#eh idk ignore me i’m just having Thoughts

[comixandco]

thinking about little molly finch, the baby on a boat that tugged a house across the ocean

who grew up hearing bedtime stories based on tales from her family’s old country, of shapeshifters and seamonsters, and the story of the night the sea rose up around them and dragged that boat down to bottom of the sea bed

who could see that giant house and boat at low tide at night

who drew a picture of a princess in a castle at the bottom of the sea besieged by a sea monster

and died sure it was coming after her

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Idk why but I'm so over dealing with people!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You swipe away another phone call. You have at least a dozen missed. Let them buzz in your pocket for another few hours. You try not to think about it as you turn your attention back to the plot before you, the tight foot by foot square, and continue to gently sift through the dirt. You stop only to make notes on the map and examine the odd bit of animal bones you find. 

Bzzzzzz. The constant vibration in your pants makes you anxious. You should put it to silent but keep forgetting. Whatever. You’re busy. Whoever it is will have to wait. You know who it is. He’s been calling for days. You’ve been ignoring him just as long. 

You should pick up. You should be there for him. You should be happy for him but your heart feels rotten. Years of pining and you can’t pretend any longer. Not after the party. Not after seeing him on his knee for another woman. That’s it. That’s the seal on the envelope. The dream is crumpled up and in the bin. 

He didn’t even notice that you left early. You don’t think anyone did. You spent all those weeks planning and fretting and laying awake at night and for what? To pretend that it could ever be all for you?  

You sigh and sit back on your heel, one leg bent under you as you rest your arm on your other knee. You blow an insect away from your face and push your hat back. The sun beats down, offering great light for the excavation but less than ideal temperature. 

“Eh, there you are,” Arturo waltzes up in his round tinted spectacles, “find anything good?” 

“Nah,” you shake your head and shrug. 

“You know where you’d find something amazing? Norway,” he smirks, hands on his hips. “So... you thought about it?” 

“Mm, yeah, been thinking,” you utter dully as you look up at him from under the brim of your hat. “When do you need a decision?” 

“The sooner the better. The grant proposal is all but approved, we just need a name on that blank line,” he says, “this could be really good for you. No, I know it will be good.” 

“Right,” you nod and stand up, dusting off your tan pants, “I know you said you weren’t sure but any idea how long? I’d have to worry about my apartment and telling my family...” 

“A year. That’s about right,” he proclaims, “could be longer but I’d plan for that.” 

“A year?” You wisp as your chest deflates. You put your hand on your pocket as your phone buzzes again. “Wow.” 

“You really want to spend another year in the city sweating for crow bones?” He asks. “Not trying to push you but these opportunities don’t come along often.” 

“Norway,” you suck your teeth and angle your chin as you think, “viking stuff?” 

“Possibly, could be an early Christian settlement too. How about I send you the proposal and you give it a look?” 

“Sure, I... I guess I should.” 

“It’ll all be taken care of; accommodation, travel, stipend,” he lists off with his fingers. “I know it’s not Ireland like you wanted.” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you assure him, “I’ll keep thinking.” 

He winks and grins triumphantly, “tomorrow. I need to know tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” You echo back in a hollow murmur. 

He’s already walking away. Your phone starts to shake again and you growl. You shove your hand in your pocket and rip it out. Your gloves smear dirt on the screen as you press the red button. You pause before you can drag your thumb over. You inhale and push your finger the other direction. 

“Bucky,” you answer in confusion. He wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t an emergency. 

“Ah, there you are kid,” Steve’s voice comes in place of the expected timbre. You hiss. “You avoiding me or something?” 

“Uh, no,” you reply thinly, “I’m working,” you rub the back of your neck with your other hand, “it’s been busy and I’m sure you’ve been running all around with... everything.” 

You can’t bring yourself to say it. Wedding. Ugh. He’s getting married... to her. 

“Well, Peggy’s doing most of the planning, really. I don’t know,” he chuckles crisply, “you know, more a lady’s thing. She’s already knee-deep in the engagement party. Maybe you could give her a few pointers.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” you grumble as you bring your hand forward to rub your thumb with your index, scratching away more of the dust. 

“I didn’t get to say thank you. Again. That party was amazing. It was perfect, kid.” 

“Steve, we’re the same age,” you gripe at his pet name. 

“Yeah, but you hate it so much,” he teases. 

You can’t smile. Even as your cheeks pinch, you can only grimace. You drop your arm and close your eyes as you push your head back. 

“She loved it. I did too. We’re so happy and you made that happen--” 

“Steve, why are you calling? I’m buried right now,” you huff. 

“You are? I thought you’re supposed to dig stuff up--” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Well, you missed Opening Day so I thought maybe you’d wanna come watch the game. Sam’s doing his famous nachos and Bucky is... coming.” 

You hear the very man mutter in the background. Great, you even have an audience. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had you on speaker. Why would anything between you ever be intimate? 

“Tonight?” You wonder, “you sure you’re available?” 

“Me, I should be asking you,” he scoffs, “come on, how long’s it been since we’ve been apart a whole week?” 

“Work...” 

“Can you dig in the dark?” He challenges. 

“Steve,” you sniff, “I’m tired...” you feel your heart sinking. You feel bad. You never say no to Steve. It’s not easy. You tried but he’s right. You can’t remember the last time you didn’t see him at least every other day. “Fine, twist my arm.” 

“Good,” he chirps victoriously. “I wasn’t looking forward to driving up there and digging you out. So, seven?” 

“Seven, right,” you agree. “See ya then.” 

“Don’t make me come find ya, kid.” 

You hang up and cringe. You don’t even like baseball. It was just another personality trait you took on hoping to be close to Steve, hoping he might realise you’re destined to be together. Well, that’s not true. You’re just stupid. It took you too long to grow out of being that stupid college girl fawning over the blond hunk in his coed sweater. 

Still stupid, still alone. 

💟

You never show up empty-handed. Even when you were a poor sophomore. So it is that you delay the inevitable by stopping at your favourite local bakery. They’re closing and you get the eclairs for a discount as they’ll be on the day-old shelf in the morning.  

The owner, Marigold, knows you and puts in an extra one. You leave a tip as you listen eagerly to her rambling story about her granddaughter’s first soccer practice. Usually, you would be checking the time but today, you got more than enough. Finally, she sends you off as she turns off the sign. 

Fine, you’ll go. 

You find a visitor’s spot behind Steve’s building and linger in the car. You eat the extra eclair to keep from crying. Sugar is good for clogging up your tear ducts. You wipe your mouth and make yourself get out of the car. 

As you wait in the lobby for the buzzer to pick up, your insides squirm. You’re not ready for this. You’re not ready to face the truth you’ve been running from. The one you know you can’t deny any longer. 

“Hey kid,” Steve unlocks the door without awaiting a response. It’s typical; you have your patterns. Those little rituals are all going to end. 

You go through to the elevators and contemplate taking the stairs as you wait. The doors open and you step on, facing your reflection in the mirror doors. Your pants are still filthy from working in the dirt, your shirt is stained with your sweat, but at least you remembered to change your shoes. The elevator dings and you nearly let the doors close again before you can find your strength. 

You walk down the hallway and knock. You can hear their voices through the door. Steve opens it from within and gives you a strange look. 

“What’re you knocking for? You know you can come right in.” 

“Yeah, sorry, tired, long day,” you babble out the lazy excuses. “Here.” 

“Oh, nice,” he takes the box of eclairs, “you weren’t lying. You look exhausted.” 

“Ah, you really know how to talk up a woman,” Sam interjects as he appears in the doorway further down the entryway, “it’s a wonder Peggy said yes.” 

“Shut up,” Steve throws back as he turns to head back to the kitchen. 

You take your time in pulling off your shoes and sense Sam lingering, watching as you meander. You clear your throat as you stand and head down the hall. He nudges you as you step into the doorway next to him. 

“Where ya been?” He asks, “these jackasses have been driving me nuts.” 

“Work,” you repeat again, “lots going on.” 

“Right, yeah, now that you’re not spending all your time planning someone else’s girlfriend’s birthday.” 

You give him a sharp look and he shows his palms. You shake your head. He’s right. You wasted all that time. You’ve wasted years. All for nothing. 

“Fiancee, now, I guess,” he adds. 

“Yeah, the happy couple,” you snip and step into the room, “so we watching the game or are we giving him another pat on the back.” 

“What? You’re not excited? You’ll get to be a bridesmaid or whatever. Since I’m best man, I’ll be sure to save you a dance,” Sam chuckles. 

“You? Best man?” Bucky sneers from the couch where he slouches and flicks through a motorcycle magazine, “don’t think so, bud.” 

“Oh, you don’t think I’m better than you?” Sam challenges. “Let’s race for it.” 

“You cheat,” Bucky growls. 

“No, I have strategy,” Sam counters. 

You roll your eyes. Wedding talk, already. The exact thing you can’t handle right now.  Bucky sits up to glare at Sam as he closes the glossy pages. You let them argue and posture at each other. 

You leave the room and let yourself onto the balcony. The fresh air is chilling. You shiver as you step up to the railing and look across the city. You take in the skyline, each window, each peak, each speck of a car on the streets below. It feels so grey. Like it’s the last time you’ll be standing here looking over it all. 

Maybe it is. 

💟

You sip from the bottle of beer as Sam nearly drops his nachos off his lap in excitement. He hollers at the screen as Bucky gives him a look. Steve shakes a fist at the second base run. You’re happy enough to tamp down the heat of the peppers with the wheaty ale.  

Sam rights himself beside you as Steve reaches forward to set down his plate. He grabs the square of paper towel folded on the coffee table and wipes his lips. He sits back and slings his elbow over the armrest as the next batter takes his place. 

“So, how do you guys feel about a destination wedding?” Steve asks. 

You clamp your lips tight and scoop up more fixings with a chip. Sam swallows loudly as Bucky shrugs. No one says a word. 

“Peggy asked earlier. I wanted to do it at a cathedral here. Just how I always pictured it,” Steve says. 

Yeah, that sounds like him. He likes old-fashioned and elegant. Everything Peggy is and you’re not. Makes you wonder why she wouldn’t want the same venue. 

“Back home?” Sam wonders. 

“England? No. I suggested that and she was not into it.” 

“Somewhere tropical?” Sam prompts again. He’s at least trying. You’re too sick to open your mouth. 

“Sure, that’s what I was hoping,” he smiles, “especially if it’s a winter wedding. The date... yeah, that’s a big deal too. You know, I thought the ring was a pain.” 

You keep your head down, hoping the pain doesn’t show. Not only did he propose to her, he kept it from you. You’re best friends and you had no idea. How much had you been through with him? He had you plan that whole party but he couldn’t tell you that?  

No, no, you’re being dramatic. You’re friends. He doesn’t owe you that. It’s between him and Peggy. His future... wife. Ugh. You can’t even imagine that happening. You try and try but you just can’t stomach the image. Peggy in white, Steve in his tux, and you just standing, watching. 

“I can’t come,” you blurt out abruptly. 

“Huh?” Steve blinks and flinches as if he’s been slapped. 

Sam angles beside you to squint at you and Bucky’s brows pop up. Another silence, this one deadly. You’re suffocating as you search for words. 

“I won’t be here.” 

“Well, yeah, like I said, it’s gonna be somewhere else. You don’t even know when it is,” Steve blusters as his face creases in disappointment. 

“I’m going to Norway,” you blather and nearly choke at the realisation of what you said. 

“Norway?” Sam repeats hollowly. 

“Yeah, uh, work... offered me a grant contract and I’ll be going to Norway. For at least a year. So... yeah.” 

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Steve blinks rapidly, “how-- when were you going to tell me?” 

“I’m telling you now,” you push your shoulders up, “I just found out.” 

“You can’t...” Steve begins. 

“That’s awesome,” Sam speaks over him, “hey,” he nudges you, “that is so fucking cool. Norway. Vikings and shit.” 

Bucky nods and gives a thoughtful look, “rains a lot.” 

“So I’ve heard,” you utter dumbly, not sure how to respond. “I got a lot to do before then so I might be a bit absent.” 

“Don’t even worry about us,” Sam insists, “you need any help at all...” 

Steve stands up suddenly and slams his bottle down. Before you can speak, he twists on his heels and storms across the apartment. You stare after him as he disappears into the next room and you hear the balcony door slide back then snap shut just as quickly.  

You grip the beer bottle tight and look down. You didn’t think he’d be mad. You’ll be out of the way. He can get married and be happy. 

“What a baby,” Bucky grumbles, “can’t be happy for anyone but himself.” 

“Well, you are his best pal,” Sam snipes, “birds of a feather.” 

“So that means I’m best man,” Bucky intones mischievously. 

“No, it’s not best buddy, it’s best man--” 

They continue their banter and you get up. You put down your chips and beer and leave without notice from the bickering couple. You near the balcony and look through to Steve as he leans on the rail, his head down. Gently, you slide the door open and step out. 

Only the wind blows as you come closer to the railing. He roils in the cool evening air. You take a breath as you come up next to him. 

“Sorry, it’s... a good opportunity.” 

“No...” he drones, “I’m happy for you. I just... I can’t imagine my wedding without you. Or my life.” He lifts his head to look at you. “What am I going to do? You’re supposed to tell me what bowtie to wear and how to do my hair.” 

“Peggy can do all that,” you cross your arms, “Steve, I can’t pass this up. If I stay in the city...” you let your voice trail off into the wind. If you stay, you’ll have to watch his happily ever after while yours never comes. “I’ll never do anything.” 

“I know,” he dips his head again, “I’m proud of you. Really. But I’m going to miss you.” 

Your cheeks tauten and your throat clenches. Your voice is creaky as you speak, “I’ll miss you too.”  

He’ll miss you but he’ll never love you like you do him. 

[schrodingers-romy]

Jealousy, Jealousy [Inugami Teruomi x Reader]

Pairing: Inugami Teruomi x GN!Reader Word Count: ~2000 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Teruomi is all for camaraderie between Shishitouren and Furin; that is, until he notices Furin's pink haired pretty boy seemingly flirting with you…

Warnings: No gendered pronouns or terms used for reader, jealousy, making out, kiryu is a little bit of a flirt, togame and choji are both menaces, written with adult teruomi in mind (idk his age canonically)

Notes: Probably no one else but me is interested in him, but write what you want to see in the world ig. Slightly inspired by reading the page for inugami (japanese dog spirits) where it states that those possessed by inugami develop a personality full of jealousy. He's a sweetie pie tho <3

Teruomi regrets everything.

