#i’m also making a ff side blog

[inkykeiji]

i wonder how long it’s gonna take for dabi to drag me out of my final fantasy hyperfixation by my hair this time (^q^)

TO BE FAIR i loved noctis several years before i even knew who dabi was sooo,,, i think he’s allowed some of my attention hehehe (*/ω＼*)

[novaursa]

Skyfall

- Summary: Baela and you chase after Cole and his men. You fall from the sky straight into Gwayne's arms. Literally.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N and is Rhaenyra's younger sister. The reader is also bonded with Silverwing. For more parts, and if you want to read this in chronological order check my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 2 997

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The woods blur past as you cling to Silverwing's saddle, the thrill of the chase coursing through your veins. Baela and Moondancer had led the initial pursuit, their swift movements through the sky like arrows seeking their target. But now, it’s you and Silverwing against the fading light, and the dense canopy below.

"Go on, Baela! I’ll take it from here!" you shout, your voice mingling with the rush of wind.

Baela gives you a quick, sharp nod before veering off, her focus shifting elsewhere. You and Silverwing dive, the leaves slapping at you like an annoyed housemaid. 

"Alright, girl," you murmur to Silverwing, "let's show them what we’ve got."

Your dragon roars in agreement, her silvery scales glinting in the dying sunlight as you plummet into the forest. The branches are closer now, snapping past you, some grazing your armor, others too thick to avoid.

You laugh, the exhilaration of danger making your heart race. "Just a bit further!"

But Silverwing, despite her grace, is a creature of the sky, not the woods. A particularly thick branch catches you off guard, striking your side. You gasp, losing your grip. Silverwing tries to stabilize, but it’s too late.

"Y/N!" you hear someone shout, but the world spins as you tumble through the air, your body crashing through the foliage.

The ground rushes up to meet you, but instead of the hard earth, you find yourself landing against something softer and warmer. There’s a grunt, a thud, and then silence.

You blink, trying to regain your senses. Your eyes meet a pair of very familiar ones, wide with shock and framed by a mess of light auburn hair.

"Ser Gwayne?" you manage to say, your voice breathless. The realization hits you both at the same time – you’ve landed right in his arms, sending him off his horse. He’s on his back, staring up at you with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Princess Y/N," he says, a slow grin spreading across his face despite the circumstances. "This is a rather unconventional way to reunite."

You quickly scramble off him, cheeks flushing. "I didn’t plan it this way, trust me."

Gwayne gets to his feet, offering you a hand. "I’d say you’re getting better at making dramatic entrances."

Before you can retort, the surrounding knights, led by Criston Cole, converge on you, their expressions a mix of shock and suspicion.

"Well, well," Criston says, eyeing you warily, "looks like we’ve caught ourselves a dragon princess."

You roll your eyes, dusting off your clothes. "Congratulations. Do I get a prize for being the most unexpected guest?"

Gwayne stifles a laugh, earning a sharp glance from Criston. "Secure her," Criston commands. "We can’t risk her getting away."

Gwayne steps closer, his eyes softening slightly. "I’ll take care of it."

You meet his gaze, something unspoken passing between you. He had been your suitor once, and now here you are, on opposite sides of a conflict neither of you had asked for.

"Try not to tie the ropes too tight, will you?" you quip, trying to lighten the mood. "I bruise easily."

He smirks, giving you a look that says he remembers more than he lets on. "I’ll do my best, Princess."

As the knights surround you, Silverwing roars above, finally breaking free from the canopy and circling protectively. The men look up nervously, but you know Silverwing won’t attack without your command.

"Easy, girl," you call up to her. "I’m fine."

Gwayne’s touch is gentle as he secures your hands, his fingers brushing against your skin longer than necessary. "We’ll keep you safe," he murmurs, so only you can hear. "I promise."

You nod, a mixture of gratitude and sadness filling your heart. "I know."

And so, surrounded by enemies and yet strangely comforted by an old friend, you find yourself a captive – but one who is far from defeated.

The knights form a loose circle around you as they lead you through the woods, heading in the direction of Duskendale. Silverwing continues to circle overhead, her shadow passing over the treetops, a constant reminder of the power you still wield, even as a captive.

"Call off your dragon, Princess," Criston Cole demands, his tone clipped with irritation. "We don’t need her burning the forest down around us."

You meet his gaze with a steady one of your own. "That’s not how it works, Ser Criston. Silverwing follows her own instincts. I can’t just call her off like a hunting hound."

Criston grunts, clearly dissatisfied with your answer, but he says nothing more, focusing on leading the group forward.

Gwayne stays close to your side, his presence a strange mix of comforting and disconcerting. You glance at him, catching the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Unfortunate, isn’t it?" he says after a moment, his voice low enough for only you to hear. "Your late father never approved of our match."

You give a dry laugh, shaking your head. "Probably for the better. I don’t fancy being locked up in a tower all my life."

Gwayne’s smile widens, genuine amusement in his eyes. "You think I’d lock you up in a tower? You clearly have no idea what kind of husband I would have been."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "Oh? And what kind of husband would you have been, Ser Gwayne?"

"The kind who knows better than to try to change a dragon," he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Besides, I value my life too much to cage something as fierce as you."

You chuckle softly, but the humor is short-lived as reality sinks in. "And yet, here we are. I’m chained, a captive to be killed or used as leverage against my sister."

Gwayne’s expression sobers, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and resolve. "I wish it were different, Y/N. But these are the times we live in."

You sigh, looking up at Silverwing still soaring above. "Do you ever wonder, Gwayne, what might have been? If things had gone differently?"

He nods slowly, his gaze distant for a moment. "Every day. But wishing for the past won’t change the present. We can only deal with what’s in front of us."

"And what’s in front of us is a forest full of angry knights and a war that doesn’t seem to have an end," you say, a touch of bitterness in your voice.

Gwayne gives a soft laugh, the sound almost comforting. "At least you still have your sense of humor. It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you."

You glance at him, surprised by his honesty. "And here I thought you only admired my dragon."

He smirks, shaking his head. "Silverwing is impressive, yes. But she’s nothing compared to you."

The compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. The knights continue to lead you through the forest, their voices a distant hum as you walk beside Gwayne, the man who once might have been your husband.

The journey to Duskendale stretches ahead, uncertain and fraught with danger. But for now, at least, you have an ally by your side, even if he is also your captor. And in these uncertain times, that might be the closest thing to hope you have.

The sky darkens as Criston Cole’s men set up camp, the forest growing quieter as the night settles in. You’re confined to a tent, albeit a comfortable one, considering your status as a prisoner. The air inside is warm, lit by a single lantern casting flickering shadows on the canvas walls.

You sit on a makeshift bed, your thoughts drifting between your current predicament and the distant roar of Silverwing, a constant reminder of your connection to the skies above. The flap of the tent rustles, and Gwayne steps inside, his expression unreadable.

"Comfortable?" he asks, his tone casual but his eyes searching.

You give him a wry smile. "As comfortable as one can be in captivity."

He chuckles softly, stepping closer. "Could be worse. Criston wanted to keep you in chains outside, but I insisted on more... humane accommodations."

You raise an eyebrow. "And why is that, Ser Gwayne? Still holding a soft spot for me?"

He sits down beside you, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I just know how to keep a dragon content without a fight."

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth lift in a reluctant smile. "Still think you can tame me?"

Gwayne’s gaze locks onto yours, intense and unwavering. "I never wanted to tame you, Y/N. I wanted to be beside you, as equals."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, the tension between you softens. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. "And yet here we are, on opposite sides of a war."

"War or no war, some things don’t change," he murmurs, his hand wrapping around yours.

The air between you shifts, charged with unspoken words and lingering desires. Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean in, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss is urgent, fueled by the months of separation and the fear of an uncertain future.

Gwayne responds with equal fervor, his hands moving to release the binds on your wrists. As the ropes fall away, you bring your hands up to his chest, pulling him closer. His fingers fumble with the laces of your dragon riding attire, and you do the same with his armor, the urgency of your movements reflecting the intensity of your emotions.

"I missed this," he breathes against your lips, his hands sliding over your skin. "I missed you."

You shiver at his words, your own hands trembling as you help him undress. "I missed you too, Gwayne."

Clothing discarded, you pull him down onto the bed, your bodies pressed together in a desperate embrace. The warmth of his skin against yours is intoxicating, each touch sending sparks of desire through you.

Gwayne moves with practiced urgency, his hands guiding your hips as he enters you. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of relief and need that leaves you gasping. "Y/N," he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "I need you."

You wrap your legs around him, urging him deeper. "Then take me," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

Your movements become frantic, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other. Your breath mingles with his, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

As you reach your peak, Silverwing's roar echoes above, a wild and powerful sound that mirrors the intensity of your release. You cling to Gwayne, your nails digging into his back as you ride out the waves of pleasure together.

For a moment, time stands still, the only sound your ragged breathing and the distant rumble of your dragon. Gwayne collapses beside you, his arms still wrapped around you, holding you close.

"I love you," he murmurs against your hair, his voice raw with emotion. "No matter what happens, remember that."

You press a kiss to his chest, your own heart aching with the weight of your situation. "I love you too, Gwayne."

In the quiet aftermath, you find solace in each other's arms, knowing that whatever the future holds, this moment is yours and yours alone.

The next day dawns gray and heavy with tension. Criston Cole is restless, urging his men to pack up and prepare for the march to Duskendale. You watch from the confines of your tent, the memory of the previous night with Gwayne still fresh in your mind, a bittersweet ache in your chest.

Silverwing circles above, her presence a constant reminder of your strength and the bond you share. Gwayne catches your eye from across the camp, and you see a flicker of resolve in his gaze. He looks up at Silverwing and then back at you, subtly nodding—a signal.

Your heart races as you understand his unspoken message. It’s now or never.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. As Criston and his men begin to move, you seize the moment. "Now," you whisper to yourself, breaking into a run.

Chaos erupts around you as Gwayne shouts, "Stop her!" But instead of joining the chase, he tackles Criston Cole to the ground, his body crashing into the other knight with surprising force.

Criston snarls, struggling under Gwayne's weight. "Hightower! What are you doing?"

"Giving her a fighting chance," Gwayne growls, pinning Criston down. "Get out of here, Y/N!"

The soldiers around you hesitate, torn between their orders and the unexpected fight unfolding between their leaders. Their momentary confusion is all the opportunity you need. You sprint towards the edge of the camp, your eyes fixed on Silverwing above.

"Come on, girl!" you shout, waving your arms. Silverwing roars in response, descending swiftly and landing with a thunderous impact.

You reach her just as the soldiers begin to recover from their shock. Hands grab at you, but you twist away, your foot finding purchase on Silverwing’s saddle. With practiced ease, you haul yourself up, securing the straps around your legs.

Silverwing launches into the air, her powerful wings beating the ground, sending dust and leaves swirling. Below, Gwayne glances up, meeting your eyes one last time. In that fleeting moment, a promise passes between you—a promise of love, loyalty, and hope for a future that might still be yours.

"Go!" Gwayne shouts, struggling to his feet as Criston shoves him off. "Fly, Y/N!"

You nod, your throat tight with emotion. "Thank you, Gwayne."

With a final roar, Silverwing rises above the treetops, carrying you away from the camp and towards freedom. The wind whips through your hair as you steer her towards Dragonstone, the ache in your chest both a reminder of your captivity and the bond that now holds you and Gwayne together, despite the distance and the war.

As you fly, you cast one last look back, seeing Gwayne standing tall amidst the chaos, his eyes following you until you disappear into the horizon. It’s a silent vow that this isn’t the end—that you will find each other again.

For now, you focus on the path ahead, the promise of Dragonstone and the fight for your family fueling your determination. Silverwing’s powerful wings carry you onwards, each beat a testament to your resilience and the unbreakable devotion that ties you to those you love.

As Silverwing's silhouette fades into the distance, Gwayne braces himself for the inevitable confrontation. Criston Cole stands, brushing off the dirt from his armor, his eyes blazing with fury. The camp buzzes with confusion and tension, soldiers whispering and exchanging uneasy glances.

Cole's voice cuts through the murmurs like a knife. "What in the seven hells were you thinking, Hightower?"

Gwayne straightens, meeting Criston's glare with unwavering resolve. "I did what I thought was right."

Criston's nostrils flare, and he steps closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You let a valuable prisoner escape. Rhaenyra’s sister, no less. Do you have any idea what this means for us?"

"I do," Gwayne replies calmly. "But I also know what it means to treat people with honor. She wasn’t some bargaining chip to be used at will."

Cole’s eyes narrow, and he steps forward, closing the distance between them until they are almost nose to nose. "Honor? This is war, Gwayne. Honor gets you killed."

"Maybe," Gwayne retorts, his voice steady. "But it also makes you worth remembering. Y/N is no ordinary prisoner. She’s a dragon rider, a princess. Treating her like a common captive would only fuel more hatred and violence."

Criston shakes his head, incredulous. "You’re a fool if you think she’ll spare us any mercy. The moment she’s back with Rhaenyra, she’ll come for our heads."

Gwayne squares his shoulders, refusing to back down. "Perhaps. But at least I can live with myself knowing I didn’t betray everything we once stood for. We were knights of honor once, Criston. Have you forgotten that?"

