt you? It must be Christmas.

Spencer’s expression was unmoving, and he didn’t say a word. Finally, after a childhood spent as a victim of merciless bullying and a portion of his adulthood fearing the judgment and cruelty of others, Spencer Reid was confident in his ability to end a physical confrontation with his own two fists.

In three large strides, he was face to face with the egotist, who swung at him, pathetically, and predictably enough for Spencer to not only swerve out of the way, but reciprocate the gesture tenfold. A solid right hook spun the idiot’s jaw and sent him stumbling, but Spencer was far from finished. He stalked over to him and in a matter of steps, had grabbed his target by his shirt collar and forced him against the wall. The fool was still reeling from Spencer’s punch, a dazed look in his eyes and blood dripping from his split lip.

“Did you touch her?”

Spencer’s words were eerily quiet, barely above a whisper, but in the silence of the warehouse they reverberated against every wall. He had a feeling that he already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it, he had to be sure his next actions would be justified.

His vision clearing, the man fool enough to take you smirked up at Spencer.

“(Y/N) looks real pretty when she cries, doesn’t she?”

He chose to answer Spencer’s question with a rhetorical question that immediately decided his fate.

In a fraction of a second, Spencer threw his target to the ground and pounced on him, vision clouded with red as he landed punch after punch, until the ground looked just as red to everybody else. If three months in prison had taught Spencer Reid anything, it wasn’t just how to fight, it was how to fight dirty.

He only stopped when the physical barrier sputtered for breath, and that was only because Spencer didn’t want to get thrown back into a cell. Catching his breath, Spencer lifted his gaze and scanned the room around him again.

“Spencer?!”

And he was stood, his rage an afterthought as he followed the weak sound of your voice, your call to him. In a sea of voices, Spencer could pinpoint yours in an instant. Having heard commotion, you had assumed it was him, coming to your rescue, like you always knew he would.

He found you in the next room, bruised and bloody, tied to a chair and covered in torn clothes with cuts beneath them that reassured Spencer the blood dripping from his knuckles was beyond worth it.

The look in his eyes was so soft as he ran to you and crouched in front of you, kissing your forehead as he tore the ropes from you with no regard for the burns he may get on his already bloody hands.

Finally free, you collapsed into Spencer’s arms, and he released the breath he’d been holding since you’d been taken, closing his eyes as he held you tightly against him, standing up and helping you to your feet in turn. The weight of the trauma you carried made your legs shake beneath you, but Spencer was there to hold you steady, he would always be there. He held your face in his hands and gave you the softest smile you’d ever seen, his thumbs ever so gently caressing your cheeks.

It took you a second to come to terms with your surroundings and your rescue, but as soon as you had, your eyes widened and you took Spencer’s hands in yours.

“You’re hurt.” You murmured, tears shining in your eyes as you held his bloody knuckles with such tenderness, he was surprised he could feel it after the aggression his hands had just been subjected to, but he would always be able to feel you.

Spencer almost chuckled in disbelief as you - in your beaten, bloody and traumatized state - became upset over a little blood on his hands. Well, maybe it was more than a little…

“Adrenaline, (Y/N), I can’t feel a thing.” Spencer reassured you in a soft voice, holding your face in his hands again and placing the lightest kiss on your nose. “But we need to get you to a doctor.”

The moment he said it, the rest of the team filtered into the room, having passed the sputtering suspect and Spencer’s discarded bulletproof vest on their way.

The look on Emily’s face told Spencer he would have several unpleasant reports to fill out regarding how he’d handled this case, but when he stared into your eyes and saw the stars in them, he knew he’d do it all again a hundred times if you were waiting on the other side for him.

[myobsessionsspace]

Thinking about their struggles, when it all would get too much, what do they do…

Travel TOGETHER

2017

It would only be during their MMA 2018 after winning the Dasaeng that Jin would reveal the depths of their troubles, that the group had been contemplating disbandment.

At the time in their career they were reaching new successful career heights, but also impossible physical and mental lows as a team and individuals. They documented this time period after the fact, in their show ‘Monuments: Beyond the Star’ and also their autobiography ‘Beyond The Story: 10 Year Record of BTS’.

BTS were reaching new heights in their career, starting to receive greater Western awareness and achievements, after already making waves in their home country of South Korea (debuting in 2013) and Japan where they debuted the following year. They were in the final stretch of their Wings World Tour, which had started in February 2017, but all was not well for the group members.

They were overwhelmed and overworked and each trying to cope in their own ways, sometimes leaning on each other or others but mostly trying to power through alone.

As a belated birthday gift for Jimin (whose birthday was Oct 13th), when the members had some downtime from their tour dates, which would end in December 2017, Jungkook paid and planned for the two of them to go to Tokyo. Somewhere Jimin had wanted to go when not working.

Jimin had expressed interest in visiting Disney and had also through the years, expressed the desire to be able to spend personal time travelling with Jungkook as well.

Jungkook brought Jimin’s desires to life in the middle of one of their most difficult times in their careers.

Jimin & Jungkook head to Tokyo 2017

2023

Another milestone period in the groups career, this time it wasn’t the looming consideration of disbandment plaguing the members but the inevitable pause of group activities, with all of them agreeing to complete their country’s mandatory military service for all able South Korean men.

Time and time again the members have let it be known their love for performing, being active members of the group and being able to connect with their fans, ARMY.

This time Jimin and Jungkook weren’t part of a group 4 years into their stardom but members of an established, globally accomplished group of 10+ years worth of fans, success and stardom.

Before enlisting in the army, something that had been the subject of national and international discourse for years. Before they would be under instruction from military superiors and surrounded by new comrades they’d never met before. Jimin and Jungkook decided to not just travel to Tokyo together like they had done in 2017, but visit several spots, to enjoy each other and the world before essentially being benched for 18 months.

Jimin & Jungkook head to Tokyo 2023

Why I Think They Share

2017

Jimin and Jungkook both documented the trip to Tokyo in their own styles and shared it online.

It was a trip for the two of them, but like anyone who goes on a trip, sometimes during it or sometimes when we return, we post on our IG, our FB etc. We share videos and photos with our friends and family, our colleagues even our neighbours. We want to revel in the memories, share the stories of the fun we had, places we saw and food we ate.

Jimin’s video is totally that vibe…whilst GCF Tokyo is something so much more.

2023

Now superstars as a group and in their own right as solo artists, more internationally known than ever before and in the middle of (more than a break from a tour) solo promotions and preparing to retreat from society to serve in the military for a year and a half Jimin & Jungkook still made it possible. They still made it possible to enjoy time with each other and travel but also to share that like before.

This time not a video by Jimin and a GCF by Jungkook but an 8 part series! Not one trip but several trips, not a video each from Jimin & Jungkook but several episodes on a globally accessible platform. Something for people to watch whilst they are out of the public eye, they enjoyed during and now we can enjoy now.

I’ve said this before with Jikook and I’ll say it again.

Some things change but some things stay the same

🖤🤍

TL;DR as third parties watch after the fact and be happy, smile and laugh at the fun times they enjoyed with each other. Witness and appreciate their sincerity and bond. Hope they have many more opportunities to do this whenever they need and want to, not just when rough times are had or coming. Be happy for them.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Yesterday, there was a terrorist attack, two people were stabbed in the area where my mom's cousin and his wife live. I found out about it as I was returning from a medical appointment, going through a road where in Nov, a terrorist shot to death a young Israeli man.

Based on what the IDF has found of Hamas' armaments (which surpassed Israeli estimates), based on how things stand now, Hamas would be capable of continuing to fire rockets into Israel for at least 2-3 more years. That's why, even as the fighting continues, there are new defensive measures that will be built along road 232, the same road mentioned in the NYT's article about the Hamas rapes during the Oct 7 massacre.

Speaking of that article, apparently despite the insane amount of evidence in it, and mentioned recently in regards to the subject of the rapes, some are trying to deny that this part of the massacre happened. This is a perfect response (IMO) from feminists.againstantisemitism on IG:

Cyberwell, a watch dog that monitors antisemitism on social media, has reported a sharp rise in antisemitic posts since Oct 7. And not just of the new, anti-Zionist kind. There has been a rise in 1000% in posts accusing Jews of killing Jesus (yes, the Jew crucified by Romans almost 2,000 years ago... funny how you never see people going around saying Italians killed Jesus... almost like the whole thing isn't about who actually killed Jesus, and more about providing yet another excuse for antisemitism, a hatred that pre-dates Jesus), and 1600% in the hashtag saying that Hitler was right, the guy whose antisemitic, genocidal ideology, the attackers, maimers, rapists, kidnappers and murderers of Oct 7 would happily co-sign. All of this, while the world appropriates the Jewish slogan "never again" to use against Jews defending themselves. Make it make sense.

And here's a reminder that what starts online, doesn't stay online. There have been unprecedented levels of antisemitism in many places, including in New Zealand. What got to me the most is the report on antisemitic incidents targeting school kids, and that only 40% of parents report these (sometimes 'coz previous cases have not been treated right, or the school is seen as being ill-equipped to deal with antisemitism). A 2021 survey found that 60% of New Zealanders agreed with antisemitic statements, so it might be argued that this recent outburst has been waiting to happen for a while, just waiting for an excuse to.

Here's another piece that I sadly could only find in Hebrew so far. It reveals some more of the interrogations of Hamas terrorists, this time covering how Hamas terrorizes civilians in Gaza. Here's my loose translation of a testimony's summary, from a Palestinian Islamic Jihad terrorist (Muhammed Darwish Amare). It can be found (with the full testimony in the vid and appearing) at the above link: "Someone told me that they took explosives, to place them from his apartment to a spot 2 meters (6.5 feet) away from him. The man came down and told [the terrorist]: 'Oh man, how are you placing the explosives by the door, and then if they explode, my kids and I will be gone.' He responded, 'If you don't like it, then get out of here.' The apartment owner said to him, 'These are my kids, this isn't right,' and the explosives placer replied, 'I will lay them even if you don't like it, and I will even place them between you and your wife.' Then he took out his pistol and shot the apartment owner in the leg."

Another testimony, found at the same link, this one is of a former Hamas member (Zuhady Ali Zahdy Shahi): "I felt that we civilians are human shields. Why should we protect them? We want to be saved, too. That's Hamas' mistake. People left their house [during the fighting], and there was a safe passage, because the army told us to go south, that there will be food and water there. They drew a safe passage for us, and then we ran into [Hamas terrorists], who made us go into one of the neighborhoods. They told us, 'No one is going south, there are bombings, and no one can continue on the street.' We went into the Shifa hospital, and we got stuck inside. [The terrorists] sat among us, with the civilians. They were scared of the soldiers. I even argued with one of them, and told him, 'Your place isn't here, with the civilians, but downstairs [in the terror tunnels].' He told me that the moment the war would be over, he will punish me, he started threatening me." When asked what he thought of the IDF, Shahi said, "Truth is, based on what I've seen, I wish you would stay with us. If they would have stayed where we lived, we wouldn't be starving. The moment the army came into Shifa, we were scared of what would be done with us, but it was the opposite. They brought us food and water, and sat with us. We felt safe."

This is 56 years old Ilan Weiss.

His 53 years old wife Shiri and 18 years old daughter Noa were kidnapped by Hamas, and released in the hostage deal. Ilan himself, who was a member of the emergency team at kibbutz Be'eri, left his house on the morning of the massacre, as first reports came in, and wasn't heard of again. He was considered missing (meaning, it was unknown whether he was kidnapped or killed on Oct 7). Today it was announced that his body was identified, and he had been murdered during the massacre. May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[mossrockpog]

Dsmp memes i made a while back and forgot to post, ID included

The swear word (there was only one) is censored because I cannot swear for religious reasons and thus can't type it

[ID: DSMP characters edited to be text posts.