Well, not everything of course. But he at least regrets agreeing to this party.

It was supposed to be a way to strengthen bonds between Shishitoren and Furin, something that he was all for, especially if it would mean that Sako could finally hold an actual conversation with Hiragi. (No, he wasn’t nosy, he just wanted the best for his friend, and he was sure the best for Sako was resolving all the unresolved angst and tension the two had after years apart). And to be honest, he was just excited to get to meet Furin people for the first time in the two gangs’ years-long friendship when they weren’t trying to beat the shit out of each other or another gang.

But he isn’t enjoying himself now. Instead, he is sulking in a corner, nursing his drink as he watches the pink haired pretty boy from Furin flirt with you.

Or at least, he assumes he was flirting with you. He sure is close and touchy if he wasn’t flirting, and you were acting suspiciously flustered and bashful. He simultaneously wants to get closer, to hear what exactly that boy is telling you, but he also knows that if he does hear flirting, he’s going to explode (and maybe start a fight that will be very detrimental to Furin/Shishitoren relations).

Teruomi is so focused on you he doesn’t even notice Shishitoren’s second in command creep up behind him.

“What’s got you in such a funk, Inu-kun?” Togame drawled. “Thought you enjoyed social things.”

There’s a pause as he follows where Teruomi’s gaze leads. “Ah.”

Teruomi opens his mouth to ask what that means, but Togame cuts him off. “Just going to let him flirt with your crush, eh?”

“MY WHAT?!”

Togame gives him a half-lidded stare, and any denials die in Teruomi’s throat. “Yeah, but what am I supposed to do, huh? They look like they’re having fun together.”

“I’m sure Inu-kun’s little love wouldn’t mind you butting in…but I’m sure nothing will happen, right?” he glances over to where you are.

The pink haired boy is now playing with the sleeve of your shirt. Teruomi lets out a vague growling sound, and the empty plastic cup in his hand crumples under his grip.

“Oh, maybe I was wrong…they do seem pretty close, huh?” Togame teases.

Teruomi shoves the crunched cup into Togame’s chest. “Fuck this,” he spits, before he starts stalking towards you. He completely ignores Togame’s chuckles in the background.

-

You’re interrupted from your conversation with Kiryu by Teruomi butting in. “Hey, I’ve got to talk to you for a sec,” he says, tugging at the sleeve of your shirt. “C’mon.”

“Can’t it wait?” you ask. Normally, you would go with him, no questions asked, but you’re slightly offput by the brusque way Teruomi is acting, more akin to his fighting persona than his normal personality.

Teruomi makes a face, canines bared. “No.”

You open your mouth to argue, but then you feel someone pat your other arm, the one not held hostage by your friend. “It’s okay, you should go with your friend. I’ve got your number, so I can text you later!” Kiryu says, giving you a cat-like smile.

You swear you can hear a growl come from Teruomi, but you ignore it. “Okay. I’ll talk to you later, I guess. It was nice meeting you though.”

“Likewise,” the other boy calls, giving you a loose-sleeved wave as Teruomi tugs you away.

You’re bodily dragged away from the main party, until the two of you were tucked away behind a building.

“Hey, what the hell is up with you today,” you yelp.

Teruomi lets go of your arm, but you’re still just as trapped as before, pinned against the brick wall by his proximity. He’s so close you can see the golden flecks in his eyes, and if you weren’t pissed off you would get lost in them.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. He repeats this a few times, like he can’t muster up the right thing to say. The fire that was in his eyes has dimmed; his face relaxing into a sheepish sort of moue.

You scoff. “Well, if there isn’t anything, I might as well go back and talk to Kiryu again.”

You barely finished your sentence before Teruomi’s eyes are blazing again. “Oh, Kiryu, huh?” he snarks. “Wanna go back to flirting with him? Y’know, this party was supposed to get Furin and Shishitoren closer together, but not that close.”

“Fuck you!” you spit, roughly shoving his chest away. “Why do you care if someone’s flirting with me or not, huh?”

He lets out a frustrated noise, almost a growl. “Because he shouldn’t have been!” he yells, fangs flashing in the light.

You pause, and gape at him. Suddenly, it all clicks; you observe his red face, his pout, and his nervous stance. You think back to how he acted when he pulled you away from Kiryu; and even further back to whenever anybody had tried to come on to you in the past. What you previously thought of as platonic protectiveness recontextualizes itself in your mind. “Holy shit,” you breathe. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer, but the expression on his face is enough.  

You let out a breathy giggle. “I can’t believe it.”

His hands unconsciously clench into fists. “Look, you don’t hafta laugh at me—”

You cut him off with a quick peck to his mouth, before he can get himself fired up again. It’s awkward, even for a first kiss; his lips were open mid-sentence and your noses bumped together, but it’s enough to have him speechless.

You smile at the way he deflates; no longer the barking dog he was previously, he is now a docile puppy looking at you with hopeful eyes.

“Does that mean—”

You interrupt him again. “I like you.”

His eyes sparkle, and he lets out his own delirious little giggle. “I mean, I hoped, but then I saw you with him, and I saw red—‘m sorry.”

You sigh and reach out to take his hand. It’s rough, and calloused, and you run your fingers over his scarred knuckles lightly. “You acted like a bit of an asshole, but it clearly turned out okay in the end. I forgive you. I didn’t really like him anyway; I just liked the compliments. It felt nice to be doted on a bit I guess,” you admit, keeping your eyes on his hands.

“I can dote on you!” he blurts. You look back up to meet his painfully earnest gaze. “I think you’re gorgeous, and kind, and talented, and I’m so happy you like me I feel a bit dizzy right now.” He pauses for a shaky breath. “Please don’t go to anyone else for compliments, because I have years’ worth stored up. I can keep going, if you want—"

You feel like you’re on a sugar high but also, simultaneously, like you have a fever. Your face is burning, your heart is beating double-time, and you feel giddy in a distinctly dreamlike way. “Please not right now, I might explode.”

He chuckles. “Well, if I can’t compliment you, can I do something else with my mouth?”

Your jaw drops. “Wow, so forward, Teruomi~”

You can see it on his face in real time as he realizes how else his words could be interpreted. “I meant kissing! Not anything else!” he yelps, blush returning with full force. “I mean I’m not complaining if you wanna—but yeah.” He squeezes his eyes shut from embarrassment.

You have one last little laugh at his expense, before you lean forward to give him another kiss.

This one is smoother, and longer, even though it’s still relatively chaste. Now, you can fully feel his chapped lips against yours; the feeling sends a light shiver through you.

You’re only allowed to pull away for a second, before Teruomi pulls you back into him with one hand around the nape of your neck.

Your third kiss is deeper, and hotter, and leads right into a desperate fourth, and fifth, and sixth.

By the seventh kiss, he has both hands cradling your head, tilting you into him, and your arms are slung around his neck. By the eighth, his sharp canines are nipping at your lips until you open up for him, and then the two of you are licking into each other’s mouths like starving animals.

By the time you’ve completely lost count of how many kisses you’ve shared, Teruomi detaches himself from your mouth to instead press wet kisses to your neck.

You wind your hand through his dark curly hair, keeping him pressed into the crook of your neck, even as he starts to nip, and bite, and suck. The sensation of him marking you, like a territorial dog, makes a shudder run down your spine, and you let out a whine. He lets out his own moan when your grip on his hair tightens.

When you finally pull away from each other, both gasping for air, Teruomi looks at you so tenderly, you can’t bear it.

So you tug him into another kiss.

-

Unfortunately, Togame is the first to notice you when you both creep back into the party. He gives Teruomi a lazy wave, and a smirk, eyeing the rumpled clothing and bruises you both now sport.

Teruomi lets out a huff and tries to steer you back into the main crowd, where you can hopefully become lost and pretend like you weren’t just making out a few meters away from the rest of them. It mostly works, except for when you accidentally lock eyes with Kiryu. You’re frozen for a second, and then pure mortification runs through your veins as his eyes drift to your bitten neck. He gives you a cat-like smile, and a wink.

It's your turn, now, to drag your new boyfriend away, muttering a half-hearted excuse when he questions you. You hope he didn’t notice the pink haired boy, lest he become smug at Kiryu’s obvious notice of his claim.  

You finally think you’re in the clear; hidden amongst the bodies in the middle of the room, where everyone is either focused on someone else or trying to push their way through the crowd. You slump into Teruomi with relief. It seems like the two of you have reentered the party with minimal disturbance.

Until you hear Teruomi curse.

“What? What is it?” you ask.

The answer does not come from him.

“INU-CHAAAAN.”

“Fuck,” you say, with feeling, before your illustrious leader bounds up to you.

Choji is beaming at the two of you; he doesn’t seem to notice anything strange at first and starts to ramble on about something inconsequential. You cross your fingers, behind your back, and hope his obliviousness protects you.

It does not.

Choji stops mid-sentence when he sees the red bite marks on your neck; he remains frozen, mouth open, as his eyes flick from you to Teruomi. You can see the amusement welling up in his eyes.

“OH WOW, WERE YOU TWO FIGHTING?”

The room quiets, and multiple people turn to look at the three of you.

You turn, and let your forehead fall onto Teruomi’s shoulder with a thunk.

“No!” Teruomi states, waving his hands in denial. “Why would you say that?”

Choji’s face is the picture of innocence as he rocks back and forth on his heels, but you don’t believe it for a second; you recognize the evil glint in his eyes. “Oh, no reason,” he says, singsong, “Just thought you might’ve been scrapping cause I saw you both go off alone, and you both came back with all those marks and bruises…” he trails off.

You get one moment of blessed silence, as the people near you process this information, before you’re inundated with laughter, wolf-whistling, and overly enthusiastic pats on the back.

“Should’ve just left the party,” Teruomi mutters.

Face still buried in his shoulder; you groan in agreement.

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Okay so consider!!!

Yandere platonic Geralt!! Generally very cool!! Very nice!! But if you fuck up you have to deal with (what you have dubbed) the get along cuff. Which is literally him just making you sleep next to him and tying your leg to his with a bit of leather cord. It’s thin so he can easily snap it if there’s a danger, but he’ll wake up if you move it.

Also Jaskier being completely fine and okay with this would be hilarious, I would love to see you write a scenerio!! (Idk why but I picture a modern reader, like one who got dropped in the Witcher from the modern world)

I love this ask!! I also love the trope of a modern character in a medieval setting, I think it was all the ‘Modern Girl IN Middle Earth’ fanfics I read (an actual tag on ao3) so I have a weakness for it!! Also Jaskier just going ‘eh’ is so funny to me.

Warnings: forced proximity, captivity, kidnapping, some level of being infantalized, being tied to another person as a form of being restrained, future Stockholm syndrome. Jaskier is complicit, up to you whether he is also a yandere or not. Also the fact Geralt can smell emotions

“You know this could be like, an actual danger?”

You try and reason your way out of your situation, like reason has ever worked on Geralt before. He ignores you, mostly, concentrating on tying the knot around your wrist in a manner that you cannot undo the knot but it also didn’t cut off your circulation. He slips a finger under the cord, testing the knot and the cords strength, and you hear him make a satisfied rumble. You were still getting used to that, to the various sounds the Witcher made to express emotion.

“No it’s not. The cord’s thin, and if I have to fight I can snap it easily. Plus this area doesn’t normally have monsters, not this time of year.”

He stands, towering over you from you spot on the ground, near the fire, and you tilt your face up. The yellow light throws his features into a harsh countenance, makes his face all angles and scars, golden eyes reflecting the light the way a predators would as he glared down at you, scowling. You tighten your fingers in the wool cloak he had given you, so long ago, the fibers catching in your nails.

He must see something in your gaze, or maybe it’s the way you know you probably reek of anxiety right now, but his stance softens, the scowl melting away into something softer, not a smile because you knew he was still very, very upset with you, but not a harsh frown that made you feel small and stupid and like all the things he thought about you were true.

He crouches, making himself smaller next to you, and you feel your shoulders start to unwind. It was strange, being around someone who was so perceptive to your emotions, but seemingly had no clue how to address or handle them, beyond his own instincts as a Witcher and his limited interpersonal skills. His very limited interpersonal skills.

Seriously. You were pretty sure the guy only had two friends.

“You’re going to try and run again. Maybe not tonight, but I clearly can’t trust you to behave without me keeping my eye on you at all times. Since I can’t do that while I’m asleep, this is the solution.”

He motions to the thin leather cord, and you scowl, face twisting into something you know is ugly but doing it anyways. He wouldn’t be intimidated, you knew, he seemed to view you as some helpless kid, even though you were a fully grown adult who had been attending college.

“You wouldn’t have to watch me if you just let me go, Geralt. You can’t… you can’t just not let someone go home, that’s not right.”

You snap, fingers burying further into the cloak to stave off the chill that was only getting colder, creeping up your arms and legs to your torso and making you shiver. It had just gotten dark, the little fire Geralt built crackling away and too small to provide much warmth but rapidly gaining strength, and you shiver, leaning toward the fire and away from the Witcher.

“We’re not having this conversation again. You can’t survive out there on your own.”

Your face flushes, angry, and you bury your face further into the cloak. He had a point, to some extent. You weren’t used to the world of the Witcher, with its monsters and it’s hardships, weren’t used to the roughness of medieval life and all of its struggles. You were used to the modern world, where distances could be travelled by car, not horse, and you didn’t have to endure biting cold in the winter and blazing heat in the summer.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t at least try, Geralt. What kinda person would I be if I didn’t at least try to get home?” You protest, and there’s the sound of rustling, a muttered curse. Looks like Jaskier was back with wood.

“Ah. Seems I walked into a horribly tense situation.”

