#like it’s not actually THAT hot it’s like 80

[dreamofbecoming]

so i have 2 windows in my bedroom, and normally they’re both open, but obviously open windows are a terrible idea in new york rn, so all the windows in the house are closed, right? except one of the windows in my room is in a really hard to access position, and on top of that it sticks, and the last time the smoke hit the city i physically injured myself closing/reopening it, and i didn’t really want to spend another 2 weeks healing from a wrenched shoulder, so i’ve boarded it up with the plastic trays i bought to keep plants on my windowsills in, but they aren’t quite the right size so there are two little slivers of screen still exposed bleeding poison into my air, and i’ve got the air purifier running but idk how effective it is when the room isn’t sealed and my head hurts and my chest hurts and i’m just having a bad time yall

[ilovedthestars]

for real tho guys can we stop using “he” as the default/generic pronoun for an unspecified Blorbo. can we stop doing that. we’ve moved on from he as default pronoun in every other context by now but we’ve apparently reinvented it in the specific context of fandom posts

[shortnotsweet]

all bets are off [1/3]

Lucemond High School AU drabble [part 2], She’s All That (1999)

“Am I a bet? Am I a bet, am I a fucking bet?”

“Yes.” It comes out quietly, which makes it all the worse. Luke would have expected Aemond to sneer and look down his long nose at him like the Hightower side of the family had for most of their lives. Luke wishes he would. It would have made it easier. Aemond’s face reflects no relish, or even satisfaction. Instead, it is pale and unreadable. Fitting, perhaps; as it turns out, Luke had read him wrong this entire time.

“Would you have told me before it was over? Before you humiliated me in public?”

The silence speaks for itself.

“Alright,” he scoffs, “that’s it, then.” The bitterness in his voice has an unfamiliar edge, and it sounds mean even to Luke, but it’s right. That’s how he feels. “You played your little game, you had your fun. I get it. It’s over.”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s not over.”

“It is if I say it is. I don’t want anything from you, and you—you can shut up about debts, or what I owe you. We don’t have to know each other after this.” It’s true; they don’t have any classes together. They run in the same circles but that’s nothing some convenient maneuvering and strategic avoidance can’t fix. Their sides of the family voluntarily meet up for a miserable dinner once every three months and holidays. Luke can make it work.

Aemond’s remaining eye widens and his mouth thins. His face is readable now, at least; he’s livid. In a second, he lunges forward and grabs ahold of Luke’s wrist, trying to drag him back towards himself, to reel him in like he had all those months ago. Luke digs his heels into the ground instinctively, bracing away from the pressure. Luke used to like how big Aemond’s hands were in comparison to his own—the encompassing warmth, the difference in size—but now his grip tightens and locks like a handcuff, squeezing Luke’s wrist to the point of crushing. It hurts. He’s hurting him. Aemond is older and bigger than Luke, he always has been, and now he presses in like a storm cloud blocking out a clear sky.

“Luke, it wasn’t—it started like that, alright? It was like that in the beginning, but not now. It’s different now, I’m not—just look at me!” There’s something frantic in his words, the way he hovers over Luke like his shadow alone will cage him in. This isn’t the first time Aemond has struck the flight instinct in him, or the urge to fight, but it resonates through Luke’s core nonetheless. There is too much of him near. “I would’t have told you because there’s nothing to tell, not anymore.” Luke cranes his neck to peer over Aemond’s shoulder, searching out the best escape route. “It’s not over. You don’t mean that. We just…this is a rough patch, that’s all. It doesn’t matter how it started, it matters what it is. It’s good now, isn’t it? I’m good for you, I can be whatever you need, I’ll keep you happy. You like me, right? I know you do. I know you like me. Just get in the car, and we’ll talk about this later. Not now. Not like this. Look at me, don’t—don’t be like this. Luke.”

“I’m going home.”

“No. It’s late. You’re going back with me.”

“Let go.”

“Not until you listen.”