Post 1:

C!Philza: He actually turned his life around

C!Quackity (Butchers Army): That's a shame I hope he relapses and dies. Right now.

Post 2:

C!Wilbur: I don't trust birds. frickin hollow bones. suspicious. what are you hiding in there

Post 3:

A yelp review with 4 stars.

C!Georgenotfound: Nice restaurant. Very attentive staff only deducted a star as there was a man murdered beside me towards the end of my meal

Post 4:

C!Badboyhalo, with his egg arc skin: the horrors are returning everyone!!!! clap if you're excited for the horrors

C!Badboyhalo, with his normal skin: (weakly) did everyone have fun at the horrors

Post 5:

(A Twitter post. The display name is "hamilton kinnie" and the @ is lmanbur.) Gimme a pen paper and 3 adderall I'll rewrite the constitution myself

Post 6:

(A series of spammed text messages.)

C!Tubbo: Do it and you're cool (Repeated 3 times.)

C!Tommy: DO IT AND YOU'RE COOLLLLLL

C!Ranboo: THIS IS PEER PRESSURE (Repeated 6 times.)

Post 7:

(A Twitter post. The display name is "subscribe to technoblade" and the @ is technoblade.)

C!Technoblade: im not former gifted student. i am still gifted. put me in a fourth grade class i'll annihilate them all like i did the first time

Post 8:

(A reddit post. C!Quackity's disheveled post-Slimecicle's death skin is pictured beside the post.)

(Post title) MY INTENTIONS ARE GOOD IM TRYING !!! !!! !!! !!!

(Post text) Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Post 9:

(A Twitter post. The display name is "newest syndicate member ig" and the @ is c!connor.)

C!Connoreatspants: honestly i dont even play an active role in my life.. stuff just happens and im like oh is this what we're doing now ok

Post 10:

Slimecicle: Not wearing glasses anymore. I've seen enough

/end ID.]

[coquettedragoon]

could you expand a little on your writing and worldbuilding process for coquette? the way you write characters is really nice

my writing process is kind of informed by a sense of wanting every part of the thing i'm working on to be fun to work on, which sounds obvious... but well im one of those people who made webcomics excited to get to the big story payoffs 5 years down the track but didn't put any thought into what came before it and got burnt out. in the past i would've shown xios life before enlistment as a slow burn but instead i'm just opening right on it.

the overarching structure of coquette is informed by hxh... i really like how each arc of it is a drastically different setting and genre with a rotating primary cast, i don't intend for coquette to be as varied but it struck me as a really fun way of making longform work that feels consistently enjoyable to work on... ig as a brief example, the first section will focus on the zephyranthes, after this xio and co are sent to fight in sunset as part of the lilac occupation and then are left behind after the lilac force retreats (careful what you wish for ayane...) and Stuff Happens, ig what i mean is i dont want to linger on a status quo for too long.

as for the world, i mostly am drawing from legend of the galactic heroes/gundam 79 as a template. the duchy is the empire/zeon, the lilac is the FPA/earth federation, and sunset is fezzan/side six.

for the lilac in particular, i'm kind of drawing from like... how things felt being in school during the iraq war and the fervor among the students around me, i knew so many people who wanted to enlist after graduation etc and saw the army as like a winning ticket compared to the deadend town we were in, like girls wanting to join the army to get a degree as a lawyer or a pilot etc. the core of the lilac is its a society that exists to funnel people (especially like xio) into the army.

the duchy is a bit more vibes based, i just like when the baddies in scifi are anachronistic aristocrats. theres a section in the gundam origin manga about like... interpreting the zeon invasion of earth as a return to 'the sacred grounds of the soul' that carries a lot of weight. i think it sort of gave me an impression of the zeon as like... people living in the void of space and feeling spiritually/intellectually starved by it and driven mad by it, and i kind of used that as my basis for the duchy. they are obsessed with tradition and antiquity to feel like they have a sense of place in the world and aren't just drifting in space, the aesthetic sense is rooted in a sense of like.. older feeling things are more connected to earth and feel more 'human' to them. then ofc like the imperialism and arranged marriages and social stratification are all 'old' and can't be questioned so they are miserable anyway.

i guess it's all based on the thing in LOGH of how it opens on 'no human or society is immortal', and then depicts the slow collapse of the two nations founded on flimsy ideas. the lilac and the duchy are both dead end nations.

as for character writing... i think i kind of just take archetypes i like from moe anime etc and then try and dig into how their brains work living in the world of coquette. xio could be a happy little moeblob in most other worlds. ryukishis writing is probably what informs me better than anything else... i just want to try and depict what it's like to live inside these characters heads.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

SHIIIIIIIBAAAAAAALLLLLLL happy birthday to our fucking incredible talk show host, damn beautiful model, holy shit insane composer, rap star, rock star, basketball star, and perky ass Min Yoongi!!!!!!!

he wakes up and chooses violence!

he'll take your heart by simply not cutting his hair!

his cuteness is fatal (hope you have nine lives)!

what can't he do????

post on weverse

anyway!

I thought about adding less pics but I'm obsessed with him his hair. What? Who am I trying to fool? Uh... anyway! You better be eating all your meals Yoongi! Stay healthy! Don't get hurt! Maybe post on Weverse and/or IG once in a while to let us know you're alive.

not the pot calling the kettle black

anyway anyway

"If, for example, you came at four o’clock in the afternoon, then at three o’clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances."

can't wait to greet each member warmly as they make their returns :) think of the impending fun chaos of 2seok trying to wrangle ARMY for months until Yoongi returns lol

[arthenaa]

Hey bro I like your writing and I was wondering if you could give us some Mizu x Filipino!Reader hcs🥺👉👈 ̶(̶t̶o̶t̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶g̶o̶n̶n̶a̶ ̶u̶s̶e̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶j̶e̶c̶t̶ ̶m̶y̶s̶e̶l̶f̶)̶

I have to make this poetic I'm so sorry but also making it modern!au and canon setting teehee (ALSO DOUBLE UPDATE?) slight nsfw ig!! mdni.

canon divergent, just think of this is as that scene from Goyo where Remedios and Gregorio Pilar do a wholeass pining scene idk

Absolutely met you at some fancy ass noble party

You're a child of a wealthy Senor who's in great partnership with the Lords from the Commonwealth

Mizu's camping in and disguising herself in the party to find more intel on her next target and then she bumps into you

at first you're like very inquisitive of where she came from (considering that you view her as a man at this point), how she enjoys the party and what not

then you're suddenly like ik what you're doing. you're not from here.

Mizu's thrown off bc haha this is an international gathering of sorts and like ppl here are mostly foreign

you're like well its bc you're so obvious when it comes to occasions like this that I've already spotted you from a while back

and so youre like dancing and all and Mizu has no choice but to extract info from you

she reveals that shes looking for a white man, and that he may have connections here in the ph

and coincidence cuz you, who's also a part of the resistance, have been tracing the weapons provider of the spanish army.

so you guys work together. you give her intel, she helps you hunt down the provider and their little goons

it kind of starts like an enemies to lovers .... kind of a forced situation where Mizu has to deal with the resistance in order to get to what she wants but rlly theres no other way around

falls in love w your love for your country

despite your privileged upbringing, you're deeply interconnected with your roots, and have been fighting for the filipino people

you guys fight over the simplest of things, like how she doesnt wear things right or holds weapons correctly

you definitely bond over weaponry though and its history. the first time you've seen her katana, you were so amazed. in return, you showed her a kampilan—a sword carved and forged by your grandfather. she had so many questions.

yeahh overall i think what pulled you together was your shared anger and desperation for justice. No matter the situation, whether it be a resistance against oppression or looking for the man that caused a hellscape within your life, y'all resonated with the emotions and trauma that came with that.

BEST BELIEVE THE SEX WAS GOOD and rough and yes hbejawhejehe mhm

anys thats all. you're like PARA SA PILIPINAS and shes on her knees.

modern au hehe

met through int sch program. mizu is a transferee from japan who joined their uni's international program and got linked w ur sch

she was in one of ur classes and like yeah, she was nearest to u so she had no choice but to ask u for sch stuff

YOU THOUGHT SHE WAS PRETTY CUTE but like u wanted a good impression so u tried to help her as much as u could

even gave her a tour of the campus

showed her a few iconic eating places that she could go to jic her budget was on a limit or wanted good filo food

you wanted to expose her to the culture as slowly as u could just so that she could adapt and pace herself

definitely stuck by your side since then

you learned that she's going to study here for 3 years before going back to japan for her masters, and you're like wow thats so cool and shes like thanks

definitely a gamer

you guys hang out at one of the comp shops nearby (IF NAGAARAL KAYO SA TAFT .... guys suki ako don HAHAHA)

loves learning abt history, esp filipino craftsmanship

you definitely treat her to various street foods

mizu : what's this

you : we call it kwek kwek, but u can call it neon balls

mizu: neon balls????

showed and taught her how public transpo works once, and she gets a hang of it a week later

knows her way around manila than you do (author is projecting mb)

knows basic filo words when navigating. you teach her the slang.

basically friends to lovers guys omg, ayon sana all eme

you do that lips thing where you point w ur lips and at first, she was so confused (this is during your relationship)

she thought you were asking for a kiss and she kissed u and you were like ?!@!?@??$?

mizu: ha

you: I WAS ASKING FOR THE,ASd MUGWTF

mizu: ahhh my bad haha

walks u to class teehee

hangs around in empty class rooms esp comp labs and you guys watch movies there

momol sa dorm, momol sa clasroom na madilim, momol sa may agno charot

MOMOL = MAKE OUT MAKE OUT LANG

revels in simple pda like linking ur pinkies together, thigh against thigh when seating, and just yk so landi. landi niyo.

you have her id pic on the back of ur id and she yours on her clear phonecase

EWWWW GAY PPL (affectionate)

unintentionally matching

loves gifting u jewelry esp necklaces (likes to see it when u guys are in the bedroom, splayed on your chest and just yk decorating your collarbones so nicely)

holds your hand and helps you cross the street omf

pays for ur commute fee when riding the jeepney

memorizes ur kwek kwek and fishball sauce combination

loves exchanging one shoe w u for funsies

loves taking pics w u w the cats on campus

OVERALL A CUTIE TEEHEE!

A/N: DEDICATED KAY DELULU RECEIVER!! eto para sayo sorry ginutom keta ng sobra huhu @ianiralvs may isa pa kong utang sayo na req mo hihi gagawen ko pa yon to muna HHAHHAHA

[haechansdoll]

florist - kdy x reader

Pairing : Kim Dong-young x f!Reader

Description: In which doyoung walks into a flower shop owned by Y/n one day and things escalate.

Warnings : rough sex, bdsm(Igs?)

Doyoung walked through the barren streets in town, his fingers brushing his mask as a fly buzzed past. The war torn wasteland looked dry and ugly but there were still people walking on the streets with their heads down.

A few businesses were open, one of which being a cozy looking flower shop with a big beige sign on top.

Doyoung placed a hand on the door handle, a deep sigh emitting from his lips. He had walked past the shop multiple times before, occasionally catching glimpses of the girl behind the counter.

He swung open the door and the loud chime that resulted from his action startled the girl. She looked up, eyes wide, before her lips curved into a smile.

“Welcome to Petals, how can I help you?” Her voice was soft and cheerful. “Sir?”

“Um,” he said. “I’m looking for…flowers.”

She let out a laugh and Doyoung blushed a little at the sweet sound. She stepped out from behind the counter.

“Of course,” she said. “I can help you with that. I’m Y/n by the way.”