Jaskier remarks, but his voice is light, not taking your predicament seriously, even as his eyes land on the tether around your wrist and Geralt’s as he feeds wood into the fire, which licks up the logs and sticks eagerly, hungry for fuel. You scowl, face buried in the cloak to hide your sour mood as much as possible. Geralt didn’t care if you were pisses off or not, he cared when you were afraid not when you were mad, but Jaskier would do everything in his power to pull you out of your bad mood. From telling stories to playing little tavern songs, he would be relentless in making sure you cracked a smile at least once, and you didn’t feel like having to endure the bards attempts to cheer you up right now.

“Is tying them to you really necessary though, Geralt? They look like a kicked pup, can’t you be a bit more lenient?”

Jaskier wheedles, and wow, he might actually be your favorite person right now. You peek up from the fold of the cloak, and he’s got a hand on a hip, shifting his weight with a concerned frown. He looks entirely disapproving of the whole thing, which makes your heart soar. Maybe he would actually be able to get Geralt to listen to him.

“They’re lucky I don’t tie them on Roach all day.” Geralt grumbles, setting up the bed rolls. You could feel every small movement he made, the motion tugging gently on the thin tether.

“Oh you grump. Stop being so rude.” Jaskier huffs, sitting next to you, and you quietly despair how easily he gave in, how quickly he yielded to what Geralt wanted to do. You tuck your face back into the cloak, dejected.

“Hey now, it isn’t all bad. There are worse places to sleep. I can recall a few of them myself.”

Jaskier’s hand lands on your shoulder, and you glare, annoyed. You didn’t want company, or comfort, or any of it. You wanted one thing, and it was something that the both of them were denying you.

Jaskier, because he was Jaskier, seemingly didn’t notice. Which wasn’t the greatest.

“Yeah, sure, I guess. Never slept tied to somebody, though.” You say pointedly, and the annoyed rumble Geralt gives is almost worth it. Sharp gold eyes narrow at you slightly, before Geralt huffs, turning back to his task.

“I have! Well, it was more I had been knocked unconscious, but it still applies, I think! And those ropes were rather coarse, my wrists were aching for days!” Jaskier recalls. “Geralt had to rescue me, it was quite the adventure. I wrote a song about it, at some point, although I never published it. I really should rework that song, actually, come to think of it.”

He rambles, his voice filling the tense silence between you and Geralt, and you feel your shoulders start to relax. He was good at that, chattering to fill the silence that would drag on for hours between the two of you if it wasn’t for him. You sigh quietly, leaning into the warm hand clasped on your shoulders as the fire grows in strength, the bedrolls almost fully prepared.

“Alright. Jaskier, you take first watch, and I’ll take over in an hour or so.” There must not be many monsters around, you think, for Geralt to be so comfortable letting Jaskier take watch. Jaskier nods, slipping away your side as Geralt approaches.

“Not a problem! I was feeling wired tonight anyways, a few more hours though and I should be able to sleep well enough.” Jaskier agrees amicably. “Although I am a bit surprised, you normally insist on first watch.”

“Wanna get (Y/N) down.” Geralt huffs, and Jaskier nods.

“Fair enough, I suppose. They are criminally lacking in the sleep department, they’re beginning to get bags, poor thing.”

You scowl at Jaskier, annoyed.

“I’ve had these since middle school, first of all, not my fault I have insomnia.” You scowl, and jerk when Geralt all but drags you to the bed roll, barely waiting for you to finish talking.

“Hey!” You protests, annoyed, but he’s too busy ‘getting you settled’ as he liked to call it. Fussing over the blankets and the best roll, making sure your body was protected from the harsh winds that even the fire couldn’t stave off.

“Jaskier, stop keeping them up.” Geralt grumbles, sounding more tired than annoyed. He drags you closer, and it must be a Witcher thing to radiate heat like a furnace, because he was chasing off the cold without even trying, the same arm that you were tied to securing you against his chest.

“Pretty sure I can sleep on my own.”

You snark, and Geralt rolls his eyes.

“Not for the next week you aren’t, if that. Now go to bed.”

You scowl, glaring up at him. With the blanket over you, the fire, and the heat radiating off his body, you were tired, sure. But not tired enough not to say something, not when you were being treated like an idiot who couldn’t do anything for themselves.

“You can’t just- Geralt this isn’t right, and you know it. You can’t just- keep me here!”

You protest. Arguing with Geralt was much like arguing with a wall, honestly. Stubborn and just as likely to listen to you as the bricks that made up the walls of your old college.

But walls could come down. You just had to get through to him, make him realize that what was doing wasn’t going to work. You weren’t strong enough or fast enough to escape him, not without some clever plan or tricks up your sleeve, and you were pretty sure that an Olympic level athlete would still have issues trying to outpace him. So your only hope was getting him to listen.

It was a fragile hope, but it was the only hope you had.

“We’re not talking about this right now. Go to sleep.”

Geralt grumbles, and you open your mouth again. The warning rumble in his chest cuts you off, and you swallow.

The sound was exactly that. A warning. Geralt had never hurt you before, not really, but whenever he got mad things were miserable. Jaskier would be irritated with you for ‘putting Geralt in a mood’ as he put it, and you would be without the bard’s chattering to fill the heavy silent between you and Geralt. Not to mention the awkwardness of being forced to ride atop Roach with Geralt, the silence thick with tension between the two of you, or the way you would hope desperately for the day to end so you could go to sleep.

No, it was better to keep the Witcher happy. For all parties.

“Alright. Good night.” You finally mutter, and he sighs, the tension leaving his body. You feel his torso loosen, relaxing behind you, and you feel your hand shaking, just slightly. Or a little more than slightly. Your stomach twists, and Geralt sighs.

“I know you don’t understand. But you’ll realize this is what’s best for you.” He says it like it’s supposed to be an assurance, smoothing a hand over your hair like you’re a particularly fussy child, and you consider, for a second, twisting and biting that hand. Driving your teeth deep enough to draw blood and make him listen to you, for once.

You don’t, mainly because you know he would just move it fast enough your teeth would just snap at empty air.

You close your eyes. With the almost stifling heat behind you, and the too-heavy weight of the cord on your wrist that logically shouldn’t feel as heavy as it did, sleep does not come easy. Eventually, though, you feel your consciousness slip away into oblivion.

[beezlub]

a scarf won’t hide much || S.S x MC

a/n: this is entirely unproofread so excuse that. this has been rotting in my brain for the last week or so, and i needed to get it out before continuing my other works lolol. it ended up being a lot longer than i expected but eh i’m not complaining

tags: slightly suggestive themes, sebs can’t apply makeup for sh!t, overall just very fluffy. seb and mc are in their ?? 7th ?? year? something like that idk i didn’t really have a year in mind but it’s def when they’re older than 17. leander slander (i’m sorry)(not really)

wc: 1.9k

likes and reblogs greatly appreciated :)

“seb, what’s on your neck?”

shit was the first thing that came to mind when he heard your voice in his ear. luckily, the great hall was mostly empty at this time, most students not wanting to get up so early in the dead of winter, wanting to savor the remaining bits of heat embedded in their blankets. you two, on the other hand, took this to your advantage. a quiet meal together in the mornings is just what you both needed more often than not with the chaos going around the school and hamlets, you off on your broom when you didn’t have classes, and sebastian in the undercroft or library, adding books to the every-growing list he thought you’d like.

“it’s, it’s nothing, love. how’s your eggs? they’re delicious today, oh and the sausage. if you won’t eat yours, i will, along with your pumpkin juice too,” sebastian could feel his cheeks burning, prying his gaze away from your curious one. he knew his sticks were limited; you could read him like an open book, and according to a tangent you’d gone on a few months back, rambling on about something insignificant was a key sign the teen was attempting to lie about.

“you’re a terrible liar, and a worse boyfriend for trying to lie to me,” you mused, a smirk coming to your face as you twisted around to get a better view of the awfully orange section of skin on his neck. as if he felt your eyes on his neck, sebastian brought his unoccupied hand up, covering his neck in a feeble attempt to hide the blotchiness. letting out a groan, you gripped his forearm, ignoring the heat coming to your cheeks as you felt the muscle underneath his robes flex from your touch as you tried to pry away his hand. “seb! let me see! please,” you pleaded with the brunette, continuing to tug what seemed like your whole body weight down on his arm, but to your dismay, he didn’t even budge a centimetre. “if it’s a bruise from quidditch, there’s nothing to be ashamed of, love. it happens!”

letting out a groan of his own, sebastian shook his head, his fingers clamped down on his scarf and around his neck, his other hand idly pushing around the breakfast on his plate as he tried to ignore your assault of questions and comforts. how could he even begin to tell you that the awfully covered bruises on his neck were from you. his hardworking, intelligent, sweet girlfriend. he couldn’t break it to you; if he knew you as well as he hoped he did after half a year of dating, you’d be mortified at your actions from last night. a hot and heavy make out session in the room of requirement led to more than tousled hair, unbuttoned, and untucked shirts. it had led to your lips on his neck, legs wrapped around his waist as he was just putty in your hands after not seeing him properly for almost a week. ‘sickeningly sweet lovebirds' is what ominis had called you two with a fake gag when you had first started going out, and the name only became more true as the weeks flew by. now, it seemed as if you couldn’t go more than a few hours without reappearing by the other’s side, glued at the hip. amit had said you guys were star crossed lovers long before an official confession was even made from you (who was tired of sebastian’s flirtatious banter and his lack of balls to ask you out properly. you threatened him that you’d go out with prewett if he didn’t cough up an answer soon enough), and there you were last night, too caught up in each other to realise the fog that had consumed both your brains.

“MC, it’s. it’s not from quidditch,”

“then what is it from? ominis finally rocked your world with his duelling skills?” you snickered as sebastian glared at you, only for it to soften as he saw the joy in your eyes.

“something like that, i suppose.”

“wait- it wasn’t from anne was it? was she sick of your awful jokes finally and decided to take revenge?” you faked a surprised gasp, erupting into a fit of giggles as sebastian elbowed you gently in the side.

“my joke are not awful, i’ll have you know. got professor sharp to laugh at one the other day!”

“yes, dear, i know. we’ve been in the same potions class for how long now?”

“when will you stop piercing this beating heart, oh love,” sebastian let out a theatrical gasp, his hand moving from his neck unconsciously as he clutched the fabric over his heart, his head falling back to match his dramatical action. taking the opportunity, you yanked down his scarf, a nasty shade line of purple and blue hues ran down the column of his neck, and you suppressed a gasp as you tenderly ran a finger down his neck.

“sebastian! who did this to you? oh, merlin, i’m going to have their chin at the end of my wand for hurting you like this!” the anger was evident in your voice, and as much as sebastian liked seeing this rare, possessive side of you, he couldn’t hold the truth back from you any longer. you were right, he was an awful liar, and even worse at keeping things to himself.

“MC, calm down, please,” he whispered, grasping your wrist gently as he looked around the hall, making sure nobody’s prying eyes were on the two of you before yanking you off the bench and dragging you to the floo flames. before you could spew more nasty things about yourself unknowingly, he had you both inside the room of requirement. turning to face you, he could practically see the steam coming out of your ears, and he bit down a smile at the pout you had on your face. “do you really want to know?” he asked you, watching you frantically bob your head up and down.

“what kind of question is that! yes, sebastian sallow, i would in fact, love to know who did this to you! fighting with wands is one thing, but getting into a physical altercation with another student is another thing! i should go to professor weasley about this, or merlin, even professor black! they should have a week’s worth of detention, or even expelled!” sebastian could only watch with an amused look on his face as you paced right in front of him, throwing your hands up in the air every once in a while while your boots clacked on the stone of the floor. once you seemed to get most of your anger out in a verbal way, he let out a laugh. “what’s so funny, sallow? being beaten up sure isn’t, and from the looks of it, you didn’t even put up a fight! your knuckles are perfectly healed, and you don’t have any breaks on your face like you’d had when i first came.”

“you’re right, love. i didn’t put up a fight. i actually enjoyed this assault,” he watched as your jaw dropped, a smirk playing on his lips. oh, it was truly amusing to see you being so naive and forgetful.

“sebastian sallow! have you finally lost what little brain cells you have left?” you stood on your tip-toes and rattled your knuckles against his forehead, internally relieved that his brain wasn’t missing.

“you see that couch over there?” he pointed at the leather couch you had, pushed against the wall, giving a good view of the christmas tree you’d set up in the middle of the room. nodding to his question, he continued. “that’s where i was assaulted, per se.”

“but- how? only you and professor weasley know about this place. and deek, but i doubt he’d do anything to you.” sebastian was having way too much fun with this, the look of confusion and worry etched onto your features only fueled the fire in him.

“it was this awfully pretty witch who did it. she had let her hair out of her bun, and i was completely thrown off by her, having never seen it down. and her hands were all over me too, never once leaving my body. sat on my lap and everything.”

“sebastian! not only did you get assaulted, you, you cheated on me?” maybe he pushed it too far now, realising the pain in your voice and the tears pooling in your waterline. sighing, he ran a hand through his hair before looking back at you.

“MC, you are dim. it was you, love. you are the witch who assaulted me, and supposedly should get a week’s worth of detention or even expulsion.” it took a few moments for the gears to turn in your brain before it all clicked, and sebastian had a front row seat to this show. your face turned scarlet in a few mere seconds, and you’d let out a series of incomprehensible words before covering your red face with your hands. a few apologies were strewn out too, though barely audible beneath your hands and you tried to hide yourself away from the man. laughing, sebastian grasped your wrists, prying them away from your face only to be met with your teary eyes and a furious blush.

“i’m- i’m so sorry sebastian! i didn’t mean to! i-i swear!” you hiccuped a few times, and it only made sebastian laugh more as he pulled you into his chest.

“oh, my sweet witch. whatever am i going to do with you?” he asked to nobody, wrapping an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders.

“you-you aren’t mad?” you looked up at him, and his heart melted at your sorrowed expression.

“love, i am the furthest thing from mad. i quite enjoyed myself last night, and you seemed to as well, if those little breathy moans were anything to go by,” he shot a wink down at you, and you pushed his chest away from you, pouting once again.

“you aren’t funny, sallow.”

“i meant it dear. although, it would be nice for me to pay back the favor,” his voice lingered in the air as he withdrew his arms, instead interlocking your fingers together as he tugged you towards the couch.

“seb?..” you were confused, intrigued but confused as he plopped back on the couch, pulling you into his lap as you let out a yelp from the surprise.

