#the couple had a personalized cheese wheel

[nihilismtraitarchived]

some details of a random backyard dinner party design

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Uriel's subtle revenge

Past =-= Next

Author's note: y'all inspired me to make a Uriel Ventris chapter with the Serf Reader. I hope y'all enjoy!

Warnings: A bit of Bully Cato, let me know if I need to add more.

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @bleedingichorhearts @kit-williams @barn-anon @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

Tagged: @i-am-a-dragon34 @egrets-not-regrets , @gra93fruit-blog

‘Sometimes,’ Uriel Thinks to himself as he carefully tracks down one particular Serf that comes from his planet of birth from a farming community near where he'd grown up, “I think Captain Sicarius believes His own hype a little too much.’

While the Captain of the Second company is an exceptional fighter with few who could match him in sword, bolter, and tactics. His personality was something that rubbed others the wrong way, like stroking a cat's fur the wrong way far too roughly.

He spots the Serf dutifully tending to their tasks, their hair pinned up and out of the way as they diligently clean the room. They look up and around, feeling eyes on them. They look into his eyes briefly before they look down and properly Bow to him, pausing their work.

“Greetings, Lord Angel,” They say with very care pronunciation.

Uriel remembers when he had Pasinius were young Aspirants and they’d been with a whole barracks full of boys within the acceptable age range from every planet within Ultramar and the teasing and mockery he and his oldest friend had gotten for their ‘hick planet accent’.

Your particular version of their shared accent is really adorable in his opinion. Even when you are trying to hide it, which is a shame in his opinion.

“Greetings Serf,” he says, allowing his Calthian accent to come through.

Their head shot up and they stared at him wide eyed for a moment. Recognizing their shared accent.

“I hear you come from a place near where I used to live,” Uriel continued. “Have the grox-cheeses in the deep caves aged into the wine-dark musk that I remember?”

“Yes, and the festival of cheese wheels happened a few months before I left, Lord Angel,” you reply, your accent thickening back to what it was before you'd come aboard the space ship.

You knew that The Angels of Ultramar are from all over the planets under the protective Custody of the Imperial Regent. But you hadn't realized that one of the farm boys of Calth had actually managed to become an Angel, from what you can read of his Armor, he's a Captain, which is somewhat high ranking. Although at least as far as you can tell, it is.

Uriel and you talk about the various festivals and celebrations that their towns share, to mark the seasons and other important Holidays and events that are celebrated either for local planetary things, or for more important Imperium wide events.

Uriel is regaling you about one of the times he had done the Space Cooper's-hill cheese rolling and wake, one Of the few that he'd participated in before becoming an Aspirant.

You had started to smile and giggle as Uriel was describing something when a voice called out, haughty, And annoyed, “tch, must you speak in such a low way Ventris?”

Uriel's smile only faded somewhat, but his eyes sharpen at the way that you were slightly edging away from the sharp, sour tones of Captain Sicarius.

Uriel allowed himself to glance towards the older Ultramarine, noticing the way he was fuming and scowling at the pair of them.

Uriel stopped himself from smirking a little bit as he realized just how Annoyed the noble-blooded Ultramarine was.

“Ah, Lassie,” Uriel drawls, thickening his accent further, glancing down at you with an innocuous smile,“th’ Cap is fair steam'd.”

“Speak. Properly,” Cato hisses at his annoying younger brother. “You are the Fourth Captain of the Ultramarines.”

Cato clenches his fists and relaxes them a couple of times. He had been going in this direction for a purpose, but what that way flew out of his head when he had heard and seen Uriel speaking with you.

And realizing one of the things is that had bugged him about you. That deeply annoyed him, throne-Cursed Ventris is also from Calth. And the little snot likes to use that accent, which no one but him and his fellow country Bumpkins can understand.

He is ignoring the fact that part of the reason he's so angry is that Ventris got you to smile and giggle at him. He should go to an Apothecary because one of his hearts had started hurting A little to see you look at a different Space Marine like that. Then the bizarre hurt turned into welcome and familiar rage.

“If you aren't doing anything important,” Cato barks at the pair of Calthians,”stop blocking the hallways and get back to work.”