Criston’s face contorts with rage, and for a moment, Gwayne thinks he might draw his sword. Instead, Criston takes a deep breath, visibly struggling to control his temper. "You’ve jeopardized our mission, and for what? Sentiment?"

Gwayne holds his ground, his voice unwavering. "For what’s right. You may not understand now, but one day, you might."

Criston’s eyes flash with a mix of anger and something else—perhaps a flicker of respect and understanding. "This isn't over, Gwayne. Not by a long shot. You’ll answer for this."

"I already have," Gwayne says quietly. "And I’m prepared to face the consequences."

Criston turns away, signaling for the camp to resume its activities. "Get ready to move out!" he barks to the soldiers. "We’ve wasted enough time here."

As the camp stirs back into motion, Gwayne watches, his mind replaying the look in Y/N’s eyes as she flew to freedom. Despite the threat of retribution hanging over him, he feels a strange sense of peace. He has made his choice, and he would make it again a hundred times over.

One of the soldiers approaches, hesitant. "Ser Gwayne, what should we do now?"

Gwayne sighs, feeling the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. "We follow orders," he says, his voice firm. "We march to Duskendale and prepare for what comes next."

As the camp prepares to move, Gwayne allows himself a moment of reflection. He finds strength in the memory of Y/N’s freedom and the promise they silently shared.

Whatever the future holds, he will face it with the knowledge that he did what was right—not just for himself, but for the woman he loves and the honor he still believes in.

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 8

chapter 7 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 9

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: when death comes knocking, you can only answer the door.

a/n: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek where do i even start 🥺 i’m just gonna say i’m sorry in advance and leave it at that, but if you read between lines you’ll understand. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! they do keep me motivated. as always, THANK YOU for reading. see you on the other side! x

warnings: 18+, mdni. a LOT of angst and drama incoming. cutesy fluff. established relationship (my babies 😭).  no smut in this one, don’t hate me! mentions of alcoholism and drugs as coping mechanisms. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart). clickers steal the show 😖. death everywhere so be warned. swear words. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov.

w/c: ~5k.

tags aka the drama wagon (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981

@fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille

The patrolling shifts had increased around Chicago River and Interstate 90. The Rioters had allocated more resources to survey the borders of the area their people inhabited. In the following days to your disastrous incursion, clickers’ activity had peaked. They were coming closer, so it was decided to dispatch them as they neared.

You were all tired, but there was no rest for the wicked. They kept on moving eastwards, as if something was calling them. No one had been able to figure out why, but the answer to that question didn’t really matter. You suspected that something happened that night at the hospital ― maybe Sasha and her team did something they shouldn’t have.

You would never know, so you tried to stir your thoughts away from what would remain a mystery.

You rolled on bed, the early morning light shining a ray on your face. You grunted in discomfort. Your whole body ached ― those patrols were physically intense, but also mentally exhausting. After all, the infected had been people. A father, an auntie, a brother-in-law, a loving child… All those stories were lost to the wind, and you just hoped there still were people who remembered them as they had been before succumbing to the fungus.

You pouted ― That wasn’t how you wanted to start your day.

Still sleepy, your hand dabbed the bedsheets on your right, unconsciously looking for him.

Joel wasn’t by your side. You frowned in confusion and sat up on the bed, rubbing your eyes. As you got up and walked towards the en-suite, you heard Joel and Tommy talking on the other side of the door, where the living room was.

It was a heated argument ― an everyday occurrence lately. Since you three arrived at Chicago almost five months ago, the brothers appeared to headbutt very often. It didn’t take you long to realise that Tommy’s attitude had gradually changed over time, the alcohol being the main culprit. The bubbly, kind Tommy you had come to meet was buried somewhere underneath that ethanolic stench.

You missed his jests, his nonchalance, his light-heartedness. Buy you did understand him too ― he needed an escape from reality. You all did, really. It was just sad that was his choice of inflicting himself with absent-mindedness.

“You spent the night in the fucking cell, really?”, you heard Joel whisper angrily.

Tommy replied, but his speech was so slurred you couldn’t make out his answer.

“I don’t fucking care for your excuses anymore, Tommy, you need to get your shit together. I need you sober, for fuck’s sake ― the situation is getting dire here, we’ll need to leave soon. In this state, you can barely walk”, you knew Joel was getting frustrated attempting to reason with the younger Miller.

You contained a fatigued sigh ― Joel had tried his best these past months to help Tommy straighten out his path. But you couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to be helped. You just wished Joel understood that. But you knew he wouldn’t give up on his brother so easily. His only living relative.

You sauntered towards the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. You were in the middle of doing so when you heard Joel enter the room. His reflection appeared in the mirror in front of you and you smiled at him, your mouth full of toothpaste. The corner of his mouth lifted just slightly as he placed a heavy hand on the small of your back, his lips brushing your right temple. You closed your eyes at the soothing touch. You quickly bent over to spit the toothpaste and rinse your mouth.

“He’ll come around”, you said as his hand draped around your waist, yours stroking his forearm instinctively.

Joel humphed. “I hope so”, he muttered, his mouth pressed against your crown. “It’s not safe here anymore, darlin’, I think we should head somewhere else”.

“I hear Canada is lovely this time of the year”, you joked, hoping to lighten the mood. His expression didn’t flinch ― worry distorting his rugged, gorgeous face. “I know, I know… Could we wait a few days at least? Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve”, you blinked at him.

He considered it for a few seconds before giving in. “Alright, we’ll leave on the twenty sixth”.

You clapped your hands together, a smile widening your features. Joel cocked an inquiring brow.

“Well, Joyce is throwing a party on Christmas Day at hers and, uhmm, I kinda told her we were coming?”. His brow furrowed even more. “Pretty please?”, you begged, your fingers laced in a prayer.

You knew Joel didn’t like socialising nor big gatherings, but it was just one teeny tiny ask. You flashed your eyelashes at him.

“Okay, it won’t hurt, I guess”, he conceded reluctantly.

With an excited squeal, you turned around in his embrace, circling his neck with your arms. You stood on your tiptoes as Joel leaned forward to kiss you.

The day went by slowly. You had been assigned to the evening patrol ― your hunting duties put on hold until further notice. With all this clickers’ activity, it wasn’t safe to venture out. To your dislike, Joel had been in the afternoon one, so you kissed him goodbye when you took over. At least Tommy was with you.

You were stationed in the bridge on West Madison Street, the Lyric Opera of Chicago to your right. There was a total of ten people in your group, each one of you covering different positions. When clickers approached, you shot them through the rifle scope. It had become a mindless game, like the one you used to play in the arcade when you were younger ― Wolfenstein 3D.

Hours had gone by, and you had been standing up for so long that your feet hurt. You eyed the red, thick metal railing to your left and, with a little jump, you sat on top ― your legs dangling in front of you, facing southwards and the rifle conveniently placed on your lap. Tommy joined you a few minutes later.

He remained silent and so did you. Although he was somewhat sober, you could smell the alcohol on him. It was bad enough that he drank himself to oblivion in his free time, but it was not great he came to patrol with dulled senses.

You took a deep breath.

“Your brother needs you, y’know?”, you said with resignation. His eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance, but you could see the pain in them. “We’ll be leaving in three days, Tommy, and we both need you. This reckless path of yours could have dreadful consequences, not only for us, but for yourself… We are both here to help you out, but you’re shutting us out ― Joel is worried sick and, to be honest, so am I. And I get it, this world sucks… but you’ve got us. The people you are meeting up with… They aren’t good for you.”

He didn’t say a word for a long minute. It was probably not fair of you to pester him with your not-so-uplifting speech, but he needed to hear it. As much as you liked Tommy, what troubled you the most was that it would destroy Joel if he lost Tommy too. It had taken him a long time to open up, to start living again, and Tommy was undoing all that hard work Joel had put in.

He sighed heavily, turning to look at you.

“Do I? And please don’t get me wrong ― I’m happy for both of you. But you’ve got Joel and Joel’s got you. Again, nothing wrong with that, but it sometimes feels lonely, y’know? That’s what drove me to Laney and her group, they get me. Yeah, sure, the alcohol, the drugs ― it ain’t great, but it helps. But I know I need to get my shit together, believe me, I do, it’s just… hard”, he shrugged.

Your eyes softened, downcast expression. You knew you were just brushing the surface; it wasn’t just that he felt left out. This new world was devastating, it toyed with your mind, making you believe things that were never really there ― a figment of your imagination, of your worst fears.

You palmed his forearm to cheer him up.

“As hard as it is, I’m sure you’ll still come out the other end just fine”, you smiled, but he was evading your eyes. “You only need to reach out, Tommy. We’re here for whatever you need of us.”

You got home past midnight. You were so worn out, you just whispered goodbye to Tommy and headed towards your shared bedroom with Joel. The handle made a screeching noise, then the door creaked when you pushed it. You scrunched your face in frustration ― you didn’t want to wake Joel up if he had fallen asleep. He had trouble in doing so, his nightmares still haunted him.

You quietly closed the door behind you. The room was dark, the silence only broken by his faint snoring. You grinned ― he did snore, as much as it pained him to admit it. Tiptoeing towards your end of the bed, you scattered your clothes on the floor. Only wearing your panties, you sneaked under the bedsheets. There was no heating, but Joel’s body radiated enough warmth to keep you both cozy for the whole night ― so you curled up against his back, nipples grazing his bare skin, your left arm around his waist and your hand gently pressed against his chest. You could feel his ribcage raising with every breath he took.

He lulled you to sleep, your mind slowly drifting away. He really was your safe haven.

You smiled absentmindedly, a snug sentiment weighing in your belly. You kissed him where his shoulder blades met and whispered, “I love you.”

Maybe he dreamt it. He was not sure.

Maybe his unconsciousness made it up. He was not sure.

However it came to be, that “I love you” had been haunting his mind the whole day. His chest felt tight, a longing ache lodged in his core. Joel had not been able to get rid of that feeling ― being honest, he didn’t want it to disappear. As much as it was painful, it was also hopeful.

His heart fluttered with yearning at the memory, only coming back to reality when you elbowed his side. He had not heard what you said, but your features had lit up with your laugh. The biggest muscle in his chest skipped a beat at such beautiful melody.

“I bet you were the taciturn type as a kid, right, Joel?”, Joyce asked him, question marks dancing in her pupils.

“I was a normal, boring kid. Played a bit of baseball and went on a few fishing trips with our old man, but that’s about it. So yeah, I guess taciturn covers it”, he replied, spooning the stew into his mouth.

Tommy huffed taking a sip of the moonshine in his cup, but didn’t say anything.

The three of you ―Joel, Tommy and yourself― were in the canteen in the Art Institute of Chicago. Joyce, her granddaughter Ava, Walter and a few others were sat around the table, everyone sharing funny snippets of their childhood. Tomorrow was Christmas Day, which seemed to have lightened the mood a bit, some people had even sang some Christmas carols.

“What about you, sweet pea?”, Joyce turned her attention to you.

“I was a weird kid”, you admitted with a laugh. “Used to love bugs, and I really mean love bugs. I had a huge terrarium, a beautiful ant’s nest. I used to go out and picked some of them off the anthill in our backyard to bring them to my colony. Not gonna lie, it was fascinating seeing how the ants would work together to build their little glass community”, you shared while devouring Joyce’s stew. “Then one day, quite a few ants bit me as I was trying to relocate them to a different part of the terrarium, and they fucked me up real bad. Got a terrible infection, was in hospital for two weeks. When I came back, the whole colony was dead, my parents didn’t even let me have a look at it. It was heartbreaking. After that, I steered clear of any type of bugs. I cared for them, even named every one of them, and that’s how they paid me in return? Little bastards”, you cackled, shaking your head.

“You were indeed weird, sweetheart”, Joel muttered so low, you thought you were the only one who heard it.

You patted his hand with a chuckle, unconsciously leaning towards him, your shoulders touching. You always gravitated towards Joel, you just couldn’t control it. Your eyes met and you giggled ― his smirk widened.

“Guilty”, you whispered, his hand enveloping yours under the table.

You had forgotten Joyce was sat across you until she cleared her throat.

“So, you two lovebirds are a couple yet, or what?”, her not-so-innocent question caught you completely off guard.

Shit, shit, you thought, almost choking on your food. You had not talked to Joel about what you two really were. You loved him wholeheartedly, but you didn’t need to put a label to your relationship. At least not yet. You didn’t want to pressure him ― you knew Joel would come around when he was ready.

“Uh, well, we…”, you stammered, your heart racing so fast you thought you were going to throw it up in your bowl.

Joel’s hand gripped yours tighter.

“Yeah, we are”, he replied, matter-of-factly.

Your soul literally left your body. You scrutinised his face in awe ― your lips dissevered, sparkly eyes, speechless. A wave of relief washed over you. He did love you; you just knew it in your heart. The immense love you suddenly felt almost throttled you. If your brain was a functioning organ, you would have hugged and reciprocated him ― but your mind was still short-circuiting.

