#likes pra plot time

[zerctoherc]

KEITH POWERS? não! é apenas EUGENE ANDERSON FOSTER, ele é filho de ZEUS do chalé UM e tem VINTE E SETE anos. a tv hefesto informa no guia de programação que ele está no NÍVEL III por estar no acampamento há QUINZE ANOS, sabia? e se lá estiver certo, EUGGIE é bastante BONDOSO mas também dizem que ele é TAPADO. mas você sabe como hefesto é, sempre inventando fake news pra atrair audiência.

ɪ. 𝓅𝑜𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓈 —

Aerocinese — O usuário é capaz de moldar e manipular o ar, de forma que Eugene pode modificar a direção de correntes de ar e criar rajadas de vento que, dependendo da velocidade e pressão, podem ser usadas para machucar, cortar oponentes e até criar barreiras momentâneas. Através desse tipo de manipulação, o rapaz também consegue criar pequenas ondas de ar capazes de levantá-lo do chão por alguns instantes, dando uma breve ilusão de levitação. Ao influenciar na direção das correntes de ar, Eugene pode mudar a direção de nuvens ou dissipá-las, se elas estiverem carregadas com chuva ou eletricidade, no entanto, o esforço para movê-las é bem maior. Embora não seja capaz de criar tempestades, o semideus ainda consegue, ao se concentrar e se esforçar bastante, criar pequenos ciclones. Tal feito, assim como outras variações de seu poder que produzem efeitos mais poderosos, porém, é extremamente exaustivo e drena suas forças, tornando-o praticamente um peso morto em batalha.

ɪɪ. 𝒽𝒶𝒷𝒾𝓁𝒾𝒹𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓈 —

Força sobre-humana e vigor sobre-humano.

ɪɪɪ. 𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝒾𝒹𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓈 —

Membro da Equipe Azul de Queimada e Instrutor de Habilidades Específicas (aerocinese)

ɪᴠ. 𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓈 —

Thunderclap — Eugene possui um taco de baseball de bronze celestial com marcas de raios desenhadas por toda sua extensão. Em sua forma comum, transforma-se em uma pulseira com diversos pingentes pequenos de raio e um pingente que é uma réplica exata do taco, para transformá-lo de volta em arma basta segurar a réplica de Thunderclap entre seus dedos. Ao atingir seus alvos, o taco é capaz de emitir uma onda de som que imita o som de um trovão. O som é alto o suficiente para amedrontar os inimigos do semideus, enquanto a onda em si dá conta de afastar seu oponente alguns metros.

ᴠ. 𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓉ó𝓇𝒾𝒶 —

— Parecia haver um certo consenso de que Zeus tinha um gosto específico para suas amantes: celebridades, grandes líderes e figuras de destaque. Entretanto, a paixão da vez do grande Senhor do Olimpo havia sido por uma mulher simples de Wyoming. Sienna não tinha nada a não ser as terras deixadas por sua família, a capacidade de ver através da névoa e um espírito feroz e aventureiro para guiá-la. Talvez tenha sido justamente sua natureza indomável que atraiu a atenção de Zeus e, dos frutos dessa relação, nasceu um lindo menino nomeado carinhosamente de Eugene em homenagem ao seu avô mortal. Depois que a criança foi concebida, o deus partiu, deixando para trás apenas um pequeno anel e um aviso: “O objeto ajudará a escondê-lo dos monstros até seus doze anos.” Isso foi tudo, não houveram palavras de despedida ou de conforto, como era de se esperar da parte de Zeus, e Sienna foi deixada para criar seu filho sozinha. Tal fato, no entanto, estava longe de abalá-la, afinal, ela tinha um menino para criar, seu filho.

— Primeiro, Sienna tomou suas precauções: Além de colocar o anel num colar para que a criança pudesse usar a todo momento, protegeu a fazenda o máximo que conseguiu de forma mundana — mesmo que isso não ferisse os monstros, talvez ainda pudesse atrasá-los — e passou os primeiros anos da vida do menino buscando por um sátiro. Felizmente, ela obteve sucesso e não foram precisas muitas palavras para convencê-lo a ficar e ajudar a proteger um filho de Zeus só até ele ter idade suficiente para ser levado ao Acampamento Meio-Sangue. A família Foster ganhou um vizinho e um amigo na figura do Sr. Benjamim, que trabalhava como zelador na escola que Eugene frequentava. 

— Eugene cresceu cercado de amor e gentileza, criado e educado pelo coração caloroso e ardente de Sienna, que ensinou ao menino o valor que existia em atos verdadeiros de gentileza, mas também o incentivava a ser aventureiro e ambicioso. Euggie era uma criança cheia de energia e era, sem dúvidas, o menino mais bondoso de sua escola, infelizmente, ele nunca foi o melhor quando se tratava de estudos. A fim de compensar sua falta de perspicácia acadêmica e, também, para direcionar sua energia acumulada, o menino entrou em uma turma infantil de baseball. Ele lidava muito melhor com esportes e, no baseball, encontrou sua verdadeira paixão, aos oito anos já tinha decidido que queria se tornar jogador profissional.

— Extremamente inquieto e um tanto quanto desajeitado, Euggie ganhou um padrasto aos dez anos. A entrada de James na vida de Sienna inicialmente não foi bem aceita pelo garoto, que tinha colocado em sua cabeça que, um dia, encontraria seu pai biológico. Sienna nunca fez questão de não falar sobre o pai de Euggie, sabendo que era apenas uma questão de tempo até que, de alguma forma, eles se encontrassem, entretanto, ela obviamente fazia questão de manter o detalhe de que ele era filho do Senhor do Olimpo bem escondido. Assim, o pequeno semideus tinha colocado em sua cabeça, da maneira mais teimosa possível, que encontraria seu pai biológico e o traria de volta para casa. Era algo obviamente impossível de acontecer, mas sua mãe apenas ria e bagunçava seu cabelo. Eventualmente, no entanto, James ganhou o coração do menino e os três passaram a viver como uma família feliz. A entrada do padrasto na vida de Eugene também o fez menos ansioso por um encontro com o pai biológico. 

— Foram doze longos e árduos anos escondendo e protegendo o menino, mas seu décimo segundo aniversário seria o maior desafio que os Foster enfrentaram. O amuleto presenteado por Zeus perdeu o efeito assim que bateu meia noite e os parabéns da criança foram celebrados. No entanto, nada aconteceu de imediato, por cerca de doze horas Sienna manteve a ilusão de que poderia viver mais um tempo com seu querido filho, porém, foi durante um dos jogos de baseball de Eugene naquele mesmo dia que a criatura enfim apareceu. Uma poderosa quimera atacou o garoto, que sobreviveu graças aos esforços  combinados de seu sátiro protetor, Sr. Benjamim, e sua mãe. Após esses eventos, Euggie foi levado pelo sátiro ao Acampamento Meio-Sangue. 

— Eugene chegou ao Acampamento no auge do conflito entre os Olimpianos e Cronos, de forma que passou algum tempo no Chalé de Hermes antes de, após o desfecho da Batalha de Manhattan, ser oficialmente reclamado por Zeus. Dizer que era muito para uma criança de doze anos absorver era, certamente, um eufemismo, mas Euggie sobreviveu ao choque, mantendo sua personalidade alegre e gentil. Levando em conta o temperamento geral de filhos de Zeus, chegava a ser um tanto chocante (haha) vê-lo como um descendente direto do Senhor dos Raios. De uma forma ou de outra, Eugene ganhou um “incentivo” de seu pai após ser reclamado: Um bastão de baseball de bronze celestial que foi batizado de Thunderclap. 

— Assim que foi considerado ter idade e experiência suficiente para sair dos limites do Acampamento Meio-Sangue, Eugene correu atrás de seu sonho, sendo descoberto por um olheiro e se tornando um jogador profissional de baseball. Foi preciso bastante esforço da parte dele para ganhar fama e reconhecimento, visto que, assim que saiu do acampamento, ele era apenas um ninguém. Eventualmente, porém, seu talento e potencial foram reconhecidos após uma partida particularmente apertada, na qual o rapaz trouxe a vitória para o seu time, fazendo-o essencialmente ir de zero a herói da noite para o dia e garantindo-lhe uma vaga de titular nos New York Yankees. Seu sucesso trouxe obviamente muito orgulho para sua querida mãezinha e padrasto, com quem manteve contato desde que foi levado ao acampamento através de cartas. 