You started to curl in on yourself As a hot flush of shame has your cheeks turning red. You had continued to work, albeit At a slower pace as you spoke and listened to Captain Sicarius's word.

“I think you need to dislodge your sword from your scrotum,” Ventris snarks at Cato.

Cato feels a vein start to throb in his forehead at the younger Captain’s Words." You and I need to go to the sparring ring. Now.”

“Gladly,” Uriel says, giving you a nod before following after an angrily stomping Cato.

He was glad he was able to speak with you for a little while. There aren't many fellow Calthians that go off planet.

[kongchipachi95]

Vernon

Pov; you drag your reluctant bf to a cute date at a botanical garden & things turn sultry as he realizes you have your own private oasis…

Warnings: female foreplay (receiving), male foreplay (receiving), public but hidden sex, pulling out.

Enjoy.

It was a bright and sunny summer day when you begged your boyfriend, Vernon, to go with you to the botanical garden. They were having a special event that was a romantic picnic in the park and while he thought it was cheesy you thought you could entice him with some wine and chocolate cake. While summer was one of his favorite seasons he preferred to partake in other activities that didn’t involve being outside with bugs. So with reluctance he put on a plain shirt and button down shirt, some cargo shorts and a baseball cap. It was a bit of a contrast to the floral dress and sandals you were wearing, but he looked every bit of the typical boyfriend. He was your handsome, perfectly talented and sometimes goofy idol boyfriend.

You were able to score some VIP tickets for the event meaning instead of reserving a picnic blanket with hors d'oeuvres, you got a special secluded tent with champagne and a special fruit and cheese tray. He had been working really hard at the studio and his schedule was jam packed lately that you really wanted him to spend some time away to recharge. You knew that once he got into work mode he would do nothing but work and maybe eat a couple slices of toast if he even remembered to eat.

So you had to practically drag him away from the apartment, knowing that his mind was a million miles away at work. He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat. He walked over to the driver’s side and got in, connecting his phone to your car’s bluetooth. You loved nothing more than looking over and seeing his one arm on the steering wheel, veins popping every time he flexed his arm to make a turn and his other hand either holding your hand or your thigh. He always looked so cute focused on the road and singing along to the songs playing on shuffle. It was the one time you knew he was present and in the moment rather than thinking about the future or the past.

Once you got to the botanical garden, he let out a sigh and asked if you were ready.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you replied feeling a little deflated. You knew it was something he was doing for your sake, but it was hard not to take it personally or let it hurt your feelings.

He walked around the car to lead you by the hand to the entrance.

���Thank you for coming with me, I know work’s been stressing you out,” you thanked him. He always appreciated the way you worded his occupation, like you were just a normal couple living a normal life. It gave him some sense of grounding in his chaotic life on display for the whole world to see.

You held onto his arm and he kissed the top of your head, pausing for a few seconds to inhale the scent of your shampoo. You scanned your tickets on your phone and the ticket attendant motioned towards your private tent area. Vernon had a surprised look on his face, he hadn’t realized that you had booked a private villa type area for the two of you.

“Babe, what is this?” he asked in genuine, happy shock.

“I know you’re constantly surrounded by people all day, everyday and I figured if we were out on the lawn with everyone else we run the risk of you getting recognized. This way we can have our own private little oasis.

He took a moment to soak it all in. From the crisp white tent, the scent of the exotic flowers in the garden, the perfectly laid out cheese tray, ice bucket with a perfectly chilled champagne bottle and the two glasses standing next to it waiting for you to take a sip. There was even a small twin size mattress with pillows for you to relax on. He turned around, his face had a different expression. It had a look of appreciation and longing. He had been so caught up in his own world it was as if he had just realized what he meant to you. In that moment, he realized that you must really care about him and who he was as a person to go so far as to plan something like this for the both of you.

He poured two glasses of champagne for the both of you, handing you a glass.

“Cheers, to a peaceful day away from everything,” he clinked his glass against yours. You both made silly faces as you felt the fizz tickle the back of your throat. He grabbed a strawberry and dipped it in the little bowl of chocolate next to the fruit, feeding you ever slowly and sensually. His eyes never left your mouth as your lips wrapped around the red berry. You grabbed an apple and dipped it in the chocolate as well, reciprocating the gesture with him. He left a little chocolate on your fingers so you maintained eye contact and proceeded to suck the chocolate off of your own index finger.

