#let the man ask questions that are just him info dumping about what he knows-

[therummonster]

Am I the only one that thinks that Benny tries to pester Dresden into teaching him how to make a biomech

Benny: so i've got a couple ideas, first of all i've studied charlie's mechanics for a while. i assume that biomechs eat by absorbing things? so i just gotta figure out how to do that. now the shape shifting? lots of confusion, especially since blah blah blah..

Dresden: please. somebody. kill me.

[eideticallys]

Who's Your Barber?

request: based on this.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: “you move fast, kid.” he turned to spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”

genre: fluff

word count: 852

author's notes: hello! i'm back with another spencer reid tooth-rotting fluff without plot. this was based on a request sent to me. i hope you'll love this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

“DO YOU THINK MY HAIR’S TOO LONG?”

You looked up from where you were working on a pile of paperwork from a recent case only to stare at a pouting Spencer.

Cute, you thought.

“Why?” You asked, now facing the man in front of you who was busy fretting over his hair. “Is it bothering you?”

“No, not really.” He mumbled. “I just—I don’t know. I want to keep it this way because it’s always been kind of on the longer side but I also want to try cutting it short.”

A bit shy from his admission, Spencer started fiddling with the hair tie on his wrist, obviously not that comfortable implying that he did care about his looks even for a small bit.

You almost cooed at how adorable he’s being for a grown man.

“Okay,” You prodded him again, wanting to make sure you understood what he was trying to say. “So, you wanna try a new haircut but you’re not sure about it. Well, I can help you with that.”

Spencer looked up from where he was playing with his hair tie and scrunched up his brow in question.

“How?”

You instantly blushed at what you were about to suggest when you noticed Spencer being all for it. The thing about Spencer is that he’s a great listener as much as he likes to talk. Coming from a household where he never got to have a good companion unless his mom was doing okay, Spencer knew what it felt like when no one wanted to listen to whatever it was one has to say. With all your doubts starting to vanish at Spencer’s obvious interest, you shared your thoughts.

“Well,” You decided to share. It’s not like you would recount to him an embarrassing childhood story. That’s a story meant for another day. “I may or may not have worked at my aunt’s salon over the summer back when I was in high school. I wasn’t a hairstylist but learned a thing or two.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in wonder. You no longer regretted sharing your experience and were sure he was about to share a tangent on hairstyling in typical Dr. Spencer Reid fashion.

“Archaeologists discovered that cutting our hair and styling it have both been practiced by human beings as early as the Ice Age.” Spencer babbled. “Also, they said that people’s social class, age, ethnicity, race, and genetics determined the style of their hair throughout history even up to the late 20th century.”

You grinned at Spencer’s info dump and ruffled his hair, to which he scrunched his nose.

“So, Reid,” You replied. “When are we gonna cut your hair?”

“What, did you join a boy band?”

Everyone around the table started giggling and smiling as soon as Hotch directed the question at Spencer, as your cheeks reddened. Unfortunately for Spencer, you being a former employee at your aunt’s salon certainly did not do you wonders. Because what was supposed to be a trim here and there became a short haircut for him, quite shorter than what he has envisioned, he shared with you.

You almost dug yourself a hole right then and there.

But apparently, Spencer liked it enough—loved it even—to not hate you for cutting his hair too short. It’s fortunate—for him and especially for you who gets to see him in his new hair every day—that Spencer was pretty. He looked good both in long and short hair.

However, with Hotch asking him that question, you were sure Spencer would hate you for cutting it wrongly.

“No?” Spencer replied as his brows crinkled. You breathed a sigh of relief with his answer, which Rossi didn’t fail to notice. 

You were about to head out when Hotch just announced, “Wheels up in 30.” When you heard Rossi speak to Spencer

“I like your hair, kid.” You almost smiled until Rossi questioned him. “Who’s your barber? Maybe I’ll get myself the same haircut.”

As if it couldn’t get any worse, you heard Morgan join in on the conversation, like both he and Rossi knew something you don’t. Spencer probably didn’t know what that something was too.

“Yeah, pretty boy. Who’s your barber?”

Spencer looked like he had swallowed a frog and he had seen a ghost with how comical he looked right now. 

It seemed Spencer knew what Rossi and Morgan were trying to imply in their prodding.

“It seems to me,” Rossi continued. “It was our lovely Y/N who cut his hair.”

At this, your eyes widened as Derek smirked.

“You move fast, kid.” He turned to Spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”

Spencer likes you back? 

As in more than friends? 

Non-platonic?

Spencer likes you back!

“Shut up!” Spencer screeched.

“Let’s leave the kids alone.” Rossi appeased Spencer while looking at you. “They have a date to plan.” 

Spencer sputtered out as both men chuckled while moving out.

“So, Reid.” You simpered. “Where are we going for our first date?”

[modelbus]

Anyone else have a newfound love for this song and an addiction to task force 141? No? Just me?

To my mcyt readers: …I can’t explain. Just know that is ✨ different ✨ from my usual. (Quite Suggestive) To the COD readers I've attracted: I haven't played the games and reality is what I decide to make it (feel free to send asks educating me or info dumping <3)

Pairing: John Price x Gn!Reader

Too sweet

Baby, I can never tell How do you sleep so well?

”Morning Captain.” The words are practically a ritual, although you know he won’t respond. He never does this early in the morning.

There were a lot of unwritten rules in 141. When you first joined, you fucked them all up. Continuously. More often than not, it was Soap who laughed at you while Price patiently explained why you can’t joke about Ghost being afraid of snakes.

This rule, though, only took you a few days to catch onto. The “don’t talk about the sleepless nights” rule. Everyone knew why that rule existed; you’d seen enough combat to not be that naive. You’d been there enough to wake up before the sunrise, to watch the sky bleed orange.

And that’s exactly why you don’t ask Price about the circles under his eyes. If he’s not up doing paperwork, he’s up for other reasons. You don’t pity him; being Captain isn’t something you could ever do.

“Had a dream that Gaz found a goat and convinced you to make it the base pet.” You continue. His lips quirk up, gaze turning amused, so you soldier on. “Then it ate Ghost’s clothes, so he kicked it out of the base and Gaz quit the task force over it. And Soap claimed he could speak to it, but I called bullshit on him and he disappeared.”

”Disappeared to where?”

“Hell, maybe? That’s where he fucking belongs.” You smile at him, and his eye roll—you pretend it’s fond—seems like a victory of its own.

You’re too sweet for me You're too sweet for me

“No.”

The finality of his word rings clear, but you persist. You were never too good at stopping before you crossed that line, never too good at giving up while you were ahead. Things, more often than not, ended up right as rain.

“Price—“ You try.

“You’re too young, and it’s wrong.” Never before have you seen a man so tortured. It wasn’t a question of if he wanted you, it was a question if he would let himself want you. And you both knew it. “I won’t take your innocence from you.”

You scoff, following him down the hall and out of the briefing room. So much for staying after to help him gather papers.

“I’m a soldier, hardly innocent!”

“Compared to me, you are!” He turns, and you automatically look up to his eyes. As you said before: tortured. “I’m harsh, and we both know it. You deserve to be with someone soft, someone who can be sweet with you.”

“I don’t want to be.”

From the second you laid eyes on John Price, you knew you’d never want to be. It wasn’t his age, although you never minded an older man. It was his passion, his care, his leadership and skills and everything else about him. He was magnetic, drawing you in despite everything.

And you weren’t blind to the way his gaze always met yours in a room, either.

Price sighs heavily. “Go to bed, soldier.”

Tactful retreat it is, then. “Good night, Price.” You murmur, turning away.

A pause, then another sigh. This one is lighter. “Good night.”

I work late where I’m free from the phone And the job gets done But you worry some, I know

Knocking twice, you don’t wait for Price to respond before entering his office. His light was on, shining out a signal to anyone in the hallway that he was awake.

”You’re about to owe me.” You announce, ignoring his groan.

“I was working.”

“And now you’re going to eat dinner. I had to smuggle these from the dining hall, you know.” You drop the napkin bundle you had made on his desk, opening it to reveal the food. His and yours.

“I was going to get food later.”

“Liar.” You sit in the chair across from his desk, grabbing a bread roll. “No drinks, because even I can’t smuggle that out.”

“I could get you in trouble for this.” He points out.

“But you won’t. I’m your favorite.”

Price reaches forward, taking his bread roll. Mimicking you, although he never puts his pen down. The paperwork spread out in front of him is just like every other night you’ve brought him food.

“Who says you’re my favorite? Maybe it’s Ghost.” Price smiles, and you beam back at him.

“Don’t insult me like that. I’m proud of my title as your favorite. I mean, I am the only one that you let lounge in your office.”

“Tenuously.”

“Still.”

His attention turns back to filling out his paperwork, leaving you to sit there. Per usual. You stay until all the food is gone, leaving him with only crumbs on his desk to show for it.

Sweeping the napkin and crumbs into his desk, you pause by the doorframe. His hat obscures his face, but you know he’s aware that you’re still there.

“Get some sleep sometime tonight, yeah?” You hedge.

“I should be the one telling you that.”

“Someone gotta look after you, Price. Besides, I’m not the one who doesn’t go to bed before daylight.”

Knocking at the door to signal your exit, you head out.

You treat your mouth as if it’s heavens gate The rest of you like you’re the TSA

"Never have I ever... been a virgin." Soap says, raising his beer.

"That's not how it fucking works." You argue. "You were a virgin at some point, obviously."

"You know wha' I mean."

"Just pick something else." Ghost butts in gruffly.

This is why you prefer not to play drinking games with the task force. Soap always ends up fucking them up first, and then it manages to devolve into chaos. For an elite spec ops team, 141 sure did struggle at these games.

"Fine." Soap groans, taking a drink of his beer while he thinks.

"In the meantime, I'll go-" Gaz starts, but immediately gets cut off.

"Never have I ever been a virgin right now."

You stare at Soap. He stares back. "I'm going to beat your ass for targeting during training tomorrow." You threaten him, taking a sip of your wine. You're the only one drinking wine here, but you prefer the taste of it over beer or whatever the others are drinking.

As you tilt your glass back, your eyes lock with Price's. You're reclined on the floor with Soap while he's in a chair, giving you the perfect line of sight on each other. He watches with dark eyes as you swallow, tracing your figure with a gaze so heavy that it makes you shiver.

In his hand, his whiskey remains untouched.

"You just need to get laid and then you won't be such an easy target." Soap is saying, oblivious to the tension simmering between you and Price.

"Unlike you dumbasses, I'm don't want to sleep with the first moving thing I see." You don't look away from Price pointedly. "I prefer to wait for the right person."

Ghost makes a disinterested noise from the chair next to Price, making you flick your gaze to him. He inclines his head slightly, well-aware of the thing between you and Price, but doesn't say a word. Thank fuck for Ghost.

"I'm heading to the bathroom. Don't set the room on fire while I'm gone. Soap."

"God, I didn't do anything yet!"

"Yet."

"I'll go too." Price says lowly, his footsteps tailing yours. It's not until you're in the hallway and out of earshot from the others that he speaks to you. "You're a tease, doll."

"I'm aware." You turn to grin at him, but startle at his proximity. He steps forward and you take a matching one back, your back hitting the hallway wall.

"In front of everyone, too." He murmurs, boxing you in. Your heartbeat pounds loudly in your ears, but not from fear. You know what fear feels like, and it certainly isn't the warmth pooling in your gut. "Begging for it."

"You know I have been."

His head dips, and just for a moment the bitter taste of whiskey invades your tastebuds. Your eyes flutter shut as his tongue swipes across yours, and when you open them he's gone.