— Apesar da carreira como jogador profissional, Eugene sempre tirava um tempo para visitar a família e voltar ao acampamento, no entanto, ele estava no meio de uma partida quando recebeu o chamado de Dionísio. Ele ainda ganhou o jogo, mas achou bastante inconveniente ter de dar uma pausa no meio de um campeonato para atender ao pedido do deus do vinho — ele teve de inventar uma lesão para ser dispensado temporariamente. Obviamente, ao chegar ao acampamento, Euggie compreendeu a gravidade da situação e espera dar o seu melhor para resolver essa crise o mais rápido possível, tanto para poupar os semideuses mais novos quanto para poder voltar à ativa… Preferencialmente, antes da final do campeonato.

ᴠɪ. 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓋𝒾𝒶 —

— em breve.

[weretheones]

All You Got | Part 12

Part 12: What's Left

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4)

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: typical twd content. references to sexual assault, nothing ridiculously explicit in my opinion but just a heads up. A/N: me? on time for a posting? impossible... enjoy ;)

Daryl insisted on traveling through the tree line rather than the road. That bandage had unsettled him— who knew who left it? The last time you’d seen people, it’d meant a week of bed rest, a bullet through the shoulder, and that broken look in your eye. 

He wasn’t eager to repeat any of it. 

But then there was you. You who couldn’t seem to stop chirping about how it could be good to find this new group— even if neither of you had any idea who the hell they were. How the gas you found would prove useful after all— even if the road was still long and dangerous. Hope seemed to infect you, filling every breath you took with an air of naivety that only made the hairs on the back of his neck raise— even if you had that pretty smile to tempt him, otherwise. 

“It might not even be there anymore.” 

He didn’t mean to be an asshole. Sometimes it just snuck up on him like an old habit. Thankfully, you mostly seemed to understand that, nowadays. 

Mostly. 

You rolled your eyes, voice a hitch higher. 

“They were broadcasting just a couple of months ago and they have signs all over the state,” you snapped. “It might be gone but it could very well still be standing, and if it is, then that’s what we need.” 

Put in his place, he shut his mouth for a moment. 

Those signs. Something about them was bugging him. It was like putting out a damn welcome mat for any Governor-type asshole this world still had slithering around. If Terminus was still around after all, and they let you both in, he’d be the first to rip them down. 

“Jus’ don’t wanna see ya broken up if it doesn’t work out.” 

His tone was softer. Concerned. 

You sighed and turned his way. 

“I know, and you’re right. It’s just… it’s nice to have a lead, again. It’s been hard not having somewhere to go, you know? Just wandering around, without an end.” 

Daryl nodded. “Guess it’s fittin’ then.” 

“How so?” 

“That’s what it means: Terminus. Endpoint.” 

“Well that sounds ominous,” you laughed. “I guess it could have a good meaning though. The end of running, hiding. All of that.” 

Daryl gave a half-hearted smile. His lips slightly curled with the only twinge of hope he had left in his chest. 

“Maybe.” 

The car couldn’t have been much further by that point. The road was littered with familiar cracks, from the glimpses of it you could see past the thicket of trees. Maybe it was time to put some concrete under your feet instead of cold earth. 

But just as you were about to say just as much to Daryl, the quiet air broke. 

“Bullshit!” 

The yell pierced the thin veil of safety that silence had wrapped around you. Daryl’s head snapped up first, hunter’s instincts and all that, but you were merely a fraction of a second behind. Within the next second, he had yanked you back behind a tree, palm pressed flat against your sternum as your back slammed against the rough bark. You bit your lip, trapping the gasp of pain as he glared around the side. He was close enough that you could watch the flick of his wide eyes, bouncing left then right then left again as he watched the road, waiting for the moment the group of men would notice that rustle in the bushes and head your way. As those blue slits of anticipation calculated your odds, you could practically hear the swear he only dared to mouth. Maybe he could hear the sound of your heart pounding against your ribs— he could definitely feel it. 

He was close— so were they— how many bullets did you have left? 

A squeeze of your shirt brought you back, snapping your eyes into focus as Daryl spoke to you through nothing but a look. Stay silent. You silently nodded as your hand wrapped around the cool handle of your gun at your hip. 

“The hell you idiots hollering about?” 

“Len’s a goddamn liar, tha’s what!” 

“I told ya, it's already claimed.” 

“Bullshit,” the man growled this time, voice so thick you could practically hear the way he clenched his teeth. “You didn’t claim nothin’!” 

You gingerly wrapped your fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand from your chest. He let it fall off silently, sparing you a glance as you checked your gun’s clip, then peeked around the bend of the trunk, too. Daryl held his crossbow only an inch from his eye, ready to fire around the tree’s cover at any second. The bush separating you from them— whoever the hell they were— was thin enough that if the men looked your way, and the light was right, they might’ve seen you. But as it was, the pair of you were as silent as you were still, and there was nothing to draw their attention your way.

You could see the men move around the car like a pack of vultures. The two arguing rounded the front with both their chests puffed out. The way they were going, it seemed as if they might solve themselves before they became a real problem. 

The one who was a proclaimed liar— Len— was tall, with outgrown brown hair and a thick beard that made his already long face look even thinner. That stained hoodie, half-zipped, hung off him. He was cockier than he deserved to be; the other man looked considerably more threatening, even if he stood a few inches shorter under his blue beanie. 

Appearances could be deceiving, though, and they proved to be when the shorter man finally snapped his fist forward and Len dodged it easily. He was thin but fast, and knew how to throw a punch as well as he could dodge one. It didn’t take long for the other man to end up on the ground, his stomach kicked twice while the others stood by idly. As if nothing was happening. Their indifference to violence was not necessarily shocking— but weren’t they supposed to be a group? They were traveling together, scouting together, but they didn’t care much about one another. 

No. These men weren’t family. They were just a group of survivors, cruel and scarred alike. Certainly not the type of men you wanted to find on the side of the road. 

But the car… 

“Should we wait them out?” You whispered. 

Daryl’s eyes never moved off them, and his jaw was clenched. Tighter than you ever remembered it before. 

“Dunno yet.” 

“Joe!”

The grey-haired one stepped forward. He had on a black button-down with red skulls embroidered and a commanding way about his voice when he finally yelled, 

“Will you two idiots stop already?”

The men listened. The beating stopped and Len laughed at the crumpled mess of a man on the concrete, even as the blood leaked out of him. He only managed to catch his footing with help from the car’s trunk. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Joe chuckled from in front of the wide-open trunk. 

“Wha’ is it?” Len asked, barely sparing the man he’d just beaten a glance before he was strolling to the others. 

“Found something else to fight over.” 

He threw a brightly coloured box to Len and your heart skipped a beat. 

Tampons. 

“This car belongs to a woman.” 

A sickening grin broke across his face. 

All their faces. 

The yellow of their teeth— the ones still left— was almost visible from here, and you didn’t need to look anymore to know that their eyes had all darkened. These men stank of cruelty and seemed to take joy in handing it out to each other. You didn’t expect they would spare a random woman of that, either. The chorus of sickening words that followed proved such: promises of first turns and declarations of the ‘lonely’ months since they last found someone to attack. 

The fear bundled in your chest. Tightening its little knot around your stomach, your lungs, reaching higher and higher until every muscle in your body felt acutely taut. A stinging mix of bile and a breath you couldn’t seem to catch burnt a hole right in the middle of your throat. 

Your finger twitched along the trigger. 

They couldn’t find you— you couldn’t let them get you. 

You didn’t realize when you’d looked toward Daryl, but a part of you knew it was only a matter of time. Whenever dread took root inside of you and seemed to burn your hope away from the inside out, he was there to calm the fire with those icy blue eyes. They were narrow now. Fierce and terrifying at first glance, but he held onto your stare firmly. And for once, you could read his mind as he so casually did yours. 

They won’t get you. 

You took a breath. It was admittedly raspy, a hitch too loud for your liking, so you made a point to be smoother the next time. 

“Think it's the same one?” 

“I hope so. Hope she got that piece of shit with her, too.” 

Your stomach dropped. 

Did they mean Daryl? 