“Doyoung.” His voice was rough but quiet, his body stiff as he looked at Y/n. She nodded, a smile still on her face.

“So,” she said. “Who are you getting flowers for?”

Doyoung cleared his throat. “Just…a friend.”

“What’s the occasion?” She walked down one of the aisles, motioning for him to follow. He did.

“It’s…not really an occasion,” he said. “I just wanted to show her some appreciation.”

“Aww,” she cooed, her lips turning down into a pout. Doyoung smiled under his mask. “Well, tulips are a good choice.” She pointed to some flowers.

“What’s your favorite flower?” Doyoung looked away as he asked the question.

“Hm.” Y/n thought about it, taking the time to look at the man in front of her. He was clad in his army uniform, a long cloth covering his face except for his eyes. She could tell he was muscular as he loomed over her like a mountain. A bulky helmet sat on his head and Y/n had to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes. “Probably these carnations right here.”

Doyoung looked at the flower, observing it with interest. The edges of its fringed petals were a pale red, contrasting with the rest of the flower which was white.

“I’ll take that,” he said.

“Great.” Y/n smiled. “As a bouquet?”

“Yes.” Doyoung got out of her way as she walked to the back of the shop, returning later with supplies in her hands. He watched as she took out the carnations along with some foliage. She returned to the counter before putting the bouquet together. “Can I ask you something?”

Y/n looked up, eyebrows raised and head tilted to the side. Doyoung cleared his throat.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Y/n blinked, confusion coursing through her before she shook her head.

“I don’t,” she said. “Why?”

“N-no reason,” said Doyoung, looking away awkwardly. Y/n nodded, a small smile on her face as she finished the bouquet and rang him up. She handed him the bouquet and Doyoung placed his gloved hands on top of hers. “Thank you.”

Doyoung stood there, eyes on Y/n as she watched him curiously.

“Do you need anything else, Doyoung?” The way his name rolled off her lips made him blush. He gulped at the sudden desire that overtook his body.

“Yes, actually.” He pulled her by her hands, letting the bouquet fall, petals scattering across the floor. “I need…”

“What?” Y/n stared into his light blue eyes. He suddenly let go of her hands, looking away in embarrassment. Y/n walked around the counter and stood in front of him. Her hand reached out and touched his arm. He flinched, surprised by her action. Most people ran away at the mere sight of him, but not her. She stepped closer, hand trailing up and beneath his face covering.

“Y/n…”

He let her trace his chin and lips as he grabbed her waist, pulling her close to his body.

“Should we go to the back?” Y/n licked her lips, feeling a poke against her stomach. Doyoung nodded and she led him to the back of the shop. He took off his vest and let it drop with a loud thud. Y/n unbuttoned her blouse, slipping it off her shoulders as she sat down on a table in the room.

“Holy shit,” Doyoung said, pulling off his gloves. His rough fingers caressed her skin, grabbing her breasts greedily. Y/n sucked in a breath as he ripped her bra apart. “Oh…I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“It’s okay,” said Y/n with a smile. His eyes softened, his arms on either side of her body as he leaned forward. She could feel his hot breaths under his mask and the thought of his actual lips on her skin made her clench her thighs.

He went lower, his fingers unzipping her skirt and pulling it off of her before spreading her legs wide. He lifted his mask slightly, his lips kissing her inner thighs as his hands held her legs up. Y/n gasped as he nipped and licked at the skin. He pulled at the hem of her panties before sliding it down her legs and throwing it to the side.

Y/n put a hand on his helmet, her legs slung over his shoulders as he breathed on her wet folds. She arched her back as she felt his hot tongue. He licked up and down her pussy, lightly flicking her clit every time he reached it.

“Does that feel good?” Y/n moaned at the vibrations from his voice.

“Y-yes.” Her mouth hung open, pleasure coursing through her body. He hummed, lapping at her juices with an eagerness that sent Y/n over the edge. Her stomach tensed, legs shaking uncontrollably. “Fuck.”

“Close your eyes,” Doyoung said breathlessly. Y/n did as he said. She felt a softness against her lips. Without a second thought, she reached out and placed her hand on the side of his face, eyes still closed. His lips moved hungrily against hers and she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. His tongue swirled around, filling her mouth up.

“Mmm.” Y/n held his shoulders as she rubbed against his thigh, soaking his pants. He pulled away, breathing hard, eyes glazed over with lust. Y/n undid his belt, pulling it off.

“Did I say you could do that?” Doyoung grabbed her wrists. She bit her lip at his sudden change in demeanor. “Turn around. Hands on the table.”

Y/n turned around, ass exposed as she placed her hands on the table. She felt the familiar leather of his belt as he traced it across her ass.

“Say stop if you want me to stop, understand?” Y/n nodded, arousal evident as her juices flowed down her legs. A sudden snap and sting caused her to gasp and press forward on the table. “Use your words.”

“I understand.” She stuck her ass out further, eager for the next spank.

“Good.” She bit her lip, a muffled moan escaping her mouth as she felt another hit of the belt. Then another. And another. Doyoung caressed her red ass after the seventh spank, placing soft kisses on the fiery skin before turning her around. “You’re so fucking wet.”

His fingers traced Y/n’s entrance, two thick fingers slipping in as he watched her flushed face contorting into absolute bliss. His fingers curved up, knuckles deep as he continuously pressed against her G-spot, thumb stimulating her clit in the process.

“Oh my God.” Y/n gripped his shoulders as his pace quickened. She felt another orgasm bubbling up and she squeezed her eyes. “Ahh!”

Her legs trembled, pleasure washing over her body before a shiver went through her. Doyoung didn’t stop and Y/n whined from the overstimulation. She moaned out, her hips bucking against his hand, her body writhing in pleasure.

“I want to make you cum as many times as I possibly can,” he whispered.

“Mhm, holy fuck!” Y/n threw her head back as he fingered her.

“Look at me.” She forced herself to look into his eyes, her mouth parting and eyebrows knitting together as she came over and over again for him. “Just like that.”

“Doyoung!” Y/n moaned out, another orgasm hitting her. Hard.

Doyoung pulled his fingers out, holding Y/n steady as she caught her breath. She laid her head on his chest, vision hazy from the tears.

“You okay?” His voice was soft, his hand brushing her hair back.

“Yeah,” said Y/n. He laid a kiss on her forehead before lifting her legs up.

“Take my cock out,” Doyoung said. Y/n smiled as she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling down his briefs slightly and letting his hard dick pop out.

“Wow,” she said quietly. He let out a chuckle before lining himself up and pushing into her slowly. Y/n held his waist, moving along with him and matching his gentle thrusts. He rocked his hips against hers, letting her feel how deep he could go. “Fuck.”

“I love the way you feel,” he whispered beside her ear. She moaned, a deep ache filling her as he kept thrusting in deep and slow. She gripped his shirt, toes curling as a strong release washed over her. A line of sweat rolled down the side of her face as her eyelids fluttered. “Mmm, my turn.”

Doyoung flipped Y/n over, slamming himself inside her as his fingers dug into her hips. She gasped, one hand holding on to the edge of the table, the other gripping onto Doyoung’s forearm.

“Ah, fuck!” He groaned, pounding into her mercilessly. The table rocked, slamming against the wall with each thrust. Y/n’s eyes rolled back as she felt every thrust deep within her pussy. Her walls tightened and she could barely keep her upper body steady as she came. His hand reached up and cupped her breast, tugging and pinching as he kept pounding into her, his voice growing louder as he came closer to his release.

He stopped suddenly, pulling out of her, chest rising and falling as he pushed her down to her knees.

“I want to fuck your mouth,” he said. “Squeeze my leg if it’s too much.”

“Okay,” she said, opening her mouth up. He tapped the tip of his cock on her tongue before sliding into her mouth slowly. He pulled her hair back into a ponytail before tugging on it.

He drove his hips forward, burying his cock into her mouth, loud groans leaving his lips. Her eyes teared up, muffled moans sending vibrations through Doyoung’s body. He pushed her head onto his cock, eyes rolling back as he felt warmth pooling in his lower abdomen and balls. His thighs tensed and he let out a loud moan, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Take it,” he said with a raspy voice, releasing his cum down her throat. She gagged and he stayed inside her mouth for a moment before pulling out. Cum ran down Y/n’s chin as Doyoung helped her up, wiping it off for her before kissing her. “Fuck, you look so beautiful.”

He picked her up as he sat down on the table, laying her on his lap. Her head rested against his chest as he kissed her legs, caressing them as he whispered sweet nothings against her skin.

“You did so good,” Doyoung said softly. “You made me feel so good, sweetheart.”

Doyoung kissed her forehead and she let out a content sigh, drifting to sleep at the sound of his calm voice and the feeling of his steady heartbeat.

[vyhalia57]

Although, I'm happy that Armie has been found innocent of all of those HEINOUS/TRUMPED-UP charges/accusations, I'm personally also quite sad for him. I wonder will he be able to sometime in the near future return back to acting. One of the reasons I LOVE plus ADMIRE himself much is not only because he is a VERY HANDSOME GENTLEMAN but because he is an ACCOMPLISHED ARTIST in his own right. The multifaceted characters he portrayed in his films fully display his acting range, bringing those to life from script to screen (on both stage, film and TV). Furthermore, from his IG photos and shorts , he shows that he is a very loving, caring plus nurturing father. His children, I'm certain, love their Dad very much. He has provided for them immensely as well, I'm sure. However, I've heard some rumors that: He might not return to acting. He might decide to embark on some other different profession for a change. If he does this--and I personally hope to hell not, though it is his life-- I for one will miss the FUCK OUT OF HIM! I say this (with CUSSES) because I was REALLY looking forward to sequels of "CMBYN" plus " MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E.". Moreover, the other projects (planned and upcoming) he would be auditioning for and winning those roles. I know it's quite silly, but when I read these rumored statements, I got depressed. I hope and pray that whatever Mr. Hammer decides to do, I, like his other LOYAL FANS, know that it will be beneficial for the health, self-care, and betterment for him and his family. [I'm NOT a CRAZED STAN, but---> He. Is. My. FAVORITE ACTOR!] PEACE OUT!

[viathecloset]

RANT CUZ IM TIRED OF HOW JUNGKOOK IS BEING TREATED

• Jungkook who has been working since he was frickin 13 without a break is probably one of the greatest vocalists of all time and this is no exaggeration. He's a musical prodigy who can not only sing but compose, write and produce while also being a multifaceted artist who can paint, dance and do much more.

• Even before the solo era jungkook's music was not only well received but always pulled numbers be it Still with you or even Euphoria. With the onset of solo careers Jungkook's fame touched newer heights, broke so many records and gained a bunch of new audience.

• His success isn't cuz of mass streaming or 🛴 or company or the word people love to throw around casually 'Payola'. He is genuinely loved by so many people and gp loves the guy. Cry about it ig, idk.

• Armys have been bitter asf about him, although we've seen this behaviour even before his success with seven especially after this weve seen people be so bitter towards him for absolutely no fault of his except succeed in his persuits.

• Like? Okay let's throw him and his success around for fan wars but the moment a certain breed of solos come for him we do nothing, let's connect his success and every little thing he does to the company indirectly implying all of his work and success is infact cuz of payola and 🛴 and not him.

• YOU were the first ones that linked him to that man and all those allegations he faces are cuz admittedly these people are the first ones that gave haters the material.

• Hes been so gentle, loving and humble despite all the success and yall have done nothing except shade him like bitter family friends ffs. Crying about logo now are we? Cuz it's trademarked or sent for it? Cry harder, man has always put the team and fans above himself and for once he does something on his own yall hate?

• Love saying he's got yall tattooed on his hand and want him to be the cheerleader for everyone but what the fuck does he get? Shade? Hate? Unnecessary connections? Bitter reception even for a fan song? Nah yall lost the plot.