Joel’s hazel eyes held yours prisoner. He wasn’t a man of many words, but he didn’t need to be ― his orbs spoke for him. They were soft, tender, loving. You heard Joyce’s snicker, but your eyes could not leave Joel’s. There were so many things you wanted to say but couldn’t ― your heart was drowning in oxytocin.

“Why do you look so surprised, sweet pea?”, said the older woman, hardly containing a guffaw.

Before you could find any words to answer Joyce, a shrieking cry disrupted the festive atmosphere. People got up a few tables away from you, screaming so loud you couldn’t make out their words.

A few seconds later, another commotion took place but from the other end of the room.

“Infected! They are infected!”, someone shouted.

Panic spread quickly. People started running, cramming around the two exits. Pushing their way out, elbowing anyone in their way with no regards to children or the elderly. Then you saw a young girl in the middle of a circle, people trying to keep their distance from her. You recognised her from the patrols but couldn’t remember her name.

Then she propelled forward, tackling a man to the ground. He screeched loudly, trying to free himself.

“No, get away from me! Aaaarghhh!”, then silence.

You had gotten up. More cries came from the opposite direction, but you didn’t dare to look. Joel’s hand on your shoulder forced you out of your trance, and you turned to look at him.

His expression was a reflection of yours for a fraction of a second. The fear, but then the resolution.

“Move, move, we gotta go. Tommy?!”, his hands were on your back, pushing you to walk in front of him.

The younger Miller went in front of you, gun on hand, to find the way out. Then you remembered the firearm in your belt and swiftly gripped it. You were about to run behind Tommy when you realised. Suddenly stopping in your tracks, you turned around to face Joel. You looked at him intently, then to Joyce and her granddaughter.

You couldn’t leave them behind. Joyce was the best person you had known in a while. She was like family to you. And you had already lost all of your blood relatives. Joel had one look at you and understood you were not going to accept no for an answer.

“Joyce! Ava! C’mon!”, he shouted while approaching them. Joel picked up little Ava in his arms while Joyce ran towards you, thick tears blurring her vision.

You held Joyce’s trembling hand as Tommy guided you out of the building onto South Michigan Avenue. You looked back a few times, ensuring Joel was right behind you. Ava was sobbing loudly, her tiny face against the curve of Joel’s neck, wetting his t-shirt. The fearful look in his eyes told you a sad story ― you knew exactly who he was thinking of. A gut-wrenching feeling sat in the pit of your stomach.

The streets were crammed with people, everyone screaming names at the top of their lungs. You recognised a few faces: Walter, Eric and his mother, Troy, Kelsey…

“They’re coming through the bridge on West Adams Street!”, someone wailed.

All of you looked in that direction and saw a massive herd of clickers galloping towards you.

“RUN!”, you shouted at your group, pulling Joyce’s hand.

You all ran northwards, across Millenium Park. You could feel your lungs burning, your brain entering fight-or-flight mode, your heart racing so fast you were on the verge of having a cardiac arrest. But none of that mattered ― you were focused on getting out of there, all of you. Tommy, Joel, Joyce, Ava, yourself. You were going to make it out.

“Go to William Fahey bridge, it’s closer!”, Tommy yelled once on East Wacker Drive.

More clickers were coming towards you from the west ― you heard someone around you say that all the bridges on North Wacker Drive were packed with infected.

“They’re here! THEY’RE COMING!”, Joyce wept.

The whole moment was so hectic, with no time to process what was happening. You all sprinted to the only bridge in the hands of the government ― you had no other option. You were almost halfway through the bridge, just a few yards more and you would be on the other side.

As you were racing, you heard a gunshot behind you. You came to a sudden stop to check, letting go of Joyce’s hand ― Joel had just dispatched a clicker which had come too close.

“Joel! Come on!”, you begged, getting closer to grab him by his free forearm.

Then you saw them. Waves of clickers coming towards you, people falling to their demises. Your eyes widened, terror pumping through your veins. You shot a few of them, your aim perfect. But there were too many to fight, fleeing was your only real option.

“Don’t stop! Let’s fucking go!”, Tommy howled, waving at you.

Then chaos unfolded. Gunshots swirled around you. You all ducked behind a car to avoid the trajectory of the bullets ― the government soldiers were shooting to whoever attempted to cross the bridge, clickers and humans alike.

“Help!”, a cry to your left made you turned around in a panic.

Joyce was flat on her back, fighting off an infected. You couldn’t think, so you just reacted ― you leaped forwards, tackling the clicker. Knelt on top of it, its disgusting teeth snapped close to your hand. You felt a brief pang on your wrist as you lodged a bullet in its forehead.

With tears darkening your vision, you came off it and crawled to Joyce. Her eyes, devoid of life, stared at the cloudy, dusking sky. Her lifeless expression was filled with terror, tears still running down her cheeks. Blood was surging from her neck ― unconsciously, you covered the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“No, Joyce, come on, wake up”, you whispered, grief tugging at your lungs.

She could not be gone just like that. But she was. Joyce was dead.

“Up! Lift the bridge!”, a man’s voice was carried by the wind.

Suddenly, the ground underneath you started moving up, the bridge parting exactly where you were. With no time to think, Joyce’s body rolled off the edge into the river as you tried to hold on to something to avoid the same destiny.

That something was Joel’s firm grip on your arm. His eyes wild with dread, he pulled you up and back into his arms. His trembling breath caressed your temple as he hugged you tightly. You knew he was as scared as you were, albeit for different reasons.

But there was no time for the shock to wear off. Off the corner of your eye, you saw little Ava running towards the edge, kneeling on the border, her tiny hand reaching into the abyss underneath. “Nana! Come back, nana!”, her wailing tone gave you goosebumps.

“No!”, you and Joel shouted at the same time, both lunging forward towards her.

And then she was gone too. The rotten hand of a clicker wrapped around her tiny wrist, and she fell off the bridge. Her piercing shriek was still ringing in your ears.

Joel and you remained flat against the asphalt, disheartened and broken.

“I had to let go of her for one second, you were falling, I―”, his voice faltered, his eyes broadened with remorse, transfixed on the exact spot Ava had disappeared from.

He was reliving his worst nightmare again. Your heart bled for him. For Joyce, for Ava. For yourself.

“Joel, don’t―”, you couldn’t finish. Don’t do this to yourself, you wanted to say.

“Get up! MOVE!”, Tommy shouted.

He had fended off the clickers who made it across the bridge before it was lifted. You hadn’t realised his efforts until you swept your surroundings and saw the bodies littered around you. Joel shook his head to clear his mind, casting off all emotions, and got up to his feet, helping you up in the process.

Then the three of you started running towards East Illinois Street while the government soldiers kept the clickers at bay as some of them tried to jump from one side of the bridge to the other ― this time, at least, they were aiming better than they did before.

You were still in living hell, with no chance to digest what had happened yet. It was like walking blindly through the darkness, unable to find the switch to turn on the lights. Your emotions had deserted you, at least for the time being. You needed to find shelter before you could shatter.

You raced for what felt like hours but was only minutes. You turned the corner on Erie Street, near Northwestern Hospital. The streets were filled with soldiers and uniformed police, shouting directions at the unhinged mass of people who were trying to find cover.

You stopped running, feeling like fire was consuming your lungs. Joel and Tommy stopped too to catch a breath. You bent over, hands on your knees, to aid your uncontrolled breathing ― Joel’s hand rubbed your back.

“Laney, wait up”, you heard Tommy say, and supposed that Laney and her group had made it out too.

You frowned when you saw blood dripping from your inner wrist on to your jeans. You turned your hand around to check the wound out.

Your breath didn’t reach your lungs. Teeth marks were imprinted on your skin, a grotesque sight. Your heart came to a halt, and then it pounded so hard your ears rang.

I’ve been bit, you thought, realisation dawning on you. Fuck, I’m bit.

Even though you were internally panicking like you had never before, you straightened your back and looked at Joel blankly. It felt like it wasn’t you who was talking, as if you were seeing yourself from outside your own body.

“Joel, I’ve been bit”. Your voice didn’t feel yours ― calm, ethereal.

He was watching his brother walk away, and then his eyes darted to yours in less than a second. His pupils were dilated, his nostrils flared, his lips pursed. A vein twitched in his jaw, his anxiety peaking to the highest level possible. You saw his hand shaking when he grabbed your wrist to inspect it himself.

Joel didn’t say a word. He didn’t have time to do so. You hadn’t realised that Tommy had stopped walking towards Laney and had drawn his gun as he was retracing his steps back to where you were.

“Joel, move”, the barrel was pointing at you, his hand steady.

Panic set in. Was he really going to shoot you? Just like that? Like your life didn’t matter at all? Like he wasn’t your esteemed friend? In front of Joel? Was this how you were going to die after all?

Questions flooded your mind, death knocking at your door.

Joel positioned his body in between you and Tommy ― one hand reaching back to keep you behind him, the other one in front of him at waist level, palm down, to keep Tommy away.

“Tommy, please―”, he implored in a hush.

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his features were torn. His defeated tone ate at your conscience.

“She’s been bit, Joel. She ain’t coming with us, she can’t”, as much as Tommy wanted to convey a reassuring tone, he couldn’t.

Why was he talking like you were not there, like if you were already gone?

“Tommy, don’t do this. I lov―”, your heart sank to your stomach.

“Don’t say it, she’s dead”, Tommy cut him off before Joel could finish his appeal. “If you stay, you’re going to die. Come with me please, we’ll go with Laney and her group, we’ll survive this. You will survive this”, he nodded in your direction.

You were “this”. He was telling Joel he would get over you once you were dead. And you wanted him to listen. You were doomed, there was no coming back from this. You had seen people turn ― you had a couple of days tops before you would get lost to the fungus. Some people only lasted hours. If he stayed by your side to see you wither away… it would break him. For good.

“Joel, listen―”, you whispered, wrapping your fingers around his wrist ― a silent plea dying in your lips.

“No, don’t say a word”, he barely looked over his shoulder, unable to face you yet. “Tommy, I can’t. I just can’t”, he said under his breath.

“Choose then. Either you’re coming with me or you’re staying with her. But I won’t stay by your side to see you destroy yourself.”

An anxious knot formed in your throat. Was Tommy really going to make Joel choose between you and him? That was so fucking cruel you couldn’t believe your ears. You gaped, trying to say something, but Joel took a step back which forced you to do the same.

“Tommy, are you fucking serious?”, Joel asked, a shift in his tone from incredulity to betrayal.

“There’s your answer, I guess”, the younger Miller replied angrily.

Tommy simply walked off, not looking back, not even once.

Both Joel and you froze in place for a long minute, trying to wrap your heads around what just happened.

Your eyes drifted back down to the wound. Pus and blood oozed out. Your chest heaved, reality setting in. You were going to die. This was not what you had in mind for Christmas. How could this happen? Why you? Even with your mind racing with trepidation, you didn’t regret killing that clicker. What you lamented was that it had been for naught ― Joyce and Ava were dead.

“Hey, look at me”, Joel’s voice brought you back. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs sweeping away tears you were not aware of. “Look at me”, he repeated.

You looked up at him through damp eyelashes, memorising his face. His beautiful brown eyes were swirling with shock, with pain, with darkness, with guilt, with loss. His jaw was so clenched his lips were just a fine line. You momentarily shut your eyes, nestling your cheek into his hand before kissing his palm and taking a step back.

You could not look at him directly. The pain was too grave, too profound ― so insatiable it was consuming you. “You gotta go, Joel. Tommy is right. I’m… I’m dead. It’s just a matter of days, maybe hours. You can’t stay. You can’t follow me where I’m going.” The words escaped your mouth in shortened bursts, unable to keep a steady tone.

He took a step forward and cupped your chin, forcing your head up. His sad eyes captivated you, pulling you into their orbits, as if you were a tiny meteor dancing around too close to the black hole of his irises.

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow you. Even to the fucking edge of the atlas”, he muttered breathlessly. “I love you, so don’t ask me to leave you behind. I’m staying, till the bitter fucking end”, your heart dropped to your stomach at his confession.

This was not how you had expected things to be. You were supposed to have time with each other, all the time in the fucking world. And that time had just been snatched from you mercilessly.

Life was so fucking unjust.

You couldn’t stop the tears any longer ― they overflowed your waterlines, your vision so smeared you couldn’t see his face anymore. Your head tilted forward, until your face was buried in his chest.

Joel hugged you tightly, feeling like he was starring in a twisted horror movie. A dark void had replaced his heart, which had been completely ripped off his chest. He was barren inside. His breaths were shallow, they didn’t even reach his lungs.

Had he forgotten how to breathe?

“We need to get off the streets”, he managed to mumble, holding your hand and taking you away.

[submissivewelshranger]

Fake spam-bot dommes have really irked me today. If you recognise yourself in the following rant then please accept that you are an unwelcome parasite!

I, like countless others, are bombarded by dozens of unsolicited DMs spamming our inboxes from accounts claiming to be “experienced and well trained” mistresses. Most will have reposts that we will have previously “liked” but no original posts. Others will have maybe a single post if lucky.

The vast majority will have empty bios or a simple “your mistress”.

99% will send a greeting along these lines: “Hey sissy, Hi slut or Hello slave”.