“No. Whoever’s been shackin’ up in this van has been here longer than they’ve been house hoppin’.” Joe kissed his teeth in disappointment. “It ain’t them.” 

The knot in your stomach loosened a bit, but it was still a heavyweight; they might not have been tracking you and Daryl— not yet, at least— but they were tracking others, and you doubted they had good intentions once they found them. 

“So we stayin’ or not?” 

Another interrupted, “How do we know she’s even comin’ back?” 

“There's enough food in ‘ere to last a few days, at least. She’s either comin’ back or she’s already dead.” 

A shadow loomed closer, bigger and bigger until there was a rustle in the bushes. 

You and Daryl moved back behind the tree, without much time to go anywhere else. Bark digging into your back again, Daryl’s hands pressed around your body like a cage. You tried to find comfort in the idea of his arms surrounding you, instead of that suffocating feeling that was climbing up your chest. 

A belt buckle clinked. Then the thump of pants dropped to the ground. 

“She better be hot!” 

That thin man again. Len. 

“Waiting out here like a bunch’a assholes… better be worth it,” he grumbled, more to himself than anyone else. 

You heard it, of course. So did Daryl. 

The cage slipped away, and whatever comfort it brought did, too; one of his hands dropped to his hip, steady fingers unbuckled his knife’s sheath and wrapped around the handle. You glanced up to his face, where his eyes had narrowed into slits. It was a familiar look, one you’d seen before his bolt sliced into a squirrel or a rabbit. The look of a hunter, closing in on its prey. 

Anger swarmed him. Pupils blown so wide you couldn’t see that ring of blue anymore. He was going to kill him. Take his knife and stick it in him as many times as he needed until Len stopped squealing like the nasty pig he was. Right here, right now. 

And you wanted him to. 

But, then there was reason. 

It always snuck in, eventually. 

With a shaky— perhaps unsure— hand, you caught his wrist. Wrapped your fingers around him as softly as you could and held his hand still. Kept that knife in its sheath, kept the two of you hidden and safe. 

Daryl’s eyes locked onto yours, still steaming from all that anger boiling up. It took him a moment, but eventually your gentle touch swarmed his rage. Smothered the fire. 

He got the point.  

Not now. 

Oblivious, Len sighed.

You held your breath. Closed your eyes. 

Anything to get away, until you actually could. 

— 

The minute Len went back to the road, you and Daryl made a run for it. The gas canister and all your hopes of a quick trip up to Terminus were abandoned at the trunk of that tree. 

They hadn’t heard you get away. 

However, that little fact didn’t do much to soothe the worry in your chest. A heavy ball, swinging back and forth, slamming into your heart, your lungs, your ribs. It made you nauseous. Made your head ring like a damn church bell with every pulse of your blood. 

Dead leaves crunched under your bloodstained boots. Daryl’s too. The ground was cold and hard. Unforgiving. 

Chances were, it would be your bed for the night. 

You glanced up at the sky, already a dusty navy blue. Free of clouds, free of sun. The moon was round, just at the cusp of being a full circle of white light. 

The earth would be your bed if you ever stopped walking. 

It’d been since the car. Since the men who beat each other over a simple misunderstanding, but rallied together at the thought of an unsuspecting woman. 

You. 

“Daryl.” 

He turned on his heel. Faster than you expected. 

Eventually, your feet had stopped listening to the pursuit forward. A protest from stiff and tired muscles, standing still instead of following him through the weave of the forest. You weren’t sure why. Exhaustion hadn’t stopped you much before. 

You’d probably be dead if it had. 

“I, um—” 

You shook your head. At that moment, there seemed to be a lot you weren’t sure about. 

“Can we just hold up a minute?” 

“We should keep moving.” 

“We’ve been walking all day. All night.” 

“We gotta,” he huffed. 

“They didn’t see us leave. You covered our tracks.” 

You stepped closer to him, a soft, reasonable whisper into the dark air. 

“They’re not following us.” 

“We don’t know tha’.” 

“Daryl.” 

Your eyes did most of the pleading. 

He bit his lip, then nodded softly. 

The closest tree was as good as any. With a heavy sigh, you fell against it, and for the first time since those nightmares, you closed your eyes. Just for a second. The bark was uncomfortable, digging into the shoulder that had already been bruised under a similarly rough tree. But it’d been either that or being caught. 

Daryl was still standing. Pacing the small path back and forth like he could feel something coming closer. Watching you. He tried to watch it, too, but he never could seem to catch it. Or maybe there wasn’t actually anything out there.

From that angle, he seemed to be standing almost as tall as the trees. He was certainly as stiff as them when you called out again. 

“You can sit.” 

A glance your way. It felt tense, made your throat squeeze just a bit tighter. But eventually, he found something in your expression that seemed to stabilize the irregularity of his heart, pounding out of his chest. 

He sighed, then gave in. 

Winter’s breath slipped past your lips, a cloud of mist. It was dark tonight; there was barely enough silver moonlight to see past the second ring of trees surrounding you, but you were focused on Daryl anyway. His tree. The way he fell against it, rigid shoulders and bouncing eyes that always seemed to see better than yours when it came to the forest. 

Exhaustion had dulled your senses, no doubt about it. But you could still feel the goosebumps rise. Could feel the shiver run down your spine. It was as cold as it was dark, like every night before this one, though it’d been a long time since you’d had to curl up against a tree instead of a backseat or squeaky mattress.  

When he peeled off his jacket, your brow furrowed. His mouth was still shut, from what the shadows spared, but then there was a tumbling ball of darkness coming toward you until denim landed in your lap. Your heart dropped. It wasn’t an aching pain, this time. Not a bad one, at least. A low thump of memory coursing through your veins, thinking back to all the times he’d spared an inch of comfort just for you. 

You bundled the jacket in your hands, then with your last burst of energy, pushed yourself back up and practically crawled over to his tree, instead. His jacket was always thrown overtop a couple of flannels and still loose, so it was big enough to wrap around you, and then him. 

Him who stared at you like you’d grown a second head. 

“This okay?” You asked, a touch too late. 

Still, he nodded. Eyes falling off your sweet expression to find that cold earth underneath him. 

“’S better than a fire.” 

Another meaning slipped into his head— maybe the one he really meant. His voice picked up to clarify, “The smoke, I meant.” 

“I figured you’d say no.” You spared a small smile. “But it’s still too cold.” 

Daryl looked out to the forest again. Maybe he could see something out there, or maybe staring out into darkness was better than acknowledging how close you were. You shuffled next to him, trying to give him space without compromising the jacket’s cover, but damn, he was so warm. So close already.

Did another inch make any difference? 

“You burn like a damn furnace, anyway.” 

You took in a deep breath. Every thump of his nervous heart beating waves of heat toward you, melting away that frost that seemed to line your insides some days. 

“So do you.” 

He scoffed. 

It grew quiet, again. 

Breaths in and out. Daryl even seemed to relax. His shoulder became softer and softer under your cheek— only God knew when it landed there. The comfort should have lulled you to sleep, but there was still something lingering at the back of your throat, waiting for the chance to slip your lips. 

“You wanted to kill that guy.” 

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t really an accusation, either. 

“I woulda.” His voice vibrated into you, that deep, threatening rumble of a man. “If he’d seen us.” 

But you’d seen that look in his eye. Knew the urge ran deeper than that.

Daryl seemed to notice you picking him apart, piece by piece like a damn puzzle, and his gaze slipped away. Lost in the breeze of tall trees and low bushes, where he prayed nothing would jump from. 

Still. 

There was something about the way you watched him as if you could see past the mask he spent years piecing together. For his father, for his brother, for anyone else who dared to spend more than an hour by his side. It wasn’t enough. Not for you. 

And for once in his life, he didn’t seem to mind. 

He sighed, “Shoulda put a bolt in him, anyway.” 

“If you did, they would be hunting us down right now.” 

You were right.

Of course, you were right. It didn't make his regret ache any less. He sighed, again, and let his head rest against the tree trunk. Pressed to his side, you could hear the slow inhale of his breath, rattling past his dry throat and into those smoke-stained lungs. The thump of his heart seemed stronger than any of it, though. A soothing pulse, more even as the seconds ticked by.

Yours had evened out, too.

“I’m okay, you know.” 