• Hes enlisted so much earlier than he needs to ONLY CUZ OF THE COMEBACK THAT WAS PROMISED TO Y'ALL. but no, let's call him selfish. Cuz ive seen yall use it as some cute ship thing when he enlisted with other member who's 2 yrs older than him, made him the guard dog and made a/b/o scenarios and jokes completely ignoring that hes frickin 26!?!?! He gave up his solo career, dropped it in between, shot stuff in the middle of his promotions despite his ill health and not ONE wished for his safety. And the one man who actually wished for it yall called him a clout chaser and whatnot. Not one thought how emotionally demanding this would be, or how much he sacrificed.

Idc I'm pissed cuz he deserves respect, he deserves love and utter and complete devotion. He's done nothing but love and be sincere towards his work, he sacrificed so much and all he gets in return in this. Free him ffs. I hope he reaches even newer heights and pisses more people off while getting more genuine and sincere fans who love him not cuz of a narrative or a fantasy but the amazing human/artist he is.

ANYWAYS NEVER LET GO IS OUT TOMORROW 1PM KST, PRE SAVE/PRE ORDER, CAN'T WAIT ♡

[ghost-proofbaby]

You have to keep him alive, she absently thinks. She assumes the thought is private. If anyone may hear her, she only prays it’s Gale. He’s not all bad, and you have to keep him alive.

summary: aruna nearly dies (again).

wc: 5.9k+

warnings: descriptions of drowning, descriptions of being stabbed by a log, a lot of everyone being bad at feelings (both in present and in the... past? the other timeline? not sure what to refer to it as)

a/n: how many times can aruna almost die in this fic? let's find out, ig.

ao3 | masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

“Wyll, no!” 

Aruna should have saved her breath. She really, really should have. 

There’s no air to spare in her lungs, mouth left wide open still, as she crashes into the current below. It’s a vicious thing – the water shows no grace as it moves her center of gravity, pulling her along in the rush, so quickly she doesn’t hear the shouts of her companions. 

Another voice even joins them. An unfamiliar one, that somehow carries just as much concern as she practically drowns. 

Similar to when she’d first used her magic, Aruna doesn’t have to ponder or remember if she can swim. Her body acts accordingly; her feet kick exhaustingly, her arms try to move against the waves to slow her down. Nothing works. All she gets out of it is another mouth full of water as a sudden drop in the river yanks her under. 

This is it, she thinks through the burn of her lungs as the fresh water fills them, this is how I die. I managed to survive the poisoning only to die because I slipped. 

She wonders if Astarion would have laughed had he been there. 

It’s meant to be a soothing thought, but through her sheer panic, all she can recall is Shadowheart’s reveal. The way Astarion had been frantic when he’d returned her to camp, the way he had been so ferociously protective of her while she was in such a vulnerable state.

Her shadow had left her to her own devices, and this time, he wouldn’t be there to save her. 

I wish he was. 

Her elbow scrapes against a jagged rock as she breaks the surface of the water again, gasping for breaths before she’s taken under again. It stings – Gods, it stings – and her palm only takes a beating when she tries to grab onto the culprit. 

It’s too deep for her to reach the bottom. She can’t stop. She’s completely at the water’s will, and she’s going to drown. 

Save Astarion, no matter the cost. 

Maybe the letter had meant her blood.

Save Astarion, no matter the cost. 

Maybe now that she had allowed him to feed, had given him a group to travel with, he’d be safe. 

Save Astarion- 

A hand wraps around Aruna’s bicep suddenly, her arm being the only thing even poking out of the water, lifting her up with absolutely no gentleness. She swears, there’ll be bruises in mere hours from the rough-handling. 

She’s tossed suddenly to a nearby bank, a broken branch stabbing into her side. If she had any breath left, that certainly would’ve taken it. She yelps out regardless as her fingers dig into pebbles below, no longer being dragged violently down the river, only below her knees still in the current’s grip. 

The water around her runs a light pink as she army-crawls her way up the bank to get clear of the currents. 

“Aruna!” 

It’s Shadowheart screaming for her. Even with spotted vision, even as she’s coughing up mouthfuls of water, she can decipher that voice. Which begged the question…

“You-” a very wet Gale gasps, his hand still holding onto her bicep for dear life, “-have got to stop nearly dying.” 

“Can’t breathe,” she hardly manages wheeze out, trying to sit up and failing miserably, still feeling the stabbing pain of the branch that must be lodged between her ribs, “I- I-” 

Gale’s touch suddenly turns gentle, tossing his head about to get his hair out of his eyes as he looks her over. It’s only once he’s turned her onto her back, water rushing into her ears but no longer drowning her, that he spies the culprit. 

What in the Hells has happened? 

It’s certainly not her own voice in her head sounding detrimentally pissed off as she continues to whimper, struggling for each deep breath that gets cut short. 

“Hold still,” Gale instructs her sternly, maneuvering their bodies so that her head rests in his lap, leaning over her as his shaking hands hesitated in touching that branch. A few droplets of water run down the bridge of his nose, dripping down onto her chin, but she hardly cares. 

She can’t breathe. 

Where are you? 

Astarion’s voice in her mind does little to soothe all her panic. She’s not going to drown, but she has a giant fucking log of wood pierced into her side. 

When she doesn’t respond, she can feel irritation traveling down that tadpole bond. It’s weaker than she’s used to – not nearly as potent as it was whenever she was actually in camp with Astarion – but she can still feel every swirling emotion as he does. 

Irritation. Anger. And then… panic. 

Not her own. A sense of urgency that bleeds into the one consuming her now, mixing in a disastrous way. A kind of desperation that would make a man pull a dagger on his fellow companions, demanding help for the limp girl in his arms. The kind of anguish you don’t feel for a stranger.

“Shadowheart!” Gale yells suddenly, fingers hardly prodding the surrounding armor around the wound, only to elicit a yelp from Aruna, “I- Gods, I- I’m sorry. Shadowheart, we need healing!” 

The water is cold. Her entire body aches with shock, the wound beginning to numb once Gale moves his hands to simply cup each of her cheeks. They offer a little bit of warmth, something she’s quick to welcome, leaning into them as she continues to struggle. 

The shallow water here is turning a darker shade of pink, swirls of red focused at Aruna’s right side, exactly where the rather large stick protrudes. 

Aruna, tell me where you-

River. 

It’s all she can muster to offer him over the bond. She can hardly even flutter her eyes open, barely making out Shadowheart’s silhouette on that distant makeshift bridge. 

“If I die,” Aruna manages to croak, and she suddenly feels Gale’s hold on her cheeks press just a little bit harder, “Do me a favor and-”

“No,” Gale stresses, tearing his gaze away from where Aruna thinks Shadowheart still is, “No, you are not dying. Save your energy.” 

“If I am-”

“If you make me promise to take care of that damn dog,” Gale’s voice wavers, dark brown eyes locking with Aruna’s own amethysts, “I’ll leave Astarion to deal with him. I swear.” 

“Shut up about the dog,” Aruna nearly laughs, but the new wave of pain effectively cuts her off, “I’m more worried about Astarion.” 

Gale’s entire demeanor changes. She watches as waves of concern and confusion drag him under just as the river had done to her, “Astarion?” 

She manages to nod her head, even with his steady palms on either side still. 

“He’s not all bad, y’know,” her voice is a whisper of a murmur, hardly audible over. Her eyes flutter shut once more, fatigue making her bones heavier than even her soaked armor. She swears she hears sloshing footsteps nearby, “And… And I have to… I’ve gotta keep him…”

“Aruna,” Gale begs now, shifting beneath her. She can smell his cologne now, even through the biting wetness of the river’s bank. It’s sweeter than Astarion’s, softer, “I promise you, whatever business you have with Astarion, you can take care of once we’re back in camp. We are getting you back to camp.” 

You have to keep him alive, she absently thinks. She assumes the thought is private. If anyone may hear her, she only prays it’s Gale. He’s not all bad, and you have to keep him alive. 

She thinks for a moment that she’s said it outloud as Gale starts to call out to their other companions frantically once more, as though her words may have triggered something within the man clinging to her. She swears she can feel them dragging her body further out of the water, causing her to shiver ferociously as the lightest breeze damn near freezes her. 

I won’t be doing anything of the sort. You will – because you’re not dying. Keep him alive yourself, Aruna. 

He hadn’t said that outloud. Any voices she can hear are all muffled, but Gale’s voice comes through clear as day. 

It’s a different caress than her connection with Astarion. Whereas the presence of Astarion in her mind causes a soft purr, a gentle warmth that she’s eager to nestle into, Gale’s presence is electrifying. Sparkling, dazzling. Shivers run up and down her spine, and she can’t distinguish if they’re due to being completely out of the water now, or if they’re due to the new occupant privy to her mind and thoughts. 

Even the dancing, purple sparks that she can nearly envision behind her closed lids aren’t keeping the beckoning darkness away at the edges of her consciousness. 

Before it takes her, though, that familiar warmth is back. She decides as she hears the call of Astarion’s voice in her mind, that if he were to be allotted color, it would be a deep burgundy. A staining maroon. Something deep, something old, something warm. Bolder than even the blood she can feel still slowly seeping out of her wound. 

If you die before I get to you, I will incinerate the wizard. 

The darkness claims her. 

—

“I think you like Gale more than you let on,” Aruna teases from her seat at the particularly fancy stool Astarion had set out in front of his tent’s entrance. She wasn’t even sure where he’d procured it, the red velvetine of the cushion far nicer than anything else that litters their camp. She’d be complaining relentlessly about it, if it wasn’t for the fact that the comfortable stool had practically become hers from how often Astarion allowed her to loiter about and sit on it. 

“Is that so?” Astarion murmurs, his nose currently buried in a book as he stands, eyes flitting over the pages. Another item that she’s clueless as to how he’d obtained it – along with the other fifty tomes stacked within his tent. 

Aruna leans forward, legs crossed beneath her, hardly balancing on the cushion, “Indeed. Don’t think I didn’t notice you saving him from that kobold earlier.” 

At this point, Aruna’s convinced he’s only pretending to read, blatantly ignoring her to get a rise out of her. He hasn’t turned the pages in several minutes. Plural. 

“His magic has proven useful from time to time,” Astarion drawls, shifting his weight between his legs but still making no move to look up at Aruna, “Besides, I’m sure if I let the wizard perish, you’d have my head.” 

“Do you think me so cruel?” 

“I know you so cruel.”

He’s wearing a half-smirk, and she hates the way it lures her closer. She has half the mind to demand they all call it a night early, if only to get Astarion alone in his tent so that she could curl up within a safe distance from him, not quite touching, but still locked away in their own little bubble.

It’s not the same camp as the one they began in. They’d long since left that one behind, their journey taking them farther than any of them had ever anticipated. Earlier in the day, they’d taken to investigating the Creche – although it hadn’t lasted long when they’d stumbled into a room of kobolds, and an ill-timed firebolt on Aruna’s account had nearly burned them all to ash from all the firewine in the room. 

This camp suits him better, though, Aruna thinks. The sun shines brighter here without the cover of the forest around. A certain golden hue floods their small nook within the mountains, and the way Astarion basks in it is a sight to behold. 

His skin and hair is so light, he almost becomes the sunlight. 

“I have no idea what you could possibly mean,” she hums in a playful tone, leaning back, narrowing her gaze at him, “I am an absolute ray of sunshine, I’ll have you know.” 

“On whose account?” he scoffs, finally snapping that book shut. He doesn’t even mark the page he’d been holding up this entire time, “Yours, or that poor merchant you flambeed?” 