First and foremost YOU DON’T KNOW US! What on this Goddess—given Earth makes you assume you can speak to a complete stranger in this way? You have to EARN the right to address us in this way.

Yes we may be submissive, I know some REAL DOMMES who have also been approached in this manner. Show some RESPECT FFS!

Secondly, we’re not all looking for an owner. I even have it clearly stated in my bio! I know I’m not the only one who does this.

Speaking of bios, READ THEM YOU MORONS! Asking for name, age and location WHEN IT’S CLEARLY STATED AT THE TOP OF THE BIO shows a complete lack of respect for the account you’re attempting to contact!

On a similar vein, castigating our bios when yours are empty just screams BOT or AI account.

We are REAL PEOPLE who want to chat with other PEOPLE with similar interests. If I want to get intimate with a Bot then I will stick my dick in a blender: it would certainly be a more pleasant experience!

Finally you are giving real Masters and Mistresses a bad name. It’s a very rare occasion for a genuine Domme to message us out of the blue; I’m still waiting to be contacted by Mistress Alice in Bondageland, Mistress Natalie Mars or ideally the Goddess, London Andrews offering to collar me. Those three Ladies would definitely give me the perfect reason to submit willingly, heart, body and soul!

In the meantime I am happy to chat with anyone- PROVIDING YOU HAVE THE DECENCY to actually take the time to find out about us from our blogs.

Here’s the Bot test; call me Wil, if you want to address my femme side feel free to call me Mandy. I’m 52 but still feel 30-something. I live in the heartland of Eryri, North Wales’ beautiful mountainous area where we still speak our native language. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

Thank you for your patience.

[wisp-of-chaos]

Why hello~ Wisp here!

Very cool of you to stop by and look around, but let me tell you a little bit about myself!

I’m a writer and gamer and enjoy music and daydreaming and thinking about LORE and coming up with my own interpretations and musings and make up funky little AU’s for my (and my friend’s) OC’s.

I’m currently stuck in the far reaches of the BG3/DnD hell, as well as afflicted with long term GW2 and Zelda (BotW, I haven’t played TotK yet but know things) brainrot.

You can find my works over here at Ao3 or my writing side blog where I upload all my new FF’s and share small sneak peeks of my current (and to date biggest and most ambitious) WiP aka my Omelurg Harem AU aka “In the Shadow of the Maple Tree” – an asian themed AU where both Blurg and Omeluum struggle with past issues and newly blooming feelings.

I also have gathered quite the HORDE of OC’s over the years and love talking and introducing them to people and am currently working on properly showing them off both here on tumblr (via a list down below the cut) and on toyhouse. (Beware, this is a WiP at the moment but I will get to all of them eventually, promise! Feel free to give it a look though and ask away if you want to know anything about them)

Thank you for stopping by and have fun exploring and looking around!

Meet the OC List (WiP)

Rerki - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Dillyn - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Errube - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Thjorn Hersekin - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Vigrum the Unfaithful - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Mageline "Magiie" Blackwater - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Eimilien & Aimilien - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Makko - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Zhekk - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Odalfyn the Silent - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Pwizz - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Solis Caecus - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Rosemary Thornwood - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Philippa Lum - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Paru aka Squire - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Phileon - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Ritari - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Vlassk - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Ruannskr - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Tazzak - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

Qirilissk - Meet the OC - Toyhouse

[emblazons]

About to remake my info page for the several dozen people who just joined me on my FFXVI journey cause…I mean after a full year emblazons + “tusermarie” was solid for the ST fandom, but now that I’ve expanded + loosened the focus a bit I’m back in the “no one knows who tf you are” trenches 😂

But also, if you’re new & seeing this—hello! Welcome!

TO START: I am AnnMarie. she/her, late twenties, makes a lot of gifs and has a deeply analytical streak about her media. lover of aesthetics and stories that make me think.

emblazons has been primarily stranger things for a year+ and will probably remain somewhat on that track for the foreseeable future, but. We’re expanding to accommodate both all my interests & the media strikes. In recent months I’ve found myself in a Kingdom Hearts + FF heavy phase (catching Covid gave me time to play FFXVI) with a side of favorite films/cinema + TV & anime.

This blog is entirely for me to be casually creative in a way that isn’t my actual job, think a little harder about the media I consume + indulge my interests, so please don’t take it too seriously. That said—asks & gif suggestions are open for people who aren’t anon at the moment, tho they’re often off when my real life gets busy (as it is wont to do lately lmao)!

[thepeacecheesecakegives]

Hi movies this is my first post ! I’m actually nervous writing this but I want my Blog to be one of poetry but also communication ! I want to teach and also learn , see things from different perspective this poem is one I wrote in the middle of the night after seeing a gruesome video of the genocide that is happening in the middle eastern right now. I can’t put into words what they are going through or what’s going to happen , but I can and will use my voice in efforts to speak up !

This piece is titled

RAINBOWS HAVE MEANINGS

By Kalia Walker

Rainbows have meanings

Like wounds have healing

Even if scars will have to take place

Maybe even despite the pain

we can still go into the healing stage

we know that healings possible

and so is recovery

Thats why I’m praying for youth and for answers and a little security

So I say if a rainbow comes only

after the rain has dried

Can I say everyone finds

comfort the moment the last tears dry ?

Is it safe to say even every storm maybe

there’s still a chance to be okay

It has to be ,right ?

like the Sun shining despite

knowing if has to reset every day

It’s like still being present each day

knowing when darkness hits

the sun is just at bay

It has to work in that sense

It’s having faith that rainbows come certain

after every storm and to this day

it’s still proven true

that’s why I still have faith

people have good heart even in the chaos of war

War which is a vicious cycle I hope one days gets replaced with peace ,

maybe there’s a way to see

even in ugliness there’s still beauty underneath

How can we change and how can we keep peace

Maybe we start by realizing

rainbows have meanings

And so does innocent lives

despite what land or territory you were born to even if we have to

March everyday and

equality isn’t the first time its being said

but we’ll repeat it

for years to come

until no life being under

another’s

gets through our heads

It’s hard seeing the full case

or sit through a lecture

it’s easy keeping our eyes on screens

until we see something that makes us look away Even when we do it doesn’t change that fact that bloodied bodies are on the concrete

doesn’t change the fact babies

aren’t spared in war or out of it

it makes you question what else do we take for granted that some desperately fight for

why must blood be on the ground

Where kids could’ve skipped on

why is blood on cement that

chalk should’ve been on

Why is justice a sacrifice innocents must make

Rainbow have meanings right ?

You promised no more floods

but look what state we drown in

God I’m scared

and lost and confused

despite never knowing what’s really going on

just Whats seen on the news

If we weather this storm

let us promise to be better

I might not understand the costs

that must be made

but I can’t sit here and act like fire starts

without someone first casting a flame

I feel scared and I feel I have no right to be

Not when Cindy is living in Palestine streets

Not when war is still a method of communication that each country serves not when …

It’s too much to say

How can we sit

when others

are crouched over dying

But like every storm in the midst of war

Justice will have to be planted in our own ways

Rainbows are for certain

just like the Lord’s return after all

rainbows always appear after each storm

I can’t voice the pain and first hand experience these people are going through , so I Won’t I’ll just use my human Emotions and Values knowing “what good is fighting for land with no one being alive to dwell in it “

prayers to everyone and I stand on the side of children mothers and all innocents ! I hope even tho this is more of poem I can’t wait till I can write some FF and also some original stories and make some mutual I love you guys , let’s be friends !!!

[sweetkakashihatake47]

Hello! First of all I want to say I love your blog! It is always nice to find someone to share opinions. I want to comment last anon ask and your answer. I agree with you 100%! But, many of my friends who claim to be very objective in their characters analysis of Naruto, and actually use the word “ship” in a negative perspective, always point me out that canonically Kakashi would never love Sakura romantically. They say that my interpretation is too occ and I’m transforming Kakashi to someone else, someone I like but it is not the one portrayed in the manga. I fell very sad when they say this because actually I really feel that their love potentially would really possible and not just for my headcanons but because I really saw some situation in the manga that makes me think so. I ship them basing on some hint I really got reading the panels, is not like put together people who never met each other. The only one I’m changing is Sakura because in my mind at a certain point she would see Sasuke as a dear friend and no more as a crush, and yes this is occ. What do you think about it? Thank you.

Hi Anon,

thanks so much for asking me! First of ...Naruto series is not an adult series ...rather one for kids young adults and Teens. So of course we do not see overly romantic or sexual scenes. God forbid! But....and there is a big but....! Kakashi would love Sakura romantically and here is why: Whenever I rewatch Naruto ..and I do it over and over again ..I am stunned again and again ..at how gentle and kind Kakashi is to Sakura. I kind of realized this ...when I began to write a FF for Reader and Kakashi ..where all scenes of Naruto classic beginning are contained in that FF..and there I realized the many occasions ..Kakashi seemed to be drawn to Sakura. And its an ongoing thing ...it does not ...end with Naruto . ..no no! I was literally stunned ...at how much ..Kakashi seeks the attention from her ...first I ...I grew jealous ..out of it! it was ..as if almost ..the reader stands in competition with Sakura ..when it comes to Kakashi. And its fact and canon. I could not believe it at first! In order to write the story as accurate as possible I had to rewatch. That is the beginning ..why I now am highly vocal about Kakasaku. Now ..if you watch it because of the fights and what not ..and are focusing on such things ..or the Jutsus and Chakras ..the arcs ..and the character growth ...you do not realize it. You have to watch it very closely ..and then ..you can see it what I mean. Or write a FF from the persepective of the reader who is part of the series...as in my case. Kakashi says of himself ..that he has many hobbies ..and the official characterization of him says ..that he has many hidden talents ...and that he is rather very domestic. This tells me ..that we dont see the whole personality of Kakashi in the series. When we see him ...being positively surprised of Sakuras strength in the seconed bell test ...and him thinking of the possibility that Sakura could be the better Kunoichi than a Tsunade ...I feel ...that is love and admiration! When we see him ..rescueing her ..over and over again ...not critizising her ....worried about her ...and in the end of fourth great Ninja war holding her ..standing by her side ..stroking her cheek ..touching her ...defending her against a Sasuke ...and it is all canon. He is sooo gentle to her. And to no other woman. That is the point. I feel Kakashi has hidden sides ...that is not shown in the series. We see hints of it. Him aproving of Asumas and Kureneis relationship , him loving to read Icha Icha ..who he himself describes it at one point ( Jiraya interviews Kakashi) as dramatic ..romantic and what not ..tells me ..that he indeed can be wonderfully romantic as well .I also feel ..that when it comes to love ...Kakashi has to have a deep connection to his love interest. He is not the man ..who is just struck down by physical attributes. The most important thing to him in a relationship ..I would say ..is trust and Teamwork. Everyone can be romantic in some way or another. It depends ..how you define romance. Romance can also be ..very simple natural things in our daily life. Next time ..you can go to your friends and let them read my answer to you here! SasuSaku for me ..is the irony pairing. Sakura in my opinion did not grow much...but ..with Kakashi on her side ...she would have! No doubt about it! Conclusion ...of course Kakashi would love Sakura romantically ..its all there ..and its canon! There are so many hints that point in that direction. I hope ..I could help you out ! 🥰

[holyguardian]

Man, I blocked a person and the whole world knew about it.

Note that I and a small friend group had previously told this person it was unhealthy to be “keeping tabs” on their former friendships. She outright admitted to stalking and didn’t see why her actions were bad and argued she had to keep doing it.

This is a person who was in the FF roleplaying community with a blog from FFVIII, and the FFXIV community, so our interests crossed over in two areas but the main differences are I keep very small groups, they tried to keep large groups, which explains how their voice became so loud.

Context for the block: they had been shitting over everyone but only when they weren’t in the chat too (be it voice chat or secret side groups). It was unpleasant for many reasons, but the biggest was they continued to cross that boundary even after being asked to not speak that way. Whatever friendship was left had been thoroughly exhausted (use you like a napkin when in a mess then toss you when it’s cleaned up type) and I messaged someone around that time telling them ‘I feel like a chew toy’ which honestly nailed the sentiment. I felt a lot of emotional fatigue having this person in my space because there was always something, and if there wasn’t something they’d rehash old stuff. I blocked them on discord in a split second decision when my gut told me to get out and thought that would be it. They had actually left a group and I was messaging to check in after others expressed concern, I got a brush off answer and decided “I’m done I’m not chasing you around”. It was a reflex move. Blocked. Left all shared groups, no more facebook or friends lists or shared space. Had no more ties.

They freaked. The fuck. Out.

Went into a previously shared group chat to make sure everyone knew about it. I had left but a whole conversation happened with me out of the group so I only know second hand for context after this all blew up. Lets call this ground zero because apparently this was the hot topic to keep coming back to for months. It boiled down to “she should have talked to me because I’m going through a lot right now” when talking with this person who always living a crisis and in conflict WAS the problem. I have never met someone so nasty yet also someone with this massive victim complex, it doesn’t add up until you realise how many friendships were burned through.