“my little witch deserves some affection too, don’t you think?” his breath was hot on your neck, and any thoughts lingering in your brain vanishes as you felt his lips on your neck, peppering the skin in light kisses before they grew more hot.

“i-i hurt you, seb,” you breathed out, hand on his chest as he resumed his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to his chest, his lips not leaving your neck for a moment.

“quite the contrary, dear. if anything, i should be thanking you. finally got some fifth year off my ass because of your..handiwork, and i think i should return the favor, seeing how prewett has been eyeing you again recently,” you could feel the smirk on his lips as he spoke against you skin, and instead of arguing, you just nodded along. “good,” was all he said before a harsh nip came at your throat, finally understanding what he meant by him wanting to return the favor. “after i’m done with you, i’m afraid a scarf won’t hide much, MC.”

[rileysghostt]

Hey, I saw that you where open for possible one shot ideas. (If you would like to, and no problem if you don’t, feel free to ignore it) I’m in need of some price fluff. How about Price having a really sweet wife that is his opposite. (Like softspoken, more on the creative side, low key hippy vibes). The boys don’t know about her, they know he is married, but then he invites them on leave to his house to meet her and idk have dinner. They come into his house and are confused because they did not expect him to live in a colorful and lifely home. (It’s very much indulgent, eh what can I say😳)

YES I LOVE THIS IDEA!! I’m always down for some fluff with Price 😭❤️ I hope you like it!!

Price x F!Reader fluff

“You want us.. To come to a dinner at.. Your house..?”

Soap pointed first to himself, then Price as he asked his question. He was definitely confused since Price had never invited anyone out to dinner, let alone at his house.

Ghost crossed his arms silently, he was also perplexed by the offer. Price had always been a private guy, he knew he was married just by the gold band on his finger, but never asked about his wife or his private life. He didn’t want anyone to ask about his, he was extending the same courtesy.

Gaz jumped at the thought of seeing more of the Captain outside of “work”.

“I’ll be there, sir. Count me in!”

Everyone turned to Gaz, surprised how easily he accepted the offer.

“Listen, I know this is out of the blue, but I figure since I consider you boys family might as well have you over. Plus, the wife wants to have you all over and who am I to deny that?” Price chuckled awkwardly. He knew this was a little out of the blue to them. However, you had been begging for years for him to bring the team over for a big dinner. You wanted to meet the men from the stories you heard all the time, the men that made sure your husband made it home after every mission. You were most thankful for that, especially.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Count me in!” Soap exclaimed with a smile.

“I’ll come by for a few.” Ghost finally piped up, he figured he’ll bring the Captain a bottle of whiskey. At the very least, he’ll get hammered if this turns out to be an awkward mess.

“Great, I’ll see you lot later tonight. Kick off our well deserved time off, aye?”

You were in the kitchen, cooking for hours as music blared through the entire main floor of your shared house with John. You were ecstatic to finally meet the Task Force and get to see a different part of John’s life. You knew and heard of Simon the most, the mysterious man behind a mask. Gruff and hard on the outside but cares for his team and the greater good deep down. Soap was the young hotshot who made it into the SAS by the seat of his pants. A great shot, yet a little aloof. Gaz was the newer addition to the group, John still spoke of him in admiration. He’s taken him under his wing, says he’s going to be better than him soon enough.

That’s all you knew because that’s all John had shared with you. To finally meet them yourself and put a face to the names and stories made you ecstatic.

Price unlocked the front door with a click as he turned the key, his other hand turned the door knob to let himself in. As soon as he stepped inside the music, along with your voice singing to the song, graced his ears. A smile crept on his face as he took it all in. He’d been gone close to 4 months, and to say he missed home was an understatement. The smell of food mixed with your favorite incense made his heart flutter as it meant that you were here. This was home.

John walked through your shared home until he reached the doorway to the kitchen. He stood watching you dance with a bowl in one arm and a whisk in the other. You stirred the contents of the bowl with the beat of the song, taking out the whisk here and there to use it as a makeshift microphone.

“Baby, I’m home.”

Price almost yelled to be sure you heard him. You jumped at the sound of his voice, not seeing him standing there for god knows how long. You threw down the bowl and whisk, leaping into his arms. The smell of his cologne mixed with cigar smoke and sweat hit your nose. It was your favorite smell, it meant your favorite person was home.

Your arms wrapped around his neck in a warm hug, not wanting to let go for the foreseeable future.

“God, I missed you..” You mumbled into his neck. He smiled into yours, letting out a happy sigh.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So, so much.” He squeezed you a little tighter, then let go fully. As you pulled away, he was already looking down at you, wanting to take in your features. Something he hadn’t done in 4 months, and god did he miss it.

You were wearing a beautiful pink headscarf, pushing back your hair to keep it out of your face while you cooked. A loose fitting, patterned blouse hung on your shoulders, as well as patterned yoga-like pants to match. He loved how bright and eccentric you dressed, it was a nice contrast between his muted beige tones he always seemed to wear.

“Dinner will be done soon, go wash up. The guys will be here soon, yeah?”

Price nodded, a smile still on his lips.

“Yeah, I told ‘em to be here within the next hour.”

A smile now crept across your face, he could see the excitement in your eyes already. He bent down and gave you a long, yet soft kiss. His hands instinctively rested on your waist. God did he miss the feeling of your soft lips on his. You pulled away, playfully jabbing his shoulder.

“Go on, then! You don’t have much time, get washed up and changed so you can help set the table!” You giggled, you were just so happy to have your husband home.

Through the loud music, you heard a knock at the door. Your heart skipped, and you jumped at the sound. Someone was here!

You pad your bare feet across your hardwood floor to your door. You opened it to see a slightly taller man than yourself, the sides of his head were shaved and a thick mohawk sat on top. Just as John described to you many-a-time. ‘That mohawk is just god awful, what kind of hairstyle is that anyway?! And what kind of name is Soap?!’ You could recall his voice, you tried not to chuckle at the thought.

“You must be Soap! Come in, come in!” you beckoned him with your hand as you moved out of the doorway to let him in. Soap smiled down at you with a nod,

“I hope I’m not too early..” Soap began to say.

“No! Not at all, please come in!! John is upstairs finishing getting ready. Come make yourself at home. Please!”

As you spoke, he took in your appearance. Not that he imagined what you looked like, but if he had, this was not what he was expecting.

As Soap walked into the house, he immediately noticed the light blue color of the walls, the hanging pictures, the smell of incense. The furniture was colorful and a little mismatched, yet coordinated. The rugs were patterned and none of them matched but it made the space feel welcoming all the same. Again, if he had to imagine where the Captain lived, this would have been the farthest thing to what he’d have imagined.

After Soap, each of the Task Force members showed up one by one. Each of them wide-eyed to the beautifully decorated house. Even seeing his beautiful wife, you. They were just in awe, yet it all made so much sense. You were the colorful one, the artistic one. You were the creativity and color that intertwined with the all logical, prim and proper.

Price finally came down from the bedroom, taking a long hot yet needed shower. He dressed in a white button up, leaving the top button undone, dockers khaki pants with a black leather belt and black loafers. The Task Force seeing you two side by side was like two sides of a coin, yet you melded together so perfectly. You were most definitely the ying to his yang.

The dinner went off without a hitch. By the end of the night, everyone was drinking some of Ghost’s whiskey. Cracking jokes, and swapping stories. Everyone was telling you their own favorites with the captain. His face turned red at every one of them, embarrassed, knowing you were hearing them. You even gave them all a tour of the house, showing off your paintings on canvas hanging on the wall. Everyone just got along so well, they loved you.

As soon as everyone left your house, they all turned to each other.

“So.. Who’s gunna say it?” Said Soap with a grin.

“Didn’t expect Price’s wife to be so hot.” Said Gaz, chuckling.

Soap punched him in the shoulder, also laughing.

“That’s not what I’m talkin’ about, you know what I mean!”

“They just complete each other, that’s all.

Ghost said simply.

[phlurrii]

https://www.tumblr.com/phlurrii/758576595791396864/if-mew-wasnt-in-a-coma-would-they-have-tried-to?source=share

Idk why but my mind keeps going back to thinking on this "AU"

Like the juicy drama, the angst, Ody having some abandonment issues and prob some ressentiment towards his family for abandoning him. Specially if he and Circe still have their connection but they ended up not looking for/finding him until much later, making him think they knew abt him but just never bothered to save him.

Reminds me of that AU from M2M where Jeo didn't went to look for Amber immediately and she got experimented on

Oooooo it kinda does doesn’t it!!!

Honestly I think it’s really neat for what if’s, especially given the entire point of Ody was “What if mewtwo was rescued during his cut origin story?”

But honestly? Now that I’ve thought about it more I’m kinda wondering if his memory would’ve wiped after Amber anyways and possibly cut him and Circe off before they even had a chance to connect. Given Circe was the one reaching out, Ody was only ever reaching out to a dead amber.

So there’s a chance Noe, Deca, Flurry, and Circe grow up completely oblivious, while Meau ignores the visions she had assuming it was Circe. That Mewtwo breaks out, does his thing, and Meau ends up playing thr role of the first movie Mew. But against an adult, trained, and bioweapon raised Odysseus… ehe

[transjarlaxle]

good evening kaine nation

saw my mutual @bg3 answer these questions for their ship and i am nothing if not a dirty little thief so

WOE

KAINEGALE BE UPON YE

i too ignored a few questions, combined some others. anyway. no cuts. read it whores

What, specifically, was the catalyst for their physical attraction (if applicable) to the other character? In other words, what in particular had them like “Oh, they’re...hot...”

Kaine is physically attracted to Gale pretty much from the start. He's older, competent, and charming in an endearing sort of way - they want him so bad it kinda makes them look stupid. It's really solidified after some innocuous comment - read about it in kainefic pt2 ehe - that Gale makes while they're alone in camp, a compliment about how silver is a color that suits them. They’re about ready to go down on him right there I think it's similar for Gale, really. He's not stupid and he's not blind - and with the amount of unsubtle posturing that Kaine is doing in his vicinity at all times it would be ridiculous to say he doesn't notice them. The attraction is the simple part - they’re an attractive person, and they know how to play to their strengths. He realizes he wants them badly the first time they release enough magical power that he can feel it on his skin - he can’t differentiate between the electricity from their spell and the effect their physical vicinity has on him.

Does this change over time? What things do they find “hot” about their partner after they’ve been together for some time, and have had more time to, well, notice and appreciate?

I think over time Kaine’s appreciation for Gale’s hair really shows - there’s not any part of him they’re necessarily not attracted to, but his thick dark curls really grow on them especially~ and this goes double for his body hair ‼️

Idk that anything really changes over time for Gale but there are a few things I imagine him fixating on - Kaine’s eyes, how expressive they are, the way their pupils betray their mood; their scales, where they meet their skin on their hips and legs; their legs in general. So on and so forth

By contrast, what was the moment that first made their ~heart~ Soft for the other person? Not necessarily a conscious realization of “I love this person,” but a moment that had them like “Oh...I adore them...”

For Kaine, there’s a moment when they say something teasing to Gale, and he just frowns a little and explains why whatever ridiculous thing they said can’t be true, and Kaine just thinks, oh, I could be with him like this forever. 

For Gale, it’s a crack in Kaine’s mask - a quiet moment when they’re alone, or they think no one is watching, and there’s a genuine smile, a bad pun, or a deep sigh of exhaustion - Gale wants them to be themself around him. He’ll do whatever it takes to make them feel safe enough to do so. 

There’s a song on their playlist which goes “You’re bringing me around / something which I’ve never thought about / I hope you keep me around / something which I’ve never written about // I wanna see you dance with the lights on, I wanna watch you twirl around our room / wanna hear you laugh like nobody’s listening, wanna know everything there is to know about you” so. idk. that’s it. 

Does this change over time? What will always reliably make them melt with how much they adore the other character?

I think Kaine is just endlessly fond of how open Gale is, and how easily he can get them to put down their walls. He’s easy to be around. 

Gale discovers over time that Kaine is soft - they’re good with animals, and they love cheesy romance stories, and genuine displays of affection, and it’s all just for him. They constantly choose him.  

How do they react to the realization that they like the other character? Is it an “oh my god I’m never going to think about this again” thing, or are they pretty comfortable with it?

Kaine is determined right away to have him. They’re nervous, though - it’s more real than anything they’ve ever felt, and they’re not sure he feels the same way. It makes them hesitate. 

Gale probably pushes it away for a few days, at least - he has a lot of baggage, not least of which the bomb in his chest, and he doesn’t want to drag someone with so much potential into that sphere. But he’s not one to deny himself what he wants, so I think he gets over it pretty quickly. 

Do they (or would they) pursue the other character’s affection, and if so, how? Do they tell the other character how they feel? Try to earn their admiration? Woo them with romantic gestures? Flirt with them, skillfully or otherwise?

Kaine attempts daily to seduce Gale. Stretching and angling their body for him to see and bending down in front of him and making suggestive comments - and that’s part of why they’re so unsure that he reciprocates their feelings. Gale is autistic and experienced enough to remain composed in the face of what is truly a masterclass in flirtation, until the end of act one when he invites them to channel the Weave, and he truly sees their intentions, and he’s thrilled. 

What do they think about romantic love? Do they have baggage surrounding it? Do they idealize it? Is it an object of longing and wanting, or were they really not thinking about it until they started falling for the other character? What are their expectations like?

We don’t need my Gale thinkpiece on this topic so I’ll just say that for Kaine, they never put much stock in romantic love before - they’d had a few short flings, both in Valais and in the few years they’ve been traveling the Sword Coast, but they didn’t last, and quite frankly, they never mattered that much to them. Kaine doesn’t know what to expect, but they know that they’ve never wanted someone in their life so badly, and that they’ll do anything to make sure he stays. 

What do they think about commitment? Is a long-term partnership the goal? Are they thinking about building a life with their partner, or are they focused on the present?

Kaine is single-minded. Once they have what they want, they’re not going to let it go, and they’re not interested in looking elsewhere. I don’t know if they’re consciously thinking about “forever,” but they’re content with what they have. 