“You forgot some,” he held his hand up, the tip of his middle finger brown with chocolate.

“Let me help you with that,” you said sensually as you first swirled your tongue lightly, making sure to tickle his skin ever so gently. Then you held his hand in between yours and sucked down hard. His mouth opened slightly and his eyes took on a heavy, dreamy stance as he kept his sight on your mouth.

“You have some on your mouth, babe,” he announced. He leaned in until his face was mere centimeters away from yours and licked the remaining chocolate off the corner of your mouth. The sensation made you grab onto the sleeves of his shirt.

He walked towards the opening, peeking out of the tent to see that the other couples were in their own worlds and closed the entrance to the tent. He looked down at you, a small smile forming on his lips. He tucked your hair behind your ears because he always wanted to see your face. He let his hand wander to the side of your face, cupping the base of your neck and pulling you into him and kissing you passionately. It took you by such surprise your breath hitched and your arms flew up and held his shoulders. You caressed the hair on the back of his head, making him moan into your mouth. He walked you backwards until you were just by the seating area and told you to lie back.

You looked up, batting your eyelashes at him and leaned down to kiss your clavicle and the tops of your breast that were peeking out of your dress. You could feel the warmth of his hand on your thigh as he wandered up towards your slit. He could feel the moisture through your panties.

“Are you all ready for me?” he whispered huskily in your ear.

“Mmmm,” was the only sound that could escape past your lips as he slid his fingers inside of you before waiting for a response. He leaned on one elbow as he circled his fingers like he was stirring a hot cup of tea. With his thumb, he made circles around your clit using your juices as lubricant, and there were plenty of them for him to use.

“Moan for me, baby,” he whispered as he nibbled on your ear making your body go insane with stimulation. Your hand reached out to grab his arm but you found his bulge and started massaging it through his jeans. You both lay there, massaging each other until he couldn’t take it anymore and unzipped his pants. His dick flopped out of his boxers making you salivate it over it.

He kneeled over you, letting his bulging cock tap itself on your lower stomach before lifting your dress and feeling your wetness saturate his member. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back in pleasure. His lips parted slightly and you wanted him to take you right then and there. You reached down and guided him in since he wasn’t moving fast enough to satisfy you. He allowed you to slide him inside, only opening his eyes as he leaned forward on his forearms. He kissed you like it was the last time you would ever see each other, his energy seemingly reinvigorated even if you hadn’t been there for more than 10 minutes. He pumped into you slow at first, kissing you while he did. Then he moved with a faster more urgent pace as the pressure building became too much.

He lowered his head into your cleavage as he pounded into you making you feel like you were about to explode yourself.

“Don’t stop, Hansol, you’re going to make me cum,” you tried to whisper as low as you could so people outside your tent couldn’t hear you.

“Beg me for it, baby,” he whispered back. Your hands were gripping his back for dear life at this point.

“Please baby don’t stop, please,” you begged. You felt the pressure building and crash over you in one giant wave. You squeezed your insides feeling his muscles tense. He pulled out just in time to shoot marshmallow strings over your upper thighs. He kneeled over you out of breath, a little sweaty but more relaxed than when you got there. He shuffled over to the napkins with his jeans around his knees and used some of the ice to moisten the napkin to clean you off. He wiped you with such care and love you felt yourself falling for him all over again.

He reached his hand down to help you to your feet.

“Let’s go see the rest of the garden, baby,” he smiled at you. This was going to be an amazing date.

[truegoist]

##REO BF HCS !! requested by anon !!

WARNINGS: gn reader ,

-despite having girls (AND boys) fawning over him for practically all his life he never showed particular interest in any of them, that was until his eyes landed on you

-due to not being interested in romance for such a long time he’s not very experienced in dating but my guys trying his best to be a boyfriend worthy of you, in his words

-openly and really spoils you, you had your eye hooked on a item for 0.1 seconds? he’s buying it for you. price doesn’t matter, if you want it you’re getting it.