Some of the playfulness deflates out of her shoulders, “That merchant was not some poor soul. She was demanding we hand over a child, Astarion.” 

“I’d hardly consider a githyanki egg a child. And it could have awarded us quite the pretty amount of gold.” 

“I couldn’t give a damn about the gold. Even without Lae’zel present, I would have wanted to turn that gods-awful woman to nothing more than a pile of soot and ash.” 

He finally looks at her, taking steady steps towards her until he’s within reach of setting his book down at the table before her. There’s a mirror balanced there, one that proves useless to him, but he still keeps it around for some reason. 

He leans down until he’s eye-level with her, still just out of reach, ruby eyes glowing, “Remember that the next time we come across a trader who holds a pretty weapon that you ache to get your hands on.” 

“That was one time,” she scowls as he cracks a deceivingly sweet smile. 

“All it takes is a taste of corruption, my dearest Aruna.” 

It wasn’t her proudest moment, admittedly. But Astarion had been just as eager to comply when Aruna had pulled him aside and whispered the request to him – she’d distract the merchant, and he’d put his nimble hands to use by getting the enchanted bow that had caught Aruna’s eye. It had worked out in the end. That bow had proven more than just useful, repeatedly proving it’s worth in battle when Aruna would use it to cover Astarion from any foes he happened to not notice. 

He knows she’s recalling the moment as she shifts to suddenly stand and leave his tent. But she doesn’t even make it to her feet before he’s caging her in, a hand steadied on either side of her against that rickety table, fully invading her space now. 

No one else in camp even blinks an eye. Gale is across the camp, deep in discussion with Karlach as Wyll idles near them, clearly listening in. Lae’zel is out of sight, but the sharpening of her sword can be heard clearly. 

They’d all known that Aruna had taken to fortifying with the vampire. She hadn’t been very sneaky about it. That was more Astarion’s style – not hers. 

What they didn’t know, however, was how far it had gone beyond the exchange of bodies. Long gone were the nights of distracting sex and honeyed words of seduction; in their place now settled quiet nights of simple discussions in Astarion’s tent, whispered confessions of haunting pasts exchanged rather than bruising kisses. A bearing of scars, of souls, rather than their nude bodies. 

He’d never explicitly said it, but Aruna knew better than to utter a single word of what Astarion confided in her during those private moments. He’d trusted her – he trusts her. 

And so she let him keep up the overly flirtatious act in front of others. For as long as he allowed it, she would let them think she was doing nothing more than keeping his tent warm. He was well worth that scuffed reputation. 

“Now, just where do you think you’re going?” 

A game of cat and mouse still exists between them, and she never can tell if it’s still just for show. She can’t tell if he can hear it – the unfortunate thrumming of her heart, always racing when he’s near, even without her own volition. 

She’s toeing a dangerous line. 

Mindless sex was fine. A blooming friendship was encouraged. But whatever she had begun to feel? Somehow, she’s convinced she’d rather be known as Astarion’s plaything than ever admit the fondness brewing within her. Better for everyone to assume she only wanted Astarion for his body, for the pleasure he could bring her, than to confess the way his words were amongst the most sacred things he had offered her. Better to play the role of a doting fool vying after his alluring lips than to admit that his mind intrigued her more than a single muscle across his lean form. 

It would simply have to become her best kept secret. Both from all their companions, and especially from Astarion. 

“To speak to Gale and Karlach,” she snarks, tilting her chin up, meeting his daring gaze, “At least they have the galls to admit when they consider you a friend.” 

“Full of fire tonight, are we?” his voice drops to a whispering rasp, eyes flickering across her face. Any onlooker might assume he’s simply catching a glance at her lips in hopes of a kiss, but she knows better. Just two nights before, he’d admitted (although it had taken quite a bit of persuasion on Aruna’s part) that he was mesmerized by the freckles across the bridge of her nose. Someone of drow lineage, kissed by the sun. It was a rare sight, and one Astarion hadn’t stumbled across in all his years before. “We both know you’ll grow bored before the sun even sets. They won’t play with you like I will.” 

“Perhaps I’m not in the mood to play tonight, Astarion. Maybe I’m just looking for earnest conversation.” 

He recoils slightly, faux disgust wrinkling his nose, “Earnest conversation? Ugh, spare me. You’ve truly been spending far too much time with Gale.” 

If she were stronger, if she had just a bit more self-restraint, she would have held back her bark of laughter. But she’s not – she’s nothing more than molten putty when it comes to him, all her worst flaws exposed against her own will, and her head tilts back as she lets out a sound that nearly embarasses her to death. Something between a choked scoff and an orc-ish snort. 

The sun is so bright at his back, she doesn’t notice the glimmer of something reflected. Not from the mirror, but from herself. 

A brewing fondness bathed in the golden hour. A best kept secret that Astarion swears he’ll get a hold of, come Hells or high water. 

It’s a good look. On both of them.

—

Aruna comes back to with a start, just as Shadowheart has yanked the branch from her side. 

“Fuck!” she screams out instinctively, going to reach for the wound before Gale grabs her wrists. He manages to corral both her arms and press her back down, allowing the cleric who kneels in the mud beside her to properly look at the wound as her own hands glow with magic. 

“Welcome back to the world of the living, my friend,” Gale quips, hardly breaking a sweat as he continues to fight against Aruna’s thrashing, “Thought we lost you there for a few seconds.” 

Seconds? Aruna head pounds as though she had been out for days, not seconds. The same heaviness in her chest from when she’d been poisoned lingers now, making it exceptionally difficult for her to writhe in pain as her body was attempting to. Attempting to wriggle away from the pain, away from the thing that was technically helping her. 

“What-” she gasps out, trying to steady herself, to stop moving. Another flash of Shadowheart’s magic has her crying out again, however, body twitching to its own accord, “What do you mean seconds?” 

She grits the words out between grinding teeth, hands turning to fists as Gale refuses to relinquish his hold. She’d have to thank him later – she doesn’t know if she’d be capable of holding down one of them like this, even if it were clearly necessary, if they were grunting out in such severe pain as she was currently.

The entire right side of her body felt as though it was ablaze. Everything else had been thoroughly chilled, her teeth even attempting to chatter from the cold, but the heat that radiated from where she’d been stabbed persists. 

“You passed out,” Gale explains as though it was obvious. He’s unaware of what she’s just experienced; he’s unaware of where exactly her mind had gone for those mere seconds. “Likely from the pain and blood loss, and surely the lack of oxygenation from almost drowning wasn’t helping. You’ve got yourself into quite the situation here, it seems,” he pauses and glances down at her as another strike of Shadowheart’s magic pulses into her. This time, only her face moves, twisting up into a wince, “I am truly sorry for the discomfort. It’ll be over soon. We just have to stop the bleeding of the wound, at the very least.”

She can feel the skin of the wound twisting and reforming, from the inside out. If it weren’t from the pain of the healing, she’d probably be able to notice the way her breaths were finally coming more easily to her. 

“Right,” she manages to spit out as Shadowheart’s magic begins to wane once more, “Of course. Stop the bleeding. I can handle that.” 

“I have healing potions back at camp,” Shadowheart mumbles through her concentration. She looks positively drained when Aruna dares to peep a quick look, paling with each passing second that she uses more of her magic, “If I can just-”

“Am I still bleeding?” Aruna asks suddenly.

Shadowheart looks up, eyes wide, albeit a bit dull, “You’re… No. The bleeding has mostly stopped.” 

“Great. Then let’s go to camp.” 

She doesn’t want the half-elf wasting any more precious magic on her than necessary. They’d return back to where they could rest, she’d take one healing potion from Shadowheart (and not a drop more), and she could see if a restless night’s sleep might do the trick. 

If she could just walk, it would all be fine. Surely time could heal this wound. 

“Are you sure about that, soldier?” a new voice sounds from above Aruna, and the dizzying deja vu that had incapacitated her to the point of falling returns. This time, thankfully, it doesn’t affect her nearly as detrimentally, “I just- That stab looked pretty gnarly. You might want to let the healer do her thing before-” 

“Karlach.” 

Aruna isn’t sure how she knows the tiefling’s name, but the moment her eyes land on her, it simply comes to her. The flames still idly lapping at the warrior’s skin, her uneven horns as one curls fully over her head of hair and the other has clearly been broken off. She knows this force of a woman – she’d seen this woman in that goddamn memory that had stolen away precious seconds in the here and now. 

Wyll looks painfully guilty as he stands a few feet away from her. 

“This was the woman from your visions,” Aruna attempts to cover up her recognition easily, and everyone seemingly buys it, “This… this was the devil you were chasing?” 

“The past tense there is very important, my friend,” Wyll insists, swallowing hard and glancing at Karlach again, “She’s… Well, she’s no devil.”

“Make no mistake, it was an honour to be chased down by the Blade of Frontiers, but-” Karlach excitedly begins, but Aruna only softly smiles as she cuts her off. 

“No need to explain yourself,” Aruna somehow knows more than she should. But if every other encounter was the blueprint for this one, surely they had all seen the truth. If Karlach was still standing there, unharmed, Wyll having resigned his hunt – they knew she was a friend, “I’m Aruna. Nice to meet you. Although, I wish we had met under… better circumstances.” 

“Oh,” Karlach laughs, almost nervously, as she waves a hand through the air, “Please. No better time than the here and now, yeah? Plus, you’ve effectively proved yourself to be a certified badass from the get-go, soldier.” 

Soldier. A cute nickname, but Aruna’s brows crease together regardless. 

“Soldier?” she questions aloud, slowly sitting up and ignoring the nearly unbearable pain in her side. Nearly being the key word. 

She’d deal with it. She was the one who had idiotically fallen into the river, and she’d deal with the consequences. Maybe next time she won’t run across the slippery log. 

Karlach freezes up a bit, eyes darting around to the other companions worriedly, “I, uh, yeah. I don’t know. Like I said, that branch looked gnarly. Only a soldier could take a beating like that and still insist on walking it off.” 

Aruna has to bite back a simultaneous grin and tears. There’s something comforting about Karlach, something that makes Aruna want to cling to her side. To be the shadow rather than the leader for once. 

“You learn to walk it off when you’ve been as clumsy as I’ve been,” Aruna shrugs, turning to look at a still very pale Shadowheart, “Say, Wyll, could you help Shadowheart up? We don’t need any more of us falling into this water. It’s fucking freezing.” 

Wyll’s clearly startled, looking between the two women, “Shadowheart? What about you-”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” 

They wanted a leader – they needed a leader. And Aruna had been assigned that role whether she liked it or not. As long as she held the title, the only person who would be getting injured due to her own stupidity would be herself. 

No more shrugging at the thought of them dying due to them choosing her as their leader, it seems. 

“Are you sure you can even walk?” Gale stammers, rising quickly when he notices Aruna beginning to lift herself out of the shallow water they were gathered in, “Please be careful-” 

“Stop hovering, Gale, and just help me up,” she insists, holding out a hand for him to grab. 

Shadowheart doesn’t even have the energy to argue as Wyll appears at her side, letting her lean some of her weight on him. 

Aruna’s guilt is far, far heavier than her armor now. 

“Shall we?” she mumbles, looking to the ground in shame, trying to hold most of her own weight even as Gale willingly offers his arm for her to cling onto. She only looks up to glance Karlach’s way, forcing another kind smile through all her pain, “You should join us, y’know. If you’ve got one of those worms in your head.” 

“I-” Karlach’s eyes shift to look off into the distance, back towards the path they had taken to find her, but clearly looking a bit beyond it, “I’d love to. I really would, but I’ve got some business I need to take care of. Some goons are tracking me and-”

“We can help,” Aruna offers before Karlach even asks such a thing of them. And she can imagine Astarion’s bristling, his sigh and roll of his eyes, his voice whispering of her bleeding heart, “Join us at camp, let us rest up a bit, and we can come back and send those assholes back to wherever they came from.” 