Point, you.

As soft as the rain Pretty as a vine As sweet as a grape

John Price was everywhere.

His hands on your hips, his bookshelf pressing against your back, his mouth on yours. Every inch of him invaded every inch of you, and you loved it.

As it turns out, all you had to do was get shot in the field. A graze made well worth it by this reaction.

“Don’t you ever pull that shit again.” Price says into your mouth, hands tight on your skin like you’ll disappear. You’d worry that they’d leave bruises, but you already know your love looking at the reminder of him.

“Or what?” You taunt when he pulls back for air.

“Or I’ll tie you to my fucking bed.”

The threat lights your blood on fire in a way it’s never done before. Want, roaring strong, sears through you.

“Truly a terrifying prospect, the guy I’ve been waiting to ask me out finally taking me to his bed—“

He smothers your laughter with his lips and tongue, hand coming up behind your head to protect it from the shelves. You tug at his hair, earned yourself a low addicting sound. Yeah, you need to hear that more. A lot more.

“What’d medical say?” Price asks, dipping his head to trail kisses along your neck. Because he had been waiting to ambush you the second you stepped into his office, you never got to tell him.

“Um.” You struggle to collect any rational thoughts as he nips at your neck, his beard and mustache scratching your skin. “They cleared me. Wrapped it and said I was good.”

“And what do you think I have to say about that?”

Trick question.

You groan, but it comes out less annoyed and more like something entirely different. He hums in response before you can even be embarrassed by the sound.

“I don’t want to run for training.” You complain.

“I think you’ve gotten enough things that you want from me.” As if to serve as an example, he presses a quick kiss to your lips before pulling back. Not too far: his hands on your hips ensure he’s still got a hold on you.

“…maybe.” You relent, staring up at him.

He smiles, reassuring, and you know this is going to stick. “Pretty thing.”

“I know you are.”

“I was talking about you, doll.”

And you knew he was, you were making a joke, but the way he says it has your cheeks flaming. He laughs, breath fanning over your hair, amused.

“Let’s grab food from the mess hall.” He suggests.

“You? Actually grabbing food? At a reasonable time?” It’s a goddamn miracle.

“Yeah yeah, don’t rub it in. Wipe that smile off your face.”

“Yes sir.” You don’t wipe the smile off your face.

“I had my tongue in your mouth, I think you can stop calling me sir. Or Captain, frankly.”

“What, you don’t like that stuff?”

His eyes widen briefly. “Oh, you little—“

[best-overplayed-song]

As someone who never understood the hype around Take Me To Church and keeps forgetting that song even exists, can I ask the fans what exactly it is you like about that song? Because my current hypothesis is that yall were around 14 when it came out and music just hits different when you're 14. What else is there to like, genuinely

I try to stay unbiased here but Hozier is one of the only musicians I allow myself to be pretentious about, so before i info dump about why i love take me to church here's some other hozier songs you should give a shot:

francesca [i'd go through hell again just to hold you one more time], nina cried power [song about activism and black activists], swan upon leda [about the violence of colonialism, misogyny, and religious bigotry], eat your young [about the violence of war, capitalism, and generational trauma], movement, to noise making (sing), shrike, NFWMB [sexy], sunlight

anyway take me to church is so much more than just “loving you is like church”. he starts off by telling us how happy his lover makes him, despite constantly being told by The Church he was born sick and his happiness is a result of sinful behavior. he rejects the religion being forced on him, because unlike christianity, his church doesn't force him to accept absolution to reach heaven ("my church offers no absolutes / she tells me, 'worship in the bedroom' / the only heaven I'll be sent to / is when i'm alone with you"). the last two lines of the first verse-- "i was born sick, but i love it / command me to be well"-- questions why a god would create us to be inherently sick only to punish us for being sick.

i see the the chorus as a smart-ass comparison of his relationship to christianity. The Church expects him to blindly worship their lies and confess his sins, which he knows will be used against him ("take me to church / i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies / i'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife"), but he's supposed to accept this and devote his life to God so he can get to heaven ("offer me that deathless death / oh good god, let me give you my life"). by offering to do this for his lover, he's equating their love to religion.

in the second verse, he reiterates that he worships his lover with a metaphor ("if i'm a pagan of the good times / my lover's the sunlight"). the subtle remark of referring to the ancient practice of paganism as "the good times" comments on the colonization and forced conversion of ireland by christian england, which criminalized paganism. immediately after stating how his lover demands a sacrifice, he hungrily eyes the high horse The Church sits on, and questions what power they have over him and his people ("that's a fine lookin' high horse / what you got in the stable? / we've a lot of starving faithful"). this could also be a reference to the irish potato famine, which was not a result of drought, but of english lords forcing the irish to turn over their entire crop to send to england.

then we get the most poetic description of sex i've ever heard: "no masters or kings when the ritual begins / there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin / in the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene / only then, i am human / only then, i am clean". fuck man

a lot of gay people with religious trauma love this song bc of everything i described above. also, it's a fuckin banger.

and yes i was 14 when it came out. what about it

[one-fin-wonder]

Can I have the boys reaction to someone info-dumping to them?

A/N: Yes Anon, you sure as heck can. I really enjoy info dumping on my friends so this is right up my alley. I hope this is what you were hoping for! :D

Warnings: I used my poor duolingo skills and limited Spanish knowledge to write the Spanish, there only a few but the grammar may off, I am so sorry for it in advance but there is translations to what I intended to say. not beta read / I’m too dyslexic for my own good, and fluff? I’m a hopeless romantic man. What do you want from me. 

Word count: 1090

Steven Grant:

It all started when Steven asked you about your day as he walked through the door. He set down his messenger bag and turned towards you. It was too late, the waterfall of words already was released. 

You began explaining how you dived deeply into your hyperfixation (or specific subject you would be info dumping about)

You smiled wide as you explained, and his heart melted at the sight of you.

are you the type of person that stims when you get excited? (I shore am) Steven will smile if you begin to stim happily while explaining. 

He loves knowing that you are so excited that you can’t contain the energy, you have to physically let the happiness out 

He simply smiled as he sat down next to you. He nodded and began asking clarifying questions.

“So, what you’re saying is…” “Theoretically then…” “Wait! That means…*He connects to another concept to allow you both to be engaged*”

He’ll wraps his arms around you if you’ll let him, holding onto you as you speak about your topic

He will praise your enthusiasm for the topic and vast knowledge. 

“Love, you’re simply a genius.” “I love hearing your view and knowledge” “That’s so fascinating!” 

Steven knows exactly what it’s like to need to explain one specific topic. He knows that feeling, that specific feeling like pasta water boiling over on the stove. 

He holds your hands (with your permission) as you speak, he likes showing you that he’s there with you and listening, it's a gentle reminder.

He feels it's incredibly important for you to be comfortable enough to share these moments of informational rambling. So he tries his best to show you he’s interested, he hears you and that you are loved. 

Marc Spector:

He is very caught off guard

Once he knows you aren’t upset or in distress he sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before nodding and listening

He tosses his keys to the side as he nods listening to you

Marc doesn’t know fully how to react but he likes to hear your voice. The excitement and sincerity in your voice as you speak makes him smile, just a little. 

Marc makes his way over to you finally after he completes his after work routine

Like Steven I think Marc would wrap his arms around you but he wouldn’t know much more than that to show he cares about your information

He does though, He loves you, and he wants to see you happy. He simply doesn’t do emotions well. 

(My poor emotionally unavailable boy. He just needs a hug.)

He silently listens and only replies when you ask him if he follows, 

Finally once you’re done you look at him with a small little sigh and smile and he melts. 

You see it in his eyes and the stern expression he always has just softens. 

you can tell how much he loves you in this moment, the pure love just radiating, but he won’t say it. He won’t explain the feeling he is experiencing. 

But he loves you and you don’t necessarily need the words that he struggles to say, because it’s obvious in his actions. 

and god, the feeling is mutual.

Jake Lockley:

this man has no fucking clue what you are rambling about

He will freeze in the doorway of the small apartment, hand still on the doorknob. He’s so confused and you’re talking a mile an hour in an excited tone. He cannot understand you at this moment. 

Once Jake gets to you he will take his gloves off, stuff them in his pocket and put his hands on your shoulders (or a more comfortable spot if this can trigger you like it does me. Essentially he wants to ground you.) 

“Mi amor, por favor, slow down. No comprendo.” ("My love, Please, Slow down I don't understand")

Or alternatively, he May think something’s wrong with how excited and rushing towards him you are. He puts a hand on your arm and looks around the apartment then back at you. “Que pasa?? Está bien???” ("What's wrong?? Are you okay???")

He would then notice your smile and beaming expression and relax a little “Dios mío,” ("oh my god")you gave this Poor man a heart attack but he loves you all the same. 

he will listen but he will make you repeat yourself again

But it’s only because he cares so much. He wants to understand, so if it takes him several times to understand he will put that effort in.

He nods a lot, especially when it finally clicks in his little murderous, spanish, brain.

When he asks a clarifying question he always ends it with “yeah?” Ex: “so when you say the sun is a star you mean like that fucking ball in the sky, yeah?” 

He sits next to you, his arms on his knees as he hunches over listening. He doesn’t look at you he’s looking most likely at the floor or the wall as he focuses on your words. 

He tries really hard to make you feel heard but he legit makes that grumpy Spanish man expression the entire time. But you know this is just how he is, he loves you, he really does. 

This man keeps a little notebook, like those ones for detectives that fit in pockets. He keeps one of those in his jacket pocket and writes down facts he wants to remember about your favorite topics. He is like a dad who is trying to keep up with the trends. 

Not that he would let you necessarily see said notebook, he keeps it hidden in the inside pocket with a small pen or golf pencil in the spiral of the notepad. 

He pats your knee like a dad too, to show you he’s there. He’s present with you. It’s subtle but it’s his own way of letting you know he’s trying to understand. 

He would move heaven and earth for you, he loves your intelligence, your insight, he loves you. All of you, no matter your flaws, perfections, your needs. 

So if being heard is what you need in this moment you know damn well he will give you everything he can to make it happen. 

[gold-rhine]

(can answer privately if u want)

how did you manage to write enjou stirring shit up. i need to know for Reasons

(Reasons being: i wanna write him doing that as well so i need to know how you figured that specific brand of Manipulation out)

oh, i love talking about Enjou, he's so fun to write.

Okay, Enjou's main rule is that he doesn't *technically* lie. If you've ever written fae with no-lie rules it should be similar. Everything he says should be true, even if he's seemingly joking - like when he tells traveler you never know what can happen in magic rituals, I could turn into a flame-throwing monster haha! He only lies by omission or by using leading questions. He often answers direct questions with his own questions, which lets him evade, or by what he makes look like a joke.

Like in Enka when traveler arrived and asked him who he is, he asked question in return, like Didn't they tell you there's gonna be a priest who will guide you? Traveler went yeah, they did. Enjou was like Great! You can't be expected to learn new language haha! i'm here to help translate.

He didn't say "I'm the priest who Kokomi said will help you," he asked a leading question to make traveler think about the priest with connection traveler trusted, then he didn't directly confirm he IS the priest and instead re-directed to his function "I'll help to translate", which is true!

Enjou's second rule is that he's a little shit and also a corny nerd. Like there's often a boring stereotype of manipulators being cool and sleek and charismatic, but Enjou is not that. He's a jokerified librarian. He consciously acts lame and corny to make the other person underestimate him and roll their eyes. He loves repeating how he's just a weak bookworm. He will go on info-dumping tangents to bury the lead of manipulation.