Went to an unrelated group chat to make sure everyone knew about it. A close friend of mine now, who back then had nothing to do with anything of that, got the whole run down because as recently as this year it came up so that’s telling of how far this event was spread that pieces of it are still coming to the surface. You will never understand how it feels realising so, so many people were having conversations about you when you had been quiet, in a FFXV group roleplay chat no less, a community where I have deep-rooted my hobbies. That’s damaging beyond words.

Went to another unrelated group chat to make sure everyone knew about it. That was when someone’s husband commented about the “Muddy and other Tumblr-ina’s making drama”. These were people I played FFXIV with and I felt gross that I was even a blip on the radar when all I had done was block someone without any argument or explosive exchange.

Went to the free company leader to make sure everyone knew about it. Receiving an authoritative message from someone (whose only ties with me were through playing the same videogame) over blocking someone else made me feel so fucking small. I don’t know how a block on discord is harassment but apparently it meant “you should message and apologise because [name] says they are being targeted”. With what? A block? I wanted to be left alone and I sure as hell hadn’t been running my mouth to everyone within range. Someone shared screenshots of the-conversation-I-wasn’t-involved-in to the free company leader and they dropped it because they realised it was a whole lot of noise over a whole lot of nothing.

Went further onto tumblr to message people like my best friend (which I’m still creeped out about that they even tried to involve someone so close to me, when they had no reason whatsoever to be messaged) and it trickled to other people on tumblr to make sure everyone knew. 

I don’t need to bring up all the names and usernames because even if I could remember them all I only recall some, and these people aren’t meant to be receipts to cash in, but it was an experience I lived through where discord, FFXIV and tumblr every other day or week or month or year I was being approached about The Drama. It’s unsettling to have so many people talk about you when you’re a quiet person with small groups.

I just had a person blocked like. Okay... this is... everything is on fire, everyone keeps coming to me like this person was physically assaulted, they were blocked.

I never opened my mouth.

They treated me like a therapist. Would vent to me. Ask me, specifically me, to come chat with them. Now that I’m older I’ll say this easily: I’m an amazing listener and sometimes I’ll feel your problems as though they’re my own (INFJ personality yeehaw). I think that scared them. They had used me so much in that regard, yes, USED, they were scared of what could come back out. But even this person who shoveled the shit deep, their secrets are safe.

At that time I was being the bigger person like it would win me some kind of award, kept to myself. I was getting told by others that they had an ultimatum. To “choose” if they were friends with me or the person I blocked. That was a one-sided sentiment. I just didn’t want to be around the person which is very fucking fair.

But now I also hear back almost the exact same scenario played out, where they spoke real nasty shit about “friends” which Person 1 shared to Person 2 and Person 2 shared on to those who were talked about. So you know. Talk shit and be nasty long enough it’s eventually going to come back around in some form. The difference is I never told others because I didn’t want to hurt people with “the salt” as they called it but now that I’m older I would have handled that a lot differently.

I don’t need butt pats. I got my sweet, sweet ‘fuck you’ that’s living on rent free. This person confided in me once the one thing that makes them lose their mind. I used it against them knowing full well it was going to make them angry when they crossed another line by “keeping tabs” (stalking) in a new hobby space years after the fact. I lived through too much nonsense from a person who obsessively spread their narrative to get ahead of a clapback I never delivered, I’m not the least bit sorry.

This apparent Drama was bigger than just me because it was also my friends being affected and accused of harassment over the conversation-I-wasn’t-part-of, because people calling for calm meant they already picked a “side” which somehow was twisted to “harassment” when nothing of the sort took place. I don’t feel comfortable talking on their behalf so all I will say is that it really hurts seeing your small group go through a Drama when the only crime was a block.

So, that was the time I blocked one person and everyone knew about it. I was damaged from it, and I won’t allow anyone to minimise the impact it had on me just to make themselves feel a little better. Years later I got really angry when they found me elsewhere and started keeping tabs, I’m going to be even angrier if they repeat it. In saying that, The Person should never read any of this. If The Person does see this, well, they have come into my hobby space (again) and beyond a block and a readmore so I don’t know what else to tell you. And if this sounds at all familiar, then maybe they spoke to you too about that gosh darn Muddy, but to this day I’m still not putting their name on blast because people can make up their own mind. If you’re going to judge me, please do so for what you see from the source, I know I’m not perfect and I certainly do make mistakes. Just because I’m shy or quiet it doesn’t mean I don’t have nasty bones of my own, I have a long fuse but when I reach the end I’m well aware that I can be explosive. I’m genuinely tired of second guessing that other people have already heard about me, but not ME, because I’m more than one side of a story and I’d bet the rest of my bank account that they [gestures above] have never shed light on the full picture.

[persephoneflouwers]

Hello, I hope you have a good day

Tw: smoking, cancer

So there's a discourse on twitter going about how louis's smoking habit is dangerous and how it can have very damaging side effects uk with having history of cancer in his family. It bugs me how as fans they can't maintain a boundary.. But i am an anxious mess thinking about it.. I've always been regarding this topic. But now it has exceeded.. How do you manage thoughts like this as a doctor? When you constantly come across cases related to smoking and with the whole situation with lou. Like do you have any tips.?

Feel free to not answer this. 😥

Hello 🌸

Oh, this is a very good question. I’m sorry you’re feeling so overwhelmed right now. I think when you know how diseases work, you see things differently. It’s a bit easier to discriminate the cases: how many cigarettes per day? How long have you been smocking? How old are you? Is this an hereditarian case or were there other preventable factors? We are trained to come to diagnosis. You have to know the clinical history, the clinical presentation, side effects or literally anything in order to come to a conclusion. It comes across arrogant to find a diagnosis based on one thing such as smocking. Smocking is bad, of course it is. What else is new? It’s not just about cancer either. Smoke is the risk factor in every other issues (voice, breathing, stamina etc). But I know how hard it can be to quit too.

Fans have to know their boundaries here. I think fandom anxiety comes from the uncertainty around this topic (does he takes blood tests periodically for example? Is he getting checked every once in a while? Does he have a family medicine doctor who is there for him? We don’t know). The fact is, we don’t know much except for what we see or we are told every once in a while. I think no one has ever had THE talk with Louis about it, but that’s very normal for a young healthy man. The thing with smocking is that has been always so socially accepted it makes it harder to see the struggles of your health because of it. I’ve seen surgeons smocking in front of my two eyes! And I was like “how dare you? You literally operate these things inside people’s bodies!” but you know how humans are. You feel invincible and by the time you realise you are not, the cardiologist has already prescribed anti-hypertension and beta-blockers drugs.

My suggestion is to not take this burden on you. It’s not your job, not your responsibility as a fan (or as a doctor, by the way). Also stay away from twitter if you can. It’s very easy to be overwhelmed by the discourse over there. When something good happens you are surrounded by so much excitement, but it happens with controversial things too. The fact is when we go online and read stuff from other blogs or accounts, we don’t always match the energy. That’s absolutely normal, because we are individuals living our real life in different ways and in different moments. When discourses like this start, we are left with so many questions and worries coming from all the sides and that’s what you want to avoid. Stay away from any thing can make you feel uncomfortable. It doesn’t matter how little it is. Filter tags, block, say you’re not interested. Do whatever it takes to preserve your experience of the fandom. Today, this discourse feels like an unnecessary concern. Try not to stress on this thinking how being their health counsellor is not your role.

Anyway, this is a reminder to not smoke ffs. Here’s a thread I wrote a couple of years ago for the No Tobacco Day WHO campaign on the Louies science account, in case you’d want to spread some knowledge about the bad effects of smocking. :)

[novaursa]

I have way to many idea so sorry for everything I’m going to send you 👉🏼👈🏼

Aemond x Niece (maybe a Nyra x daemon before her wedding!?)

He’s obsessed with her, she represents everything he want, she’s a perfect Targaryen white hair, purple eyes, huge dragon vermithor or cannibal?

But she’s engaged to Jace and he hate the fact that she is “given” to a bastard. So he tried by all things to make her his, he wish so hard to be found with her in a bad position that they obliged them to get married.

He make sure that Larys Steong see them, he even say to the maester to give her moon tee or medicinal herb for morning sickness ?! Otto find that about the maester and decided to marry them ( daemon and nyra are not ok they say It not real) and aemond took that personally and decided that they will have a child right now 🫣

The Dragon's Mark

- Summary: When Aemond found out about your betrothal to Jacaerys, he knew how all seven hells could not hold him back from taking what was rightfully his.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: Reader is the firstborn child of Rhaenyra. She had a reader with Daemon before she involved herself with Harwin Strong. Daemon legitimized the reader. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've changed the thing with a Maester to make it more believable. I hope you don't mind.

Aemond sat across from his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, and his grandsire, Ser Otto Hightower, in the great hall of the Red Keep. The torchlight cast shadows over their faces, making their expressions harder to read, not that Aemond was paying much attention. Their voices drifted to him as if through a thick fog, muffled and distant. He stared at the tapestry on the wall opposite, its intricate designs of dragons entwined in battle barely registering in his mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, consumed by the image of you.

You, to him, were the embodiment of Valyrian perfection, a true daughter of Old Valyria. Your silver hair fell in soft waves, catching the light like molten silver, and your violet eyes held the depth of the ancient Targaryen bloodline. You are more than a princess; you are power personified, a dragonrider of Vermithor, the mighty bronze beast who had bonded with you when you were but a girl. Aemond could still remember the first time he had seen you astride Vermithor, your small form commanding the great dragon with ease, your expression fierce and unyielding.

Now, you are a woman grown, and in Aemond's eyes, you are perfect. You are the one he deserves, a match that would not only strengthen the bloodline but would also solidify his place in their shared history. He could see it so clearly in his mind: you by his side, the two of you ruling as a power unmatched, with dragons and fire at your command. 

The thought of you set a slow burn within him, a mix of admiration and desire. He had always been captivated by your strength, your beauty, and the fire in your spirit that matched his own. You are everything he had ever wanted, everything he needed. A true Targaryen, unmarred by the weaknesses of others. Aemond clenched his jaw, pushing down the surge of emotions that threatened to spill over.

His attention snapped back to the present as his mother's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and clear. 

"...Rhaenyra has decided to marry her daughter to Jacaerys," Alicent said, her tone carefully neutral, but there was a hint of distaste in her eyes. 

Aemond's world tilted on its axis, the words crashing over him like a wave. His blood ran cold as the realization settled in. Rhaenyra intended to wed her daughter, you, the one Aemond desired above all others, to that bastard Jacaerys. His hands curled into fists on the table, the knuckles white as the force of his anger rose within him, threatening to consume him whole.

"A match to solidify her claim, no doubt," Otto added, his voice dry and calculated as always. "She seeks to ensure her line continues to hold power, binding her daughter to her eldest son."

Aemond could barely hear them now over the roaring in his ears. The thought of you, bound to Jacaerys, of the union of your bloodlines through a marriage that had nothing to do with honor or strength but everything to do with Rhaenyra's desperate attempt to secure her position—it was unbearable. 

His mind raced with images of Jacaerys, the boy who had always stood in his way, who had always been favored despite the question of his parentage, despite his weaknesses. And now, to think that he would have you, the woman Aemond had longed for, the woman who should have been his—!

"Aemond." Alicent's voice broke through his fury, pulling his gaze to her. She looked at him with concern, as if sensing the turmoil within him. "What are you thinking?"

Aemond blinked, his breath coming in sharp, controlled breaths as he forced himself to calm. He could not reveal the depth of his feelings here, not now. He met his mother's gaze, his expression hardening into a mask of indifference.

"Nothing, mother," he said, his voice low and measured. "Only that Rhaenyra's choices will bring about her own downfall."

Alicent frowned slightly, but before she could press further, Otto interjected, his eyes narrowing as he studied his grandson. "This marriage will complicate things, Aemond. We must be cautious in how we respond. Rhaenyra seeks to bind the loyalty of her supporters through this match."

Aemond nodded stiffly, though his thoughts were still far from the politics of it all. He would not let this happen. He would not allow Jacaerys to take what should be his. 

"Perhaps," Aemond began slowly, "we should consider our own alliances more carefully. There are other ways to weaken Rhaenyra's position."

Otto raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in Aemond's tone. "What do you suggest?"

Aemond met his grandsire's gaze, a plan already forming in his mind, a way to ensure that you would not be lost to him, that Jacaerys would not win. His lips curled into a small, cold smile.

"There are always ways to turn the tide," he said softly. "We need only find the right pressure points."

Alicent looked between them, her unease growing, but Aemond paid her no mind. His thoughts were solely on you, on the woman who had unknowingly claimed his heart. He would have you, no matter the cost. You will be his, and nothing, not even Rhaenyra’s schemes, would stand in his way.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly as you sat at your vanity, the brush gliding through your long, silver hair. Each stroke was methodical, a ritual you found soothing as the day's events faded into the quiet of the evening. You took a deep breath, savoring the calm, but beneath the surface, your thoughts were a swirling current of unspoken feelings, thoughts that often turned to him—Aemond.

The quiet attraction you felt for him had always been there, lurking in the periphery of your mind, but never voiced, never acted upon. There was something in the way he carried himself, the intensity of his gaze, that made your heart quicken whenever he was near. Yet, the distance between you had always remained, unbridgeable, or so you had thought.