“Get off of me,” he snarls, launching himself backwards and ripping out of Aemond’s grasp. “Don’t touch me.” Aemond rears back at this rejection.

“Who else is going to do it? Lonely little Luke, eating lunch alone. Stupid, useless, weak. Can’t play sports, can’t speak in Debate Club, Mommy pays his tuition. He almost wets his pants when someone pulls the fire alarm. Who else is going to touch you, other than me?” Aemond’s mouth curls into a grin; he’s done it before, all sly and cruel. It looks ugly. He never changed, did he? How did Luke never see it before? “You didn’t fuck, didn’t drink at house parties, didn’t go to the beach past bedtime—hell, you probably never rode in a car without buckling the seatbelt. You were so eager for it, and I took you so easily. No one else could do that. No one else can touch you now, not like I can.”

It would have been true five months ago. Poor, common-looking Luke, who blended in with the walls, kept his head down, and startled at car alarms. That Luke was surrounded by gems, by brothers and uncles and friends who excelled at something, who carved names out for themselves. The Luke from five months ago would have balked at this, would have shrunk into himself and cowed to the truth. That Luke thought no one watched him, but he would’ve known if he just looked up. The Luke from now knows what the truth is, for the first time, and it’s nothing that comes out of Aemond’s mouth. Luke knows himself better than he ever has, and knows Aemond like he never wanted to before.

“I don’t think that’ll be any trouble, Uncle. Don’t worry about me,” Luke snorts out without thinking. “If I need someone to give me a ride, it won’t have to be you.” It doesn’t. It won’t. “I can buckle my own seatbelt; better yet, someone else can buckle it for me.” The uncle in question stills.

“Say that again.” He blinks, a curious expression settling over his features. “Say that again.”

“I said, it doesn’t have to be you. Other people will touch me. You’re not the only one around here with a working dick and something to prove. You lost an eye, not an ear. I should’t have to repeat myse—” before he can even finish the sentence, Aemond grabs him again, fingers curling over his shoulders like talons. Luke’s breath stops in his throat. Aemond’s face is so close they could kiss. Instead of leaning into it like he might have a few hours ago, Luke cringes backwards. Never again. The wounded expression on Aemond’s face gives him some satisfaction, but then his mouth morphs into a snarl and Luke would bet anything—his mother’s money, his own life, or whatever Aemond must’ve taken when he made that bet in the first place—that both of his eyes are glowing right now. The prosthetic below the patch shines like a jewel in its socket anyway, but the working eyeball in his head works furiously, searching across Luke’s face for something.

“What did you say, you little shit?” Aemond seethes. “Is there someone else? You have someone else, you were thinking about someone else?” he hisses into Luke’s face and furiously shakes him like a child would a broken toy. “Who is it?” he demands, sounding desperate now. “When? Is it Stark? Aegon? Greyjoy, that waterlogged rat? Daeron? Did one of them touch you—did you let them? Did they kiss you? Tell me, you fucking bastard.” Luke tells him the truth.

“That’s not your business anymore.”

“Not my business? Not—hah, not my business?” He’s so angry he’s spitting. “Of course it’s my business. It always has been. You’ve always—always, there’s never been a time when—you little idiot. Don’t you get it? You’re mi—”

Luke slaps him.

[sylvhen]

just having a normal one thinking about how badly Armand wants to be loved but every time he gets close to it, he self sabotages and ruins it. almost as if. he subconsciously doesn't think he deserves it.