He also loves playing with his food, burying little inside jokes which only make sense in hindsight, like "I could turn into a flame-throwing monster". He likes doing the weak nerd routine, he enjoys watching the other person feel superior to him, while knowing he's in control of a situation, and he says corny shit on purpose to make it more pronounced. He should sound corny and just a bit unhinged. He says shit like "Exactomundo". I had to physically restrain myself, bc Enjou absolutely would say Exactomundo while watching a man's world crumbling before him, but I didn't want to ruin the tone for the reader.

So, to write Enjou's brand of manipulation you need to first formulate his end-goal, like what is the purpose of this manipulation? I assume you read my fic since you reference me writing enjou stirring shit up, so i'll use it as example of my thought process. One of the examples in my fic, he wants to convince rizzley that Neuvi gave him the title to buy his loyalty. What are the true facts here? Neuvi did fight hard to give rizzley the title, he says it in his own voice lines. What do we need to add? Malicious intent.

Enjou can't say "Your title was a bribe", bc that's a lie. Instead, he starts with "you know what I would do if *I* was the Hydro Sovereign with an ability to take human form? <...>I’d make sure I have people loyal to me in some key positions. Such as Royal Duelist… and the Warden of the Fortress.” It's not a lie, bc if Enjou was a sovereign, he'd probably really do that. On paper, he's talking about himself, but in context of overall conversation it will be obviously extrapolated to Neuvi. This is a form of switching the goal posts from Enjou to Neuvi without outright saying so.

Then, he says true facts:

“He didn’t make me the Warden,” Wriothesley gritted out. 

“No, but he did make you the Duke, didn’t he?” Enjou smirked with a wink. “Our sources say the Court was not thrilled to give the highest noble title to you. And if the Iudex did not throw his own weight behind it, it would have never come to pass. How generous of him.”

It's true, it was actually generous, he doesn't lie. But in context of previous implied accusation, it will be read as sarcastic, as saying it was done with selfish reasons.

And then he reinforces with “Ah, you’re starting to get it, don’t you?”, which is a leading question that again, doesn't say anything false outright.

he should also offer the person hes manipulating to beat him up repeatedly, bc hes a freak.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for breaking up with someone over fishkeeping and cat food? I know how the title sounds but hear me out. This happened a couple years ago and I'm still friends with the people this happened with but it still weighs on me. So I have always been kind of militant about husbandry when it comes to the animals I keep(autistic, it' a special interest) and I don't really like to deal with people who don't take caring for living creatures they willingly bring into their home seriously. I sold a fish tank to my, then, partner J who wanted to get into fish keeping. J and D, our other partner, lived together. After taking the tank home and cleaning it up we were throwing around ideas for what to put in it. It wasn't too big but also not small, but he kept throwing out species that would far outgrow the tank or species that would fight and kill each other. Every time I shot these species down J took it well, realizing the space was either too small or they would die and didn't want the fish in improper conditions but D kept telling me not to "squash his creativity" and he could "do whatever as long as it made him happy". At this I obviously hopped on my soapbox about how it's our duty as animal owners to give the animals we keep proper conditions and D went absolutely off on me and mentioned how I care "too much" about how other people keep their animals and had always made her feel bad about how she feeds her cats and now I was doing this. For context my cat eats a raw diet. I did a lot of research and talked to my vet and he's doing wonderfully while one of her cats is extremely overweight to the point he waddles instead of walking and the other two are getting there as well, both of which I've brought up concerns about but I have NEVER shamed the way she fed her animals. She had been interested in the interest I had taken and had ASKED for better quality food recommendations, so I gave them, but NEVER told her she had to feed them a certain way. A majority of our conversations were just me info-dumping and her being happy to listen and ask questions occasionally. Anyway J kind of backed out of the conversation at this and D and I went back and forth a bit before D finally said "I don't think this relationship is going to work out if you won't let this go"(This being I have pointed out one of her cats is grossly overweight a couple times and it's extremely unhealthy, especially since he's aging now) so I said "Yeah I think so too. This is something I clearly care a lot about and I'm not going to be with someone who puts their own or their partner's feelings over the well-being of the animals they are responsible for"(referencing when she said a few times when talking about the fish that it was okay if the fish killed each other or died from improper conditions as long as J was happy with how the tank looked and "it's not like we're putting kittens in with sharks, they're Just Fish") and we broke up there and then. Since then we've still stayed close friends after a short break from each other(I'm actually her Man of Honor in her upcoming wedding to J!) and she's actually made moves to better the quality of the food she buys her cats and is working on getting her obese cat's weight down and J's fish tank hobby is going very well(with proper keeping standards!!). But the situation at the time still weighs on me and even though we're genuinely too busy with work and life to make a relationship work anymore anyway and that was also a factor of the breakup.... AITA for beginning a breakup over animal husbandry?

What are these acronyms?

[anjelicawrites]

One step from you

Paring: modern!prosecutor!Aemond Targaryen x commissioner!reader

Synopsis: a surprise dinner invitation, forces closed off prosecutor Aemond Targaryen to start rethink his life.

Warnings: Aemond's social anxiety, dumbass to (maybe) lovers, reader's overbearing family.

What brings Aemond to dinner with your whole family is the botulinum outbreak in the county.

He means no disrespect, when he elects to interrogate your mum you, obviously, can’t; he would have never expected the woman in front of him to explain him, lengthy and with extreme precision, how to prepare: marinated vegetables, tomato puree and many complicated, traditional dishes.

After he was done with her, he had felt full, not unlike after a wedding feast and he had only had one espresso for breakfast!

You found him still at the precinct late that same night, you obviously working on other cases, him drinking that terrible, horrible, no good coffee from the vending machines in the corridor.

You’ve been meaning to talk to him, to say how sorry you were that your mother had dumped centuries of culinary history on him, while not answering the questions, but you were on the cusp of discovering the heads of a big drug ring, and had managed to come back to your office just half and hour ago.

Despite having worked with him countless times, you find prosecutor Aemond Targaryen to be aloof and difficult to talk to, even when it concerned work matters; not that he’s ever been rude with you, just that you find yourself unconsciously checking your posture and don’t really know how friendly you can be with him, even after years of working together. It doesn’t help that you have a crush on the man that forces you to act more distant with him, that you’d be with anyone else: you can’t risk rumors to spread.

Surprisingly enough, it’s him who starts the conversation.

“Commissioner, I thought I was alone with the night shift.”

“I’ve just returned, sir.” You stared at the vending machine for a second. “I’m sorry about my mother, she told me you interrogated her”

“She was more offended that I believed her a bad cook, than the botulinum outbreak accusations.”

“Sir, my mother is the best chef in the county.”

“I haven’t disputed that”

“By implying that her food might be contaminated, you basically did, sir.”

The way he stared at you made a smile break on your face. It’s safe, no one is around to see it.

“I’ve never said that. We have no idea where the botulinum comes from, let alone which hotel is the, metaphorical, patient zero” he said, stiff

“My mother has her own set of priorities, sir. She might not know much about accounting and how to run that side of the business, but in the kitchen? She’d be able to run the place blindfolded and with her right hand behind her back” you couldn’t stop smiling.

Despite how at odds you and your mother are, sometimes, you are proud of her and of the way she had carved her space in a male dominated world.

“I am merely doing my job” he answered, his face set

“I know sir” you tried to school your expression, but the smile didn’t want to go away (danger! Danger!). “And I will tell her how hard you are working to clean everyone’s name”.

After that the conversation abated, you tried not to gag while drinking your coffee, he stared at you, puzzled as to why you find what he’s just told you so funny.

Despite what Aegon tells him, Aemond is keenly aware of the complicated dance of social interactions, he just finds himself with two left feet, in a world where everyone else is a mix between Rudol'f Nureev and Carla Fracci. Take this moment with you: you two were chatting, you are being friendly and he couldn’t respond in tune, even if he wanted to because he had no idea how joke about your mother info dumping on him, who barely knows how to fry an egg.

“Oh, Gods be good!” You said. “I need some shut eye before we start interrogating the detainees.”

Someone else, anyone else, would have found a witty way to ask you how the investigation was going, what escaped his lips was a dry

“Do you think you will close it soon?”

“I hope so, sir,” the smile on your face less prominent. “We all want to see the results.” You answered feeling the easiness of your conversation abating

“Then good luck”

“Thank you sir,” You answered. “Good luck to you too.”

You bid him goodnight and left him to stare at your retracting back, telling himself what an idiot he’s been in being so awkward with you.

You don’t really see him, too overwhelmed with your drug ring case to go look for him and ask how the botulinum outbreak is going; you know that the people at the hospital are getting better, it’s the rest of the story that you are missing. You make a point of not asking your mother, whenever she calls you, not even when she mentions Aemond: it’s a slippery slope to mix work and family life together.

You stumble upon Aemond, again, late at night. You had foregone the celebrations with your team, after closing the drug ring investigation, to spend some time alone in your office to relax, since both your brain and body are still running high on adrenaline, and you’d rather not crash where your subordinates might see you.

The police station is eerily quiet, the echo of the steps of the night shift barely reaches your floor and the sky is dark outside, the moon hidden by a thick blanket of clouds: it might finally rain.

You jump out of your skin the second Aemond calls you from the shadows, you are positive your heart will explode with fear and adrenaline.

“Sir!” You shout, one hand going to your chest

“Commissioner.” He says, eyeing you

“What are you doing here? It’s late!” Comes out with too much emphasis and he winces inwardly

“I could ask you the same question.” He answers, tone clipped as usual

“Jesus weep!”.

Aemond feels sorry at having scared you so. He knows he is light on his feet, but he thought you’d be able to hear him coming: you’re a cop, after all!

In his heart Aemond knows he should leave before the silence becomes too awkward, he might have a handful of seconds before your breathing goes back to normal and he is forced to perform, badly, some sort of small talk.

Sometimes he hates this divide between him and the rest of the world.

He is getting ready to retreat, when you surprise him

“Have you already eaten dinner?”

He doesn’t know what to respond and why do you care?

“I have some food mother sent me and I don’t feel like eating alone.” You say with a brilliant smile on your face.

Aemond hesitates. You mother’s hotel has been cleared of any responsibility, still he has investigated her: it’s not proper to eat the food of a former suspect, he should politely say no and go home.

The idea of returning to the hotel room he occupies, even since he had to relocate for his first assignment, dampens his volition: the room service has already closed and he doesn’t have any food in the small fridge; on top of that, the idea of eating take out again depresses him when he knows homemade food is within his reach.

Before he can’t stop himself he accepts your invitation. You’re glad he’s answered immediately, or you would have lost courage yourself.

The walk towards your office is short.

Aemond misses the old location of the precinct: a Renaissance building, dusty and a bit moldy, but with character and beautiful frescoes on the ceilings. The new place is depressingly anonymous, all metal and white walls.

He appreciates what you’ve tried to do with you office: the plants and the frames on your desk give the room a spark of personality, whilst maintaining a professional atmosphere; the couch near the window looks comfy and, he suspects with a twinge of tenderness, that you might have taken more than one nap there.

There’s an exaggerated number of Tupperwares and jars on the desk you use for the meetings with your men, all the containers neatly wrapped, the contents written on the paper with a flowery handwriting.

“I told you, sir. Mother exaggerated, as usual.” You tell him with mirth in your voice. “Do you mind moving everything on my desk? I need to set the table.”

With that you head towards one the filing cabinets, open one of the drawers and extract a colorful tablecloth, plastic plates and cutlery, to his immense surprise. Gently you put everything on the top of the cabinet, in order to rummage so more, to produce a tube of plastic glasses.