You placed the brush down, your hair now smooth and shining in the firelight, ready to retire for the night. But just as you were about to stand, a knock echoed through the chamber, pulling you from your reverie. You frowned, surprised by the interruption at this hour. Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and there he was, Aemond, standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Aemond," you whispered, your voice betraying a hint of the surprise you felt.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His presence filled the space, commanding yet silent, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. His eye, that piercing violet eye, locked onto yours, and you felt your breath catch. There was something different about him tonight, an intensity that set your heart racing.

"I... wasn't expecting you," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond moved closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "I needed to see you," he said quietly, his tone carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken. He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of leather and smoke clinging to his clothes.

You swallowed, your mind racing as he reached out, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in his eye, a hunger, a longing that mirrored the unspoken desires you had kept locked away for so long.

"I've thought about you," you admitted softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "But I never—"

He silenced you with a look, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before tilting your chin up, his gaze darkening. "No more words," he murmured, and then his lips were on yours, claiming them with a fervor that took your breath away.

The kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a rush of heat and need that left you dizzy. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his tunic. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, and you felt the world narrow down to just the two of you, the fire, and the beating of your hearts.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to steady yourself. But before you could speak, before you could mention the name that had been on your mind earlier, he shook his head.

"Don't," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't want to hear his name tonight."

You nodded, understanding the unspoken plea, and let the thought of Jacaerys fade away, replaced by the man before you, the man who had captured your heart without either of you realizing it.

Aemond's hands moved to the ties of your gown, his fingers deftly undoing the knots, and you felt your pulse quicken as the fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You shivered, not from the cold, but from the intensity of his gaze as he took in the sight of you, bared before him. There was a reverence in his eyes, a deep appreciation that made your cheeks flush with heat.

He shed his own tunic, revealing the lean, strong lines of his body, the scars that marked him only adding to the allure. You reached out, your fingers tracing the contours of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was all so surreal, so perfect, that you almost feared it was a dream.

Aemond's hands were gentle as he led you to the bed, laying you down with a care that made your heart ache. He moved over you, his gaze softening as he positioned himself between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that felt both new and familiar, as if you were made to fit together.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his eye searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the smooth skin just beneath his patch. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want this, Aemond. I want you."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he entered you slowly, the sensation both sharp and sweet, a mingling of pleasure and pain as he took your maidenhead. You gasped, clutching at his shoulders, but the discomfort quickly faded, replaced by a sense of fullness, of completeness, as he buried himself deep within you.

Aemond stilled for a moment, his breathing ragged as he took in the sight of you beneath him, your hair spread out like a silver halo on the pillow, your eyes wide with trust and desire. The knowledge that you were his, that you had given yourself to him, filled him with a satisfaction that went beyond mere conquest. It was everything he had ever imagined, and more.

Tomorrow, he knew, the servants who served Larys Strong would change the sheets, and the evidence of your union would be seen by those who needed to know. But for now, all that mattered was the here and now, the way you felt beneath him, the way your body responded to his.

You urged him to move, your hips shifting beneath him, and he obliged, setting a slow, steady rhythm that had you both gasping for breath. The pleasure built between you, a slow burn that grew hotter with every thrust, every kiss, until it was all-consuming.

Aemond was lost in the sensation, the feel of you, the sound of your breathless moans, the way your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. It was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever dreamed of, and more. He could feel the tension building, the pressure mounting as you both neared the edge.

As you reached the pinnacle, your release washing over you in a wave of pleasure, he buried his face in your neck, his voice rough with emotion as he urged you to call his name, to let the world know who you belonged to. "Say my name," he breathed, his words a plea and a command all at once.

"Aemond," you gasped, your voice breaking as you clung to him, your body trembling with the force of your release. "Aemond, please..."

And then he was there, the last threads of his control snapping as he spilled himself inside you, his own release ripping through him with a force that left him trembling. Your name was on his lips, a whispered prayer, a declaration of everything he felt, everything he could never put into words.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the warmth of your bodies pressed together, the lingering echoes of pleasure that pulsed through your veins. Aemond held you close, his forehead resting against yours as you both came down from the heights of your passion.

In that moment, there were no words, no need for them. Everything you had ever wanted, everything you had ever felt, was conveyed in the way you held each other, in the way your bodies fit together so perfectly, so naturally.

As you drifted into sleep, Aemond's arms wrapped around you, you knew that everything had changed, and there was no going back.

The morning arrived as Aemond moved with purposeful strides. His mind was sharp, focused, each step a calculated part of the plan he had set into motion. The events of the previous night played over in his mind, not with regret, but with satisfaction. Everything was unfolding exactly as he had intended.

He turned a corner and spotted Grand Maester Mellos in the distance, the elderly man’s stooped figure moving slowly down the hall. Aemond quickened his pace, his boots echoing against the stone floor, and within moments, he was at the Maester’s side.

“Grand Maester Mellos,” Aemond greeted, his voice measured and calm, though there was an undercurrent of urgency that could not be missed.

The Maester looked up, startled by the sudden appearance of the prince. “Prince Aemond,” he replied, bowing his head slightly in respect. “How may I assist you this morning?”

Aemond’s expression was inscrutable as he spoke, his voice low, as if to ensure their conversation remained private. “I require your expertise, Maester. There is a matter concerning Princess Y/N—my niece—that needs your immediate attention.”

Mellos frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. “Of course, Your Grace. What seems to be the issue? Is Princess Y/N unwell?”

Aemond shook his head, his gaze intense as he met the Maester’s eyes. “No, she is not unwell. However, I wish for her to be examined… to ensure that she has not been harmed.”

Mellos’ confusion deepened, and he tilted his head slightly, trying to understand. “Harmed, Your Grace? I do not follow. What examination, exactly, do you require?”

Aemond hesitated for only a fraction of a second before he continued, his voice steady and deliberate. “Last night, she and I... shared an intimate moment. I want to ensure that she was not hurt during our union, that she was not harmed in any way.”

The Maester’s face went pale, the full implication of Aemond’s words sinking in. His eyes widened slightly, and he took an involuntary step back, his hand trembling as he clutched the folds of his robes.

“Your Grace…” Mellos began, his voice shaky as he tried to comprehend the gravity of what had been revealed to him. “You… you wish for me to confirm that Princess Y/N was… that she…?”

Aemond’s gaze remained fixed on the Maester, his expression unwavering. “Yes,” he said simply, allowing the full weight of his words to settle between them. “I want you to ensure that she was not harmed. And if any trace of injury is found, I want you to inform me immediately.”

Mellos looked as though he might faint, the color draining from his face entirely. His mind raced, trying to grasp the enormity of what Aemond was asking, and the consequences that would follow. The bloodied sheets, the confirmation from the Grand Maester—these were not just symbols of a consummated union; they were a declaration of intent, a claim that could not be ignored by either Otto Hightower or Rhaenyra Targaryen.

“I… I understand, Your Grace,” Mellos stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But, Prince Aemond, surely you realize that such news… it will reach the ears of the Queen, and Prince Daemon…”

Aemond’s lips curled into a faint smile, though there was no warmth in it. “That is precisely what I intend, Maester. The sheets will speak for themselves, and your examination will confirm what is already known. My niece is now mine, and any plans to wed her to Jacaerys must be reconsidered.”

Mellos swallowed hard, the implications of Aemond’s words weighing heavily on him. The Prince’s plan was clear now, as was the role he had unwittingly been drawn into. The Maester nodded slowly, realizing that there was no turning back from what had been set in motion.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” Mellos finally said, his voice hoarse. “I shall see to it immediately.”

Aemond inclined his head, satisfied that his instructions would be carried out. He could see the fear in the Maester’s eyes, the way his hands shook ever so slightly as he turned to leave. But that fear was necessary, a tool to ensure that the plan would proceed without a hitch.

“Thank you, Grand Maester,” Aemond said, his voice as smooth as silk. “I trust that you will handle this matter with the utmost discretion.”

Mellos nodded quickly, his face still ashen as he hurried away, his steps faltering as though the weight of what he now carried was too much to bear.

Aemond watched him go, a sense of triumph settling over him. The seeds had been sown, and soon enough, they would bear the fruit he desired. His grandsire would be forced to recognize the union, and Rhaenyra would have no choice but to break the engagement to Jacaerys. There would be no way to deny him now.

As he turned and walked back down the corridor, a sense of satisfaction filled him. Everything was falling into place, just as he had envisioned. And as for the flushed and worried Grand Maester, he was merely the first to feel the ripple effects of the plan Aemond had so carefully crafted. Soon, everyone would understand that you belonged to him, and no one—not Jacaerys, not Rhaenyra, not even Daemon—could take you away from him now.

Aemond entered the chamber, summoned by his grandsire. The usual sense of foreboding that accompanied meetings in the Tower of the Hand was magnified tenfold by the figures waiting inside. Otto Hightower stood near the center of the room, his expression grave, while beside him stood Rhaenyra, her face a mask of barely concealed fury. But it was Daemon, pacing like a caged beast, whose presence dominated the space, his anger felt in the air.

Aemond, however, was unperturbed. He walked with measured steps, his posture erect, his face a picture of calm satisfaction. His eye met Daemon’s, and he could see the rage simmering there, a wildfire barely restrained. Aemond’s lips curled into a slight smile, knowing full well that it would only infuriate Daemon further.

“You summoned me, grandsire?” Aemond’s voice was even, respectful, but with an edge of smugness that did not go unnoticed.

Otto cleared his throat, his gaze flicking between the furious Targaryens and his grandson. “Aemond, it has come to my attention—” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It has come to my attention, through certain… whispers, that Grand Maester Orwyle was called upon this morning to examine Princess Y/N. An examination that has confirmed… certain truths.”

Rhaenyra’s fists clenched at her sides, her violet eyes blazing with a fury that matched the fire of the dragons themselves. “How dare you,” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “How dare you lay a hand on her!”

Before Aemond could respond, Daemon stepped forward, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword, Dark Sister. His face was a mask of barely restrained violence, and for a moment, it seemed he might strike Aemond down where he stood.

“Daemon,” Otto warned, his voice firm, though there was a thread of unease beneath it. “Violence will solve nothing here.”

“Violence is all I see fit to deal with this insolent whelp!” Daemon barked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “He dares to defile my daughter, and you expect me to stand idly by?”

Aemond, unflinching, met Daemon’s gaze head-on, his own expression hardening. “I have done what was necessary, uncle,” he said coolly. “She is mine now, and there is nothing you can do to change that.”

Rhaenyra’s voice broke through the tension, sharp and cold. “Her betrothal to Jacaerys has been agreed upon for years. You cannot simply cast that aside as if it means nothing.”

Otto interjected, his voice measured, though the urgency was clear. “In light of these recent events, the betrothal to Prince Jacaerys must be reconsidered. It is in the best interest of both houses that Princess Y/N and Prince Aemond are wed, to avoid any… further complications.”

Daemon’s eyes flashed with a deadly light as he turned on Otto. “You would sell my daughter to this boy after what he has done? You forget yourself, Hightower. She will not be tangled into your schemes!”

Aemond stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “This is not a matter of scheming, uncle. It is done. She is mine now, and there is nothing that can undo it. You cannot deny what has been consummated.”

Daemon’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it. Aemond’s words, as blunt and provocative as they were, held the weight of truth, and that was what infuriated Daemon most of all.

“The marriage must happen,” Otto pressed, sensing the shift in the room. “And it should happen soon, before word spreads and this matter becomes a scandal that neither house can afford.”

Aemond did not miss the opportunity to twist the knife deeper. “Indeed,” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with a satisfaction that only inflamed Daemon’s ire further. “The ceremony should be conducted in the traditions of old Valyria, where fire and blood bind us as one. And it should be done with haste.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the room before delivering the final blow. “For I hope that soon, another dragon will be born of our union.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, and Rhaenyra’s face turned ashen, her fury giving way to something colder, more calculating. Daemon, however, looked ready to strike again, his entire body tensed with the desire to lash out, to wipe that smug look off Aemond’s face.

But Aemond stood tall, his gaze steady, unflinching in the face of Daemon’s rage. He knew he had won. The plan had worked flawlessly. The whispers from Larys Strong, the bloodied sheets, the Maester’s examination—all had been carefully orchestrated to force this very outcome.

A tense silence stretched between them, thick and oppressive, until finally, it was Rhaenyra who spoke, her voice cold and sharp as a blade. “If this is to be done,” she said, “it will be done according to our customs, and with the respect due to our house. But know this, Aemond—should you ever bring harm to my daughter, not even your dragon will save you from my wrath.”

Aemond inclined his head slightly, accepting her warning with the same unyielding calm he had maintained throughout. “As you wish, sister. I will see to it that Y/N is treated with the honor she deserves.”

Daemon said nothing, but the look he leveled at Aemond spoke volumes. It was a promise, a vow that if Aemond ever crossed a line, there would be a reckoning, and it would be brutal.

But for now, Aemond had what he wanted. He had claimed you, and soon, the two of you will be bound in marriage. The thought of it sent a thrill of triumph through him, and though he kept his expression carefully neutral, inside, he reveled in his victory.