Gale expresses on multiple occasions a desire to bring his partner into his life, talks about how they’d be together at home… yeah. Yeah 

What scares them about entering a relationship?

Kaine is afraid that they won’t be enough - that Gale will one day realize they’re not what they’re supposed to be. Gale is afraid of failing them the way he (thinks he) failed Mystra. 

What fears, past traumas, etc. would be hardest for them to talk about with their partner?

Kaine struggles to talk about the emotional neglect they experienced growing up, mostly because they almost refuse to recognize it. Their parents love them and care for them, so much, everything they did was to protect them. That doesn’t change the fact that they grew up disconnected from their personhood and as such have an extremely warped view of what their existence means. It just takes a while to get to the bottom of it (and for them to quite literally die for a few minutes)

How much independence do they prefer in a relationship—do they want to share their lives as much as possible with their partner, or do they prefer to mostly do their own thing and let their partner do their own thing?

I think Gale is more independent than Kaine is. He’s well in his prime and spent over a year self-isolating before the events of the game - once they’re able to settle down again, he has no issue spending time alone, or allowing Kaine to, but Kaine is constantly asking him where he’s going, what his plans are, when he’s gonna be home, so on - not in a controlling way, just a nosy, possessive one. This is changed a lot when they go back to Valais because there’s less cause for them to actually be apart by then. 

What is their go-to for making a partner feel loved?

For Kaine, it’s attention. They love attention, so they give attention. Physical touch, soft-spoken words, leaving marks on Gale’s skin - they give him bruises and scratches and love bites that he’s going to feel later, so he can’t forget exactly how they feel about him. They listen to him speak, they ask him to help them with things, they humor his ideas - they make sure he knows they’re always there. 

Gale makes Kaine feel seen. They’re a simple creature - they need a compliment, to be told that they’re beautiful, that they’re powerful, that they’re the envy of the Realms, and Gale knows all the right words to use to turn their brain off immediately. 

What, for them, constitutes a level of intimacy that they would only rarely share with someone? This can be physical, emotional, etc.

Kaine has walls upon walls. They’re perfect, they’re poised, they know what to say and how to say it. They use the allure of their body as a defense mechanism, to avert attention from whatever manipulation they’re trying to achieve with their words. it takes a while, but eventually, they let their walls down, and when they let someone see them for who they are, their likes and thoughts and desires, it’s easy to see how much you really don’t know them unless they let you. 

If they had the ability to just spend free time with their partner, what would they do? Would they go out or stay inside?

Kaine is an extrovert they want to go on DATES they want to drag Gale to fancy events and be beautiful and untouchable and glittery. They want to explore the streets of their city with him and share their culture with him. They want to see everything there is to see by his side.

Gale, I think, needs a healthy balance. He pulls Kaine in a bit - I think he prefers to be at home, with them in the same room, reading to them or watching them sleep or listening to music together. 

Are they okay with public displays of affection? Do they like them?

It’s all very situational. Gale is a self-described gentleman, and likely has certain standards when it comes to public affection. Kaine grew up learning imperial etiquette, and can pretend not to even know someone if they need to. That said, they do like to hold onto him, to make sure everyone knows they’re his - when it’s safe, of course. Every once in a while Kaine gets a little handsy and Gale probably has to remind them to be normal, but they’re generally pretty cognizant of the situation. They’re also afforded a bit more freedom when they’re married in Valais - the imperators being married isn’t exactly a secret, even if their public affection at that point needs to be a bit more rehearsed. 

When would they say “I love you?” Do they say it first? Do they say it often, or is it reserved for special moments?

Gale says it first. Kaine struggles with saying it aloud, but they do, a few times, when they’re in a situation where they feel like it’s the only thing they can say. Gale says it often, even more so the longer they’re together, and I think Kaine eventually relaxes into it, but still only says it when they’re alone. 

If sex is something that would be part of a relationship for them, do both or either of them have prior experiences? If not, how do they feel about it?

They have about equal amounts of experience, I think, discounting Gale’s relationship with Mystra. Kaine had a bit of a hot girl summer(s) in the few years leading up to the events of the game, and I think they both know enough about themselves to communicate about it well. 

What does sex mean for them? Socially, religiously, what attitudes are they bringing with them? Is “virginity” something they care about? Do they want sexual experiences to occur within a certain “level” of relationship, or does that not really matter so much to them? How comfortable are they talking about, and openly communicating during, sex?

Combining these ones just to talk about their sex life at length ~ Kaine wants sex and they know exactly how, where, when, and how often, which is honestly fairly often. Gale is nothing if not determined, of course, but he definitely has a bit of a more chaste attitude when it comes to sex. Culturally, Kaine comes from a place that doesn’t put a lot of pressure on sex and sexuality, whereas Gale sees it as something important, a big step for their relationship. Kaine recognizes this and does everything they can to make him feel comfortable and understood, but it doesn’t stop them from unraveling him in every way they know how. 

One of Kaine’s favorite things is to tell Gale what they want to do to him, with him, for him - I think verbal communication is a major aspect of their sex life. Before, during, after, all of it. Gale loves for Kaine to tell him what to do, how to please them, to tell him he’s so good at it, and Kaine wants to hear exactly how they’re affecting him, so on and so forth. You get it.

What would their partner do that would really turn them on, perhaps unintentionally?

To kind of go with the last one, Kaine is so turned on by Gale’s words - he’s an orator, he’s a poet, he knows how to string the right words together in the right order to get under their skin, and he does it well, even when he doesn’t mean to. His voice is a big turn on for them, too, whether he speaks low and soft or he’s commanding spells into existence or just commenting on the weather. Really, they love knowing exactly how skilled he is with his mouth. 

Kaine spends a lot of time actively trying to turn Gale on. They’re pretty successful at it, too - they know what they look like, and they learn quickly how to get to him. Unknowingly, though, it’s displays of their power that get to him. We know he’s turned on by danger, by seeing them in combat, and Kaine is a formidable mage, it’s true. They’re a storm incarnate, and their magic is palpable, and electricity can do a lot to someone’s body.

More than that, though, is when Kaine is powerful. When their 22 charisma kicks in and they’re talking their way into a locked room, or they’re sneering down at an enemy that’s surrendered, telling them to beg for mercy, or they’re putting on their imperator voice and demanding answers from someone. It puts him in his place even when it’s not directed at him. 

Kaine wants to be in control - they want to use Gale. His power and confidence gets them going, and they want to channel it into something that will work for them. That’s not to say Kaine is entirely ignorant of Gale’s pleasure; rather, I think they know exactly what to do to him to make it work for them both. 

Something that is also exemplified in canon is that Gale 1. has group sex fantasies about his partner and 2. likes to watch. His mirror images get a lot of use. Gale’s sexual fantasies are such that Kaine picks up on them, and they become a master of subtle looks and innuendos throughout the day that have him ready to do whatever they say once they’re finally alone.

They accidentally hurt or upset their partner. What happened? How do they respond? What do they do to make their partner feel better? (and) They have an argument with their partner—what is it about? Do things stay respectful, or is there some shouting and accusing going on? (and) They have to apologize to their partner. Is this difficult for them? How do they approach it?

all the answers you seek lie within kainefic <3 

To get a little abstract, Kaine doesn’t know how to apologize. They’re selfish and vain and they don’t think they’re wrong. They feel regret over hurting Gale, especially accidentally, and they’ll try to make it better, but it takes a lot to make them apologize and mean it. Kaine also doesn’t think that Gale has anything to apologize for, like…..ever.

When they fight, Kaine lashes out. It’s all they know how to do - they can’t cope with feeling like they’ve fucked up, so they instigate and antagonize and make it worse until something clicks and they have to move on - and then they can try to make amends.

Without giving too much away about the postgame kainefic in the works, when Kaine truly feels that they’ve hurt Gale too much, they would rather see him leave than even attempt to apologize. He shouldn’t forgive them, not after what they did to him - but he does, and they have to find a way to move on. 

How do they feel about the prospect of parenthood? Do they plan on it? 

Gale says he doesn’t see himself as a father, but I think he’d do just fine, and I think he would enjoy it, truly. Kaine’s bloodline is important to them, and despite their general air of selfishness and disregard for responsibility, once they’re coronated and they settle into their role as imperatore, they want a family. 

What compromises are they making in their relationship?

read kainefic Later on down the line, Gale is compromising his life in Waterdeep - he can bring everything with him that he wants, and Kaine will make him as comfortable as he can be, and the Dawn Palace is a beautiful place, but he’s giving up a lot to move to Valais and build a new life. 

What completely petty topic (music taste, favorite food) do they find themselves completely at odds with their partner about?

Kaine’s traditional style of dress involves more exposed skin than is covered, an insane amount of jewelry for the express purpose of the sound it makes, and a complete lack of shoes - and Kaine stubbornly sticks to this as vehemently as they’re able to, no matter where they are or what they’re doing or how much actual danger to their health it causes. It drives Gale crazy. Kaine insists he just needs to get used to having his tits out. 

How do their friends react to finding out they’re a couple? Do they have lots of mutual friends? Did their friends know, perhaps before they themselves did?

It’s painfully obvious that they want each other, it’s a bit of a “gods, it’s about time” moment for most of them. Once they are together, they’re a constant source of sickening couple momence that the rest of the group is subjected to lmaoooo

Under what circumstances would they feel jealous? Under what circumstances would they feel protective?

Kaine isn’t …… jealous, per se, but they are possessive. Halsin would call them territorial. Gale is theirs, and they are going to make sure it’s known. They decorate him in their colors, in their jewelry, and with the marks of their love. There’s simply no competition. 

I don’t think either of them feel the need to protect the other. Gale feels something like protectiveness for a while after the events of kainefic, but, of course, that’s a surprise tool that’ll help us later. 

Would they get a pet? What kind? Who brings up the idea, and who takes a little longer to convince?

In another life, Kaine is a dog person, and grew up with a fantasy doberman. Gale, of course, loves cats, and Kaine would let him have as many as he wanted. They love animals, they connect with them easily, and they probably end up with quite a few. 

[risoria]

going to ramble again for a little bit (im on The Meds(tm) now so my brain actually has the capacity to function to an /extent/…)

i find it very hard to operate social media anymore. i go back to this always but its so draining and so extremely hard to keep having people on social media ignore you whenever you talk about important things - i’m not saying they don’t care, because you can’t know someones inner feelings or thought processes, but it feels just like having a conversation with someone and they just walk off in the middle of it without a word. or they bristle and get offended as soon as they Suspect you’re ~bringing stuff up again and that takes such a big amount of energy to try to sort out when you are a person who cant handle confrontations, like me. and it happens every time - sure you DO make progress and you should be proud of that, for having long and important conversations! but… yeah

i havent used my pets’ IG for over three years but these are the last two posts ive made, one of Avalon by a mirror and one of the pins i make to donate to PCRF. i dont necessarily think that people dont care about Palestine ofc, but i know a lot of my fleeting acquaintances are the ”yes it’s horrible but - why would you even care about that when its happening so far away?” type, and since i overthink everything i can NOT shake the feeling of viewing myself in their lense every single time i post something, esp as it gets like……… a maximum of two solidarity likes from likeminded friends…. the constant ”oh wow, she is weird 🙄” feelng when you move around your IRL coworkers and family etc, as opposed to your curated twitter/tumblr. (… realising now this might be bc multiple family members have mocked me for caring about the genocide but eh….. idk idk oh well)

anyways, my point is that i think social media has lost its plot in a big way - because yes it IS important to have interests and hobbies and to talk about them and get energized from them, so you can deal with doing the organizing and raising awareness and having discussions etc. but it feels futile when an unimportant picture of my bird gets 30 likes and a post about Palestine gets three - because then, of course, I dont want to post my pets anymore if thats all people care about?? and then i will become even more ”””annoying””” to them… like, we could have a normal social media community where we share knowledge and opinions and hobbies and joy etc, but sometimes it feels hard to achieve that…

[pirateprincessblog]

KILLER EYES ACTUALLY HAS ME SOBBING VOMITING AND ABSO FUCKING LUTELY CONFUSED AT THE SAME TIME— LIKE I KNOW KILLING MINGI WAS THE RIGHT IDEA BUT WHY DOES IT HURT SO MUCH WAAAAAGAAHHAHEHE

BUT YUNHOS STARTING TO BE A GOOD BROTHER SO OFC Y/N CHOSE HIM BUT LIKE THATS IT- MINGIS JUST GONE- IDK HOW TO FEEL

ALSO MINGI WAS LOWK INSANE BUT FAN FICTION HAS RUINED ME BC WHY WAS I LIKE “WAIT CANT WE JUST LIKE FIX HIM—“ PLEASE SEND ME TO A MENTAL HOSPITAL IM IN DESPERATE NEED 🙏

I’M LITERALLY SOBBING RN AND ITS 2:30AM SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE 😭😭 TEARS OF CONFUSION??? OR SADNESS???? OR IDEK A NEW EMOTION PLEASE I JUST CANT COMPREHEND THIS IT WAS SO WELL WRITTEN BC NOW I WILL BE DWELLING ON THIS FOR THE NEXT FUCKING WEEEKKKKENNERKKEO

(This lowk triggered me but I’m CHOOSING TO IGNORE IT BC ITS SO GOOD- WHO CARES ABOUT TRAUMA WHEN YOU HAVE FANFICTION EH? 😀😀😀) ANYWAYS YOU MY FRIEND ARE ONE TALENTED WRITER—

Now excuse me while I go struggle with recovery from going through all five fucking stages of grief 😁

(Ilysm 😭😭)

first of all THANK YOU FOR THIS YOU MADE MY DAY

second of all tbh the initial plan didn't include killing off mingi but as long as he is alive he'll find ways to manipulate y/n or the next person into setting him free again.

i also wanted to do a little justice to yunho, even though i love love LOVE writing psycho yunho it just does things to me i can't explain, but he still is her only family and i wanted to show that even if he was a dick towards her he was right all along and i wanted to teach our delusional "we can fix him" asses that we truly cannot

fun fact this was supposed to be a full fanfic but i thought nope i do not have the capacity for that

THANK YOU FOR READING I HOPE YOU HAVE A BEAUTIFUL DAY!!!