Again, the divide he feels stops him from saying anything funny when you turn towards him with your arms full and stare quizzically at him. He elects to keep silent as he moves everything on your desk, while you set the table for two.

You two work in silence to unwrap everything and he marvels again at the sheer amount of food that’s on the table: various preserved vegetables, bread, savory pies and desserts.

He sits after you and waits until you’ve served yourself, before trying a bit of everything.

He suppresses a moan of appreciation at the way the flavors explode in his mouth; the food he buys doesn’t taste this good, even what the cook at home used to prepare can’t compare, the various ingredients and textures meld perfectly on his tongue.

“Do you like it?” You ask, after a while, to break the silence.

“It’s excellent” he answers.

“Do you understand why mother was so pissed that you thought she isn’t a good chef?”

Aemond stares at you, eye fixed into yours.

“I’ve never said that. Even the best professional might make a mistake which results in people developing food poisoning.”

“Not mother, sir. I’ve been raised by her side, in the kitchen. I know how precise she is with every preparation, the conserves mostly. She knows the dangers of food going bad. She’d rather throw everything out, than risk hurting someone. She’s so strict, that she only uses the food that she grows in the garden; everything she serves, she knows the origin. Even the juices are home pressed”

“You know how to prepare all of this?”.

He hopes his incredulity doesn’t seep in his words. You don’t look like the kind of person who would slave in a garden and in a kitchen to prepare traditional meals.

“I do, sir, and I would make my own food, if only I weren’t always here. It takes time and energy to organize your work and then prepare everything. Have you ever participated in making tomato sauce? You need a lot of people, time and space, it takes days!”.

Aemond focuses on your face: he’s never seen you this animated. When you are with him you are always serious and controlled, now there’s a spark in your eyes he’s never seen, the air around you vibrates with an energy he’s never experienced when you relate him the results of your inquest. You look alive in ways, he thinks, no one has ever seen here.

“I can’t say I have.” He answers, putting the fork neatly beside the plate. “My family doesn’t hold these kind of traditions”.

He grimaces inwardly, like every time he shares tidbits of himself with the outside world, waiting for his interlocutor to use the information against him.

“It’s fun, sir. You are absolutely destroyed afterwards, but seeing the fruits of your labor on the shelves, makes for it.”

You say with a smile that covers for no judgment, he realizes. You are merely chatting with him and he can’t detect any ill intention on your part; he’s not used at doing this, talking with people with the only intent to pass the time and get to know them.

“Will you tell your mother that I have appreciated everything she’s prepared?”

“I will, sir. Be mindful, though, she might start sending you food as well.”

“Why would she do such a thing? She doesn’t know me.” He is honestly surprised.

“Because she’s a feeder. She’s told me at least trice that you look too thin and she fears you are living off supermarket food. Unfortunately she comes from a generation where stating opinions on someone’s body is the norm, but she means well.”

“You can assure your mother I am eating healthy food. Not homemade, because I don’t have a garden, yet it’s not frozen meals.” he finds himself saying with a smile.

It’s not a lie, not the complete truth either, he hopes the cook at the hotel chooses the best ingredients, but he doesn’t have that kind of back knowledge to know.

“I’ll try my best, sir. Despite you having to investigate her and her hotel, she likes you. She’s told me what a gentleman you have been throughout the questioning, calling her ‘Mrs’ and listening attentively. She’s added something I shouldn’t say out loud, though.” You say, evading his eye.

“Commissioner, I don’t think anything your mother said about me warrants you keeping the secret. I don’t think she insulted me.”

He is intrigued now, and this is better than asking himself why he feels so at ease with you.

You play with the food on your plate, trying to find the right words.

“She said you reminded her of her grandfather. He was a farmer, but he had studied in a seminary, until his own dad had passed away and he was forced to quit to help feeding his mum and siblings. He was known to be well mannered, even when plowing the land, and well spoken. People noticed how lord like he was, they didn’t see the mud on his boots.” You take a sip of water. “I have never met him, of course, but all the tales about him focus on his bright intelligence and gentleness. He was wasted potential, but back in those times his family couldn’t do anything about it. All his neighbors used to come to him to solve their problems with borders, cattle and the like, because he was always capable of finding a solution that was good for all parties.”

Your eyes bore into his lonely one, your hands pick at the bread on the table with nervousness.

“I’m sorry if I have offended you, sir.”

“You haven’t.” He answers. “He sounds like the kind of man anyone should aspire to be. It is a great compliment to be compared to him.”

“Oh thank God!” You say, the breath you’ve been holding escapes your lips in a huff.

You didn’t know how he would have taken being compared to a simple farmer, when you know well enough how old and important his family is.

“Is there anything else your mother said?”

“No, that’s it”.

It’s not entirely the truth. She’s repeated you how handsome Aemond is and that you should find out if he has someone in his life, because he looks like the kind of man who is just perfect for you. He doesn’t need to know that and how much you agree with you mother.

“Would it be awfully impolite if we don’t finish everything?”

“Oh no sir! Those are my rations for at least a week. It is physically impossible to eat all!”

“You shouldn’t have shared it with me, if it was supposed to last you for so long!”

“Nonsense, sir. I offered because I was happy for you to have a meal with me. And I have other food at home, not homemade, but you will not tell mother, right?” The smile is bright on your lips.

He stares at you fondly. This is the first time in a long while, that he’s felt not so detached from the world around him, almost at ease with you.

“On my honor, commissioner” he smiles, without even realizing it.

He helps you put the food in the containers and throw out the trash.

You two argue on your way to the exit, because he wants to carry everything for you, it looks heavy and he is gentleman, after all, to which you answer that you are used to carry and lift more than this bag.

Outside, the first summer storm is raging, fat drops of water falling almost horizontally on the pavement.

“Is your car nearby, commissioner?” He asks, voice raised to make himself heard.

“It’s that one!” You answer, pointing at the beaten out Cinquecento parked on the corner of the street.

“Are you sure it will withstand the storm?” He has to ask, the thing looks ancient.

“It will. It’s more patches than everything else, but it still runs strong!”

With a huff you don your raincoat and fit the hood on your head.

“How are you going home, sir?”

“With that.” He answers, pointing to a car that costs like your annual wage. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve driven that through worse conditions.” You stop for a second, unsure of how you should say goodbye. “Well, goodnight sir.”

“Good night commissioner.” He answers.

He stays on the door until you are safely in your car and the thing, miraculously, starts.

Few days pass; he has so much work he might drown in it, yet he has the time to focus on you every single time you two pass the halls of the precinct and of the courthouse. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing, at first, you’re there and he greets you, because his mother has taught him good manners, it’s when he is consciously looking for you, that he realizes what he’s been doing.

It’s strange for him to look out for someone who is not his immediate family: keeping and eye on his siblings has always been a sort of second nature, even though he’s not the first born, because they are his blood and he’s supposed to. You are a nobody, a subordinate, yet he realizes, as he’s pouring over some documents, that his subconscious has been focusing on you for a very long time, the change now being, that he wishes to see more of that spark you showed him during your improvised dinner, at least when you stumble upon him.

For your part, you try not to think about the dinner too much. It had been lovely to see a more human side to your colleague, the downside being that whatever interest you had been developing for him, now has more energy to grow. Your mother is of no help either, she keeps asking about Aemond, as if you were in any position to know any personal information and no, you don’t want to know if he’s single or not, it’s not like you have any chance with him, who has shown zero interest towards you, beside work.

You should have known better.

You mother has a tradition: Friday night family dinner, when she gives the reins of the hotel kitchen to her second in command so she can cook for her family only, and spend time with you all.

She’s been particularly pressing this week, you simply thought she wanted you relax with the people who love you, after the grueling months spent chasing the drug ring. You were wrong.

The first bell should have rang when the space in front of the family home is full of cars. The second when you spotted a car that looked suspiciously similar to Aemond’s posh one. The third the second your mother bear hugged you and then dragged you to the kitchen, chatting like a car salesman to stop your questioning.

“Mom, what the hell?”

You finally manage to interrupt her when you see your colleagues, and their families, helping setting the tables in the back garden.

“What?” She stares at you with fake innocence in her eyes.

“Why is my team here?”

“Oh dear. Didn’t I tell you? I wanted to celebrate your hard work!”

Your mum is many things, a good actress she’s not.

“No, you didn’t.” You say exasperated. “And you called me constantly the past week!”

“Oh, I am getting old and forgetful. I’m sorry dearest.”

You know she isn’t and you are certain she hasn’t forgotten about telling you. You almost start grilling her with questions, when she chirps amiably.

“Oh, look who’s managed to come!”

With horror you see Aemond with a casserole in his hand, your older sister directing him on where to put the thing.

“Mom!”

You think you are going to have a heart attack. You are positive it’s going to happen now, because your heart is beating too fast and you feel like fainting with embarrassment. If you die you don’t have to talk to him, to justify your family probably berating him.

If you’re fast enough you can run to your car before Aemond spots you.

You haven’t considered your mother’s grip on your arm, and your nephews’ sudden influx of love towards you, the three little monster screaming your name and hugging your legs: you are positively struck where you are.

If only the ground were to swallow you.

“Mom, do you have the slightest idea of the family he comes from?”

“Yes, of course I do. They all look dashing, but him? Absolutely breathtaking”.

God please take me now, you think, anything but this!

But God is nowhere to be found and is deafer than ever to your prayers when you see your sister talking to Aemond, who then turns and spots you.

You can’t run away now. Maybe a stray thunderbolt might hit you?

“Good evening commissioner”

“Good evening sir”.

You try to look dignified, pretty difficult when there’s a gaggle of children holding on to your legs and you want to die.

“Children, will you please let me go?” You ask.

“Are you going to run away?” Says nephew number one.

“Mum said to get you, so you would stay!” Adds nephew number two.

“She said you’d try to bolt!” The third one nails the last nail on your coffin.

If you longed for death before, now you wish to burst into flames.

“Why would you leave, commissioner?” Aemond looks sincerely curious.

“I will not. Children, please!”.

The three little monster seem to be happy with the damage they have caused and run away, to play.

“You know how kids are, sir. Minds full of wonder. God only knows what they’ve heard!”

“I think we can use our first names tonight, we are not at work, after all.”

Engrossed as you are in your embarrassment, you don’t hear the insecurity in Aemond’s voice

“Yes sir.” You catch yourself .“Aemond. I hope my family wasn’t too berating.”

“They aren’t. A bit loud, but it calls for the occasion.”

Inwardly he lets go of the breath he was holding. He knows it’s stupid but, like every time he takes a step out of his comfort zone, he feels himself preparing for the worse, for his little attempt to be crushed by the outside world.

“Are you two going to stand there and look pretty, or are you going to help?” Screams your brother in law from where he’s minding the barbecue.

“You do your thing.” You shout back. “And I’ll do mine!”

“He is right. I think there’s more that needs to be set on the table.”

You agree and desperately try not to notice how good Aemond looks.

At work he wears conservative suits, tonight his slacks look comfy and soft, the neckline of his white shirt deeper than the ones you are used to see him wear. His gorgeous hair is in a complicated braid that enhance his beautiful face.

Yes, you need to busy yourself.

Your mum has overdone herself. For the usual Friday dinner, she just sets the table, tonight the whole area is illuminated by strings of light and there’s flowers and plants everywhere. The tablecloths are the finest she owns, the ones she uses only for important occasions. You are moved by the hard work you see here, knowing full well how demanding the hotel is, yet you are pissed that both your mother and sister have ambushed you so; you wouldn’t have refused to come, if you’d known that Aemond would be here!

“What were you two thinking?”