Electricity runs along the outskirts of Aruna’s mind, purple sparks coming to life as Gale grips onto her arm to steady her.

Just like that? He asks through the tadpole. You’re going to offer our help, just like that?

If it had been Astarion, the question would have been laced with judgment. 

But Aruna doesn’t find a hint of it in Gale’s voice, merely shock as he looks to her with wide eyes. She’d even dare to say that she saw admiration behind those shades of umber. 

Just like that, she confirms silently, looking patiently to Karlach for a response. She needs help. I want to help. 

Aruna has plenty wrong with her. She has a head full of holes, gaping wounds not visible to the others that haunt her every hour of every day. She has a mysterious letter in her pack, insisting that she saves one of their dear companions. She has daggers that she can hardly use, she has a worm in her head that has become the least of her worries, and she has a bleeding heart. 

She is a kind fool. And, all things considered, it’s probably the thing that is least wrong with her in this exact moment. 

She’s going to help Karlach. Just as she promised Lae’zel, just as she had promised Wyll. If there is nothing else she can do for this world, she can do that. 

Our fearless leader, indeed, Gale hums through the mental connection. In her peripherals, Aruna catches the glimpse of a soft yet proud smile. 

Your kind fool, more like it. 

Karlach is oblivious to the silent conversation, and finally secedes with a deep breath, “Ah, what the hell. Lead the way, soldier.” 

Aruna is becoming awfully fond of the nickname. 

—

They hear Astarion before they see him. 

“What in the Hells did you do to her?” 

His words are pure venom, and Aruna can feel the fear that strikes within Gale when he freezes up at her side. The chill from being soaked by the river had been seemingly only affecting Aruna, who’s teeth had chattered the entire way as they backtracked to where they’d originally found the dog. But she swears, as Astarion catches sight of them as he rises from the corpse of Scratch’s previous owner, a shiver runs up the wizard’s spine. 

“They didn’t do anything,” Aruna says. The stab wound still ached terribly, and breathing still wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but she had no doubt she’d make it back to camp. She might end up collapsing, unable to move again until tomorrow, but she’d certainly make it back, “I was just a clumsy fool and fell into the river.” 

Aruna hadn’t realized just how much she missed Astarion during the days he’d avoided her until he’s right in front of her, eyes blazing and fangs nearly peaking out as he snarls at Gale, hands already reaching for his daggers. He may be a terrifying sight to everyone else, but not to her. His presence instantly soothes, leaving the shooting pain in her side to fade out of existence for just a moment. 

But she doesn’t have time to linger on the calming effect. 

The moment she catches sight of him unsheathing his weapons, she forces herself in front of Gale, albeit a bit wobbly. 

“Astarion,” she snaps, holding out a hand as the other instinctually clutches to her injured side. Not a smart idea, as it brings back the pain, “Put the daggers away. Now.” 

“I leave these fools to keep you alive for a few days, and suddenly, you nearly die – again,” Astarion snaps, stopping just shy of her palm, gaze shifting between herself and the cowering wizard, “I should have known bett-”

“You’re not my keeper,” she calmly reminds him, acutely aware of Shadowheart’s look that screams I told you so. The rogue is more furious than Aruna had witnessed in all their travels, nearly feral, “And I didn’t die. I survived. Gale saved me. If anything, you should be thanking him.” 

She isn’t quite sure why Astarion would be thanking Gale. Astarion wasn’t her keeper – he didn’t have some ridiculous letter telling him to keep Aruna alive, as far as she was aware. 

“Oh, my apologies,” he sneers, leveling a look to Gale, “Thank you so very much for keeping our precious leader alive, almighty wizard. What ever would we do without you doing the bare minimum?” 

Our precious leader. Through all the sarcasm dripping from Astarion’s words, those somehow feel sincere. 

But it might simply be the fact that now that he’s so close, all Aruna can feel is that lingering desperation clinging to him, all the fear sticking around like smoke in the air. His hands are twitching at his sides as they let go of the daggers, as though he might reach out for her any moment now. 

“Bare minimum?” Gale squeaks out from behind her, “I understand you feel awfully protective of Aruna, but-”

“She’s the reason any of us are even alive. She’s the only reason we’ve made it this far.”

Aruna pales, “I don’t think-”

“Is she the reason we’re all alive?” Shadowheart weakly questions, taking a step closer as she glares at Astarion, “Or is she the reason you’re alive? I’d reckon you’re only terrified of losing the one person in this group who will actually tolerate you, willingly, Astarion.” 

In an instant, Aruna loses all her patience. It’s only momentary, but she swears she sees red as her head whips towards the cleric, “Shadowheart.”

Her tone makes it clear she isn’t joking around – it’s a threat. Even through her chattering teeth, Aruna’s voice comes out strong and clear. It’s a warning for them all to tread extremely carefully with their next words. 

Some of Astarion’s anger leaves him, face softening as he chooses to only focus on Aruna. He glances over her stoic face, but eventually, his attention is grabbed to her bloodied side that she still grips. She watches as his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare immediately. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

Aruna is shocked it had taken him so long to notice. She’d assumed given his vampiric nature, he’d smell her blood instantaneously. 

“Yes,” she deadpans, pressing a little harder on the wound, wincing only a little. Her hand is already turning sticky with her ichor, “Like I said, I fell.” 

“And conveniently impaled yourself? Gods, the pain I felt, that’s-” Astarion cuts himself off, still staring in disbelief at the wound, “Let me see it.” 

“No.”

“Aruna-”

“Astarion,” she parrots back, leaving no room for discussion, “We need to just return to camp. I just need to rest. I’m fine, we’re all fine. As long as you all stop trying to bite each other’s heads off, at least.” 

With each word, her voice is becoming more breathy, increasingly aware of the depths of her wounds yet. Shadowheart may have healed her enough to guarantee she won’t drop dead, but there’s certainly still a chance for her to pass out if they don’t get a move on. 

Surprisingly, Astarion only nods at that, finally looking back up to her eyes as he takes a step forward. His hands reach out, and she can see them shaking. 

It’s probably just from the blood. It’s been days since he last fed, that Aruna is aware of, and the comedown had no doubt been more intense considering he’d just had his first taste of a thinking creature’s blood. 

“I can walk,” she insists when she realizes he’s offering to take over from Gale as her crutch.

“You can hardly stand.” 

“I can walk.” 

This latest memory returned more than just knowledge to Aruna. Something more had been returned to her – a spark of fire that hadn’t been there before now rests in her chest, a flicker of who she once was. Headstrong, stubborn, determined. She feels less like a poor wandering soul. She’s more sure, and more staunchly independent, than before. 

Slowly but surely, the puzzle that is herself is coming back to Aruna. She feels like a person now, not a mere ghost. 

A person, a leader, someone who can hold her own. The last thing she wants to do is cling desperately to anybody else, to accept any help that might portray her as weak. Because she wasn’t – she couldn’t be – if she had to lead these people. And certainly not if she kept getting into these near-death experiences. 

“Gods, you’re stubborn,” Astarion grumbles. It’s a slow switch, but she notices it then; the more Astarion spoke directly to her, the softer he grew. He didn’t offer her the same ferocity that he’d thrown at the others. Shadowheart’s earlier observations are painfully loud in her mind as she realizes it. 

His hands drop, but he’s no less stiff as he moves to the side, letting her begin to walk, to lead them all further down the path. 

She’s quick to notice the way he returns to his rightful place at her side. 

Her shadow. For better or for worse, it seems.

taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @writinginthetwilight @moonmunson @generalstephkenobi @notthisagainpls @chaoticbardlady99 @animated-unicorn

if you'd like to join the taglist, simply let me know <3

[lokisasylum]

You know shit's going DOWNHILL for Hybe when they start PAYING the SAME journalist who defamed and downplayed Jimin's achievements on Billboard Hot 100, and every other record he got without the company's push to start fabricating dating rumors in order to use that artist as a shield from the backlash the company's already facing under the allegations being made/exposed by MHJ.

Such as the fact that Bongo tried to bribe MHJ into accepting him having NewJeans' album sales inflated so they could "beat aespa's record".

ALSO:

(The OP is referring to 2022 when "With You" was released and Jimin's personal information was sold to antis, who spread it to the media to make it seem like Jimin hadn't paid his apartment's rent [its called "health insurance", but in reality its apartment rent] in 3 months, when at the time BTS had been on tour in the US and therefore Hybe should have absorbed the payments until their return. But a manager who was in charge of delivering the mail stole Jimin's for those 3-4 months in order to sell it to antis on DCGallery. And Hybe "allegedly" had no knowledge that this was happening right under their noses and put up that halfassed apology.

And the girl group OP is referring to is Lesseraphim, since at the time one of the former members, Garam, got involved in a very ugly scandal that resulted in her getting kicked out of the agency. OG Armys know about Bighit/Hybe's past scandal with their first gg GLAM and without the fabricated distraction using jimin's mail, this would've put BH/Hybe under a very shitty position infront of investors. )

(Yes, you read all that right, Hybe personally chooses/hires problematic journalists in order to PAY THEM to write articles that favor THE COMPANY. Even if it means damaging their own artist's image/reputation. Like what they've been doing to Jimin since FACE was released last year. ALL of those Weverse Magazine articles that targeted, defamed, downplayed Jimin's achievements, but favored and praised ANOTHER MEMBER, were all PAID and APPROVED by Hybe themselves.

Jimin stans have been warning and talking about this since last year, but nobody believed us. They thought we were throwing baseless allegations "out of jealousy" only for it to be brought to light in the end.

The sales that were stolen and erased from Jimin's album so that he wouldn't get the record of "First 1Million Seller Ksoloist"? Got proven with an official Retail Chart near the end of year that proved Jimin's album had not only sold MORE copies than the other members, but he was the only member who's numbers matched the pre-order with the ones that were actually bought AND shipped/delivered to actual fans (and not some warehouse in China without owners only to be discarded in alleys, train stations and bathrooms << ).

I wrote something similar to this last year around June, how we should be cautious of content Hybe would be releasing in the following months; with possible shipping content included to benefit only ONE member who was obviously being favored above the others to prove a point.

That the company isn't blind, they KNOW which member currently has a large following of unique loyal fans and if said member wasn't the company's favorite they will do everything they can (rumors, scandals, forced shipping content, ect) to wear out the solo fans and make them leave that member to make him dependent only on the group's fandom or company support (even if its nonexistent).

And it amused me the amount of shippers and company stans that got hella triggered by that post I wrote, even though in the end it all came true.

As for that problematic (crazy bitch) girl from IG claiming to be "jimin's gf" ? Just know that she's been doing this since 2018 to MANY male Idols/Public figures for clout (i guess it helps to boost her already TANKING career as a mediocre "actress").

Hell, she even at some point in the past 2 or 3 years claimed to be f*cking JK too.

[timetragic]

Sherlock S3 Finale Idea pt 2.

So I've ditched the idea of the key, here is what I'm thinking. Starts Pre S2E3

Moriarty needs help to steal the crown

He asks Magnussen because Magnussen can pull strings

Magnussen wants something in return

Magnussen wants to take over/control of the country

Moriarty tells him how he can take over (aka manipulating Mycroft)

Magnussen learns Mycroft's weakness (aka Sherlock)

Magnussen helps Moriarty steal the crown. He also contacts Mycroft on what Moriarty could do

He helps Mycroft help Sherlock survive the fall (So he can manipulate him better)

Mycroft realizes Magnussen is about to do something bad, so he hides Sherlock and tells him to take down Moriarty's (Now Sebastian Moran's network)

(Also Sebastian Moran will be a character, but tbh he is more of like my OC, so he will probably be very out of character from the fandom. I got into this fandom pretty late, and well, yeah)

Sherlock is pretty much facing two issues at once during the 2 year-long gap. Sebastian Moran's network + Magnusen's Network

Magnusen is like trying to Capture Sherlock or something

Anyway, stuff happens, and Mycroft decides Sherlock would now be better off back in London.