[padfootastic]

H E L L O jfp-eyes pen (thats your new name btw)

i know its a little late but my mind keep going back to it and i also talked about a similar issue w several other people on here since and i was wondering if you can/want elaborate on what you said about this:

"like, u want potters to be desi? it’s not just the cute clothes and good food and linguistic differences u need to keep in mind. there’s so much more where it comes from, including several practices that will be considered highly objectionable by this rigidly judgemental crowd."

((i am v v interested but no pressure to answer this, i totally get if you dont want to get into this discourse))

dani—you’re gonna pull me into the desi potters discourse one way or the other, eh?

so. i’m not sure how much sense this’ll make because it’s like…half-baked thoughts but my problem with this scenario actually stems from a more macro, general trend i’m noticing in fandom behaviour. for some reason, puritan culture & veiled conservatism is coming back in the guise of progressiveness? and that’s leading to a lack of critical thinking in these spaces & randomly attributing buzzwords to things out of context bc u don’t have more than a shallow understanding of it.

which means that that comment was directed at a very specific subset of fandom that decided that idk ignoring the Bad Things & Flaws would somehow make them cease to exist. let’s only take the most ‘exotic’, fun aspects even if it’s a completely one dimensional reading & run with it. they wouldn’t be able to tell u what desi is beyond the barebones.

so, you’ll have people vehemently arguing that the potters can’t be anything but desi and white james is gross and i’m just like—why. why are u, as a non-desi person, so attached to this headcanon that you’ll ridicule real people for it? and then their attitudes as well. the incest thing, for example. there are communities in india that marry their first cousins—if i write a story tomorrow where james marries his mother’s imaginary brother’s daughter, then depending on how i HC him, that’s perfectly culturally acceptable (and desirable). if i write a story where euphemia and fleamont use corporal punishment for him, and he takes it super lightly and jokes about it, that’s also fine. (which is a direct contrast to how the western black family & sirius’ abuse is treated). there’ a community in india where the man ‘drinks’ from his mother’s breast, publicly, at his wedding to symbolise the last time he’d be her son before he becomes someone’s husband. another where a new mother can’t feed her son until her sister-in-law washes her breast thoroughly. caste is something that’s not even touched upon. it’s so complicated. but how do u think it’ll be received by most of the desi potter crowd if i actually do write any of this? will i be praised for my ~representation or called out on twitter for being a freak?

and that’s really where i get annoyed. the attitudes most of this crowd hold does not have any space for cultural subjectivity, what is ok to them has to be universally ethical. there’s no way other cultures do things their way and if they do, it’s barbaric/backward/problematic etc etc. pseudo-colonial, like i said.

(disclaimer: i want it to be made very clear i’m not demanding people nclude this stuff in their fics. i’m well aware of how escapism works, being the premier advocate for it. im just saying it won’t hurt to be mindful of these facts, that this is a whole culture that’s ridiculously diverse that doesn’t just exist for the sake of people’s headcanons)

and this isn’t even going into the cultural nuances of how desi families work. you can’t bring in american/european individualism & have james move out at 18 & write everything transactionally & do everything the way u would for a white character but only pay lip service when saying they’re brown ykno? when u say they’re a certain identity, there’s so much that comes with that. and if u don’t include any of that, then it really just makes me wonder why u want a brown james—feels like ego appeasement and falling to peer pressure half the time tbh.

another important thing for me is that so much of this crowd intersects with the ‘fandom is activism’ crowd and i just. fundamentally disagree with those people. and find their words/actions incredibly performative. by which i mean, the way they treat real people—people from the communities they’re adopting as HCs for their beloved characters. there’s this…hypocrisy, yeah? what i mentioned above, about how if i wrote some culturally different practice, i’d probably be attacked. they don’t want desi potter, they want white-lite potters that is palatable to & tailored for their own constitution but in a form that they can pass of as ‘oh look, my characters r diverse which makes me Morally Good and i can use that to shit on others’.

i think my problem is just that i don’t like it when people use the identity headcanons to portray themselves as being inherently better because they have ~equal representation. fandom is not a government institution—lateral visibility & membership is not a prerequisite to wanting to write about x and y fucking or going on a date or hugging or having a conversation. making a marauder group where each character—functionally an OC—is from a different community (often w/o considering how intersectionality works) for the sake of saying ‘oh i have a x in my HCs’ does not make u some radical leftist, yeah? and i strongly dislike people who pretend it does.

[tariah23]

Someone (it was the sister of the girl who hugged me like 50 times lol) sent a noise complaint up to the kids on the sky lounge (it’s their prom from what I’m guessing since they’re all dressed up as if it were one..) and I’m just… I felt bad for having to tell them to lower the noise since it’s the afternoon first of all? Like you don’t own this building 🧍🏾‍♀️… I understand but it’s too early for this and if someone is having a get together or party or so, noise is to be expected anyway? Eh…

The girl is kind of like, I wouldn’t say rude but kind of stuffy? Like, she has an attitude or so? Even when I saw her again and her sister was thanking me for like, getting them back in contact, she looked like she had an attitude and also, embarrassed of her sister? I could tell that the younger sister really loved her a ton. She legit was about to start sobbing all into my ears over the phone because she couldn’t get in contract with her sister and thought that something bad might’ve happened to her… I hope she wasn’t ignoring her sister because she thinks she’s annoying or something :(. Like really thinking about it now. I could tell that she probably sees her sister as annoying and that makes me just ☹️. I’m pretty good at reading people too so damn.

Idk these people, I just work here but she’s so strange like girl, unscrew your face 😭. It’s not that serious.

[raya-rhaenyra-ahsoka]

House of the Dragon Ep. 3: Second of His Name, a Summary (Incorrect Quotes Edition)

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Daemon: *riding Caraxes and dracarysing people in the Stepstones* Crabfeeder, come out of your fucking cave and face me you son of a bitch!

Crabfeeder: *hides in the caves harder*

. . . . .

*Baby Aegon’s birthday party*

Some lord: Omfg, your grace, baby Aegon looks just like you!

Viserys: Of course, he does. He’s my son.

Hobart Hightower: Ah, look at that, baby Aegon’s only 2 and he’s stealing the people’s hearts with his cuteness.

Otto: *lowkey proud grandpa* This morning, baby Aegon ate porridge with his hands. Want to see pics?

Hobart: He’s 2, wtf did you expect? The king’s throwing him an over the top birthday bash. Hopefully, this is more than just him turning 2.

Otto: What do you mean?

Hobart: He’s 2, and not a baby anymore. King Vis should be naming him his heir.

Otto: Lol, it’s not that easy, big bro.

Hobart: Wtf, he’s the firstborn son.

Otto: Well…I don’t think he cares about that.

Hobart: Wtf Otto, you’re the Hand. Open his eyes, mofo.

Tyland: My king, I have some tea from the Stepstones. The crabfeeder pulled a surprise attack.

Viserys: *thoughts* Wtf not this again.

Viserys: Not now, Tyland.

Tyland: But it’s like a national emergency.

Viserys: Dude, it’s been three years. That shit can wait. It’s my son’s birthday. Now, forget about it and eat.

Viserys, to Lyonel: Is everything ready?

Lyonel: Yep, Jason wants us there by noon, I think.

Viserys: Hmm, btw, have you seen Rhae-Rhae?

Lyonel: Uh, no.

Tyland: My king-

Viserys: Wtf Tyland, I said not now.

Tyland: But we have to-

Viserys: *ignores him*

Viserys, to Criston: Where tf is Rhae-Rhae?

Criston: Uh, Idk.

Tyland: The Velaryons and your lil bro-

Viserys: Tyland, seriously?

Otto: Daemon and the Sea Snake started this shit on their own. Whatever happens, that shit is their problem alone.

Viserys: *frustrated* CAN SOMEONE JUST FUCKING TELL ME WHERE RHAE-RHAE IS?!

. . . . .

Rhaenyra: *having a picnic alone in the godswood, listening repeatedly to a live performance of an artist on spotify while reading*

Samwell: *song ends*

Rhaenyra: Again.

Samwell: Maybe you want to play the next song?

Rhaenyra: Nope. Just play it on loop.

Samwell: *starts playing again, then stops* Queen Ali.

Rhaenyra: Wtf I didn’t say pause. From the top.

Alicent: Rhae-Rhae?

Rhaenyra: Yes, Queen Ali.

Alicent: They need you in the courtyard, we’re about to leave.

Rhaenyra: Nope, I wanna stay here.

Alicent: Alright, Samwell, gtfo, I need to talk to Rhae-Rhae.

Rhaenyra: Wait, stay by order of the princess.

Alicent: I’m the queen, and I said gtfo.

Samwell: *bows and leaves*

Rhaenyra: *thoughts, mimicking Ali* I’m the queen, I can do whatever I want. Fucking bitch.

Alicent: Your dad wants you to come.

Rhaenyra: It’s not my birthday, I don’t need to be at the party.

Alicent: Rhae-Rhae, he wants us all to be together. I think it could be…fun? Idk.

Rhaenyra: Is it one of my dad’s orders?

Alicent: Well, yes, but-

Rhaenyra: *stands up* Then let’s go. Wtf are we still staying here for?

Alicent: But you shouldn’t worry about it, Rhae-Rhae. It’s-

Rhaenyra: *leaves* K bye.

. . . . .

Viserys: This is nice. Going on a roadtrip with my family.

Rhaenyra: *forces out a smile* …sure.

*carriage hit turbulence in the rocky road*

Alicent: *holds her belly*

Rhaenyra: Wtf. You’re pregnant. Why did you even agree to travel?

Alicent: Maester said I should breath in fresh air.

Viserys: You’ll be a mom soon, Rhae-Rhae. Then I’ll be a proud granddaddy.

Rhaenyra: Uh, no.

Alicent: It’s not that bad.

Rhaenyra: My mom died giving birth to my lil’ bro, so…

Viserys: Well, maybe you should come with me later and-

Rhaenyra: Eh, no. Boars are so yucky.

Viserys: Wtf did you expect? It’s a hunt. How would you like to join us then?

Rhaenyra: I’m not even sure why I’m here, dad.

Viserys: Rhae-Rhae, you’re my baby girl. The princess. It’s your duty to-

Rhaenyra: As I’m always reminded, wtf.

Viserys: Wtf did you say?

Rhaenyra: I said, you sound like a broken record because you keep reminding me.

Viserys: If you did your fucking duties, you wouldn’t be reminded.

Rhaenyra: Why tf would I even care? No one’s here for me. [girl, I feel you.]

Viserys: *visibly and emotionally concerned*

. . . . .

Rhaenyra: *enters tent and mostly gets ignored*

Lady wives and Queen Ali: *gossiping over tea*

Larys: I don’t think I’m allowed to go hunting, can I sit here with you girls instead?

Queen Ali: Uh, I guess.

Larys: Yay!

Queen Ali: Btw ladies, this is Larys Strong. He’s Lyonel’s son.

Lynesse Hightower: They said the Stepstones is a place for savages.

Ciera Lannister: Maybe the princess can give us some tea about it.

Rhaenyra: Oh, Idk shit about the Stepstones.

Ciera Lannister: Your uncle started this whole thing.

Rhaenyra: Idk, we haven’t chat in years.

Ciera Lannister: Of course, since your daddy chose you instead of him.

Alicent: Daemon made his own choices, all that shit is his fault. That’s why Vis chose Rhae-Rhae because she’s amazing.

Rhaenyra: Omfg thanks bestie.

Joselyn Redwyne: Well, Daemon made a mess and the king must make it stop. He must send his bad bitches to end those mofos for good.

Rhaenyra: Why? We’re not at war.

Joselyn Redwyne: But we are. Even though your daddy is still in denial, your uncle and the Sea Snake dragged us into it.

Rhaenyra: Ok, you’re complaining about it, I understand. So tell me, how exactly is your crinkly old ass helping the sitch, hmm? By sitting here in a comfy chair, petting your dog, and eating cake?

Joselyn Redwyne: …

Larys:

Rhaenyra: I thought so. Later, you old bitches.

. . . . .

Jason, to Rhaenyra: Hi princess, I’m Jason Lannister.

Rhaenyra: I know, lol. You have lion patterns in your clothes.

Jason, to a servant: Hey, get the princess a drink.

Rhaenyra: Omfg you look familiar. Your twin bro serves my dad, right?

Jason: *hands Rhae-Rhae wine* Yes, I think because he likes all the boring meetings. Btw, this drink’s made in Lannisport and it’s the best ever.

Rhaenyra: Uh, sure.

Jason: This place is nice, but the one near my house is better. You been there?

Rhaenyra: Once, but I don’t remember much.

Jason: You can get a nice view of the Sunset Sea from my house. I don’t have a dragonpit, but don’t worry. I have the money to build one.

Rhaenyra: *confused* Why tf do you need a dragonpit?

Jason: Uh, because you have a dragon. I would do anything for my future wife. *wink-wink*

Rhaenyra: Wait

Rhaenyra: *walks out* WTF

. . . . .

Rhaenyra: DAD WHAT THE FUCK?!!

Viserys: Rhae-Rhae, what-

Rhaenyra: You’re marrying me off to some old bat? Wtf is wrong with you?

Viserys: Baby, you’re 17. You’re legal age now.

Rhaenyra: That old bat is arrogant and a fucking idiot!

Viserys: Rhae-Rhae, people have been coming to me asking for your hand. And I HAVE TRIED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT IT, BUT YOU JUST SHUT ME OUT EVERY FUCKING TIME!

Rhaenyra: BECAUSE I DON’T WANNA GET MARRIED!

Viserys: DON’T YOU DARE RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME, YOUNG LADY!

Otto: Uh, my king, we’re in the middle of a party. So kindly just…shh.

Viserys, to Rhaenyra: You have to get married.

Viserys, to Otto: Wtf is it now?

Otto: Fyi, my bitches reports they saw a white hart stag. And think it will be the biggest tea for baby Aegon’s birthday party buffet.

. . . . .

Rhaenyra: *gets to her horse* I’m so getting tf out of here.

Criston: *sees Rhae-Rhae leaving* Wtf princess! Wait!

Rhaenyra: *ignores Crispy and leaves*

Criston: *gets into a horse and runs after Rhae-Rhae* WTF WTF WTF I have to protect her or it’s my head.