You have managed to snag your sister and drag her in a hidden corner of the garden.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“I am going to throttle you”

“You are worse at lying than mom is! You have any idea of who Aemond is?”

“I perfectly know who he is. He’s the man who’s making me regret I am married and loyal. He’s so dreamy.”

“What for? You work with him!”

“It’s not the same. We don’t have that kind of relationship!”

“But you’ve eaten with him.”

“How do you know that?”

Whatever high ground you thought you had, disappears from under your feet.

“He thanked mum for the food and complimented her, when she called him to invite him tonight.” Your sister says nonchalantly

“How, in the name of God, does she have his phone number?”

At this point you are beyond flabbergasted

“You should ask her! Now come, it’s time to eat!”

Your sister grabs your arm and your nephews appear out of nowhere to help her drag you to your chair which is, lo and behold, next to Aemond’s.

“I’m going to kill you!” You manage to whisper in your sister’s ear

“Enjoy your dinner!” She says with so much saccharine in her voice, you are afraid her teeth will fall off.

Aemond had to prepare himself for tonight, telling himself that being social for one night would be fine, even fun. He knows your men, his consideration of them is almost positive, considering they are cops. Compared to most of their colleagues, they are bearable and not corrupt, which is a first. On top of that, he has already had dinner with you and the experience had been lovely, you were lovely and he couldn’t say no to a mum, his own mother would kill him, but his heart had beaten a tad too fast while he was driving here, the idea of having to deal with so many people, in an unknown context, scared him.

At the courthouse or the precinct, he has a script in his head he can follow, here? He’s left to his own devices and that rarely ends well.

Surprisingly enough, for him, the welcome he received from you family was warm and made him feel like he had always known all of them. Even being, gently, bossed around by your older sister, felt right, not like she was overstepping.

But he can still feel the glass divide between himself and the rest of the world.

It is a strange feeling, to be somewhere, with nice people, and knowing that there’s this distance he can’t overcome. That he can talk with people, break bread with them and yet know that he’s seeing the whole scene from the outside, instead of being part of it, as if he’s the spectator to a play.

Even you, sitting by his side, chatting and laughing, the delicate scent of your perfume in his nostrils, barely manage to breach the gap that had always distanced him from the rest of the world.

Your mum, for her part, tries to make him participate in the conversation, as if she’s aware of the way he’s feeling. But she can’t know, he tells himself, no one has ever been able to, why could she?

And she seems to be intent to feed him like a pig. Aemond can’t say no to her, not when she puts food on his plate and tells him to try this dish, which she had made especially for him; Alicent would kill him if she’d ever knew he had caused grief to a fellow mother, who has worked hard just for him.

“Do you want to get a breath of fresh air?” You ask him during a lull between courses.

“I wouldn’t mind it.” He answers, hoping the relief is not too noticeable.

You hope no one notices you two slipping away to go to the roof of the house. On your way there, you stop in front of an ancient daguerreotype.

“That’s him.” You say.

Aemond behind you hums, his eye admiring the old face staring back at him.

The man looks nothing like him, the huge mustaches occupy his face, giving him a serious look, but that’s not why he understands your mother’s reasoning: it’s the aura he can feel exuding from the daguerreotype, the power that only knowledge gives you, the one Aemond had always felt during his studies, what truly made him feel strong and capable, against a world he rarely understood.

“Thank you for showing me his picture.” Aemond says, meaning it from the bottom of his heart: our family, our roots, it’s all we have, when everything is said and done.

“And this one is my granddad, his son. He’s the one who started the hotel, from his literal home”.

The photo he looks at is yellow with age, a man staring at something just over Aemond’s shoulder, the typical pose for pictures of that time; you look a lot like him, he realizes, in the shape of your eyes and mouth.

“Let’s go, before my sister sends her minions from hell!” You laugh, making your way up the staircase.

The night is warm but a gentle breeze moves your hair, as soon as you and Aemond arrive on the roof.

Like many houses in this region, it is flat and had been used for centuries to store rain water and hang the drying clothes; Aemond notices your family has comfortable garden furniture here and a closed beach umbrella.

Ignoring everything, you head for the edge of the roof, where you can feel the breeze more; Aemond follows you, taking the time to observe you.

You look like summer in your pretty dress and wedge heels, your hair styled and not up in the conservative bun you wear at work. Yes, you are pretty, not that you aren't in your usual clothing, it's just that these illuminate you, make you look happier and livelier. He understands your fashion choices at work. He once heard another female police officer saying that she would have dressed more feminine, but then, where keep her gun? And the field is still so male dominated that showing any other kind of traits, would immediately mean becoming laughing stock.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” A tinge of anxiety marks your voice

“I am. It is different than my usual Friday night, but a good change”

“I’m glad. My family can be hard to handle, even for me.” You say, shielding your face with your hair

“They are a peculiar bunch indeed, but nice and welcoming.”

Silence falls between you two again, broken only by the music coming from downstairs; it’s not heavy, though, Aemond muses, he doesn’t feel the need to either leave or try to awkwardly fill it with words, before the other person decides it has been weird enough. In his life, he only felt like this with his beloved sister Helaena: she never minded sitting by his side, just quietly enjoying life.

“This is my family’s ancestral home. It had been expanded and changed, but my family has been living here since centuries. My grandfather used to rent out all the rooms he could, that’s how the hotel started.”

“It must have been hard.”

“Yes. Many sacrifices were made, but he didn’t want his daughter to slave in the fields all her life.”

“She still decided on physical labor, instead of a managerial position, though.”

“The key is that it was her choice. She wakes up every morning and still wants to do it. It is a luck not everyone has.”

“Do you still have it?”

Aemond doesn’t know where the question comes from, he’s usually mindful of someone else privacy, but with you that invisible, glass divide with the world, seems to become thinner and thinner and he deludes himself with thinking he might truly reach through it and touch you.

“I do, and I don’t sometimes.” You admit, eyes not meeting his. “I love my team and what we do, I just miss how exciting my life was undercover, and after, at the internal affairs.”

“Do you want to go back to that?”

You don’t answer immediately, you let the wind blow through your hair and the lights from downstairs dance in your eyes.

“No, I don’t think I want to. It’s just that this job sucks the life out of you, sometimes. All the violence and the filth and having to shield the people I love from that makes me feel. I think I miss more the person I was, the way I used to look at this work, like a source of a better change for this world. Now that I am older and wiser, I realize that, at best, we try to empty the ocean with a spoon, at worse, we are protecting those who have reduced the world into what it is.”

If he were another person, Aemond would have reached for your hand, to give you comfort, but he is who he is and doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t expect your question.

“What about you, Aemond? Do you still wake up with the same drive you used to have?”

“I do.” He is surprised by how fast he answers, but this had been a surprising night, it’s OK. “I see all of it and it makes me what to double down on my work. But I understand: you are supposed to protect, but whom, truly? The poor person who steals out of hunger, or the company they steal from?”

“You’re lucky then.” You say with a sad smile on your lips

“I probably am.” What you don’t know, it’s that it’s the glass divide he sometimes despises, that helps him keep a distance between himself and the ugly parts of his job.

“I feel like my mind is always there. I cook and clean, play with my nephews and chat with my mum, and a part of me is always pouring over the files. It’s never ending.”

“I have a bike.” He blurts out “We can go on a trip, take you away from your routine.”

He truly doesn’t know where the invitation comes from. Not that he wouldn’t like to go on a spin with you, but when did his brain decide to unlock like this?

“You don’t look like the kind of person who owns a bike.” You are so surprised that you’ve forgotten the sadness of the conversation.

“It belonged to my family for years. It even has a name: Vhagar.”

And I lost my eye for it, he thinks, but doesn’t say.

“I very much would like to.” Your mouth says before the silly embarrassment caused by your crush can stop you.

“It is lovely plan, then!”

Your sister’s voice makes you and Aemond jump in surprise. How long was she listening? You suspect long enough, judging by the way she puts her arm over your shoulder to hug you sideways.

“I hope you have space for the desserts!” She says, dragging you towards the stairs.

“Desserts?” Comes, a bit strangled, from Aemond

“Oh, mum has overdone herself tonight!” She gleefully answers.

By the time the food is finished, Aemond feels like he could easily roll home: he is full like he had never been before. He jumps up and offers his help, when it’s time to clear the table, maybe a bit of exercise might help him and clear his head as on why it’s so easy to reach to you, of all the people in the world.

Aemond finds himself with a carton of food, near the trunk of his car. He had tried to, politely, refuse, but your mother simply ignored him and put even more food in it.

Aemond is closing the trunk, when your mum arrives with a bag of conserves and trusts it in his hands.

“I cannot accept. It is too much!” He says.

“Oh, nonsense.” She answers. “I am happy to give these to you.”

“But you’ll need those for the hotel.”

“I have more than enough stored in the kitchen there. These are the ones I use at home.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can.” She gently puts her hands over his. “I know how hard it is, accept a stranger’s kindness and reach out of what comforts you. But it’s worth trying.”

Aemond doesn’t believe in coincidences, but you appear in his line of sight and make a beeline for him.

“Mum? You are needed. I’ll help here.”

Your mother bids Aemond goodbye, who answers with a strange expression on his face that makes the alarm bells explode in your head.

"Aemond?" It is so strange to use his given name so freely. "Is everything all right? Or were we too much?"

His eye focuses on you, he doesn't look like a deer caught in the headlights anymore, yet his face is more animated than what you're used to see.

"Everything is fine." He says, your name follows, his voice pensive. "Your mother possesses far more insight than I thought."

You don't really understand what he's implying, it feels like he's talking more to himself than to you.

"She is an extraordinary woman."

And she truly is, to see him, for who he is, without making him feel naked and defenseless.

"Yeah-." You answer without really understanding the topic.

In silence you help him put the food in the trunk of the car, making sure nothing will be broken.

The air feel pregnant, of what you don't know, but you feel like he's going to say something and he's looking for the right words.

"About that little trip." He finally says.

"Yeah?"

"Do you still want to go?"

You don't know it, but his heart is beating so fast he's afraid it might explode.

"I can't wait. I've never ridden a bike in my entire life."

Another man would have probably said something crass about first times, he simply closes the hood of the car.

"It is the closest thing to flying you'll ever experience. You'll have fun, I promise."

"Good." There's a smile on your face. "I love fun!"

Aemond is driving home. He feels emptied by all the social interactions, yet happy, like he's not going to need to recharge, and it's a first.

His mind drifts off to Helaena and the cryptic words she's told him when he moved here, about strange twists and turns that lend to where one least expects it.

Was she talking about you? Only time will tell and, this uncertainty, doesn't scare him, for the first time in his life.

Everythig taglist: @hightowhxre

Aemond taglist: @phantoms-main-blog @fan-goddess

[chronic-boogara]

𝚂𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜: 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚜/𝚘 𝟸

more mommy-kink slashers for y’all !!! i love writing soft stuff like this it’s just so cute. i’m working on an iconic one since i get this question a lot. 😫😫 i forgot to link part one sorry lovelies.

stu macher

•finds it more hot than endearing let’s be honest.

•will call you mommy every chance he gets ,like every single chance he gets. and no he does not care if people think it’s weird.

•it doesn’t matter how smart you are he will ask for your help/opinion on everything he does.

• “do you think this outfit looks cool y/n”? “did any birds actually die in “to kill a mockingbird bird””?“what is the area of a square”? “how long does popcorn go in the microwave”?

•doesn’t need your help most of the time but wants it.

•is super clingy in public. he’ll stay close to you like a child

•will whine to you whenever someone is remotely mean to him. he will often ask you to yell at them or punish them for being such an ass

•”billy hit me today and it hurt like hell…you should go yell at him and take away his comics”.