Brief tangent to talk about Sebastian Moran

Sebastian Moran was Moriarty's second in command. He was also supposed to kill John in S2E3

Moriarty found him in the army, and convinced Sebastian to join him because

- Good Pay

- He gets to help the good criminals (He's kind of like Moriarty the Patriot in this regard) or so he thinks

- He gets the thrill of the chase

He respects Moriarty to a degree because of his smarts, but as time goes on, his respect lowers because of the horrible things Moriarty does, but he continues in his job because of the details above.

When Moriarty died, he took over.

He changed the network to focus more on helping good criminals Ig like in Moriarty the Patriot

He also needed someone to look over London while he focused on maintaining control and switching things up.

The person he hired was Mary

He gave Mary good pay, and a chance to just live a normalize life without fear.

However, someone out there (ehm Magnussen) still has Mary's blackmail, while Moran can protect her, it is only so much. The only way the threat will be gone would be if she confronts Magnussen.

Mary took the job

She met John, fell in love, Sebastian Moran was fine with it, as long as she still did her job, and things didn't get in the way

S3E1

S3E2

After S3E2, there will be a 2ish year long gap, so Rosie will be like 1.25 years old

Magnussen, during this time, needed to get more resources and form a better plan to take over.

I have somewhat of an idea how thw next part will play out, but I'm not for sure yet. Pretty much, similar events to S3E3, but with different turns, and hopefully more stakes. Down here is a plan I thought up, but it is very susceptible to change.

• Magnussen arrives to London cause his overall evil plan which is ________

• Sherlock hates Magnussen, so he goes to do something

• Sherlock gets behind because reasons.

• Mary shoots John in the leg

• Secrets get revealed.

• Magnussen escapes and abducts Mary

• Magnussen is closer to world domination.

End of part 1

• Magnussen already knew Mary was coming, but didn't expect John and Sherlock

• Mary got deliberately abducted by Magnussen

• Sebastian told Mary that he can find a way to remove her blackmail, but she gotta do something first.

• John is dealing with the aftermath

• Sherlock is dealing with the aftermath

• Mycroft is investigating, and he figures out Mary's current employer, Sebastian Moran

• Sebastian was Moriarty's right hand man. Also, the guy who was gonna shoot John

• Sebastian case mini

• Sebastian doesn't like Magnussen because he threatens the current way he wants to do things

• Sebastian finds Sherlock and John annoying.

• Sebastian has a plan to remove Mary's blackmail, while Mary is in abduction, and to hurt Magnussen's plans, but he sadly does need the help of Sherlock, and John

• They are so close to finishing their plan, and while Magnussen was stumped a bit at first, he was able to easily get things undercontrol, take the last piece he needed to Control London, and execute his plan.

• He kills Mary

• Magnussen plans to just change the hierarchy or social order of things, like a Dystopia.

• Sebastian still has a network, but it is severely damaged.

• Mycroft loses his Job.

• New Rules suck, They find it difficult to follow

• They get used to some of the rules.

• They work with other people to figure out what to do.

• They find a point of entry

• They start the arc

• High tension, Sherlock out smarts Magnussen by the end.

• Britain is restored

• Reformation happens.

• Epilogue part 1

• Epilogue part 2

I've thought of including Johnlock, but it might have to happen in a sequel story or in the epilogue. This will probably pre-slash.

So yeah, hopefully I continue progressing this story lol.

[henrysglock]

Hi can you plz help me to understand. My feed is mainly talking about Palestine, showing the atrocities happening, wanting Palestine to be free and I agree the Palestinian civilians should be safe and the bombings and attacks should stop. But I’m failing to see why people aren’t caring about the Israeli civilians as much? They are also being killed, many innocently at a music festival only to never return home again. But it’s like no one cares about them bc they’re they enemy! But they’re not they’re innocent people. Just like the Palestinian people are. And I kinda get the war between both but also what happened was over 70 years ago most of the people living there now weren’t there 70 years ago so why should they still be talked about as though they’re the enemy when living in Israel is all they’ve known? It shouldn’t be just swept under the rug no and I know everyone isn’t just going to stop and make up and hold hands singing songs but It’s 100% the governments problem I just don’t understand why people now are failing to sympathise with the Israeli victims? And why some Jewish people/celebs are being made out to be bad people just bc they speak up on what’s being done to their fellow Jews? Not sure if you’ve seen Brett’s ig but he’s been very vocal and if I’m honest does seem quite extreme but ppl like Noah just seem like he’s upset and worried and doesn’t want harm to come to either side but ofc he’s going to show support to Israel when he’s been there to learn more about his religion? Idk what to believe in terms of news anymore bc some seem very pro-Palestine and others pro-Israel and some switch between both every other day. It’s just all very confusing but it has made me a little sad to see not many people talking about the innocent Israelis who have lost their lives and are still in the middle of all this too… sorry if this is too much I just needed to say it to someone :/

Okay, anon, I think I know where the disconnect lies: scale.

1,400 were killed in the attack on Israel, and that’s a horrible thing. Loss of civilian life is never a good thing.

However. Over 5,000 and counting Palestinians have been killed by the Israelis just since the Hamas attack. That’s not including the 70+ consecutive years of occupation and mistreatment continued mistreatment enacted on them by the Israeli government (It’s not something that “happened 70 years ago”, anon. It has been constant). They have been and are being driven out of their homes; their lives, livelihoods, and land are being stolen out from under them. 70 years’ worth of children have been and are being murdered or left as orphans.

Here are some numbers just since 2000:

And there is no “both sides”, here. There is no “war”, Anon, because Palestine has no army, while Israel is backed by the governments of most western countries, the US army included. They have the backing of the most powerful army in the world…against a people with no army. Palestinians, anon, are defenseless. Israel is bombing their hospitals and schools. It’s an unceasing massacre. Gaza is an open-air prison. The Palestinians cannot escape the violence.

So yes, it’s deeply unfortunate that Israeli civilians were killed, and I sympathize with those who were hurt by that attack, emotionally and/or physically…but they are not victims of genocide, here.

Palestinians are.

That is why we’re more vocal about Palestine, anon. The scales aren’t even close to the same.

This isn’t even going into the fact that Hamas was founded and funded to destabilize Palestine. To quote Avner Cohen, an ex Israeli official: “Hamas, regrettably was Israel’s creation”. Meanwhile, the current PM of Israel, Netanyahu, has said “Anyone who wants to thwart the establishment of a Palestinian state has to support bolstering hamas and transferring money to hamas. This is part of our strategy—to isolate Palestinians in gaza from Palestinians in the west bank.”

Israel’s blood is on its own hands.

[7potato7]

So, Xie Lian descends from Heaven without stopping to let Ling Wen get even a single word in. He goes back to doing what he normally does, completely unaware that he just turned literally all of Heaven upside down. He spends several years this way (maybe even decades?? he has an excellent track record hiding from people) but Feng Xin and/or Mu Qing eventually find him and go wtf dude. So, since he's technically a fugitive now (Heaven saw him ascending, destroying everything, then rapidly descending similarly to a terrorist (except terrorism as a term doesn’t exist yet, so the xianxia equivalent ig) attack, oops. Speculation is that he works for Hua Cheng!!! which makes the man himself feel a certain type of way ofc) he flees down the Silk Road and ends up in Rome. He DID spend the time he was still in China (or the territories that would become China, since I'm estimating this at around 0 CE for my own sanity) trying to defeat random ghosts to repay his debt, but quickly realized it was futile.

ofc Feng Xin and Mu Qing now realize that this wasn't a terrorist attack! They already knew that, but Xie Lian's reaction is only proof! They go to Jun Wu, who decides that "Xianle" should be reinstated to his rightful position in Heaven. Yay! Except now they can't find Xie Lian Anywhere. Cue manhunt.

Meanwhile Xie Lian has been enlisted to the Roman army. Which, hey, he'd rather not do that. So he manages to finagle himself into a position on a small northern island which shouldn't see too much conflict. However, this is very much not the case! The Britons relied on the Roman army to defend themselves from the Saxons! So, Xie Lian just deserted and quietly retreated to gather scraps in some forgotten corner of the island. He gets caught in a storm and winds up in Ireland. He's still there when the Romans leave the island in 410 and when St. Patrick comes in 433. Turns out St. Patrick isn't actually an ascended official! How disappointing. For unrelated reasons, Xie Lian returns to Briton, now thoroughly "invaded" (read: culturally integrated) by the Angles and Saxons. He putters around the island for a while longer before heading back to the mainland (read: was exiled to the mainland. For witchcraft. In a boat with rocks in the bottom (very pseudo-historical, as far as I know the 5th century Britons were most definitely not executing people for witchcraft. Witchcraft was a fun hobby they did on the side, not a crime. However, I’d like to see you see someone stand up after being shot in the eye and not throw him in the sea. Yeah, that’s what I thought)).

He hitches up with the Merovingians, who deeply appreciate his rockin' haircut. Clovis (famously brutal and murderous, but then again who isn't), however, Did Not appreciate his ability to walk off a stabbing. Clovis stabs Xie Lian a couple extra times to be sure, then cuts his head off and sets him on fire. It takes Xie Lian about a decade to come back from that, so now it’s 511 and Clovis is dead. Xie Lian decides that he should try some other place on for size.

He ends up in a catholic monastery in Spain. This is where he learns to read Latin, which will later help him learn to read Spanish, French, German, English, you name it. Obviously, he can't pay the entrance fee, so he's a lay brother doing grunt work. He's fine with this. Although he has gathered some knowledge of the local religion, it's not something he can afford to be questioned on (thankfully, literally no peasant ever was educated in the scriptures so he was fine). The atmosphere vaguely reminds him of Mt. Taicang (in literally the vaguest possible sense), and he wonders if this is what Mu Qing had to deal with.

Then the abbot notices he hasn't aged and decides that he's an angel sent by God. Xie Lian decides it's about time for a change of scenery. They've probably forgotten about him in Briton, right?

Unfortunately, he's not that lucky. The abbot isn't willing to let him go that easily, and he and his successors chase him around Spain until 711, at which point they have other problems. Xie Lian reaches Briton and joins another monastery because that was nice. Poverty, chastity, obedience, thy name is Xie Lian!

Fortunately, this monastery is more willing to "overlook" his lack of aging. Unfortunately, this monastery is Lindisfarne, and is destroyed by Vikings in 793. Noticing that Xie Lian doesn't die when killed, the Vikings decide that he's the mortal incarnation of Thor, obviously. They take him with them, fit him out with armor and weapons, and bring him back when they sack Westphalia. He doesn't like killing anyone, but that's fine with them! They're just glad to have the mortal incarnation of... probably not Thor with them! While Xie Lian is still upset that they killed all those monks, he's gotta admit this is the best people have treated him since... his first ascension... ah, shit, he's gotta get out of here. He’s been having too much fun, this was supposed to be penance, mental spiral, etc etc. Maybe just in a bit, though.

They keep asking him to stay just a bit longer, kill just one more sea monster, please, your holiness, until suddenly it's 911 and Rollo is sacking what will become Normandy. When the French king gives it to them as a "please stop, thanks," Xie Lian goes there with Rollo. Then he leaves. The newly dubbed Normans are sad, of course, but they can't keep holding their god back! In reality, Xie Lian is worried that his bad luck is going to catch up to him.