Otto, sensing that the matter was settled, nodded gravely. “Then it is decided. The preparations will begin at once.”

Without another word, Aemond turned and left the chamber, leaving behind a flushed, furious Daemon and a conflicted Rhaenyra. He knew that the days ahead would be tense, that there would be fallout from his actions, but none of it mattered now. You were his, and soon the world would see it, would understand that he was not to be trifled with.

And as he walked away, his thoughts were already on the future, on the life he would build with you, a future forged in fire and blood, just as the old ways dictated.

[daja-the-hypnokitten]

Jukebox reviews part 32! For context, see my post “A Project”     under this same tag. If you want to see a full list of his EMCSA   stories, they can be found here, sorted alphabetically.And if you want to see some of his drabbles, check out his blog at @jukeboxemcsa

Voyeur (Jukebox)

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

10/1/2016                                     mc mf ff fd

Oh, this is sweet! Not my speed, exactly - voyeurism always makes me feel a little squicky, so when it's an essential element of things it's a bit of a turn-off - but much of the story is lovely and the sense of control is amazing. Seeing her frozen, unable to move, and then the way the end adds a new layer to everything? It's well worth a read. 8/10 spirals 

 Eyes Wide Open

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

10/8/2016                                     mc ff

Well, that sure is one way to keep people from being suspicious, and to tempt others into trying your challenge! But also oh, this is just WELL DONE, hypnotically! There are techniques I could steal quite easily here, and I just might! I really enjoy the way Darcy approaches this, and Lia seems to be enjoying the result herself! 9/10 spirals. 

 Necrophobic

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

10/15/2016                                   mc ff

Ooooh, I like Vampires! I like ALL the vampires. (ok, quite literally not all of them, but still.) I REALLY like Isabella's everything here, and the "look into my eyes" is ... *swoooooon* Yes good I love it. And everything that follows after... oh, I *love* it. Especially this line:  "She leaned down, her stare irresistibly beckoning Lori with waves of drowsiness until Lori’s eyes slipped helplessly shut" Oh, I can *feel* that and it makes me want to get lost in one of my partners' hypnotically blue eyes... *happy sigh* 10/10 spirals. 

 Pressure

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

10/22/2016                                   mc mf md

This is a better fantasy story than erotica; what erotica there is in it is only at the tail end, but I'm ok with that! It's an interesting magical system, an interesting setup, and I have to wonder about the world that Jukebox has created here - and if the order in question truly did expect Acacia to fail. It's a lovely story, but it's too magic heavy to hit my preferences. 6/10 spirals. 

 I’m a Slave 4 U

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

10/29/2016                                   mc ff

Oh, that's a heck of a lot of programming to make all of this work. And probably extremely unrealistic for actual what can be done with hypnosis, but we do learn there's other brainwashing equipment we don't see, so sure, why not. I'm impressed by just how well-thought-through the brainwashers have everything we see in this situation, and I do wonder if we're going to see more from 4U and Haley. The depth of control here, the level of depersonalization shown, while still maintaining an awareness of the underlying human and her reality is *fascinating,* and I love it. And the way 4U slides into her role is so satisfying. I just wish we could have seen her brainwashing and conditioning. 9/10 spirals 

 Already There

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

11/12/2016                                   mc mf fd

I disagree with Ramona on the delightfulness of resistance - I like the playfulness, and seeing someone *trying* to resist but being controlled by your power anyway... oh, that is a *rush* (and, imo, just as fun from the other side). That all said, the rest of this is SO good. That being so excited that you basically trance yourself out? Oh, that can be delightful, and it feels so very real. 9/10 spirals 

 The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

11/12/2016                                   mc mf md

This is a good sequel to "The End is the Begininng is the End", if I make the same assumption about it all being consensual "behind the scenes." The suggestions in play, the way it all works together ... mm, it's delightful. And the language the hypnotist uses is *really good* - even if a few of them are phrases we've seen over and over in Jukebox's stories, the "thoughts sleeping in my will" is both a very distinct line and a wonderful one. And I might have to steal the "trying to wake up just hypnotises you more deeply" at some point for a partner who just adores auto-fractionation. Thanks, JB ;) 9/10 spirals 

 Quiet Time (Jukebox)

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

11/19/2016                                   mc mf md

Y'know, Thomas, you *could* try just NEGOTIATING for what you want, rather than adding implicit conditions every time. You might be surprised just how much she'll agree with because it's worth it to her >.> This is *relateable* on so many levels - the busy brain, wanting things to just *stop* being stressful, etc - that I find myself understanding Kirsten entirely too well. I'm glad she has the chance to give herself a break, and that she's *aware* of what Thomas is doing and is willing to take the tradeoff. And seeing her responses, seeing in her head as it all just *stops* is lovely 8/10 spirals. 

 Lips of an Angel

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

11/26/2016                                   mc ff cb

I adore Wild Rose and Sharpe. So very much. They're a lovely pair, and the chemistry between them, and the *understanding* Sharpe has for the potential hazards of hero work, and finding ways to help, to work with Rose, and so on. I just love their dynamic. And Angel is an interesting villain here, and I love all the effects. 10/10 spirals. 

 The Kind of Girl I Could Love

 date uploaded   date updated     Tags

12/3/2016                                     mc ff rb

*oh, Melinda,* sweetheart, you poor girl. (I say, having been a few years younger than she was when I first stumbled across the word asexual and had things click, and being grey-ace myself so it's a bit more complicated, but like. I *get* her. SO MUCH.)  I'm glad she found a way to find someone who can give her what she wants, without making her accept something she *doesn't* want. There's a lot lovely about this, even though I'd hardly call it erotica. After all, she specifically doesn't want sex, and so sex doesn't show up here. And I appreciate that, the understanding of someone wanting *kink,* of wanting *submission,* without necessarily wanting sex. There are so many ace kinksters, and it's nice seeing that representation. I do have to wonder if there's a way to have her new Girl(tm) not have the strawberry scent, somehow, since it gave her that reminder of not being listened to. And I think it's poor programming on the part of the Girls(tm) to not have been prepared for ace folk in general, given their mission and all. But this Girl(tm) figures it out and is validating, and just... yes. Thank you, Jukebox, even a bit over 6 years later this still holds up as good kinky ace representation, and I appreciate you *getting* it so clearly. 10/10 spirals. 

[black-rose-writings]

I posted 612 times in 2022

That's 265 more posts than 2021!

165 posts created (27%)

447 posts reblogged (73%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stromuprisahat

@rist-ix

@kasamira

@tired-demonspawn

I tagged 553 of my posts in 2022

Only 10% of my posts had no tags

#grishaverse - 235 posts

#grishaverse meta - 209 posts

#irl stuff - 71 posts

#anti leigh bardugo - 58 posts

#book review - 52 posts

#twilight saga - 52 posts

#anti alina starkov - 47 posts

#grishaverse worldbuilding - 46 posts

#winx - 40 posts

#čumblr - 36 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#surely someone would have told her that her personal routine was not something she was allowed to share with people outside of the palace

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Fate rant part 1 - Winx was already dark enough

Theme-wise. There’s no excuse for whitewashing Flora and Musa.

No, really, it’s not that hard to make the story of Winx more mature, you just have to look at it differently:

Season 1 - Though it is generally pretty tame, the plot involves a girl from Earth discovering she carries in her the power of this universe’s version of God, having that power ripped out of her violently and against her will and having to go on a soul-searching journey to recover it, while the villain is wreaking havoc using it.

She also finds out that she’s adopted and that her birthfamily was killed by a coven of Witches in search of that power, and that she’s the only known survivor of a planet-wide genocide. And she’s a princess of said dead world, whci has been made uninhabitable by the attack. Oh, yeah, and the descendants of those witches are also trying to hunt her down for that same power - and succeed.

FFS, in like the 5th episode, Stella is almost murdered on screen by the Trix, because they wanted her ring.

Darcy mind-controls Riven to date her and spy on the Winx. If they had sex (which 17-18 couple probably would), that’s straight-up rape, right there.

Sky had to switch identities with his bodyguard/squire in for his own safety as a crown prince. He’s in an arranged political engagement with another girl while he pursues Bloom. You could easily dive into political consequences of breaking this engagement that has lasted since they were both children for a “peasant” girl if you wanted to show a more mature side of that. (But like, maybe demonizing Diaspro for being upset about it isn’t a good idea).

The scenes in Magix city after the attack of the Trix are fucking haunting me to this day.

Oh, yeah, and Bloom’s spiritual guide in the season is literally the ghost of her sister, who died at a very young age so that Bloom could live. (I’m sure there’s more dark stuff in season 1, but that’s just what I remembered, so feel free to add).

Season 2 - Oh, boy, season 2.

Our primary antagonist is quite literally the devil, and he was quite directly responsible for the destruction of Domino

We start out the season with the Pixie being captured by him and then tortured and killed one by one as he’s searching for an item they are guarding. Layla/Aisha is almost murdered when she’s trying to save them, managing to barely escape with her life and her bonded pixie.

During the rescue mission, Stella almost dies from lack of sunlight and her boyfriend is held hostage and almost forced to marry someone else, under the threat that if he refuses, she will be locked up underground until it kills her. He is later saved from this at the last minute through the use of a love pspell that makes his would-be wife fall in love with another man(I’m not gonna get into love potions/spells being basically date rape drugs).

A man is replaced by a doppleganger, gets the underage-or-just-fresh-adult Bloom to trust him and then kidnaps her, so his master can subject her to what is a not-even-really-veiled rape allegory and subsequent mind control.

And, once again, Bloom is still the only known survivor of a genocide and her personal story during the show focuses on her finding out more about her home and family.

There’s other things, too, like Sky being murdered and resurected by Bloom, that one episode that deals with Musa’s dead mother and how her dad became abusive out of grief.

Season 3 - it’s not any better.

The Trix are sentenced to a icy hellhole prison, that they manage to break out of with the help of another person tied to Bloom’s past - this time, a man who is effectively her dark reflection. He’s driven by revenge against his captors and quest for power that he believes is rightfully his (I’ve seen some fics suggesting that he in fact had/had learned those powers before, but they were stripped from him once he was captured and playing with this idea would be a sure-fire way to get into some dark moral corners).

This time, we have two people who were mind controlled into a relationship - Stella’s dad and Sky. Rapey much?

Like, season 3 in general is really good and really dark without even really hiding it. Everyone gets a near-death experience and Bloom and Valtor’s relationship as reflections of one another/two sides of the same coin could be something incredible to explore (and a lot of fics do).

Also Faragonda and the rest of the Company of Light are really fucking shady in all of this.

And there is Layla/Aisha’s arranged marriage to Nabu.

Movies 1 and 2 - again, not even really hiding their darkness. Mind control is ever-present, as is mass-murders and destruction, dead family members and court intrigue.

Season 4 - surprise, more genocide.

This time of the Earth fairies. - I mean, they don’t end up being dead, but... they seemed to be and a lot of them probably were.

And also the subsequent revenge against the Wizards of the Black Curcle and humanity as a whole. Give us the full story of the war between the Wizards and Fairies and you’re already really fucking dark and complicated.

Also, Nabu literally dies on-screen - some dubs say he falls into a coma, but IIRC, he dies in the original. Flat out perma-dead. Right after he and Layla/Aisha got engaged. Causing her to seek revenge.

Season 5 - good news, no genocide... except when Tritanus tries to murder everyone on the surface of Andros at the end. So... attempted genocide only. Improvement!

And there’s torture, turning people into monsters against their will, repeated attempted fratricide, a curse that tore a young woman’s spirit out of her body, forcing her to exist as a disembodied spirit for what is most likely at least 20 years.

See the full post

91 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

#4

Best way to describe my feelings after finishing Twilight:

97 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

#3

I’m starting to think that what’s actually the problem of the Grishaverse, especially the TGT, is that there is a disconnect between the universe, the story and the marketing.

The Grishaverse is a grimdark fantasy world, filled with discrimination, inequality, slavery, war and violence, with political power held by absolutist monarchs and unscrupulous capitalists, where law serves to those with power and fucks over everyone else and where often, the only way to achieve justice is by taking it into your hands.

The story is marketed as a Young Adult fantasy adventure.

And the author wants to tell a fairytale romance story.

And it just doesn’t work.

There are three common ways to incorporate grimdark elements into media - glorification (aka “we’re totally not pandering to incels and psychopaths, pinky promise”), shock value and commentary, with most stories blending all three to some extent.

And the Grishaverse firmly falls into the “shock value” category, whether we’re talking about Zoya’s backstory or the horrors of the Ice Court.

But despite being a grimdark universe, the author still tries to force fairytale morality onto it, causing her protagonists to look like short-sighted, naive idiots and forcing her to bend the rules of the universe to the breaking point to make them win.

104 notes - Posted January 16, 2022

#2

Let me introduce you to two characters:

The first is an immortal man. He’s ancient from human perspective, but he’s considered to be young and idealistic by other immortals. His life’s mission is to protect a wolrdwide opressed minority, that he belongs to. This ahs been his mission since he was 13 and he’s at least 500 now. He’s their guardian, their patron saint in many ways. He was almost killed for his power by his first friend and vowed to build a world where nobody ever needs to be desperate enough to do that. He’s a character driven by empathy, a strong sense of justice and a wish for world peace, the end of wars and discrimination, and he’ll stop at nothing to achieve that.