•tells you literally everything. you’re one of the first people to know who the ghostface killers are. stu isn’t worried though , you’re the love of his life he will not let you leave

billy loomis

•my god he loves it. you’re the mother figure he needs in his life

•acts all soft with you. will snuggle you on the couch and kiss your face.

•he shares his passions with you ! comics, horror, spiders, snakes the lot of it. will info dump for hours if you let him. if you ask him questions about something he likes he will 100% be hype as hell.

•feels bad lying to you. he will tell you the about the murders and his reasoning behind it. will probably cry when he does it.

•comfort the baby and tell him it’s okay and you still love him.

•doesn’t like to talk to people in public so you’ll be doing most of the talking in this relationship. he loves you all the more for it

•has a bit of a mommy kink so he will be a total sub in the bedroom

lester sinclair

•he will probably cry. poor baby will be sobbing in your arms with happiness

•likes to take you with him on drives to show you all the cool stuff he’s working on.

•tell him to be safe before he leaves the house and he is all yours. having someone care for him like that is just amazing to him

•says i love you a lot. like at least 30 times a day. he can’t let you forget how much he loves you.

•will usually ask you to cook for him since he’s no good and his brothers don’t even bother doing it.

•cooking together with lester >>>

•enjoys the pet names. it doesn’t matter what it is he eats it up.

bo sinclair

•finds it a little annoying how much you care. why do you worry so much about him of all people

•doesn’t allow himself to be babied most of the time. bo acts like he’s all rough and tough.

•when the two of you are getting ready for bed though he’s baby. he will tell you every single detail of his day while laying between your thighs.

•likes to be held but will never admit it in a million years.

•thinks he has to be the man in the relationship.

[wordbunch]

Boromir with a hyper partner

a/n: requested by the sweet @aphroditesmoon​ - headcanons of Boromir with a hyper reader who likes to talk abt their special interests!! i did my best and I hope you all like it! 😊 let me know, and reblogs + comments are always greatly appreciated! 💖💖💖

okay he is also a high energy person but in a different way

sometimes (though not often) he finds you hard to keep up with, but over time he figures out how you function

loves going to social gatherings and occasions with you cause you’re so captivating and other people love talking to you, meaning that he can hang back half the time and just be a trophy husband lmao

he will stand there with the biggest, most obvious heart eyes while you’re having other conversations and he will basically fail to notice when someone else tries to approach him

however sometimes he gets just a tiny bit worn out after dancing with you for a while because you take it seriously

regarding your info-dumping, he is a fan

listening to your voice is like coming home, especially when you’re passionate about something and want to share it with him

it melts Boromir’s heart that he is the first person (and often the only one) to whom you come to talk about something that’s very important to you, or just when you generally confess things to him

he will treasure them and everything you tell him is always safe with him

sometimes he will listen attentively and other times he will ask you some questions

he never fails to notice the twinkle in your eyes when he asks you to elaborate further on something

personal headcanon - he loves a healthy debate with good arguments

of course as long as you’re both being respectful

actually it’s kinda hot when it gets heated and both of you are Into It, so don’t be surprised when he just cuts you off with a passionate kiss

on rare occasions when he’s extremely tired and overwhelmed by what happened throughout the day, he will very politely ask you if you can just be quiet together a little bit

he will certainly tip-toe around that for a bit, not wanting to hurt you or discourage you from doing it again tomorrow in the future

but it’s fine, you understand, and you know that on most days your rambling helps take his mind off of bad things and dull responsibilities

pleasepleaseplease run to this man when he returns home PLS

literally go tackle him in a hug so he can lift you up and spin you around as you both laugh and then kiss (at this point it’s basically canon that Boromir would do that and I am never letting it go)

✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense​​​​​​ @starlady66​​​​​​ @queenmeriadoc​​ @entishramblings​​​​​​ @thesolarangel​​​​​​ @silversword7000​​​​​​ @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog​​​​​​ @averys-place​​​​​​ @valkyriepirate​​​​​​ @emmaarenstarr​​​​​​ @noldorinpainter​​​​​​ @asianbutnotjapanese​​​​​​ @adamgetawaydriver​​​​​​ @fenharel-enaste​​​​​​ @ironmandeficiency​​​​​​      @starryeyedrogue​​ @dinofromspac3​​  @wisheduponastar​ @lady-of-imladris​ @frodo-cinnamonroll​

thank you to everyone who joined the taglist!

[yowyowyaoi]

Scenes or Comic Panels I Would Draw If I Could Draw BC Some Of My Chatpost Ideas I See Better As Pictures Not Words, Part Two.

-Deidara having had way too much coffee or soda and is sitting with Sasori, explaining one of his favorite tv shows or something and just info-dumping like crazy. And the other Akatsuki members pass by throughout the day and they all wonder how the hell Sasori is just calmly sitting there, giving Deidara his full attention while the blonde just rants for literal hours. Finally Dei wears himself down and falls asleep and Konan goes in to check on Sasori and she’s shocked to see it’s not Sasori at all but one of his puppet body-doubles. Dei in his caffeinated frenzy just didn’t notice.

-Shikadai, Boruto and Mitsuki using a metal detector in the Nara woods, something sets it off so they start digging. Finds Hidan (his Jashin necklace is what set the detector off). Shikadai doesn’t know what to do with a talking head but Mitsuki mentions that his Parent makes bodies in his lab all the time. So they cart Hidan off to Orochimaru. Hilarity (or horrible, horrible chaos) ensues.

-Pakkun finds the Akatsuki hideout. Is preparing to inform Konoha of its whereabouts but recognizes something strangely familiar about the scent of the tall man in the orange mask. Waits a while, spies through the window at night and Mask-Man takes off the mask and. Holy shit. It’s the guy Pakkun’s master Kakashi has been mourning all these years. Leaves, goes to the rest of the ninken. The group all together waits until Obito is alone, ambushes him, and drags him back to Kakashi. They receive many treats and many pats that night. Pakkun is ring-bearer at their wedding.

-Deidara and Itachi start sleeping together in the winter. Not having sex but literally just sharing a bed. Because Kisame is cold-blooded and doesn’t provide the sickly Itachi adequate warmth, and Sasori being a puppet doesn’t get into bed with Deidara a lot as-is because he has no need for sleep, and when he does, his body doesn’t provide warmth either. Kisame and Sasori act like they’re fine with it but secretly kiiiiiinda jealous. Eventually Hidan wants in on the situation too because he feels left out of the “sleepovers” and Kakuzu sits up half the night counting money or reading the Bingo Book anyway. But Kakuzu … is MORE than happy to get Hidan out of his hair (and off of his expensive sheets).

-Deidara pregnant, asleep, and Sasori sitting just fixated on his belly. He gently puts his hand on the belly and the baby gives a little kick. Sasori makes a game out of asking the baby yes or no questions, with a kick being a Yes. Eventually Deidara stirs half-awake and asks “Will your Daddy shut up and let me sleep?!” and then he gives Sasori a kick off the bed with his own legs, mumbles “Good, hm” and goes back to bed.

-Sasori looking up to the sky and asking God to give him something beautiful from heaven. Out of nowhere Deidara explodes up out of the ground, cursing and dirty, into Sasori’s arms. Sasori looks at Deidara, then at the ground and is like “Thank you, Devil-san.”

-Kisame having a talk with Obito, formally asking his permission to marry Itachi. Obito asking how he managed to see through the Tobi persona, Kisame telling him that any idiot could see that “Tobi” was too far-fetched a personality to be believed. The others all say something similar to having figured out that Tobi was an Uchiha, except for Deidara who nearly faints. “I slept with an Uchiha?!” and Hidan is like, “Fuck the Uchiha part; are you telling me you slept with TOBI?!”

-Nagato noticing how much time Konan spends with Kisame and starts to think that maybe she’s attracted to muscles. So he secretly tries to work out but ends up spraining a few ribs and ends up in bed. Konan asks him what he was trying to do, Nagato confesses and Konan laughs. She tells Nagato that she goes out with Kisame so much because the shark is intimidating and being with him prevents men from hitting on her. Next scene is Nagato accompanying Konan to the grocery store, with every single one of his Pein bodies in tow, forming a terrifying wall around the couple, who are holding hands.

-((I think I’ve said this in a post before but)) All of the boys in the Akatsuki wanting to take a shirtless picture together, to show off their “muscles”. They ask Konan to take the picture but she’s offended they didn’t ask her to be in it. they say sure, thinking she’ll be in her bra but nope, she takes off everything and lets the twins out while she flexes. the final picture is Konan flexing in the center, Deidara, Hidan and Itachi fainted on the floor, Tobi has a red trickle coming from his nose area under his mask, Kisame and Zetsu are both alarmingly red, Kakuzu is seen outside fighting some white-haired pervert peeking in through the hideout windows, Sasori is studying Konan’s body with an interest that’s somehow more frightening than the others’, and Nagato is rushing up with a blanket up cover her.

-Kakashi walking down the aisle to Gai in a beautiful wedding dress, being escorted by Naruto and Sasuke on each arm, with all of the ninken holding different parts of his veil-train. Sakura is at the top of the aisle holding Gai’s wheelchair, monitoring his IV bags. He’s not fully healed from his war injuries yet but he insisted on doing this as soon as he could speak again. Lee and Ten-Ten are Gai’s “best men”.

-Hidan gets accidentally blown to bits by one of Deidara’s bombs. Loses everything but his head. Kakuzu tells Sasori that since it was HIS partner who caused this, he should be the one to make Hidan a new body. Sasori agrees. But after awhile Kakuzu comes to him and tells him to delay his progress by a few weeks. Turns out taking care of just Hidan’s head is a LOT easier (and stress-free) than keeping up with Hidan as a whole body.

[peachiseas]

okay i am very new here, so i need a through introduction to your mcs! like eve for example, pls post his whole biography o(╥﹏╥)o

fr tho, tell me anything and everything :D

TOOK SO DAMN LONG SINCE I WANTED TO DRAW A STEP ONE REF OF EVE BUT ITS GONNA TAKE A MINUTE so here are the sketches,,, Anyways- gonna introduce the main two mcs/ocs you'll see here: Eve Cortez Williams and Aaliyah Dubious

(dont mind my ipad scribbles on the screenshot iofqiowogi) Lemme put this under a readmore actually so yall dont get slammed with a long ass post:

Starting with Eve:

He's my Tamarack MC, but I figured since uh. all my art that was a given

He has a strained relationship with Qiu in step 1 but they become besties by step 2 and by step 3, they are like family to each other. If no one got Eve, Eve knows Qiu got them, amen 🙏

He comes out as transmasc by step 2, and by step 3 he gets top surgery and starts taking testosterone and firmly identifies as a butch lesbian

He's from the southern part of Miami, Florida. He's Golden Grove's residential florida man

He practices martial arts religiously, he's a big fan of Goku and Dragonball in general so he wants to be like his idol

His story deviates a bit from the OL2 generic mc story, he did have a dad! Opal and his dad wanted a kid but they both didn't want to get married and since the two of them were best friends, they decided to have a kid together (or well two but we'll talk about that later)

What's important to note from above is that his dad isn't around anymore because his father passed away a few months ago due to a car accident and Eve was hospitalized as a result

So by the time he's at Golden Grove, he's in anger stages of his grief and he doesn't want to be bothered. Which sucks cause hes neighbors with the two loudest kids on the block

Doesn't help he's a ESL speaker (English as a Second Language) and Golden Grove's population is majorly white so he has even harder of a time adjusting to it

He gets into fights in step 1... a Lot. Someone will look at him funny and they'll get punched in the face

He does adjust but he still doesn't like Golden Grove by step 3 but funnily enough, he moves away at the end of step 3 for treatment but moves back in step 4, crazy how that shit works huh

He has two emotional support bunnies; Bulma and Chi-Chi! He gets them in step 2, Qiu and Eve bond over them LMFAO

As for Aaliyah:

She's my Qiu MC, to the shocker of no one. Tamarack is also her best friend <3

Aaliyah is from New Orleans, Louisiana! She's full blooded Haitian and she has family in Haiti

She's also transfem! She passes for cis in step 1 thanks to hormone blockers and some makeup and then starts taking estrogen in step 2 and onwards

Her being black and transfemme is integral to her character and how she navigates around Golden Grove, she doesn't tell anyone she's trans until near the end of step 1. By step 3, the girl gang and Qiu knows shes trans

^^ That's because she had a very negative experience coming out to her community who previously loved her but flipped on her just as fast

So moving to Golden Grove was supposed to be a fresh start for her as herself but by that point she feels like she has to keep up her "cis-sona" lest she gets bullied again

She still gets bullied for other reasons in step 2 though (being a pretty black girl and the one person who has a crush on her is the most popular kid in school... its rough! 😭)

By step 4 though she is proud to call herself trans and will let people know!