His head turned. A soft rustle compared to the low night breeze. It didn’t matter that your gaze had slipped off him, a moment or two ago. You could feel his stare lock onto the curve of your face. The flutter of your eyelashes as you blinked away that shimmer in your eye— the bad kind. Shift down to the way your shoulders slowly relaxed. Reaffirming those little words; wrapping a warm blanket around his heart. Making that crossbow in his hands feel as light as the way your arm brushed up against his.

He cleared his throat. You could feel his breath on your cheek. 

“Ya— Y’know, I’d die before I’d let…” 

His voice was raspy, dying off even before he lost the words entirely. It wasn’t anything you needed to hear, anyway. Not when the shine in his eyes was pointed down at you.

No more anger, not anymore. 

Something darker than the night sky. Unreadable. 

You nodded. 

There was still that inkling of dread in your chest, stomping on top of your hope like a bratty child, but he seemed to make the pound of your heart slow. Seemed to make you feel safe even if you were anything but. 

“I know.” 

The words were a bare whisper. A delicate hush that came out as softly as the way your eyes felt slipping down his face. His lips were parted with slow breaths slipping past, like those thoughts that snuck into your mind, wondering what he might do if you leant closer. Touched him in a new way. 

A breeze ran past you. Cold air biting your skin and a tinge of smoke. 

The pair of you stilled. Pulled apart. The thought was caught in the smokey wind, carried away. 

There was a fire nearby. 

-> part 13

A/N: shit is about to get real y'all.

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

AYG taglist: @fuseburner @itsmeatballworld @rickysgrimes @stevenknightmarc @huffledor-able541 @your-shifting-gurl @hopefulatrocity @strnqer @dreamtofus @fillechatoyante @suniloli @kiaslily @poubxlle @normanplusdaryl @sseleniaa @wanhedavaliquette

[caputgeratlupinum]

In which I (re) watch Robin of Sherwood

In the dim and distant past (of a few years ago) I started watching Robin of Sherwood. I dropped out after the end of season 2, when *events* happened (if you know, you know).

Anyway, this to say that I started watching it again, and I thought it would be fun to record my reactions to it. I remember it as being a good if slightly silly show, so... we'll see how it holds up.

EPISODE ONE - ROBIN HOOD AND THE SORCERER (PART 1)

We are starting off strong with the Ominous Bad Guy theme that sent me back to the last time I watched this with the force of a hammer (this show has about five soundtracks and they all come up like once an episode).

Our introduction to adult Robin is him running to the top of a... something, I'm not sure if it's a hill or a ledge or what. Anyway he runs there, stops, and screams 'MUCH!'. Which must be wildly confusing if you're not familiar with Robin Hood.

ITVX doesn't let me take screenshots (tragically) but I need you all to know that Guy of Gisborne looks about twelve and speaks like he went to fancy boarding school.

Hi Will Scarlet I have fond memories of you from last time! And I think this might be the first time he's 'scarlet' as in 'bloody' rather than named for his hair or clothes. Also the second Will tells them his name another man steps out of the shadows to introduce himself like he's desperate to get in on the action.

ROBERT! ROBERT! BY CHRIST ROBERT I WILL NOT LOSE MY FISHPOND! 10/10 introduction no notes. Genius move to give the Sheriff an annoying brother in the form of Abbot (??) Hugo.

Sheriff duties: keep on top of the poachers in the forest, and meet with the evil sorcerer baron and his... possessed slave? I'm vague on what position Little John holds here.

Sorry, Sir Evil Baron (yes I know his name is Simon de Bellame. I'm ignoring that), but I don't believe for a second that your wife taking her own life was nothing to do with you.

Did I mention Marian and Tuck are here? They are! I love them both very much.

I can't believe they that they just leave Rat Man and Arthur behind. I demand a spin-off about what happened to them.

'You're like a May morning.' *climbs out the window without another word* I mean to be fair to Robin if I tried that line I'd probably also flee immediately afterwards.

I really wish I could do screenshots because Herne the Hunter's vision of various events with Evil Baron's face over it all, slowly getter bigger and bigger, is truly a sight to behold. Robin honestly took that pretty well.

The classic bridge fight is very enjoyable but I am haunted by the knowledge of the blooper reel where Michael Praed gets hit in the balls. And Robin's dramatic scream as he falls off the bridge is sending me.

Last time I wasn't really sure how to feel about the Herne the Hunter stuff, and right now I'm in the same place. uhh... stag-man. With vague prophecies. I dunno... 'when the horned one possesses me' ok but who are you when he's not possessing you? How does one become possessed by the horned one in the first place (I know none of this is the point. I just have questions!)

If I were one of the merry men, I would find it easier to agree with Robin's Heroic Inspiring SpeechTM if it hadn't started with him explaining how he's been 'awakened' by a deer-headed man.

I feel like Will saying, 'You should have killed him. You'll have to someday.' is setting up for a conflict down the line where Robin has to make a Choice about Gisborne some day, but I don't remember any such plot.

aaand that's it! I didn't mention every single thing that happened, there's a lot happening in this episode. Genuinely had a good time though! Despite my poking fun at stuff, I do actually like this show.

[franceshallsday]

oi, tag! já me apresentei aqui por outro blog, infelizmente tive que me mudar por problemas no sistema de tagueamento, mas é isso, vamos torcer pra nada de errado acontecer nesse novo bloguinho 🩷. enfim, indo direto ao assunto, ainda existem alguns plots que tenho interesse em jogar, boa parte deles são só ideias e inspirações minhas, mas tenho ideias concretas para quase todos. no mais, minha guide pode ser lida aqui, e é só me chamar ou deixar o like caso tenha interesse em jogar comigo que eu vou até você.

um plot inspirado em anatomy of a fall, mais especificamente inspirado na relação da sandra e do vincent.

alguns bunnies que tenho interesse: esse, esse, esse, esse.

como grande fã de relações complicadas, principalmente casamentos, quero muito um plot failure marriage, mas numa vibe tomshiv, onde eles simplesmente não se separam e ficam juntos vivendo uma vida horrível, mas se amando, do jeito deles (tenho uma ideia com filmmakers totalmente inspirada pela greta gerwig e o noah baumbach & outras duplas dinâmicas do cinema)

um casal formado por um chefe da polícia e uma detetive, o grande rolo é que o relacionamento precisa acontecer de baixo dos panos, já que o relacionamento entre colegas de trabalho é estritamente proibido, sem falar na diferença de posições entre eles.

um que já tinha colocado no post anterior é algo parecido com a relação da taylor swift com o travis kelce, uma popstar no seu auge e um atleta que vem ganhando reconhecimento junto com o time.

caso alguém queira logo entrar de cabeça em um mumu comigo, topo qualquer uma dessas ideias.

[grievedeeply]

clingy ryan 💯 like he's sick after that night due to him being in the rain, so you took him to your place and was at his aide. you let him sleep on your bed, planning to sleep on the couch for tonight and he's like "stay :("

this is soooo cute i am the number one ryan lover!!! set in a happy universe where the game events didn't happen for continuity purposes LOL. tweaked the plot a bit to make it easier for me.

gn!reader

tags: @alisblackgf @seasidesamir @pra-xiis @willowroom @blackhoodlea @tywrites @yawagucci @ziplokz @dylanlenievy @radio-heads @nesai @jamiieebee @cherrypop-xoxo @aspendvd @jjkk1m | join my tag list!!

tws: none, but PINING. SERIOUS PINING

in sickness — ryan erzahler

the beeping of the microwave shook you out of your thoughts of the pouring rain outside and the noises it made as it pounded against your windows. you turned on your heel and made your way to the counter, opening the door to the microwave with a push of the button.

the smell of fresh popcorn entered your nose and put a smile on your features. nothing would make tonight go wrong, and you knew it. you reached up to a cabinet above your head to grab a big bowl for you and ryan, your best friend, but you would be lying if you said you didn't want to be more than that. you pursed your lips. you needed to stop thinking about him like that, you knew nothing would ever happen between the two of you and if you continued to think that way it would crush you in the future.

you sighed as you poured the food into the bowl. you couldn't help your feelings. everyone said he was mysterious, brooding, a bit of a loner. though, over your time at hackett's quarry, you realized he was quite the opposite. he was shy, he wasn't a loner. he wanted friends, but he wasn't too sure on how to make them. the two of you hit it off really quickly and you were disappointed on the ride to the bus stop, knowing that you'd probably never see him again in person.

until he told you that he lived really close to your house.

it had been only a few weeks since camp had ended for the summer and ryan had been over to your house multiple times. the two of you always got along really well, sharing common interests and finding anything to talk about. it was easy, being friends with him.

but it wasn't so easy having feelings for him.

you couldn't help yourself. ryan was the sweetest guy you'd ever met. he always put you before himself, defending you in any situation. he listened to you, he talked to you, he cared about you. he was everything you had ever wanted in a boyfriend, but you knew nothing would come from it. he didn't like you that way— and that was okay— but knowing it hurt.

a knock on the door nearly made you drop the bowl in your hands, and you scurried over to the coffee table in front of the couch to sit it down before walking over to answer it. "coming!" you called, an involuntary smile on your lips as you opened it.

it was ryan. he was drenched, and you cringed at the thought of him being stuck in the rain. you glanced around his shoulder, seeing the silhouette of his car in the darkness behind him. at least he wasn't walking. "hey, come in." you smiled, and he returned it.