[mymarifae]

me: i finished the latest trailblaze mission in hsr so i can look at what other people are posting now! oh boy i hope it's discussions and theories about the story. i can't wait to see what everyone thought about firefly (what was going on with you sweetie...) and A Child's Dream - that segment in particular really left a profound impact on me. like who is mikhail? the voice we hear throughout is obviously misha's - did he have a twin? does mikhail have something to do with clockie? and from what we heard and saw, misha or... mikhail. encountered the embodiment of Death that lurks beneath the dreamscape. what's... the full story there...? i can't wait to see other people's perspectives it'll help me piece a more coherent theory together-

other hsr fans: *thirstposting about aventurine and/or dr. ratio, trying to cancel sparkle even though the entire point of her character is that yes she's a horrible person because it's high time we see how DANGEROUS and CRUEL the masked fools can be - no more reducing them to the silly wacky hijinks sampo pulled on jarilo; you should be scared of these guys; the game's story never wanted you to make sparkle your next skrunkly blorbo babygirl lol, heated discussions about whether dr. ratio displayed the same racism towards aventurine that sparkle did and if that makes aventurine/ratio a bad thing to ship (??????????), more thirstposts about aventurine, 500 billion generic yaois of aventurine and ratio that don't even maintain either of their characters*

me:

[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! The AC in my house is like half-broken and I have all the heat tolerance of a particularly sad penguin*, so I could use some advice. I am from a desert area, so I know the stay hydrated, electrolytes, loose clothes type advice, but do you have any advice for handling the heat in humid areas specifically? Also, does anyone have any recommendations for sun hats? Specific sun hats you recommend are what I'm looking for, but if you don't have a specific one an idea of what criteria I should look for would be very helpful too *I say this jokingly, idk how much heat tolerance penguins actually have. I have POTS, salt wasting syndrome, and some unknown autoimmune issue that probably involves my endocrine system? Docs are still working on it but the sum total is I cannot exist in hot temperatures

[zappedbyzabka]

<3

[greatprotector-if]

kallias crush drabble

(fire!mc)

“What do you think of this place?” you ask. There’s no threat here as far as you can see, but still you find yourself aching for the familiar lines of your sword hilt, even if just to give you something to fiddle with because gods you are completely out of your depth—

Kallias’ hazel eyes are bright and especially green under the twinkling lights. “Dance with me.”

Your brain crashes to a halt.

An almost wolfish smirk takes over their face, like they know exactly what they’re doing to you. Damn them. “I won’t know for sure how much I like it here until I get the full experience, you know?”

“You danced with the High Councillor earlier,” you say, like a fucking fool.

They wave a hand, their many bracelets clinking together with the movement. “You know that one doesn't count.”

Something inside you hums in petty satisfaction.

“Uh,” you say rather intelligently, your cheeks, ears, hands hopefully less on fire than they feel. There’s a horrible pause when you can’t figure out whether you should say yes or alright or fucking finally, but then you decide on, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Kallias parrots back, grinning freely. They offer you their hand.

You stop with your hand hovering just above theirs. You swallow thickly. “I, uh—I might be hot right now.”

Kallias laughs the way they do when they're about to knowingly make a bad joke. They press your palms together, folding their fingers over yours, and tug you towards the dance floor. “You always are, sunshine.”

Damn them.

[spinsterennui]

Guess what? It’s my day off!!!!

[toastsnaffler]

arms out at work today everyone better be appreciative this is a rare occasion

[glitterghost]

I want to either soak in a tub or drown in it.

[batsplat]

get them again king

[carcarrot]

i did tell you people i met a they might be giant right.

[butcharyastark]

went to my first pride event today. honestly kinda disappointing. being able to say i went and say i saw a drag show is nice but the whole time i was kinda like "this is it?" in terms of both like... this is what conservatives are mad about??? a restaurant tent event w extra rainbows and mediocre live performances?? and in terms of like. this is just the regular social events i hate 😭. i assume itd be more showy if i was not. in regular kentucky. but yknow

[nylarac]

hands u a skink photo

[tj-crochets]

No crafting update today, because I did a bunch of cleaning, ran some errands (had to mail some stuff and get a replacement headset for work because mine spontaneously separated into two pieces yesterday) and now I'm making chicken and dumplings for dinner So like, got a lot done, but absolutely none of it craft related and I'm really pushing my limits physical spoons-wise (in that my POTS is flaring up not in that I used all the actual spoons cooking lol) I have a really really cool art trade thing to show y'all but it has to wait until I can take photos, so that'll be later today or maybe tomorrow