-on that note he absolutely loves it when he sees you wearing clothes and jewelry he buys for you, show them off and he’s a goner

-he learns romance from books and shows so unfortunately, he’s extremely cheesy but come on, let this man have his cheese he deserves it (try to bear how lame your boyfriend can be pls)

-he likes to have his hand in your back pocket or wrapped tightly around your waist while walking, reo also likes it when you link your arms together like a old couple

-other than that he isnt really fond of pda, his family raised him to be like that and he can’t help but think it’s improper. He’s absolutely stuck to you when you two are alone though

-his ideal date is going to movies together and then talking about it (or pretty much any thing) while sitting in a cafe

-a personal hc that he has a nice singing voice especially suitable for lullabies so if you give him the puppy eyes for enough he might just sing you to sleep

-get used to nagi cause he’s third wheeling to you two in any chance he has and he’s really obnoxious about it too, he doesn’t care if you’re having the lady & the tramp moment, he wants to give his order. But don’t you worry, you’ll soon start to see him as a oversized house cat

-this man has hyperfixations, he can rant you about his interests for hours while laying on your lap. He is really ready to listen to you do the same as well, he does his research just to be able to ask you questions about it

-he’s really used to luxury so he sometimes gets shocked on your ehem “humble” lifestyle and it sometimes gets annoying. but come on what do you mean you’ve never ate caviar??

-reo melts when you do things for him no matter how small they are, fixing his tie? Careying around a hair tie around your wrist for him? TYING HIS HAIR FOR HIM??? He will die

-for someone as amazing as him, he’s totally lame. he gets excited over the most simple things, can’t shitalk to save his life, is very cheesy and can be a brat sometimes but god isn’t he the cutest when he’s lame

-he paints your nails for you, he sucks at it but hey while he does it he always has you on his lap with his chin on your shoulder so it’s worth it

-DANCE WITH HIM !!!! even if you lack any kind of balance or rhythm just the act of *trying* to dance is so very romantic to him, plus he’ll pay for your dance lessons

-he loves talking about you, he’ll brag about you to pretty much anyone and this only has one backlash; since it’s from the perceptive of reo, people now think you’re some kind of god

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Could I request a little ‘A got roped into a blind date by their friends. They don't want a new relationship and plan to make themselves as unlikeable as possible to dissuade any further possible setups. All of that goes through the window when they see how gorgeous B is.’ with Santi as person A

(if you get this twice I’m sorry I can’t remember if I sent this irl or not because I saw the post when I was hazy and delusional at 2 AM)

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 912

A/N: Just opened up my askbox for some requests! First time writing for Santi, very very excited about this one! (And don't worry ab requesting twice, hun! It was a very inspiring prompt)

Warnings: fluff, santi thinks he's unlovable, a bit angsty ig?, frankie morales is a good bro, poorly edited (author has BDE)

Santiago really didn’t do the whole dating thing. 

The flowers and the small-talk and the footsies over cheese-stuffed appetisers. 

He had a long-term relationship with running away, that strange, filtered aeroplane air making him feel closer to home than any of his mother’s cooking could ever hope to do. 

Better put, he wasn’t relationship material. 

It wasn’t a deliberate choice from his end. 

It sort of just…happened. 

Life had morphed Santiago into the jagged, crooked, ugly thing that he was now. 

In all of his attempts (three) at the real thing, all his tries at the dart board called love, it usually always ended in the same fashion. He’d take her to meet his friends, she’d realise sooner than later that she’d drawn the losing hand out of the four of them, and it was downhill from there. 

One of them had been kind enough even to enlighten him to exactly what he lacked. 

You just need to be more…Frankie, Santi. 

Though it hurt, it was good to get out in the open like that. The plain, mumpy truth, in all its glory: 

Santiago wasn’t relationship material because of the amount of ‘Frankie-ness’ that was lacking in his blood and DNA, because he was the losing hand, the cracked skipping stone in the middle of a torrential river on the way to the safety of land and love, true love. 

And so, in what would be considered a sociologist’s dream case study, Santiago did what he did best, self-fulfilled then self-destructed. 

He was the intermediary for girls before they managed to find their Frankie, Benny, Will. 

It was a tough truth to chew, left a bitter taste in his mouth, that he’d only been created for people to recognize their self-worth and move on. There was a disagreeable insinuation behind it, if he thought about it too long. 