For a while, he falls back into his scrap collecting ways -except, it isn't as easy in medieval Europe. They live in small, insular communities that don't much like strangers. So he eventually decides to just... hide in the woods.

At this point, Feng Xin and Mu Qing have obviously realized that Xie Lian isn't in China anymore (if you're wondering how it took that long, it's because they got distracted by the Warring States Period and the trail went cold). So they follow legends of a strange looking man who didn't die when stabbed to Spain. However, Xie Lian isn't in Spain. He's in the part of the world that will eventually become Germany, trying to avoid being pressed into a Crusade. Yes, it is already 1096. Keep up.

He does end up going on the Crusade as a cook. That lasts a day before they decide to throw him on the frontlines to "soften up the Moors." Xie Lian fakes his death. I could choose a specific battle, but I don't particularly care to. It was probably Antioch. Fine, it was Antioch.

He spends some time in the Byzantine Empire, which is rapidly crumbling. He flees after the Sack of Constantinople in 1204, thankfully with only minimal injuries this time. But on his way out, he briefly sees Feng Xin and Mu Qing in the chaos, fighting on the side of the Byzantine Empire. They also see him, but he leaves before they can do anything about it.

So Xie Lian fucks off to a random island in the Mediterranean. This ends up being the Island of Rhodes. He stays there doing his little scrap collecting do da until 1306, when the Hospitallers move in. Shortly after that, they themselves are booted off to Malta in another invasion. Xie Lian goes with them, bc what the hell, these guys kinda suck, they deserve the bad luck.

Xie Lian is still in Malta when the Black Plague hits in 1349. It... brings some old wounds back up to the surface. Best to just forget about it. He sticks around, anyways.

The Inquisition begins in 1478. The Hospitallers start to give him funny looks. However, he is widely viewed as a living saint, so they don’t really do anything. Xie Lian fakes his death, then barricades himself into a cave and meditates for around fifty years before coming back out. No one recognizes him. He does this a couple more times, with varying lengths of meditation. He should probably just move on, but it’s awfully difficult to get on and off Malta. Also, it’s kind of nice there.

In 1565, Xie Lian almost single-handedly holds off the siege of Malta with the aid of the inhabitants while the Hospitallers cower in their monastery. Really, these monk guys have gone downhill over the centuries. Of course, the Hospitallers and Ottomans rewrite the narrative, but who would expect any less? The truth is just embarrassing for everyone involved.

In a rare stroke of luck, Xie Lian leaves the island after the siege. Just a few short years later, in 1573, the Inquisition moves in.

It is now 1615. Xie Lian is very tired. He returns to the mainland after the siege, and now everyone is fighting over something called "indulgences." He wants to go home. He does go home! Jun Wu finds him immediately, oops. He'd been watching Mt. Taicang (insane behavior, it's been 2,000 years bro) and obviously noticed when Xie Lian went to pay respects to his parents. Xie Lian narrowly escapes and runs as far as he possibly can. Your pick whether it’s just because of the stalker-ish behavior or a Bai Wuxiang reveal. Either way, he runs all the way to the New World.

Of course, he doesn’t have the money to just... book a ship there. He signs on as an indentured servant. What are a few years off his life anyways? Unfortunately, before that can happen, he gets mugged and accidentally murders the guy. Instead of being an indentured servant in exchange for land, he is instead working off his debt to the guy's family. Which is fine, of course.

It's not, in fact, fine. After his service is done, he once more fucks off to the woods. At this point, however, most Native Americans know to be wary of foreigners, so he keeps to himself. If he gets shot by mistake a few times, it's fine, he shakes it off. At least they aren't guns. In most cases. He'll take what he can get.

He finds a cave. He meditates in the cave. He doesn't come out until 1850. It's almost being in the coffin again, except he can leave anytime. He just. Doesn't.

The shackle around his neck cracks slightly under the force of spiritual power he’s cultivated. He doesn’t notice.

The world of 1850 is very different than the world of 1650. Manifest Destiny is real and thriving. Suddenly the relatively friendly local tribes have been replaced by a bunch of other, less friendly people. The mountain used to be called Maskwa Wac, but now it’s Bear Mountain and Xie Lian is in Connecticut, apparently??? Mostly people call him strange names when he tries to ask questions, so he avoids them.

He isn’t used to people anymore. They aren’t exactly willing to get used to him, either. Centuries of dirt don’t wash out with a single bath. After two centuries in a cave, he has to relearn how to talk, write, and generally interact with the world. Culture has changed, language has changed, the entire world has changed. Xie Lian is exactly the same.

In 1863, Xie Lian finally manages to get a job. It’s gotten significantly harder to live without a job, so that’s good (maybe he should invest in this newfangled “identification” thing). Building the trans-continental railroad is a great gig for someone like Xie Lian. He’s strong and more than willing to work. The pay isn’t bad.

Unfortunately, some boulders fall on him after a misplaced TNT blast and his coworkers leave him for dead. But hey, hadn’t he heard of something called a “Gold Rush” talked about nostalgically in bars? He’s pretty sure it’s over now, but it’s worth a shot. He’s already partway there.

He only gets mauled by like three bears on the way over. It was good that he’d seen a few before at that point, or else he’d probably think they were yao. He also got shot several more times, whether by Native Americans or settlers.

The people out West hadn’t gotten a forty-niner in decades, but they’re willing to give him odd jobs mopping at bars and fixing fences and such. It’s almost nostalgic. They hear news about the South seceding and the war that follows, but it isn’t something that really affects them all the way out here. Xie Lian is glad to avoid it.

After only a couple years, he decides to go back to the East Coast. He doesn’t want to bring bad luck on these people’s heads, after all. He accidentally zig-zags down into Mexico and into South America, then overcompensates back up into Canada before finally making it to New York City.

It’s 1910. Almost the moment he steps foot in the city, he gets hit by a car. Somewhat delirious, he mistakes the car for a demon(?) and tries to kill it.

Insane asylums are not fun.

The important part is that he eventually gets out (or that’s what he tells himself). He doesn’t have the motivation to bother with a job anymore, so he bums it on the streets collecting scraps like he used to. Problem is, there’s a lot more homeless people in the post-Industrial world than the pre-Industrial one. Lots of competition for food and shelter. Usually, if it comes to a fight, Xie Lian just lets the other guy have whatever it is. It’s not like it’s life or death for Xie Lian, after all.

He gets picked up by the police, who aren’t so bad yet. Corrupt, yes, but this isn’t the Gilded Age anymore. They drop him off with a referral to work in a car factory (Xie Lian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry) and only a few bruises.

Machinery, ah... it tends to... break around him. He doesn’t last long at his new job. Neither does his job last long with him as an employee. The factory burns down. The owner has Xie Lian dropped in a river with rocks tied to his ankles. What goes around comes around, really.

In 1917, Xie Lian is drafted into WWI. So, of course, he ends up in the trenches. He’s just glad that he’s basically immune to every disease known to man. Most of his comrades aren’t so lucky.

This isn’t the type of war Xie Lian remembers fighting in -though his memories are a bit blurry at this point. They fight for inches of ground in exchange for hundreds of lives in muddy, dismal conditions. The mud kills almost more than the bombs do.

The despair is the same. That much never changes.

Xie Lian leaves. He had to. No amount of martial prowess could help stop this war. Perhaps strategy would, but even if they let some random soldier into the war room, Xie Lian wouldn’t know how to strategize with modern guns, let alone tear gas.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing are still looking for Xie Lian, of course. But the trail went cold years ago.

Hua Cheng is holding on to his existence by his fingernails these days. He’s expanded his influence globally, but he still can’t find His Highness anywhere. Ghosts everywhere tread on eggshells. In one night, he replaces every single carving and painting of Jesus in Europe with one of Xie Lian. The papacy is in an uproar, taking it as a sign from God Himself. The only person who doesn’t find it funny is Xie Lian, who is very confused. Also white supremacists. They don’t like it very much either (that just makes it funnier). It turns out that Xie Lian has been canonized as a saint a few separate times over the centuries. “His bones”/relics are in six separate churches. People start freaking out. A large portion of the Catholic church believes that Xie Lian is either Jesus (and that the rapture had already happened centuries ago) or the Antichrist. This causes a massive schism in Protestant and Catholic churches alike. Islam becomes the main Abrahamic religion. Xie Lian does his level best to ignore the people bowing to him in the streets and shaves his hair off with a bowie knife.

On another note, Jun Wu gave up on finding Xie Lian centuries ago. Turns out Xianle was just a spot of mud on his Heavenly canvas after all.

This is good. It means when Xie Lian sprints his way back across the world, Jun Wu isn’t watching Mt. Taicang anymore. Xie Lian, still a martial god, makes it there in a week at top speed. However, Mt. Taicang isn’t the same as it used to be. There’s a fence around the base, and big fancy houses everywhere. When Xie Lian touches the fence, it shocks him as if he’s been struck by lightning and he blacks out for a second. His first thought is that it’s some type of array (that some other cultivation sect has set up there, an optimistic voice whispers deep in his heart), but it’s just an electric fence of course. He climbs over.

His parents’ well is full of cement.

Xie Lian returns to the trenches. He was only gone for three weeks. His excuse is that there was a messed-up transfer. No one believes him, so he gets court martialed for desertion. It doesn’t go through. If he’d deserted, why would he ever go back to the trenches?

Eventually, he goes back to America. It was the furthest he could possibly get from his problems, after all.

It’s nice to be able to write “homeless veteran” on his signs. The police bother him less. Well, slightly less. People keep saying the economy is bad, but it’s always been bad for Xie Lian. He barely notices the differences anymore. He barely notices anything.

Then another war starts. Eventually, in 1942, Xie Lian is picked up and thrown into an internment camp. He isn’t Japanese, but he can’t exactly say he’s from Xianle, a long dead country no one has ever heard of. This is actually a massive turn in luck, because he meets Banyue and Pei Xiu in the camp. They’ve also been mistaken for Japanese, because that’s what a... misinformed forger put on their green cards when they got off Angel Island.

They all got out in 1946. Pei Xiu manages to get a low-paying job, but Banyue struggles to find work for her skillset (snakes) and Xie Lian still doesn’t have any identification. Pei Xiu quickly loses his job, and they all end up homeless again.

They’re at Stonewall when the riots start in 1969. The first brick was thrown by Marsha P. Johnson, the second by Sylvia Rivera, and the third by Shi Qingxuan, who now goes by Shi Xuan. They’ve had a bit of a rough time of it over the centuries since his brother was killed and they were knocked from Heaven, even losing an arm and leg, but they were kept immortal by her Ghost King. They don’t ever talk to each other, but Shi Xuan knows he’s watching. How else is she still alive? (If she keeps his camps close to waterfronts... well, that’s just their preference. Nothing to do with the head she can sometimes spy poking over the waves).

Shi Xuan recognizes Pei Xiu, but he recognizes nothing of the once-glorious Wind Master in them. She hits it off with Xie Lian and joins their group.

Technology is changing. Everything in the world is closer than it used to be. Privacy is quickly becoming a non-concept, especially for homeless people. There are cameras everywhere. Xie Lian, Banyue, Pei Xiu, and Shi Xuan don’t have access to this sort of technology.

Jun Wu, Feng Xin, Mu Qing, and Hua Cheng do. In 2003, a video of a homeless man telling a police officer off goes viral on LiveJournal and MySpace. On a completely unrelated note, several immortals show up in various American cities. Jun Wu is contemplating moving the Heavenly Court. Scientists are calling the sudden outburst of silver butterflies an invasive species.

It’s 2005, and Xie Lian hops onto the subway. It has been 2,803 years since he was banished. In an empty subway car, he meets a Ghost King in red.