She lovessss animals! And the animals love her back! She feeds them all the time and keeps animal food on her for that purpose when she goes to the park to read by herself, she got a flock of crows and stray cats that like to follow her

She has a cat named Kiki!!! Kiki loves everyone except Qiu though, Aaliyah doesnt know that though-

I hope that was enough of a info-dump! If anyone has anymore questions please ask i have so much lore please-

[yuurei20]

Leona Info Compilation part 17: Jack (pt 2)

Despite Jack's initial admiration, he calls Leona's mock-spelldrive-match against other characters “a disgusting spectacle”.

When another student asks if Jack realizes he’s talking to his own housewarden Jack responds, “If you’re gonna play the upperclassman card, you oughta act the part.”

Rather than argue or insult him in return, however, Leona says that Jack is “pretty bold” and “I guess I can respect that.”

On the subject of Jack in Book 6 Leona says, “Jack’s pretty self-aware…he can get a little prideful, but he knows he’s not boss material yet. So he always follows the boss’ orders when push comes to shove. He’s a good little pupper like that.”

During Fairy Gala IF it is Leona’s idea to “dump the job on some freshmen” when it becomes apparent that none of the housewardens will be suitable for the job, and he nominates Jack.

Jack initially refuses (“There’s nothing I hate more than gettin’ chummy with others.”) but Leona convinces him that the mission needs “someone who can lead the pack. Someone with solid judgement and initiative. I figured you had both of those things. There are a lotta students in Savanaclaw, but I picked YOU.” Leona proceeds to pretend he will pick another Savanaclaw first-year, and Jack says “I’ll get the job done!” and, later, “You can count on me!”

Jack’s main issue with Leona seems to comes from how “he has incredible talent, but refuses to even use it!”, saying that he despises people like Leona who possess power that they do not hone.

(Jack seems to assume that Leona has not honed his powers based on what he’s seen rather than assume there may be more going on in Leona’s life than is aware.)

Another source of frustration for Jack seems to be how he does not understand why Leona is the way he is, as Leona does not confide in him (or possibly anybody), even though this means being insulted by people like Jack who choose to assume the worst about him.

Jack even asks Leona outright, “What happened to the man you used to be?”, feeling betrayed for Leona not living up to Jack’s expectations, despite how Jack’s only pre-NRC exposure to Leona had been televised Spelldrive matches. Leona acknowledges this with, “Your dream’s got nothin’ to do with me!”

Despite Jack’s questionable allegiance in Book 2 (and Leona outright calls him a “filthy traitor”), Leona seems to have fewer issues with Jack than Jack has with him:

When Ruggie asks if he should take down Jack for meddling in their affairs Leona does not let him, and he is regularly looking out for Jack: supporting him during Halloween both by providing him with refreshments (though he downplays his role, saying that “it is a boss’ job to keep his pack’s morale high”) and making sure the other Savanaclaw students recognize Jack as an authority figure during the event.

Even during Book 2 Leona’s issue with Jack does not come from Jack “talkin’ like he’s better than me”, as is written in his NA dialogue.

This is a line that Leona has never actually said.

The original line was, “He sounds just like my brother.”

(It is never once said that Leona’s problem with Jack is that “he talks like he’s better than me”, and this was a very unfortunate change made to Leona’s character in the NA adaptation.)

This is not the only time that Falena was removed from Leona’s dialogue: “Don’t lecture me like you’re my brother” was removed from a later scene that leads to Leona’s overblot.

[girlfromthecrypt]

i don't mind the rambles, don't worry. but yeah, honestly trans people even when we're not shown in media as specifically unattractive, we're not like. depicted as attractive either. we don't get to be like objects of attraction if that makes sense? we get to be like side characters and shit. and top surgery or any surgical scars are generally pretty damn taboo because ooOOOOoooo we're mutilating something or other or whatever the fuck it is. even irl, we're generally considered a stereotypically unattractive group. when trans people are rarely represented, we don't get to be like objects of attraction. we're usually "and here's the lesson! don't be mean!" one off characters or best friend characters (assuming we're not horrible stereotypes). plus a lot of medias arent eager to add us in in general in fear of losing their more conservative audiences.

it's totally fine when you rant, I do it too (as demonstrated by the above), I've had quite a few VN/IF creators apologize to me about like rambling about their games and like, I'm asking questions because i love the media. I get the feeling, cause I get that about other stuff. but seriously, info-dumping about something you've created that people love is awesome for fans (not to speak for all of us, but generally it seems to be)

Ngl I'm blind to a lot of that media portrayal bc I'm not entrenched in a lot of media anymore. I "conceived" Basil as trans from the start (he was a LI/supporting character in a nosleep story [horror writing subreddit over on Reddit] I never ended up posting), and in my mind, he was just always "him" and always pretty cute. I was comfortable enough writing a trans character bc one of my oldest friends is a trans man, and he let me ask him just about anything I wanted to know. Ofc I researched most of the necessary info on my own, but having him around was still helpful and very reassuring. (In hindsight, this is also making me kinda sad bc that friend and I have kinda drifted apart since...)

I was kinda hesitant about sharing though bc I was afraid of getting things wrong, but hey, if what you're saying about the mainstream portrayal of trans folk is anything to go off of, I'm probably doing okay (nervous laughter).

Actually, have an excerpt from the original story Basil appeared in! [Note: he's WAYYY dorkier and socially awkward in this than in Such Happy Campers. He's also a landlord in this, so the vanlife stuff and spiritualism is part of his overhaul for SHC. But original Basil makes the same amount of horrible jokes.] [more below]

I was prepared to camp outside that house. That turned out not to be necessary, as right at that moment, a peculiar-looking youngish man appeared in the doorway. Pieces of striped tapestry clung to his threadbare tracksuit and glue coated a good portion of his hair.

I asked him if he’d just been in a fight, and he assured me he’d merely been putting up new wallpapers in one of the apartments. When I asked whether he had something for me to rent on short notice, he was surprisingly cooperative. He introduced himself to me as Basil, and enthusiastically welcomed me to the house and the neighborhood. When we shook hands, our palms stuck together. 

“Sorry… I had an accident with the glue,” he explained, grimacing awkwardly. “Don’t worry, I got something to wash it off. You’d best come in.”

With a glance at our entwined fingers, I told him I obviously had nowhere else to go, to which he replied that one could say my hands were tied.

Been meaning to share this snippet for a while and this seems a good opportunity. This was how he "looked" at the time/how the main character describes him:

I admittedly always considered him very attractive, albeit goofy-looking with his fluffy blond mustache and mullet. Something about his appearance inspired trust and openness, and the warmth he exuded was more than welcome.

So yeah, that's some of Basil's history. In this old version, he was actually kind of insecure about his surgery scars (which were fresher at the time, and he hated a lot of his looks in general), which I ended up discarding because I much prefer him with astronomic levels of smugness. Like, I want him to be fully aware of how good he looks.

I'm very happy with the current version of Basil, and I'm glad I "saved" his character for this IF project instead of posting his story back then. I just realized (while I was writing the nosleep story at the time) that I LOVED writing him and wanted to have him there in a bigger project, which ended up being SHC.

Okay yeah I'm about to be one of those IF authors you mentioned bc now I need to apologize as well. I went on a huge tangent here. Hope this particular infodump was at least somewhat interesting to you! Either way, thanks so much for the talk.

[ineffectualdemon]

Thank you for answering my ask, (from the anon that ask before).....If you don't mind me asking again, my other ask is about Scum Villain....Who are your top 3 or top 5 fav characters from that fandom and why do you love them? What are your top 5 or top 7 fav moments from the series? Feel free if you want to pick either or answer all the questions....Thanks if you want to answer....

I love these asks! It's like being invited to info dump and it's so much fun!

Warning this is long:

Okay top 5 SVSSS characters are easy peasy

5. Liu Qingge: man he just doesn't catch a break. He's this jock meathead type guy on the surface who is rough around the edges but he's so caring once Shen Qingqiu earned his trust. Also the yearning! The pining! The fact that this guy who he shows devotion after devotion to just chooses someone who has, by all appearances, just abused him again and again is heartbreaking. And even post canon when he has been unwittingly but irrevocably rejected he still does the same acts of devotion.

The man needs a drink and to get laid.

And homoerotic fistfights with Binghe

4. Mobei Jun: this is on his own. Paired with Shang Qinghua it's different. Mobei Jun actually shares a lot of qualities with Liu Qingge. They are both rough stoic men who constantly do acts of devotion and love towards their loved on and those acts are always misinterpreted and they face constant rejection.

The difference is Shang Qinghua is not aware of Mobei Jun's intentions and does not realise those are acts of devotion. And if he did realise he would be thrilled. The problem is cultural differences not emotional constipation

Also Mobei Jun has been pining and yearning for decades and that's amazing

I also like what he tells us about Airplane. Because he's Airplane's ideal man both in what he is attracted to and what he longs to be, but that "what he wants to be" is based on how Airplane reads him. And Airplane reads him as stoic and cold and cool (metaphorically) and untouched and unbothered by anything. Which tells us that that's what Airplane wishes he was, but Mobei Jun is in reality someone desperate to hold on and be held in return. He's lonely and devoted and loyal and unwaveringly honest.

Which is maybe telling of how maybe secretly Airplane wants to reach out and be honest about his feelings and ask for what he wants.

3. Luo Binghe: god there is so much to say. He is a dark reflection of Airplane. He is so parched for love and affection and that he latches on to Shen Qingqiu and cannot let go but he can never feel worthy enough. Never feel like he deserves happiness because time and again it's ripped from his hands.

No one will choose him

He is all alone

Even when he has everything he has every wanted he can't believe it. Because surely this will be ripped away too and he will be left hurt and alone again

He is every dark thought Airplane had alone in his room writing 10,000 words a day to keep his head above water in a dingy room knowing he's unwanted by either of his parents

And man if that doesn't cut deep into me as the unwanted child growing up

That feeling of believing no one will choose you ever and you will never be really loved and then making the one person who does the centre of your world but constantly afraid they will change their mind?

Yeah.