"i've already pulled up netflix. i know i chose last time, so.. it's only fair for you to pick what we watch today." you said, shutting the door behind him. he had his arms wrapped around himself, his hands rubbing up and down his skin as a way to calm himself down. you were glad ryan had left a spare set of his clothes at your house in case of emergencies like this. "yeah, okay." he muttered, teeth chattering as he looked at you.

"ryan.. are you okay?"

"yeah, yeah. i'm fine. just cold, you know?" he said, his lips pressed into a thin line. you didn't believe him, but you nodded. "your clothes are in the bathroom upstairs, top shelf in the cabinet." you replied, trying to hide your suspicion. he looked paler than normal. was he sick? why would he come out if he was sick? in the rain, at that? "thanks." he managed a smile, his hand resting on your shoulder for a moment before he walked past you and up the stairs.

you watched him as he left you alone. something had to be wrong, but you wouldn't push him if he didn't want to bring it up. you could only hope he wasn't sick. you thought back to last week when you went on a walk in the nearby park only for it to start pouring. it seemed plausible for him to be sick, even though he seemed fine on facetime when you talked to him last night.

you noticed him as the top of the stairs, his eyes half lidded as he gripped at the banister. "ryan?" you called, bringing him out of his almost trance like state. "yeah?" he replied. "what's wrong?" you asked, taking a few steps closer to him. "nothing. i'm.. i'm good." he insisted, trying to take a step down before his legs started shaking.

"yeah, you're a shitty liar." you muttered, meeting him at the top of the stairs. "we can postpone our movie night, yeah? just.. let me take care of you tonight." you said. he knew you wouldn't take no for an answer. "you can sleep in my bed." you told him, pushing at his shoulder. "go on, go. i'll get you some medicine."

he nearly recoiled at the thought of the taste, but he nodded and turned on his heel to walk to your room. he spared a glance back at you, watching as you walked down the stairs and into the other room. what did he do to deserve this? he was ruining your plans by being sick. he hated that.

he pulled himself into your bed, his shoes already abandoned at the top of the steps where he kicked them off. he would pick them up on his way out, whenever that would be.

"hey." you greeted, knocking at the door to let him know of your arrival. "got you some medicine. wasn't too sure what was wrong so.. this is for cough, congestion," you pointed at one bottle, "this one is for, you know.. sore throat." you muttered, running a hand over your head. were you going too far? you sat down on the edge of the bed, sitting down the medicine on the table next to it.

"thank you." he spoke, laughing quietly. you never ceased to amaze him with your kindness and ability to care for others more than yourself. he glanced at you, love evident in his eyes to anyone but you. he watched as you held up the thermometer in your hand, a small smile on your lips. "put this under your tongue." you told him, and all he did was nod as he took it from you. after a few moments, it beeped. you took it from him and stared down at it, "100.4." you muttered, biting at the inside of your lip.

"that has ibuprofen in it but.. if you need pills, let me know. i can get you a washcloth or towel to put on your head, too. my mom did that to me a lot as a kid. it helped." you chuckled, looking up at him through your eyelashes as he took the medicine. he held back a disgusted expression, blinking a few times to direct his focus to somewhere else other than the taste in his mouth.

"it might make you a little tired but, that's good. you should sleep. i'll sleep on the couch." you patted his knee with a smile, ready to stand up until he grabbed onto your wrist, keeping you were you were. "is something wrong?" you asked with furrowed eyebrows. he shook his head. "can you- can you stay? for a little while?"

you tensed up, your brain and your heart going at a million miles per minute as you stared at him. "oh.. oh, okay. yeah, sure." you nodded, taking in a deep breath.

this would hurt bad, but if it was what he wanted— what he needed— you would do anything that hurt you. you walked over to the other side of the bed, hopping up onto it. you sat there for a moment and looked out of the window. you would be thanking the rain if it wasn't for your unrequited feelings.

"thank you." ryan murmured, his eyes already halfway closed. "yeah, no problem." you spoke, biting your lip. you turned your head to face him. he was perfect, both in looks and personality. you wondered what life would be like if you had never met him. you knew you wouldn't be happier.

as much as it pained you to have feelings for him that you knew were unreturned, you wouldn't change meeting him for anything. he was a light in your life. he was important, and he was special.

"y/n?" his voice cut you out of your thoughts, and you hummed in response. "can i hold you?" he mumbled, sounding as if he were half asleep but his eyes were open. you cringed at the thought of being caught staring at him. "yeah, okay." you smiled, hoping that he couldn't hear the noise your quick beating heart was making.

you could hear your heartbeat in your ears as he grabbed onto your hand and pulled you into his chest. his arm wrapped around your waist, and your hands rested on his stomach. this was really what he wanted? his chin rested on top of your head and you could hear every time he breathed. it was calming, soothing. it was nice to know that he was real and in front of you.

you felt his hand move in circles on your back.

"i love you." he whispered to you, pulling away from you for a moment to look into your eyes. you froze. did you hear that right? "what?"

"i love you." he repeated, his expression looking genuine as he stared into your eyes. "no, ryan. you.." you paused, shaking your head. "i know how i feel. and i love you. i want you. no one else but you." he murmured.

"are.. are you serious?" you asked, disbelief in your voice. "i'm serious." he laughed, his hand touching the skin on your back underneath your shirt. "i swear, if this gets me sick.." you chuckled, pulling yourself closer to him. you never wanted to let him go.

"i love you too, ryan. so much." you breathed out, the smile on your lips wider than it ever had been before.

[giogio1998]

Do you guys have any JLI pet peeves ?

I was scrolling through tumblr and I started thinking about some of mine and I wanted to share them bc I’m bored and complaining is my thing.

So here are my ✨JLI pet peeves✨:

1- Bea and Guy absolutely hating each other.

I understand that their personalities clash and Guy is a massive jerk but I hate that they fight like enemies when they’re supposed to be a part of the same team. It would be so much better if they weren’t fighting all the time and would just tease each other instead. This plot is so overdone by now and I think they would actually get along considering that they have to be a team.

2- How they portray Tora and her relationships in general:

This one is a little complicated to explain. First of all I hate how they portray Tora to be this fragile, naive, overly sensitive girl in almost every story. And this personality results in terrible shipps, I’m sorry BeaTora and GuyTora shippers but I can’t stand the “tora needs constant protection” thing, it’s boring, it’s overdone. I think Tora should be portrayed as a much more confident woman, she isn’t a toddler, she isn’t helpless, the woman is a superhero. Justice for my girl Tora !!!

3- Bea’s outfit:

I hate that outfit with a passion, that outfit is my worst enemy, that outfit causes me physical and emotional pain. First the hair, is it 1984 Beatriz Bonilla da costa ? It certainly isn’t, get a new haircut, bitch. The bandanna. Are you a freaking pirate? Are you crossing the ocean hoping to find treasure? No !! Get rid of that hideous thing. The strapless top, tacky isn’t enough to describe it. The jacket, bitch you’re made of fire there’s no way in hell you’re cold, take that shit off. The low waist pants should be illegal. The belt is uglier than the hair. I hate everything about it and I could make a PowerPoint presentation about it.