Criston: Princess, wait!

Rhaenyra: Go away, Crispy!

Criston: *catches up and stops the horses* You’re giving me a heart attack. Wtf happened back there?

Rhaenyra: My dad’s trying to marry me off to Jason Lannister. I mean, my daddy chose me as heir then just paired me off to some old bitch. Wtf is he thinking?

Criston: So…you want me to kill him?

Rhaenyra: *laughs* I wish.

Criston: I think we should go back to camp.

Rhaenyra: I don’t feel like going back yet. Maybe we should explore first.

Rhaenyra: Tell me, Crispy, did you ever got close to getting married?

Criston: Nope. I would’ve, but I chose to be kingsguard instead.

Rhaenyra: You’re so lucky you get to make decisions for yourself. Me on the other hand…

Criston: Rhae-Rhae, there are people who would love to take your place.

Rhaenyra: They’re only saying that because they’ve never been in my place, Crispy. I may be a princess, but I’m powerless.

Criston: No, you’re not. You literally had me in line to be a kingsguard. That’s not powerless. You’re a boss-ass bitch.

. . . . .

Viserys: *hunting and so bored* Are we there yet?

Hunstman: We’re following the trail, my king. The white hart is a symbol of royalty here, way before dragons came.

Otto: *excited* Omfg! This is so exciting! And this is happening on my grandson’s- I mean, Prince Aegon’s birthday! This is a sign!

Viserys: Uh…sure.

. . . . .

Viserys: *gets drunk*

Jason: Hi, my king. *shows him a spear* I had this made as a gift in honor of the baby prince.

Servant: *takes the spear*

Viserys: *lowkey unimpressed* This is nice, I guess.

Jason: I hope you’ll use that to kill the white hart stag.

Viserys: Uh, thanks for the spear.

Jason: Btw, I would love for Princess Rhae-Rhae to be my wife. If that happens, you will have strength.

Viserys: Wtf do we need more strength for?

Jason: Hey, if someone offers you more dragons, you’d take them, right?

Viserys: Bitch, do you even have dragons to offer?

Jason: ….

Jason: Btw, I have a big, nice house and Rhae-Rhae can live with me there. It wouldn’t be so bad after it gets taken from her.

Viserys: What will be taken from her?

Jason: Well, when you choose baby Aegon as heir.

Viserys: Why tf would I do that?

Jason: Well-you have a baby boy now. People just assume-

Viserys: People? So there’s many of you? Son of a bitch. Are you fucking questioning me about my choices on who’s going to sit after me?

Jason: Uh, no. I mean-

Viserys: Wtf I thought long and hard to choose Rhae-Rhae as the heir. The bitches in the kingdom should fucking remember that.

Jason: …

Viserys: Btw, thanks for the gift.

Jason: K bye.

Otto: My king. The white hart will be found, don’t worry. Btw, what do you think of Jason’s idea?

Viserys: It’s ridiculous. That bitch has a bigger head than I thought.

Otto: You’re not just Rhae-Rhae’s dad, you’re the king. You command her something, she’ll have no choice but to do it.

Viserys: I don’t want that for my baby girl. I want her to be happy.

Otto: I have another idea, btw. Maybe marry her off to her bro?

Viserys:

Viserys: Are you fucking serious?

Otto: Yeah, I mean-

Viserys: Rhae-Rhae’s 17 and Aegon is 2. WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

Otto: But-

Viserys:

Viserys: Bitch, I came here to hunt. Not to talk about this nonsense!

Otto: Sorry. So sorry, my king. I have to go now.

. . . . .

Lyonel: I already sent people to find Rhae-Rhae, my king. Crispy Coleslaw went after her, so maybe they’re together.

Viserys: *drunk af* Where have I failed at parenting? I tell her to not do something, and she’ll do the exact opposite. Some king I am.

Lyonel: When your granddaddy Jaehaerys was king, there was peace. But his babies also drove him crazy. It runs in the family. Lol

Viserys: *drinks more wine*

Lyonel: Uh, don’t you wanna hear what I think?

Viserys: Lemme guess, you want her to marry one of your sons?

Lyonel: Lol no, I think she should marry the Sea Snake’s son, Laenor. He’s like the heir to the richest house in Westeros so technically, he’s the best option. Also, I think the Sea Snake’s still salty when you rejected his proposal to marry his baby girl. I just hope ser Laenor makes it out alive of the Stepstones though.

Viserys: Huh, that’s actually a great idea. I’ll think about that.

. . . . .

Criston: Princess, I really think we should get back to camp.

Rhaenyra: I think I like it better here.

Criston: I’m pretty sure, your daddy’s worried about you.

Rhaenyra: Idgaf if he’s worried or not.

Criston:…ok.

Rhaenyra: Hey Crispy, do you think I’d be accepted as queen?

Criston: They’ll have no choice, lol. Your daddy already made you his heir.

Horse: *uneasy* I sense something coming.

Rhaenyra: Omfg wtf was that?

Criston: *pulls sword* Stay calm, I got it.

Boar: *charges at Rhae-Rhae*

Rhaenyra: WTF CRISPY HELP!

Criston: *stabs the boar*

Boar: *still oinking* bitch you thought-

Rhaenyra: *stabs it repeatedly* JUST! FUCKING! DIE! ALREADY!

. . . . .

Viserys: *drinking and standing by the bonfire*

Alicent: Hey, you ok?

Viserys: *drunk ranting* I chose Rhae-Rhae to protect Westeros from Daemon. She’s my only baby. The realm’s delight.

Alicent: Uh, Viserys?

Viserys: *continues ranting*

Alicent: Ok, Vis. You’re drunk. Get some rest.

. . . . .

Otto: We didn’t find the white hart, but we did find this other stag.

Harwin: It’s not the white hart, my king. But he’s a big one.

Jason: *hands him the spear* Spear for the kill!

Viserys: *takes the spear* Alright, let’s do this.

Viserys: *stabs the stag*

Viserys: Ok, we’re done here.

. . . . .

Rhaenyra: *looks over the view of the Kingswood* Omfg it really is pretty here.

White Hart Stag: *shows up* Hey yow, Princess.

Criston: *grabs his sword*

Rhaenyra: No, it’s ok, Crispy.

White Hart Stag: K bye. *leaves*

. . . . .

Rhaenyra and Criston: *returns to camp with the dead boar*

Everyone: *gasps*

Rhaenyra: *covered in blood* I’m back, bitches! Miss me?

Everyone: WTF

Harwin:

Jason:

Rhaenyra: I brought a boar to be cooked, You’re all fucking welcome!

. . . . .

Alicent, to Otto: Hi daddy.

Otto: Did you enjoy the family trip?

Alicent: Uh, sure.

Otto: How’s my grandbaby?

Alicent: He’s fine. People are fond of him, btw.

Otto: Of course, he’s cute. Also, he’s the future king.

Alicent: Dad, isn’t Rhae-Rhae the heir?

Otto: Aegon is the baby boy. Rhae-Rhae is a girl.

Alicent: So?

Otto: So, he’s ahead in the succession. As boys always are before the girls.

Alicent: I can’t have my baby steal Rhae-Rhae’s birthright.

Otto: It’s Aegon’s. Why are you in denial about this?

Alicent: But-

Otto: You have to convince him.

Alicent: Wtf

. . . . .

Alicent: Hey, Vis. How you feeling?

Viserys: *still drunk, continues to rant about Rhae-Rhae*

Alicent: …

Alicent: *sees a letter on the table* Wtf is that?

Viserys: A letter from the Sea Snake’s lil’ bro.

Alicent: *reads the letter* Omfg, they’re asking for help. Why aren’t we sending help?

Viserys: Because it was started by two idiots who were not happy with my decisions. And if I do send help, what will the people say about me, huh?

Alicent: Uh, that you’re a good guy who loves his baby brother?

Viserys: …

Viserys: I’m gonna have to do the right thing here, aren’t I?

Alicent:

Viserys: Dammit.

. . . . .

Viserys, to Addam: Deliver this to my lil’ bro to Dwarfstone.

Addam: Yes, my king. K bye.

Rhaenyra: Dwarfstone? Wtf is going on?

Viserys: I’m sending help to your uncle Daemon.

Rhaenyra: *doesn’t believe it* Uncle Daemon asked for help?

Viserys: Nah, he’d die if I wouldn’t so…

Rhaenyra: *squeaks in Dolores Madrigal*

Viserys: Am I wrong for doing it?

Rhaenyra: Does it even matter what I think?

Viserys: Daemon is giving me enough headaches without you adding to it. Why do you keep adding to it?

Rhaenyra: If this is about that old bat-

Viserys: I’m sorry, Rhae-Rhae. I’m just trying to help you, that’s it. What wrong with that?

Rhaenyra: Because you have a new favorite! And it’s Alicent’s baby boy. I mean, I know you’ve always wanted a son and now you have one. What does that make me now, daddy?

Viserys: Rhae-Rhae, wtf are you talking about?

Rhaenyra: Daddy, everyone knows it. Even Jason Lannister knows it.

Viserys: Baby, we marry for advantage, to gain more allies, and strengthen our army. You already know this, right? I was promised to your mommy.

Rhaenyra: I know, wtf. I’ve heard this story a million times.

Viserys: I loved your mommy. She made me who I am today. Look, I’m not replacing you. That never even came to me. I just want to see you happy.

Rhaenyra: You think finding a hubby for myself would do that?

Viserys: I’m saying a family.

Rhaenyra: I had a family. But you know…*shrugs*

Viserys: Wtf do you want me to do?

Rhaenyra: Daddy, please. If it was for advantage, you would’ve married Laena Velaryon.

Viserys: …

Viserys: *lowkey impressed* *thoughts* Omfg she speaks the truth.

Viserys: I mean…you’re not wrong.

Viserys: But seriously, you have get married. I don’t care who it is, as long as you’re happy.

Rhaenyra: Thanks, daddy.

Viserys: Rhae-Rhae. I promise you, in your mommy’s memory, you will always be my favorite.

. . . . .

Corlys: We need to keep fighting. We can’t give up now.

Laenor: It’s pointless, dad. When we’re not attacking, they come out. But when we attack, they hide.

Vaemond: Because they know they’d be barbequed if they do. The caves are their bunker, they ain’t comin’ out unless they have to.

Laenor: Then we give them a reason to come out of the bunker. We’ll need a volunteer to go in and wave a surrender flag for show.

Corlys: Ok, but who?

Vaemond: Yeah, who? Who actually has balls to go there and say ‘it’s over, you win’, huh?

Laenor: Idk, Daemon?

Vaemond: He’s the fucking reason we’re losing, wtf!

Laenor: Oh, I’m sorry, wtf have you done while we were all working our asses off to win? Complain all the fucking time!

Corlys: That’s enough. We don’t have time for this shit.

Vaemond: Wtf! We obviously need help. But y’all are too proud to ask for it.

Corlys, to Vaemond: Lil’ bro, I swear to god stop being such a drama queen!

Daemon: *arrives late* I’m here! Sorry I’m late. Air traffic. What I miss?

Vaemond: If we don’t do anything, we’ll all die here.

Addam: *surprise entrance* Prince Daemon, I brought you some tea from your big bro, the king. *hands him a letter*

Daemon: *takes and reads the letter*

The Letter: Hey, lil’ bro. I’m sending you help. Look, I know we fight a lot but whatever happens you’re still my lil’ bro and I don’t wanna see you fail. Hope you come home soon.

Daemon: *beats the shit out of Addam*

Laenor: *grabs Daemon* Wtf are you doing?

Daemon, to Addam: Get your fucking ass out of here!

Corlys: Wtf, Daemon?

Laenor: Btw, if we're going to win this, we need someone to-

Daemon:

Daemon, rowing to the Stepstones: *mumbles* Viserys thought I can’t do anything right? Huh, I’ll show him. Imma win this shit right now. I don’t need his fucking help.

Daemon:

Crabfeeder Army: *gets out of the caves* Kill him!

Laenor, on Seasmoke: *burns the crabfeeder army* Dracarys, bitches!

Crabfeeder Army: *gets barbequed*

Velaryon Army: Let’s finish these mofos!

Crabfeeder Archers: Kill them all!

Laenor, on Seasmoke: Did you forget about me? Dracarys!

Crabfeeder Archers: *gets barbequed*

Daemon: *goes after the Crabfeeder and kills him*

Daemon: *coming out of the cave with the Crabfeeder’s upper body* IT’S OVER! WE WON! IN YOUR FACE, VISERYS! I DIDN’T NEED YOUR FUCKING HELP!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I promise I'll upload every episode before the season finale. Please don't hate me.

[msmargaretmurry]

music anon here!! hi!! how’s it going? heard you were kinda stressed so!! hope everything’s better!!

idk why but i’ve been on a weird mcstrome mood this past few days, and so i had to make a mcstrome blues playlist, because well. they were besties and now they’re not anymore.

i thought i’d share some songs with you as a token of gratefulness for your general existence <3 the vibes are kinda sad tho ngl. it’s a vision of their relationship that is just… bleak. so without further ado, mcstrome blues!

now that we don’t talk by taylor swift. “did you get anxious though?/ on the way home / i guess i’ll never ever know / now that we don’t talk” i’m just. there’s a post floating somewhere on swiftie tumblr along the lines of “this song is for the girlies with a dramatic best friend breakup” and. yeah that’s mcstrome to me

still got it + can’t go back baby (one right after the other) by troye sivan. his new album is full of bops btw but these ones…… man. cant go back baby is actually about being cheated on, so not really applicable here but. the hurt? phew 😮‍💨 (from the same album how to stay with you gives me matthew and leon getting together after matthew fucked off to florida vibes!!! “i feel my mother might like you / just not in the same way i do” that’s tthe tkatchuks baby!!! but i digress.)

ivy by frank ocean. “we had time to kill back then / you ain’t a kid no more / we’ll never be those kids again” hello??? also along these lines. ribs by lorde. a classic of the “i want to go back to the past but it’s impossible and it makes me go insane” vibe

the exit by conan gray. oh my god this one . “you love her / it’s over / you already found someone to miss / while i’m still standing at /the exit / i can’t hate you for getting everything we wanted / i just thought that i’d be part of it” this one is tied to irl stuff which. eh i know. but oh my god…

hope this wasn’t too long and that you enjoy (if you didn’t know these songs before!!) 🤍🤍🤍🤍

hello music anon!! lovely to hear from you as always 💖 i am indeed very stressed right now but it's okay, i will make it through. just one more month of the semester! two more months until my biggest work event of the fiscal year! i have the veterans' day holiday off from work today tho so before i dig into the massive pile of homework and household chores i have been ignoring, i took myself out for coffee to sit at a cafe and catch up on tumblr asks 😂

i have ALSO been in a weird mcstrome mood lately, i think because connor mcdavid is so miserable right now, so thank you for sharing this little playlist, it really hits the mcstrome sadness spot. like even beyond the hrpf of it all, it makes me sad because to me friendship is one of the most important things in the world and it makes me sad thinking about them not being best friends anymore! obviously, drifting apart from your besties when you were a teen is a pretty normal part of life for a lot of people, but i am still sad about it. they were so sweet about each other, and now we don't even know if they actually still talk ever 😭

i knew some of these songs but not all of them! as usual they are all going directly on my playlist for disassociating to on the metro to and from work. i love a pairing or character or story concept playlist so much (if you couldn't tell by how i tend to post playlists with my long fics, haha). thank you for sharing!! 💕

[nirikeehan]

You asked me for some more hideous shit so: Thalia & Samson, Hozier prompts, ❛ just put your sweet lips on my lips. we should just kiss like real people do. ❜

Thank you for allowing me to commit this atrocity.