I can identify with that

it's gotten better over the years but uh yeah. The insecurity is still there

2. Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan: the tragic comedy of his internalised queerphobia while attracting a harem of men. The unawareness of self, the disassociating, the mental gymnastics he goes through to no homo himself

He's a fascinating unreliable narrator and also his internal screaming is really funny and relatable. I don't have the System but I do have disassociative identify disorder and we definitely get in internal screaming matches sometimes because some of us are dicks. So that kind of internal fighting is very familiar and even funnier to me

I also find it interesting that canonically when he transmigrates pretty much the only overt trauma in his life up that point is dying. He grew up relatively wealthy with a distant but loving family and managed to hit the top 10 of whatever he tried so he was successful enough without being outstanding

In a lot of ways before transmigrating he sounds...bored and unfulfilled

But when he dies he has never had to process trauma before so he just ...doesn't. But also I think he's excited and interested and involved in his life for the first time

And I think it's really interesting that he self identifies more with his online handle then he does with his actual name. There is no reason he couldn't say his name was Something Yuan. But he never tries to go by his original name in the book. He hides behind his ridiculous web handle instead.

And I think that tells us that while he was from a relatively good life on the surface there were issues. Because I think even in his first life he was doing a lot of masking.

Because Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan reads as autistic. PIDW is his special interest. He's can info dump about monsters. The way he uses his fan is like a stim. And the way he masks as Shen Qingqiu is too practiced right away.

Even though he gets caught out right away he thinks he's masking well and it feels like he's used to it.

That combined with him preferring his online handle and how he drops the mask completely around Airplane who knew his online persona makes me feel that online is the only place he allowed himself to unmask and I find that very interesting

1. Shang Qinghua/Airplane:

I love him

I love him so much

He is just so tired and done with this shit.

He barely hides that he's a transmigrator, barely hides that he's a spy. He immediately calls Shen Qingqiu Cucumber Bro because he's so relieved he isnt alone

He's terrified of his King but god forbid anyone even think of harming a hair on his favourite's head

He is a sell out because he is a survivor. He has a lot of the same insecurities and issues as Binghe but he also has age on him and a cynicism that sees him through

He is as devoted to Mobei Jun as Binghe is to Shen Qingqiu but there is a mellower edge. He doesn't expect his King to choose him and he's fine with just being useful for most of the text

It's interesting to me that Binghe was willing to destroy the world to make it that Shen Qingqiu had to choose him because there would be no other choice

But Shang Qinghua gives Mobei Jun a challenge

He doesn't do it consciously but he basically tells Mobei "come find me and make it up to me. It's your turn to chase me."

Which is something Binghe cannot do and I really think that's speaks to the length of time Shang Qinghua has been alive in comparison but it's also just an interesting character moment for him

He wants what Bingqiu have but he wants to be the one chased now. After decades of being the servant afraid of being thrown away or killed he just wants domesticity and someone doing acts of service for him! And he gets it!

He's someone who causes the death of many children and everyone just kinda...overlooks that

Because he's just a little guy! And is so weak and pathetic except he's not. Not really.

He's jsut so fucking fascinating because he's got huge insecurities and issues but he's also got such a thick skin and thick face

He doesn't care what people think about him as long as he can be with his King at the end of the day

I could go on forever about Shang Qinghua but this is already so long

Top 5 moments:

Now I'm gonna say I haven't got the last two volumes yet so while I have read the whole story before it's been awhile since I read the end so things might be misremembered a little but I'm gonna do my best

5. The moment in the extras when Luo Binghe asks Sha Hualing, Mobei Jun, and Shang Qinghua for love advice because all 4 of them are so fucking stupid but especially Moshang and I love them

4. the Reveal of Shen Qingqiu in the plant Body in Cang Qiong. That "caught you" is so *chefs kiss* I love it! Then following that up with Binghe on one side an all his very hurt Martial Family on the other.... It brings me such joy. It's so well done

3. My Boy Diving after his King! The fact that right before it Cucumber was going to save Shang Qinghua but Mobei was already there protecting him, the fact that when Shang Qinghua goes to throw himself after his King Shen Qingqiu tries to stop him but is shoved aside!

It's such a great MoShang moment

2. The Self Detonation scene. It is such a moment! It's tragic and beautiful and sad and ahhhhhh. The way it's such an act of love but it's also so deeply traumatising to Binghe. Everything about it is exquisite

1. From the extras again Airplane protecting Mobei from his uncle. The image of the ring of fire with Shang Qinghua between them. When Shang Qinghua refuses to scream as long as he can, that when he breaks Mobei Jun overcomes everything just long enough to send his Uncle flying

Oh my god I think about that scene all the time

Honourable mention: Tianlang-Jun thinking SQQ is having a threesome with Zhuzhi Lang and Luo Binghe and is just like "...fascinating..." *Scribbles in his notes*

[sushisocks]

hi i just finished rdr2, really love your stuff (FINALLY a blog that properly info dumps!! keep them coming please!!). i don't know if this is your thing, but the song I Gave You All by Mumford & Sons makes me think of arthur so much because each lyric corresponds so perfectly to his ending. obviously it's in the song title (arthur's "i gave you all i had"), but the lines "how can you say that your truth is better than ours?" and "you rip out all i had just to say that you've have won" makes me wonder what arthur's last thoughts really were?? the song has a very bitter tone, which is opposite of the game, but i can't actually tell what arthur's last words are supposed to mean, especially with him repeating "i tried...i did." were the "i dids" meant to be a plead for mercy (to remind dutch of his lifelong loyalty in hopes that he's spared from a violent death) or was it meant to be sympathetic (to indicate that they were both doomed men who were only trying their best)? or was it an apology, like "i did all i could, but it wasn't enough"? knowing his level of self esteem/guilt i think arthur would feel a very heavy obligation and responsibility, so it makes sense for him to say "i did all i could, but it still wasn't enough because i was not good enough," but he seemed to be very accepting of his death. sorry if this was rambly/late to the party, i would love to hear your thoughts about it!!!

Oh, Anon, this is the sort of thing I LOVE seeing in my askbox, I am kissing you on the lips rn for giving me the permission to talk about this so lets TALK about it!! (Sorry it took me a minute to get to it, I had to rotate ur questions in my mind for a bit so I could best formulate my thoughts, you know how it is)

First off, I Gave You All by Mumford & Sons is SUCH a good RDR2/Arthur song, I agree hugely on this, and it makes a LOT of sense for the ending notes, especially on a High Honor/Save John run. I've been listening to it on repeat since I saw ur ask, all while typing this up, and I got a lil emotional at times man. I love music recs and while I know some Mumford & Sons songs this was a recontextualization I very much needed in my life thank u <3

The rest of this is LONG so putting in a read more to save my mutuals lol

Okay, so, I now have a LOT of thoughts about what's going through Arthur's mind and what he might've meant at the end of his last mission, so lets get into it. To begin with I want to list out the lines that are said in this scene, so we're all on the same page. (Helpfully and lovingly pulled from the gamescripts wiki blog, which my life has revolved around for the past year and a half)

Dutch van der Linde: It is over now… Arthur. It’s over. Arthur Morgan: Oh, Dutch… he’s a rat. You know it and I know it. Micah Bell: He’s sick… he’s dying… he’s talking crazy. Pinkerton: There! Up there on the ridge! Arthur Morgan: (to Dutch) I gave you all I had… I did. Dutch van der Linde: I… Micah Bell: Come on. Dutch… let’s go, buddy. We made it. We won. Come on. Arthur Morgan: John made it. He’s the only one. Rest of us… no. But… I tried. In the end… I did. Micah Bell: (to Dutch) Come on… let's go. We can make it. Come on, Dutch… come on!

So WHAT is going on here? Surface level, this is the last appeal to Dutch. The last battle of wills between Micah and Arthur, where Arthur is STILL trying to make Dutch see sense. I think it's an important part of Arthur's character to understand that he believes, until the very bitter end, that there's a chance for him to reach through to Dutch. It's the main reason he heads back to camp, after saving Abigail. Milton has told him Micah is the rat, and Arthur believes that if he can just get back to camp and tell Dutch the truth, that will be it. He, erroneously, believes his word alone will be enough.

But the thing is, in my opinion, in a way Arthur is RIGHT! He DOES reach through to Dutch, but he has to die for it. That is what the "I gave you all I had" line is for.

It is Dutch, unsure who to believe. It is Micah, screaming for Dutch to listen to him. And it is Arthur, gently reminding Dutch: I devoted my entire life to you, all that I know has been with you, all that I am has come from you.

Arthur would have gone to the ends of the Earth for Dutch -- he would be grumbling and complaining the entire time, but he'd still do it if Dutch asked. He is, in this moment, telling Dutch, I gave you all I had and you took it, there is nothing left but my death, what reason do I have to lie?

It is the crack in the wall, a small moment of clarity for Dutch, which has him leave them both on that cliff, which has him turn up again 8 years later and kill Micah. Not enough to turn on Micah right away, but enough to truly have Dutch stop and reconsider. Because with those words Arthur is not only speaking on his own behalf, whether or not he knows it. He is reminding Dutch of everyone else who has died for him; Grimshaw, Molly, and Hosea, as the most notable ones, I think. Arthur slots neatly in with those three as people who truly devoted their everything to Dutch, gave him all they had, of life and time and energy, and were served nothing but death, destruction, and heartache in return.

It stuns Dutch; for once he is truly speechless, having to reckon with Arthur's words and what they mean, what they imply. Micah knows Arthur's words are more impactful, and keeps trying to sway him to his side, for ends we can only really guess at. But we already know there's no chance Dutch will go with Micah at this point. But he also wont stay with Arthur.

Then: "John made it. He’s the only one. Rest of us… no. But… I tried. In the end… I did."

One of Arthur's main objectives in Chapter 6 is saving as many people of the gang as possible. The Pinkertons are closing in and, while Arthur believes that it's just bad luck until Milton tells him otherwise, he still hopes for the best outcome possible, for the women and children, as he says.

Which is why he says John made it. Because to Arthur, John's making it, means the women and children making it. It means Abigail, Tilly, Sadie, and Jack, all waiting at Copperhead Landing, are not waiting in vain. It is the reassurance that they will be fine, and the idea that John might finally actually step up and be the father Arthur has so desperately wanted him to be for Jack. To Arthur, John making it is the best outcome.

But he still wanted to save as many people as possible. Dutch, Javier, and Bill included. They were still Arthur's friends and family. They still mattered to him. But I think Arthur realizes, dying upon that cliff, that there's no way out for them anymore. They'll get off this mountain and continue their way of living, and the government will keep hunting them. He is essentially saying the rest of them are just as doomed as Arthur is, even if Arthur is the one currently dying. And he tried.

I want to say that Arthur saying he tried, is both about saving the gang, and about being better. There are SO many interactions you can have in chapter 6 alone that's about being better than you were. Edith Downes, Sister Calderòn, Charles, Rains Fall, and Mary-Beth are just SOME that I can think of, at the top of my head. I think in this moment, Arthur is reaffirming to himself that at the very least he tried. He did everything he could, in the time that he had. He doesn't know if that's enough, or if it means more than what it is, but he tried, and that, to him, HAS to mean something.

It is him accepting that this is the end, and that he doesn't know!! He genuinely doesn't!! If he has done enough to actually change the course of events!! But God do I love the message of Arthur finding peace in having tried. In having done what he could, and seeing what changes he could, and knowing in that last breath, watching that rising sun, that he did make a difference.

Do I think Arthur is angry or bitter when he passes? Not in a High Honor/Save John run, no. I think he is disappointed and sad with Dutch. But I also think he has found a place within himself where he can accept that this is it, for him. And he is hopeful for those whom he has saved, who got out of there and live to see another day.

He gave his all, and he really really tried, and he finds peace in the end. How simultaneously heartbreaking and heartening isn't that?