4- People’s needs to tell me to make Bea “look Latina”:

This is a pet peeve that I have bc I’m a Brazilian woman who makes JLI art and I get a LOT of non Brazilians on my comments telling me that I should darken Bea’s skin bc she’s Brazilian. First of all, thanks for explaining Brazil to me, if only I had the gringo wisdom but unfortunately all I have is 24 years of living in Brazil. Second of all I hate that in 2023 I have to explain to people that Latino isn’t a race or a skin tone. Latinos come in literally any color and Bea happens to be a white Brazilian girl and that’s completely normal and completely fine. I personally choose to make fanarts of her like that bc I like her original design. I would NEVER tell a person how they should or shouldn’t draw their favorite characters and I would never be stupid enough to make the mean girls comment of “if you’re from Brazil why are you white ?”. Just educate yourselves people, I’m tired of this dumb comments and if you like Bea with darker skin go for it and make your own illustrations, the more the merrier. Seriously. Just know that looking a certain way doesn’t make anybody less or more Latino.

5- The JLI being as old as Batman:

Absolutely not. I hate it bc if they’re younger it means that they suck as a team bc they’re not mature and experienced enough. If they’re older they suck as a team bc they’re awful at their job and that bothers me. I like to think that they’re doing their best but it’s difficult bc they’re just starting not bc they’re a bunch of idiots … I mean they ARE a bunch of idiots but you get it right ?

6- When people take the JLI too seriously:

I like my JLI to be a light and funny team that go through some shenanigans once in a while with just a little bit of drama I don’t need it to be a depressing story where Ted will 💀 and stuff. I mean, I know Ted will 💀 bc that’s his favorite thing to do but anyways …. “Eu não quero saber de depressão e coisa pra baixo”

7- Bea being part of the angry/spicy Latina trope:

Seriously people, it’s 2023 and they’re still doing it. I don’t think I need to explain much but it’s just lazy stereotypes.

I definitely have more pet peeves to talk about but I’m honestly too lazy to write them rn. Let’s talk about it, all of us 6 JLI fans. What are yours JLI pet peeves ?

[rukbat3]

Babylon 5 Rewatch - Survivors

This is a post I originally wrote several years ago for Mark Oshiro’s Mark Watches blog. I don’t really plan to edit them before posting, so there may be some references that don’t make sense. If you see words that look like gibberish, they are actually rot13, which was our way of discussing spoilers. There are plugins you can install to decode the text (Cryptext is the one I use), or you can copy/paste to rot13.com, or just ignore it.

This episode is pretty decent, although there are a couple of plot holes for those inclined to nitpick. [season 5] Gur znva guvat vg frgf hc vf Tnevonyqv’f uvfgbel bs qevaxvat ceboyrzf, naq juvyr vg’f onq rabhtu gb frr uvz snyy bss gur jntba urer, gung’f abguvat gb jung unccraf va frnfba svir. Ba gur bgure unaq, vg jbhyq unir orra naablvat gb frg hc fhpu n pehpvny cneg bs uvf punenpgre naq gura unir guvf or gur raq bs vg, fb tbbq wbo, WZF, sbe gnxvat Tnevonyqv’f nypbubyvfz fb frevbhfyl.

Ivanova is great in this episode. She doesn’t get much to do, but she makes the most of her few scenes. I love that she decides to do the maintenance check on the communication system on her own initiative in order to give Sinclair more time (even though it doesn’t do much good in the end). Also: “You are going to resist, I hope.”

Earthforce One is so pretty!

I think there’s an interesting moral question in this episode. Is Major Kemmer justified in risking Nolan’s life by waking him up for the possibility of learning more about what (or who) caused the explosion? There are a couple of factors at play here to make the question more complex. For one, at the point when she does this, they don’t even know for sure that the explosion was sabotage. It could have just been human error. They are able to prove it was a bomb, but not until later. On the other hand, Kemmer is the Head of Presidential Security, charged with making sure the station is safe for the President’s visit. With the possibility that this could be the prelude to some sort of assassination attempt, does that afford her greater latitude? Finally, she says that she read his file and he was going to die anyway, so she needed to get the information while she still could. This seems to me to be a pretty convincing argument, but Dr. Franklin is acting like he thinks Nolan still has a chance to pull through, so maybe she was just seeing what she wanted to see? I dunno, what do y'all think?

Nolan was lucky he was talking to someone who was already predisposed to believe Garibaldi capable of any number of heinous acts. Any reasonable investigation into the explosion would have turned up evidence of Garibaldi’s innocence/Nolan’s guilt pretty quickly. Speaking of which, it’s frustrating that it takes Sinclair and Lou Welch going behind Kemmer’s back to think of searching Nolan’s quarters. Surely that’s an obvious precautionary step to take?

Of course, now I’m thinking about it, and if Nolan had never accused Garibaldi, Cutter would have had no reason to plant evidence. They would have discovered the existence of a bomb, and probably would have searched Nolan’s quarters earlier, since he’s a reasonable suspect. And that would have seemed like the end of it. Nolan was dead, so there would be no reason to expect more sabotage attempts, and Cutter would have been free to plant the other bombs without suspicion falling on him. So I guess it’s good that everything worked out the way it did!

Favorite scene: Not one from the episode, but one from the blooper reel, although I hear it in my head every time I watch the real scene, so it might as well be actually in the episode! It’s the scene where Garibaldi goes to talk to Londo to ask him for a loan.

[blooper reel]

Tnevonyqv: “Gurl cynagrq n fpurzngvp bs gur onl naq n cbhpu bs Pragnhev qhpngf va zl dhnegref.”

Ybaqb: “Pra-gnu-ev?”

Tnevonyqv: “Pra-gbe-v.”

Ybaqb: “Cb-gnl-gb?”

Tnevonyqb: “Cb-gnu-gb.”

Ybaqb: “Gb-znl-gb?”

Tnevonyqv: “Gb-znu-gb.”

Ybaqb naq Tnevonyqv (fvatvat): “Yrg’f pnyy gur jubyr guvat bss!”

[farewellnevrland]

oi, tag ! estou dando as caras aqui depois de bastante tempo para pedir por alguns plots que estou com bastante vontade de jogar. vou deixá-los no read more para quem se interessar, seja partner meu ou não, então por favor sinta-se livre pra me mandar mensagem ou deixar seu like nesse post. antes de plotar comigo, peço que leia minhas guidelines que estão bem aqui.

observação: além dos plots listados abaixo, aceito qualquer um da minha lista de wanted plots.

muse a is the daughter of a retired champion boxer, who at times is overprotective and always looks out for his little girl since it’s only been them ever since her mother died when she was young. after he retired though, muse a’s father begins to train pro boxers as well, and that’s where muse b comes along. he’s quickly making his status in the arena, and he also quickly caught the eye of muse a. the only problem? her father is his trainer, who’s against the idea of her dating boxers just as much as he’s against her ever being one.

i want to have a plot where ballerina/bad boy and she has very strict parents and they force to dedicate her life to dancing which she agrees to until she meets a boy who smokes a lot, gets into a lot of fights, and always has a cocky smile on his face. but she doesn’t mind because he makes her feel like she isn’t someone’s doll anymore, like a normal person.

i’m dating your brother but that doesn’t stop you from whispering in my ear that you can fuck me better or for trying to finger me under the table and god he doesn’t kiss my neck the way you do and we’ve been sneaking around behind his back and i feel so guilty but you make me feel so good.

historical plot where a princess is promised to a neighbouring country’s prince (purely political, maybe there’s a war and they need allies or the two kings are old acquaintances just looking for a strong match for their children). Princess gets kidnapped while traveling to her new kingdom and the prince having no feelings for her (he can lowkey be a coward too) sends one of his knights to save her rather than go himself. Knight and princess fall for each other on the way and begin a wild forbidden affair. Like give me arguments because she’s fawning over her husband or another maiden has her eyes on him. I want all the drama, pregnancies that aren’t from the prince, near misses.. all of it.

here’s a plot… muse a is a rlly powerful criminal. he basically has the world under their thumb. he’s killed lots of people (or at least ordered a lot of people to be killed) and he’s made a LOT of money this way. muse b, meanwhile, is a relatively ordinary person – she’s the girl next door. through a turn of events, the two meet and begin a fling. (muse a may or may not have a spouse at home, but that’s neither here nor there.) muse b knows muse a is a criminal – everyone does – but she enjoys the rush and the excitement. (irei colocar um link bem aqui com o restante do plot já que o post é muito grande)

“we both recently broke up with our bf/gf on bad terms so we decided that we were gonna pretend that we’re dating to make them jealous, so we regularly get drunk together and make out at the parties they're at too and one night we even end up fucking and we’re kinda starting to dig each other but then our exes are starting to come back to us and shit gets even more complicated.” give it to me please, thank you.