Pairing with this prompt also from you tho honestly idk if this is gonna count as fluff. 😅

This will probably be the next chapter of In Love and War. Shoutout to @little--abyss for making me feel extra normal about Samson tonight.

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1611

---

The garland of bruises decorated Samson’s neck in speckles of grey and yellow. Thalia found it difficult to look away, knowing each one was the exact length of Cullen’s fingers. 

“So, m’lady? Did you bring ‘em?” 

The attempt on his life had done nothing to temper Samson’s swagger. He sat in a chair by the narrow infirmary window, leaning back so that only two legs touched the floor. The healers had cleared and converted the store room just for him, their high value prisoner. Samson now enjoyed a private room that locked, with the only window in the entire second floor of the infirmary — to keep him in, on parchment, anyway. To keep people who wished to do him harm out, as well. People like the Inquisition’s commander. 

Thalia took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. She watched Raleigh Samson lounge before her, one foot braced against the windowsill, arms crossed behind his head, watching her with hooded grey eyes. He looked better, she estimated, bruises be damned. Though better was a relative word for someone dying of red lyrium toxicity. 

“Yes. I have them.” From her rucksack she produced the tin of tobacco in one hand, the bag of rolling papers in another. “Cigarettes,” she said, her lip curling in disgust. “Just like you asked.”

Samson’s eyes lit up; with a thud, he let the chair fall back on all fours. Thalia ignored the urge to ask whether he’d attended meetings in the Templar Order with the same arrogant posture. He leaned forward eagerly, outstretching bony hands. “Give ‘em here.” 

Thalia crossed the store room and handed him the implements. She stepped backward as soon as he took them, earning a click of his tongue. “No need for that, now. Arm’s length at least from Templars standard in Ostwick too, was it?” 

With a jolt, Thalia realized he was right. “Sorry,” she quipped, not moving. “Force of habit.” 

“Not that you’d like to get any closer, eh?” Samson chuckled, twisting the tin open and taking a deep sniff. “Ah, that’s the stuff. Kirkwall tobacco — nothing like it. You managed to find it all the way down here, did you?” 

Thalia took a small breath. “The Inquisition’s requisitions team has a far reach. It was…” Her gaze trailed to his discolored throat. “The least we could do.”

“Right. Buying my silence, more like. Wouldn’t do to let it get around that your commander tried to kill me with his bare hands.” Smirking, Samson pulled out a thin sheaf of paper and began rolling a cigarette on the spot.

Thalia bit her lip, watching the fluid, practiced motion of his fingers. Why should it surprise her he was an experienced smoker? It wasn’t like other substances bothered him. Cullen had told her once of his preference for “the dust” — a more concentrated, powdered form of lyrium that produced a bigger high. Easy enough to get in Kirkwall for years, apparently. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Sure.” He sprinkled a line of tobacco into the crease he’d folded in the rolling paper. “Take a seat; let’s chat for a bit.” 

Thalia’s eyebrows shot upward, and Samson laughed. “What, thought I wouldn’t take you up on it? I’m starved for conversation, truth be told. Not all of the Inquisition’s in a strangling mood, but that don’t mean many of ‘em are clamoring to talk.” With his chin, he motioned opposite him, toward the narrow cot they’d assigned him as a bed. “Go on.” 

Thalia’s skin crawled. She wanted to assert her authority and leave, but where would she go? Downstairs, where she would have to confront Cullen about his assassination attempt? To the war room, where she would have to explain to Josephine, Leliana and Cassandra why she had set this asinine project in motion — saving the life of Corypheus’s most trusted general? 

She perched on the edge of the cot, knees together, hands folded demurely in her lap. Samson’s gaze traveled from her legs up to her face as he licked the paper and pressed the cigarette shut. Thalia swallowed thickly and turned her gaze out the window, where autumn leaves fluttered on the breeze from a nearby tree.

“You seem healthier,” she offered stiffly. “Your hands aren’t shaking.” 

“I feel better. The blue’s doing the trick, for the moment. Though it’s hardly a long term solution, I’m told.”

“No.” Thalia had spent long hours with the healers recently, going over ideas. They suspected doses of normal lyrium would temper the effects of the red lyrium’s corruption, but could not reverse it. Nor, strictly speaking, was leaning on lyrium a particularly healthy option, given its long-term toll and his self-reported need exceeding that of other Templars. “I’ve asked for the medical opinion of experts at the University of Orlais. I’m hoping they might have some ideas.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

“I pledged I would help you, Samson,” Thalia said, voice soft. “I don’t take such promises lightly.” 

Samson twirled the rolled cigarette in his fingers. “Cullen wasn’t thrilled to hear it.” 

“Cullen said you provoked him.”

Samson shrugged. “Cullen always had a difficult time taking a joke. Besides, with both of you denying that you’re paramours, what’s a lonely man like me to do?” 

Thalia stared at him. “You can’t be serious.” 

“What?” Samson smirked. “I’ve still got eyes, don’t I? The intelligence reports had a lot to say about you, but none quite captured your beauty.”

Thalia felt her face go hot. This cannot be happening right now. “Do you say that to all the girls, or just the ones you tried to recruit for Corypheus?”

“Ha!” Samson barked. “Oh, you are quick. I can see why Cullen likes you.”

Thalia swallowed thickly. She did not wish to give Samson more ammunition against her or Cullen; if it meant enduring a little flirtation, she’d deal with it. “Have many women taken you up on your offers lately?”

Samson’s eyes darkened. “Plenty.”

“Women you haven’t paid?” 

“M’lady is so cruel,” Samson growled, though a wicked smile stretched across his narrow face. “Poor deteriorating Samson, is that what you’re implying? I used to be quite popular with the Kirkwall ladies, I’ll have you know.” He held the cigarette between his index and middle fingers and used it to point at her. “And don’t listen to what Cullen says, they weren’t all from the Blooming Rose.” 

Thalia’s eyebrows shot upward. “Is that a… pub?”

Samson chuckled. “Best brothel in Kirkwall.” 

Oh, Maker. “And you… visited this place a lot?”

“Not a lot. But please, don’t look at me like that. All the Templars went. It was the only way we could blow off steam while under the tyranny of that bitch, Meredith.” 

“All the Templars?” Thalia asked before she could stop herself. 

“What’s so surprising about that?” Samson squinted. “Ah, I see. Can’t picture Cullen paying a woman for company?”

“No, to be honest,” Thalia huffed, her chest tight. 

“What if I told you he was there more’n me? That the pressures of a Knight-Captain were oh so burdensome, so of course he had to relieve them somehow?”

“Then I’d call you a liar,” Thalia said, her heart pounding in her ears.

Samson leaned back in his seat, threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, yeah; you’re right. I could never get him to the Hanged Man, let alone a brothel. Some nonsense about ‘the women deserve better,’ I don’t bloody know.” 

Thalia let out a slow breath, trying to calm herself. “You’re a real bastard, aren’t you, Samson?”

“Why?” Samson retorted. “Regretting your decision to save me?” 

“It’s hard to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved,” Thalia said quietly. 

A long silence followed. Samson’s face went slack; he lowered his head and scraped his fingers along the stubble darkening his jaw. Thalia stood, deciding now was the time to take her leave. “I’d think about that if I were you,” she murmured on her way to the door.

“Hey.” 

Thalia paused and looked at him over her shoulder. 

Samson stuck the cigarette in his mouth and smiled ruefully around it. “Got a light, m’lady?”  

Thalia blinked, surprised. “Oh. No, I…” It hadn’t even occurred to her that to smoke a cigarette, he’d need to light one. “I didn’t think to bring any matches.”

“What, can’t you just—?” Samson snapped his fingers in the air. 

Startled, Thalia looked down at her hand. “I suppose…” 

She inched closer to where he sat, waiting expectantly. She leaned down, coaxing a small fire to life at the edge of her front two fingers. Samson leaned forward, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the flame, and touched it with the tip of the cigarette. He inhaled deeply, leaned back, and drew the cigarette from his mouth. It dangled from his fingers as he turned from her and languidly exhaled a stream of smoke. 

“Ahhh. Kirkwall tobacco.” He sighed happily. 

Thalia tried to straighten, but Samson caught her by the arm. In one quick motion, he pulled her so close she nearly fell into his lap. 

“You know.” His eyes roved her face as he sucked down another drag. The acrid scent of smoke filled her nose and made her cough. She was close enough to count the hairs on his receding forehead, to note every line of crow’s feet around his eyes. “We should just kiss like real people do.” 

Heart thudding, Thalia wrenched violently against his grip and twisted away. Samson’s laugh echoed in her ears even as she slammed the door and fled past the guards standing watch. 

[a-little-lostmoon]

Okay so, I’m currently working on a magical archives style type post for my ccau oc Yuulo but in looking at the designs i noticed something.

Their s h o e s.

Which admittedly, is a very weird thing to notice but all of them just stood out to me. Ignoring event outfits (only counting things they wear in the main storyline/displayed in the magical archive) each character has 4 different sets of shoes: Ceremonial Robe shoes, Dorm Uniform shoes, Gym Shoes, and Casual/School Uniform shoes. Now, let’s ignore the first two I mentioned in the list bc those are universal designs (excluding Ortho for obvious reasons) and that leaves us with 2 Unique shoe designs per character.

Which is probably obvious in retrospect, but then I started to rly just look at each of their picks individually and everything just feels so well thought out. Every pick feels like it fits the character and thats just so fucking cool that Yana thought out everything for every single one of them since initially in my head I was thinking they’d all just had the same design but nope!

Let me get into some examples now,

Only a handful of them have typical “anime school uniform type shoes” (for lack of a better term im sorry i don’t know shoe types that well—) and even in those cases they’re different in overall design and fit the characters. Those being: Deuce, Trey, Jack, (not gonna include Octavinelle, ill get to them soon), Silver, and Sebek which isn’t a lot! And then again, all unique in their own rights,

Deuce’s are black loafers with a rounded point giving them more of a younger look, Trey has dark brown loafers with a more pointed shape which opposite of Deuce’s makes him look a bit more mature, Jack has much wider dark mahogany loafers which fits with his physique better, Silver’s who defaults to brown loafers again though this time with more of a curved point to them and an indent cut out in the strap, and finally Sebek who has the pointed dress shoe-like black shoes but his are entirely smooth with no laces.

And since I mentioned the dress shoes so much i’ll go onto the ppl who wear those now too. Them being, Riddle, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Vil, Malleus, and Lilia (Vil and Lilia included too bc I dunno where to put them otherwise—)

All mentioned except Riddle, Vil, and Lilia wear the normal style dress shoes you’d see if you just googled it with a few different color variations here and there. Azul’s being brown with laces, Malleus and Jade having black shoes with laces, and Floyd’s being black without much like Sebeks (maybe I should’ve considered Sebek in this category too but eh hindsights)

And smth also interesting to note is that Malleus’ and Jade’s while the same in concept just… feel like they’re from different brands idk I cant explain it I think it’s bc of the way the seems or stitches look but who knows

Then the first three i mentioned, Riddle’s have a deep red portion on the middle part of his shoes, Vil’s are pointed heeled with a flared tongue and decorative strap thats blue and black to match his dorm colors (actually wait im looking at his more and i think they might even be boots..? The tongue throws me off and is a weird design on boots but the gold accent continues up so i think they are boots ahdjfksn), and then finally Lilia’s who like vil, has a higher golden colored heel that adds a bit of fancy to shoes that otherwise would be loafers and thank FUCK his aren’t boots in disguise too.

Something unrelated to shoes that’s also interesting is his pants??? fancy little old man got special pants lol

and i’m getting exhausted writing everything now idek how long i’ve been writing about SHOES but im gonna speed this up now—

Basically everyone else wears sneakers, exceptions being Cater who wears white casual slip on shoes, Leona who has his toes EXPOSED (he wears some sort of flip flop sandals looking hybrid), Kalim who’s wearing arabic curled toes which i believe are called multani khussa with a gold anklet, Epel who’s wearing a pair of very cute decorative boots with red plaid details on them (which i’m willing to bet Vil got for him—they look expensive and less practical than i think Epel would prefer), Rook who’s in tan combat/work boots, and Ortho bc well he doesn’t have feet.

Anyways I’ll talk abt the sneaker ppl and more thoughts on this if people really want me to bc I do have more but i’ve spent the last at least 30 minutes talking about SHOES of FICTIONAL CHARACTERS and I’d like to get back to drawing lmao and don’t rly think this is smth many people would be interested in so <33

Have a nice day u weird person who just read through all my twst shoe related rambles /lh go drink water and touch grass

P.S. (and forgive me any shoe specialists I may have offended, pls feel free to go and educate me for my incorrect descriptions of shoes)