The second is an immortal woman. She’s still young, even by human standarts, but she has the potential to live forever. She’s an orphan, who fell in love with her foster brother. She’s a member of an opressed minority, but she’s revered for her powers instead of despised, through no action of her own. She doesn’t care for the opression of the rest of her kind, as it doesn’t affect her. She’s willing to do anything, even kill innocent people, to protect her brother/love interest. She’s immature, self-centered and short-sighted. She has a love-hate relationship with her powers, her desires, her social status and even her life itself. She likes having power and doesn’t think twice about using it for personal gain and satisfaction, but she despises having responsibility and the expectations her position gives her. She’s driven by her paranoia, her codependant and toxic relationship with her brother/love interest and by her internalized prejudice.

Tell me, which of these two characters sounds like the hero of the story and which like the villain?

156 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Character motivations - Why so many people side with the Darkling

Character motivations are a big part of them - why they are liked, how their actions come across, so on and so forth. How motivation is written can make or break a character - and TGT fails at this spectacularly.

The motivations of the “good guys” are unclear at best and plot-dependant at worst, while the “bad guys” - the three that we’re introduced to - have extremely understandable and valid ones.

Motivations of the Darkling and his supporters:

Darkling: Wants to stop wars and persecution of the Grisha everywhere in the world.

Ivan: Wants to stop the endless wars that killed his entire family.

Genya: Wants to take revenge against her rapist and probably the people and system that enabled and furthered that abuse, for herself and all the man’s other victims.

Everyone else: Presumably either want end of the wars or Grisha persecution as well.

Motivations of Alina and her side:

Alina: Wants to live a quiet and peaceful life with Mal, sometimes, maybe. Or rule over Ravka as a Living Saint. Maybe. Possibly. Or die. It varies.

Mal: Want to bang Alina and have her undivided attention - preferably while she gets none herself, I guess. And maybe kill the Darkling because... he liked Alina? Is Grisha? Kills people? Unclear.

Zoya: The Darkling killed her only decent family members, so now she wants revenge (established retroactively).

Nikolai: Wants to rule Ravka, because the current monarch and the actual heir are incompetent assholes and he decided that the "Living Saint” is better ally than the “scary and evil Darkling”.

David: Doesn’t like killing people and feels bad for being part of a mass slaughter that included civilians.

Genya: ? Probably because the Darkling is the Black Heretic and therefore deserves a worse fate than her rapist, I guess.

Everyone else: “Darkling evil”? “Monarchy good”? Are Sun cultists? Who knows, certainly not the reader.

Motivations of miscelaneous other characters:

The royal family: Wants to keep their position of power.

The Apparat: Wants more power, which he plans to gain by controlling the Sun cult in Alina’s name.

Baghra: Wants to “redeem” her son, whatever that means. “Making sure he only cares about her, himself and nobody else” being a strong possibility for the meaning of it.

To be fair, I might be a bit hyperbolic with the lack of motivation on Alina’s side, but their motivations are really the muddiest.

And that’s an issue when they’re the ones who we’re supposed to root for.

Especially when the villain not only have much clearer motives, but they’re actually really fucking good ones.

The system is broken, the world is fucked up and full of prejudice and violence. The “villains” want to fix the system and have a concrete plan how, the “heroes” either want to keep it the same, don’t care about the issues or want to fix them, but their idea of how to do it is “ask the people commiting literal genocide to pretty please stop”.

I don’t know what else to call this but Boomer logic. In a book whose target audience is teenagers.

It’s no wonder so many people like the Darkling and his side better than Alina and hers.

288 notes - Posted February 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[joe-moi]

https://www.tumblr.com/joe-moi/742391305729163264/httpswwwtumblrcomjoe-moi742360435316211712h?source=share

Marvel and Kevin Feige in particular seem to care a lot about the FF and want to make this film a success. I can't imagine investing so much on a project and not doing everything possible to make sure that the actors are in good physical shape at the time of filming. especially since jq is surely not their biggest problem... have you seen pedro recently? he's gained a bit of weight and his belly is quite obvious (we love him but it's a fact) so I think he's also going to have to sweat at the gym because he's probably the one of the four who is the most anticipated. that being said, I'm willing to bet that they have already put the best sports coaches and dietitians on the job and that we will be amazed by their transformations.

Oh, I agree! I didn’t mean for it to sound like JQ is the only one who may need to bulk up and stuff for this role. This is a JQ/JK centric blog so my focus was on JQ in FF, not Pedro lol

But since we’re on the topic of Reed Richards/Pedro Pascal….Reed Richards is a master of mechanical, aerospace and electrical engineering, chemistry, physics, and human and alien biology. AKA he’s a huge nerd who knows a lot about A LOT. He isn’t a vain character, he isn’t concerned with the way he looks. So…Pedro could very well play him as someone who isn’t incredibly buff, if he wanted to.

That being said, Johnny Storm is a buff character; he was a wrestler in high school. I’m not saying JQ can’t bulk up for it, in fact, I think he definitely can do it. I’m simply saying he’s gonna have to put the work into it to achieve the look of the character, which I’m sure he has already started to do.

Now who wants to talk about the potential for Johnny Storm to appear alongside Spider-Man since these two characters become buddies in the comics? 👀 JQ and Tom Holland together?!? Sign me up! Haha

As a side note, I need people to stop nitpicking everything we say to find something to complain about, thank yeewww.

[celestrahl]

#CELESTRAHL — an independent, mutuals only and selective multimuse roleplaying blog featuring characters from various video games!

CURRENT PRIMARY MUSES: Tae Suzuya (FFVII OC), Nero (DMC), Noel Kreiss (FFXIII-2), Lunafreya Nox Fleuret (FFXV), Luis Serra (RE4R)

CURRENT SECONDARY & TERTIARY MUSES: Violet Celeste (FF OC), Élise de la Serre (ACU), Evie Frye (ACS), V (DMC), Oerba Dia Vanille (FFXIII), Serah Farron (FFXIII-2), Dion Lesage (FFXVI), Jote (FFXVI), Aqua (KH), Xion (KH), Sherry Birkin (RE6)

Written & loved by Faye, 30, she/her, CET timezone. Beta Editor only! This blog is 18+ only, minors dni!

Currently low/sporadic activity. FFVII Reno blog: @blitzrod Graphic Comm Blog: @rysingdawn

Mobile Rules can be found below the cut! ⬇

★ First off, don’t be an ass. Godmodding, infomodding, metagaming, whatever else these things are called, have no place here. Don’t kill my muses. Don’t kill any of their friends/family/allies right in front of them without discussing it first. Character ≠ Writer, I’m not my muses and if my muses are in any way mean to your muse/s doesn’t mean I’m being mean towards you. If you have criticism, please remain respectful and constructive when sending it in. Anon hate will be deleted/blocked.

★ I’m strictly interacting with mutuals only. If you followed me and I didn’t follow back I either do not know anything about your character’s fandom, find your blog lacking information and/or simply cannot see us interact. I’m also trying to keep my dash a comfortable space for myself so please don’t take it personally if I don’t follow back. But if I do follow you, I’m interested in writing with you – and I will assume the same if it’s the other way around.

★ I’m selective, or rather, my muses are – and sometimes certain muses are louder than others, and some might even take over for a bit. Please don’t get discouraged or disappointed if you see me replying to certain threads with certain muses only, or only to threads in certain genres.

★ I generally prefer writing threads over meme responses, and I love plotting. Winging it is cool too, but expect me to ask questions so I can make sure I got the setting and other things right. Either way, I normally tend to write semi-paragraph, paragraph and multi-paragraph things with the rare occasional one-liner.

★ I encourage you to turn my ask responses into threads! I always put character asks into a new post anyway, so feel free to reblog that and add your reply! No need to ask beforehand!

★ Please do not apply any fancanons to my muses, no matter how popular or widely accepted they are.

★ Relationships in all forms (romantic, platonic, familial, rivals, you name it) are welcome, however there has to be chemistry and I would like if you asked me beforehand and if we’ve written before. One-sided crushes and unrequited feelings are fine too, just don’t try to force your character on mine and we’re cool. I DO NOT AUTO-SHIP CANON ROMANCES. Please also understand that some of my muses can be difficult to bond with.

★ I will practice mains and in rare cases ship exclusives, but not affiliates or general exclusivity.

★ Duplicates/Variants are, honestly, a bit tricky for me. I’ve had both good and bad experiences with them in the past. Overall I’m trying to be indifferent towards them. I hope you understand that I’m a little hesitant regarding this!

★ I am OC friendly! How could I not be, having my own OCs on this blog? The only point where I draw the line is when it comes to OCs who are children of canon characters.

★ NSFW isn’t very likely to occur here. I will not write smut, should any thread ever go in that direction it will fade to black before anything spicy can happen. I'm not someone to write anything blood & gore related in explicit detail either.

★ Triggers will be tagged as _____ tw and _____ cw so make sure to blacklist yours this way. If you have a rather uncommon/rare trigger that you need tagged, please let me know!

★ Do not take anything from this blog. Be it icons and/or other graphics I’m using in my own posts, headcanons and/or parts of my theme code. I created/wrote/edited these things myself (for some things see credits below) and would very much appreciate it if you could just leave them be. I’ve had quite a few bad experiences with theft in the past, so this is something I feel I have to mention.

★ Lastly, hi! I go by Faye, I’m 30, she/her, from Germany. I’m honestly just a big nerd for video games and I love music, writing, graphic editing, reading and more. I just generally love being creative and am passionate about everything I create. I don’t know what else to tell you here, but if you ever wanna get to know me my IMs are always open, and my Discord is available for mutuals. If you’re reading this, I hope you have a good day!!

CREDITS Lightning Returns Noel Kreiss Raw Icons from @dresspheresFFXIII Oerba Dia Vanille Raw Icons from @dresspheresLightning Returns Oerba Dia Vanille Raw Icons from @dresspheresFFXIII-2 Serah Farron Raw Icons from @dresspheresFFXV Lunafreya Nox Fleuret Raw Icons from @dresspheres

Evie Frye Screencaps taken by Steph

Serah Farron Icon Border made by @ennakros

All other screencaps and graphics were taken & edited by me.

[problematicwelshman]

The Valentine’s Day cards today between the tennants v the sheens, oh lord I’m over it

Ah yes, Valentine’s Day.

Happy VD, everyone! Let’s take a look at how our favorite couples celebrated, shall we?

First up, at least as it was shared with this blog, we have the #Shebergs:

“He knew I’d appreciate “a little bit of (…rooster)” for Valentine’s Day.

Well, it’s not what I would want for the “most holy day of the year” (to paraphrase Jackie Burkhart) but I can see where it would be a nice gift- https://www.mashaandtheprints.com/product-page/golden-cockerel.

"Golden cockerel" an original handprinted wood engraving. Inspired by "The Tale of the Golden Cockerel" (1834) - the last fairytale in verse written by Alexander Pushkin. In the fairytale a magical mechanical bird sits on a spire and safeguards the kingdom.

So, is he saying she guards the kingdom?  Or does HE guard the kingdom?  Or is he indeed making a dick joke?  Or did he just like the artist, who’s based in Edinburgh, where they’ve all been spending time.  Who knows? And honestly, who cares about his motivation?

Much like the performative birthday wishes to “Aunite Maeve” the previous day (don’t get me started on that), the presentation of the thing is what rankles. “Ooh it’s a rooster, which is also called a cock, which is another word for dinky doodle!  Tee hee! I’ll be so funny and share it like that with all my adoring fans.” She’s supposedly an adult, and he’s a 53-year-old man.  Neither of them are 14 year old boys.  FFS - What’s next?  A “pull my finger” Easter card?  Not saying that adults can’t have fun or make dirty jokes, but this one falls flat.

On to the Tennants:

Actually found this one kind of sweet to start.  Like many people who’ve mentioned it to me, I have been finding David and Georgia’s daily Wordle both cute and annoying.  But as annoying as it is, it never seems forced, and David’s “Happy valentine’s baby x” and “I love you xxx” warmed the cockles of my cold black heart.  Aaaand then we have the flip side, with GT suggesting they’re a “different c word” other than “cute.”  The website Go Fug Yourself would classify that as a “scrolldown fug” in that it started out ok at the top but by the time it gets to the bottom you’re making this face:

But neither AL nor GT’s Valentine’s posts vis a vis their significant others can hold a torch to GT’s to her son, Ty:

Really?  That is not funny or cute or anything.  This is… the opposite of cute and funny.  At first glance it’s putting a really rosy spin on teen pregnancy, which as we all know, is no walk in the park.  But also- her son gave her a lovely flower arrangement and she used the occasion to remind the world that he was an oops?  I mean, it’s not like it’s unknown, but to point it out like that seems unnecessarily unkind. (I say unnecessarily unkind because we all know she’s kind of a salty personality online, so a bit of bitchy is kind of expected no matter how much it bugs people.)

TL;DR, Anon: I wouldn’t want either of these women as my Valentine.