[xaxchilles]

E lá vamos nós de novo!

Bom, abaixo do read more deixei alguns plots que eu gostaria de desenvolver, se existir interesse, me chamem ou deem um like maroto por aqui e eu corro até você!

O primeiro plot é baseado na série One Tree Hill, originalmente eu gostaria que ele fosse jogado 2x2, afinal temos quatro personagens, então se voce gostar de algum, já me manda no chat qual seria sua preferencia assim eu consigo organizar melhor!!!

i. Muse A tem dezeseis anos e vive em uma cidade pequena com pouco mais de cinco mil habitantes, a maioria deles, trabalhadores que eram empregados pelo pai de Muse B. Muse A vive com a mãe, e é meio-irmão de Muse B. O pai deles, nunca o aceitou Muse A como filho, deixando-o sob criação total da mãe, porém, não era um segredo, todos da cidade sabiam sobre ele, afinal, o garoto ainda carregava o sobrenome da familia. Enquanto Muse B, vivia uma vida perfeita, dinheiro e popularidade, o que Muse A realmente tinha interesse era na namorada do irmão, Muse C. A garota era cheerleader do time da escola, porém, ela era diferente das outras garotas, parecia menos superficial e mais interessada em livros, assim como ele, os dois tinham interesses parecidos e que Muse A admirava de longe durante todos esses anos. Tudo muda quando o treinador do time ve Muse A jogando e o convida para o time da escola, time esse onde Muse B é o capitão. Muse D é a melhor amiga de Muse C, as duas se conhecem desde criança e são insepareveis. É ela quem acolhe Muse C depois das brigas com o namorado, e é ela quem sempre apoia a amiga, consolando também o namorado dela. Muse D tem um casinho com Muse B, tudo começou em um dos milhares de terminos entre sua amiga e o garoto mas escalou para um obssessão sem limite, agora, Muse D faz de tudo para que Muse B fique com ela, mesmo que no fim, ela saiba que o garoto realmente ama Muse C.

ii. Gostaria de algum plot sobre uma produtora ou empresária linha dura, bem sucedida, já com quase quarenta anos que começa gerenciar a carreira de um pop star, tipo, o Justin Bieber na epoca em que ele causava e saia em tudo quanto era blog de fofoca? Contratam ela pra limpar a imagem dele e colocar ele na linha, ela, pensa que vai ser um trabalho fácil, afinal, ele tem vinte e poucos anos e só precisa de alguém linha dura pra ajeitar a vida. O que ela não contava é que se apaixonaria pelo jeitinho dele? Imagina ela lutando contra os sentimentos, os desejos, os dois se pegando no hotel depois do show, as saidas escondidas, as teorias dos fãs!! E quando ele precisasse fingir um namoro com outra pessoa? O CIUMES DELA TENDO QUE VER ELE BEIJANDO OUTRA!!!! Enfim, apenas sim, esse é um plot pra sofrer.

[arthur-lesters-balls]

catching up with wwdits and what the FUCK was this seasons guillermos family episode this is so fucking ?????what the fuck guillermo saying goodbye to his mother (AND THE WHOLE SCENE BEING IN SPANISH IM NOT HISPANIC BUT IM LATINA AND ITS JUST HHNGNGGNHNN) her telling his cousin he always does that and that he would be back next week the pendant???? burning his skin?? him crying on the elevator???? then he fucking goes back to the vampires house and the first thing nandor says to him is that they just proved they can survive quite well without him??!!!!?! this is so fucked up he had two families! and now hes an outsider to both!!!1 not just because he has to put distance between them to protect them and himself but also because they are all a fucking mess who need a good shake hhhhhhh im so fucking sad and then collin robinson had that shitty green shirt and when he was doing the weather cast you could see through him and it was so funny this whole episode was insane nandor getting interviewed exactly just like any local old lady would pointing to the house he lives and everything this plot line was as funny as the bloody mary email one its so unfair im not even able to say guillermo deserves better because this is a mess hes responsible for?????? every inch of this shit is kinda his fault????? because he cant decide what he wants he keeps working for nandor even though things are clearly taking much more time than he thought they would take???? then he goes sneaking behind his back AND IM NOT DEFENDING NANDOR I WISH I COULD HIT HIS DICK WITH A FUCKING HAMMER FUCK YOU NANDOR but. SERIOUSLY GUILLERMO? ok he didnt knew it was a fucking crime but how the fuck did he thought they would react anyways??? and i dont even know if i wanna see what comes next like i know he goes away at the end of the season because of the episode descriptions and wow more news at eleven who could've seen that coming he does it every season AND NOW IM TALKING ABOUT HIM LIKE THE CHARACTERS DO but that aside its the first time they're doing the groundwork like that since the beginning of the season i cant take it anymore im going insane and to make it worse theres not even enough curse words in english to express how im feeling fx vai toma no teu cu hein maluco vai toma no teu cu ô filha da puta vai te fode hein vai se fode hein vai pra casa do caralho hein eu te conheço nessa porra eu sei quem tu é nessa porra eu sei onde você mora nessa porra like how do i get this message across i cant even

[sehscott]

RESUMO: era muito golden boy na sua época de escola, sendo atleta destaque e possuindo ótimas notas. quando saiu da vila e foi pra faculdade. na faculdade percebeu que não era nada especial, extremamente comum e foi deixando de render, até que não tinha mais notas e nem vaga no time. voltou para a vila sentindo-se fracassado e buscou não entrar em contato com pessoas do passado, querendo amigos novos porque tinha vergonha.

PLOTS AND CONNECTIONS

promoção dois por um: escolha um prompt para starter e ganhe uma semi-connection.

you look like you just saw a ghost. (conhecidos andando por uma casa assombrada, seu char acabou de levar um susto)

was that a friend of yours? (fala do seu char que era conhecido do seth no passado após ver um amigo novo dele)

i was making sure you weren’t dead, since you never called. (fala do seu char, amigo do passado que aparece na casa de seth)

you look… amazing. (ex-namorados da época de colégio; se encontraram em uma festa)

you’re a terrible flirt you know. (amigos coloridos recentemente)

what? no witty remark? nothing clever to say? (costumavam se implicar quando mais novos)

please don’t do this, don’t act like you care. ("Inimigos" na época do colégio, estão andando com o mesmo pessoal na madrugada)

[lvcdrms]

henlo tag! passando só pra dizer que eu criei um sideblog para organizar mis muses, e já organizei mis muses em aberto, caso alguém queira dar uma olhada e talvez uma plotada 👀 &. também queria muito jogar esse plot aqui (em resumo: m/m de dois jogadores de futebol profissionais que são do mesmo time e acabam se pegando mas é tudo na brotheragem, geral sabe que não é gay se você diz "no homo bro" antes!!) em caso de interesse, pode me chamar ou deixar seu like nesse post (ou, se for algo do sideblog, like no post dê muse que quiser também) + aqui minha página de regras!

[elails]

oi oi pessoinhas, como vocês estão?     depois de um tempo longe das telinhas do computador, cá estou eu de volta implorando por plots.     abaixo do read more, estão todas as minhas informações, além de algumas regrinhas e meu usuário de discord.     se estiver afim de plotar comigo, pode me chamar no chat ou deixar o like nesse post que eu te chamo assim que possível!

primeiramente, deixa eu me apresentar pra você:     oieee, eu sou a lyra, tenho 24 anos e uso pronomes femininos!     já estive em vários rps de grupo (se você achar que estivemos em algum junto, pode perguntar que eu respondokkk), além de ter criado uma conta de 1x1 há uns meses, antes da vida pessoal me passar uma rasteira e eu ter que me afastar do mundo de rpg.

no momento, meu foco é jogar no discord.     fim de ano é sempre uma correria onde eu trabalho, e esse ano vou entrar em todos os horários possíveis e impossíveis, para o meu total desespero.     por isso, não sei quando vou conseguir pegar o meu notebook para fazer replies; então prefiro jogar no discord, já que tenho acesso o tempo todo pelo meu celular.     

minha preferência é jogar com personagens femininos, seja em pairings f/m ou f/f.     porém, se decidirmos fazer mais de um plot de uma vez só, super topo jogar com um personagem masculino - só peço compreensão, pois não tenho muito costume com eles, então pode ser que demore um pouquinho a pegar o jeito e a voz de cada um -.

confesso que adoro escrever smut - com partners +18, óbvio -, mas não vejo problema nenhum em usar o bom e velho fade to black se meus partners não se sentirem confortáveis com esse tipo de interação.

meus triggers são:     aranhas e palhaços

amo todos os tipos de plot:     real life, sobrenatural, time-travel, celebridades, distopia (vibes the 100).

meus tropes favoritos são:     fake relationship, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers.

por fim, meu discord é lyra.#7353.     fique à vontade para me adicionar e chamar por lá!

[xoxolitls]

alô galera de cowboy !     eu sou a bubbles (21+, ela/dela) e resolvi criar esse tumblr pra procurar uns 1x1s pois estou cheia de saudades e muse pra diversos tipos de personagens.     clicando no read more, você tem acesso a algumas regrinhas e plots que eu to s-e-d-e-n-t-a pra jogar o mais rápido possível.     se você quiser plotar, é só deixar o like que eu te chamo assim que possível !

prefiro jogar com personagens femininas pq meus meninos costumam ser sempre podres perdão rsrs

aceito todo tipo de ship, só vem

confesso que sou tiazona quando se trata de faceclaim e prefiro os 30+, mas isso não significa que não vou usar mais novinhas, tudo depende do plot !

super topo escrever smut, contanto que meus partners sejam maiores de 18.     se você não se sentir confortável escrevendo esse tipo de coisa, é só me dar um berro e a gente usa o famoso método fade to black

a tia aqui trabalha e estuda, então infelizmente não é todo dia que consigo abrir a dash pra responder (sou bem mais rápido no discord, pois vivo grudada no celular), mas sempre acho um momentinho pra avisar meus partners nem que seja com uma mensagenzinha de ‘to podre hj sos’

AMO plots clichê e vou m*rrer defendendo-os:    

casamento arranjado

celebridades - geralmente com fake dating \o/ -

inspirados em filmes - qualquer coisa do nicholas sparks , forever my girl , in time , life as we know it , the switch ,  how to lose a guy in 10 days etc 

inspirados em livros - qualquer coisa que você possa ter visto no booktok pq as chances de eu ter lido são GIGANTES - 

soulmates

universidades / greek life , real life

links uteis:     wanted faces,     wanted opposites     &     wanted plots.

se você preferir plotar pelo discord, meu user é i’m a barbie girl #7353

[waywardfeathered]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. REPOST.

name. Havu.

pronouns. they/them

preference  of  communication. Discord. My handle is in my rules! Tumblr IM box is difficult for me, but if you prefer that, I will also communicate there.

name  of  muse. Castiel, or in non-canon human verses, Castiel "Cas" Krushnic.

rp  experience  /  how  long. On tumblr since 2013, before that mostly one-on-one in private since around 2006.

best  experience. No one best experience, but in general muses connecting. Like when you end up building dynamics and storylines that take on life of their own, when there is something coherent between muses no matter the nature of it, when you connect enough ooc that you mutually appreciate each other even if it's just in the form of liking each other's dash game posts or whatnot.

rp  pet  peeves  /  dealbreakers. Harrassing people for fictional content no matter how problematic you believe it to be, posting/sharing callouts over fictional content (honestly this counts as harrassment and bullying), policing what fictional themes other people are "allowed" to write of any kind (a polite "don't follow me if you write gore/smut/coffee shop aus/abuse/anything" is fine and not harrassment or policing), individual urls on DNI lists, bigoted beliefs/behaviour.

fluff,  angst,  or  smut. angst, smut, and fluff, in that order. I will write pretty much any genre, but I do tend to love writing angst or angst-adjacent themes more than something entirely happy even though I will gladly do the latter as well. I like writing smut, and am open to writing it without us needing to be friends or close ooc; I only am not comfortable writing smut with muns under 21.

plots  or  memes. Both! Let's say that I am more likely to do better with at least some vague plotting, something to write towards or based on, even if it's a one-line simple idea. However. I will happily wing things as well.

long  or  short  replies.  I prefer 2-4 paragraphs per response. Longer tends to get hard for me. Shorter tends to get too short to say enough. But, I am happy to do single para or novella. I firmly believe that matching length is bullshit and that it's natural for reply length to fluctuate, exposition and such might naturally make a reply novella while action or muses having a conversation where they keep responding to each other works better with just a couple of paragraphs if not less, because I find it awkward to kind of... interject in between, with a reply, and it starts to easily feel like I'm writing three threads in one go with longer form dialogue/reaction heavy threads.

best  time  to  write. No specific time. I do best if I have a sleep schedule, but other than that, I'm on disability and not restricted to time tables through a job or anything that sort.

are  you  like  your  muse. Not very. I relate to a lot of Cas's experiences in how I've been controlled and abused, and I share many quirks with him (he's very autistic coded and I'm autistic), but in general we're super different people. He's much more self-sacrificing and emotion driven, where I'm a lot more self-preserving and analytical; he views life through his heart and I look at everything analytically and don't tend to feel very deeply emotionally. He has strong moral convictions; I of course have my opinions of right/wrong, but I tend to juggle multiple points of view at once and have no issue going against my own morals on a lot of things. He has a very intuitive way of his opinions, feelings, and the universe and such, like of course he contemplates such things a lot, and he has a lot of self-doubt, but it's very different from the way I operate from a set of a logical framework that I am constantly adjusting with new factual information and where he wishes to be steady-footed on his beliefs and sense of self etc I am naturally always in flux and analysing and comparing and going down rabbit-holes of what ifs. He is good at being practical and taking action, I am really passive and impractical.

tagged by: @collidingxworlds, thank you! tagging: @solheimisms, @righteouslysin, @normaltothemax, @detectiveconnor, @lovepurposed & anyone who wants to!

[laiverse]

kian nattakhan.

24 anos. tradutor freelancer e atendente (em algum estabelecimento) meio-período. bissexual. bible wichapas faceclaim. tws; morte, luto, depressão. cara de bad boy, mas é só a cara mesmo, porque é uma das pessoas mais gentis que você vai conhecer. ainda encontrando seu lugar no mundo e se curando de partes de seu passado. introvertido alérgico a multidões. apaixonado por literatura e linguística, costuma visitar crianças num orfanato e ler para elas. tem um gato que salvou sua vida e é completamente apaixonado por ele. service top extraordinaire. faixa preta em taekwondo. perdeu a irmã mais nova quando era criança e viu a família se desintegrar quando a mãe não conseguiu superar o ocorrido, e o pai viu por bem criar kian longe dela, mas tentando cuidar da mulher à distância. kian continua sem saber ao certo como reparar vínculos com ela, mesmo que as coisas estejam enfim melhorando. kian, rewatching “everything everywhere all at once” for nth time is not therapy, get help!!

status: fechado para m/m, m/nb // m/f seletivamente (a depender de player)

plots sugeridos

a. exes que ainda moram juntes para dividir gastos (!!!)

b. ok cuz i can’t get this plot based off a socmed au i’m reading off my mind. someone please give me a plot in which muse a proposes to their s/o on valentine’s day on this cute little café and... is rejected. and muse b is the barista who sees everything (including how muse a’s s/o has been treating them throughout the night and, damn, why would you wanna marry someone who barely seems interested in your company bestie) and spends the rest of their shift trying to offer muse a comfort and cheer them up however they can. and they hit it off from there like rly hit it off and the rest is history.

c. d/s dynamics plot (sem ser pro dom/me porque kian não tem dinheiro pra tanto não)

d. plots com single parent, ou alguém que esteja tentando adotar a menina do orfanato a que o kian é bem apegado?

e. roommates/friends to lovers.

o kian é relativamente flexível porque eu só quero jogar ele mesmo tbh. angst é bem-vindo, mas também quero healing e hurt/comfort e fluff no plot dele e no arco dele em geral.