Which was precisely why he didn’t. 

And he ran away instead when things got too hard, too painful. Like a thumbtack in the heel of his foot. 

But Frankie on the other hand, Frankie thought about it long and hard. Too hard and too long, no matter how often Santiago told him to quit it. 

From his seat behind the driver’s wheel, Frankie was able to watch everything with a keen, honed eye, his two ears moving back and forth like a great-horned owl’s. 

And nothing was able to go past Frankie’s eyes without him picking it up and giving it a thorough inspection.

Which is why Frankie's been adamant about it. A real pain in the ass. 

Santiago was the bachelor of the group now. The only single one left. 

And Frankie was set on changing that. 

No matter how much Santiago protested. 

Will and Benny gave in to Santiago’s reality with a simple nod, the former’s eyes sad and sombre, the latter’s teasing a little light-hearted and half-hearted. 

But Frankie and him had the strongest bond he’s ever experienced. Saving a guy’s life a couple times does that to you. 

Santiago knows, if anything, that whatever happens in this god-forsaken world, that Frankie will always be his rock, the one constant in a world of possibilities and probabilities.

But it also meant that Frankie had some sort of gall that the others didn’t. 

And tonight, he meant to put an end to it, swiftly and surely. 

The sibling of a friend of a cousin. 

That still doesn’t mean Santiago wants to be here. 

Detached enough from them that if it all went to shit, the ripples would be minimal. Attached enough to them to make the small talk a little less small-talkey.

“You’re frowning.” 

“That’s because I’m mad, pendejo,” he grumbles back at the baseball cap. 

Frankie huffs and though he can’t see it, he hears the eye-roll. 

He feels like a petulant child, like he’s being babysat to make sure he won’t act out. 

Which is what he is precisely planning to do. 

He’ll take care of it quickly. Despite his cynical, eighty-year-old with three cats schmick he’s settling into nicely, he still has a bit of heart. And whoever the poor person was that had been roped into this will be roped out just as quickly. No harm done and Santiago’s Frankie problem fixed once and for all. 

With another huff, Frankie leans back in his seat and fixes him with beady eyes, “At least, try to be a little agreeable.” 

He only grumbles in response. 

It’s a white-and-red chequered tablecloth kind of place. Corny, romantic, candle-lit. 

Santiago was hoping he’d never have to set foot in such a place again. 

The door jingles open. 

Show-time. 

Frankie sends him another one of his glares, and Santiago sends it straight back, letting it settle on his face, deep into the grooves of it. 

There’s rolls and rolls of nervousness fading off of you. 

But you look nice-

Beautiful. 

Gorgeous. 

The air’s been swamped out of his lungs. 

This wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. This weird, fluttering thing that’s been going on his body since he laid eyes on you. 

Santiago’s vaguely aware that you’re talking with Frankie, thanking him for arranging it all. 

And there’s a lull in the murmurs. 

He hastily gathers himself up, the angry little press of lines on his forehead all but gone. 

He scrambles for the flowers Frankie made him buy you and holds them out, swallowing thickly, “Hi, I’m Santi.” 

He hopes that this’ll make for a hell of a first-date story.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here, requests here.

[periprose]

Florence - Chapter Five

At the dinner party later that evening, Harry makes an interesting job offer that you can't quite refuse, and you and Peter drunkenly deduce what's happened with the New York Fashion Week show and the models that have been antagonizing MJ, while also coming far too close for it to be an accident.

Fluff, further confessions of feelings, plot threads that probably won't be solved until I make a sequel to this fic, lustful moments (grinding)

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The dinner party is kind of wild.

There are hired semi-nude dancers, all glittery and gold, dancing on a small stage set in front of the backyard garden, and there are several chefs preparing every food you could possibly think of- pasta served in your own personal cheese wheel, little hors d'oeuvres, kebabs, sushi, some sort of glass noodle concoction that looks more like clear wires than something you’re supposed to eat- and throughout it all, Harry keeps giving everyone more drinks.

He’s still kind of cold towards Peter- you can tell since he greets you and gives Peter a firm nod instead- and he clearly likes your outfit. A sweetheart neckline, halter-top jumpsuit in a deep teal, that’s backless and has floral detailing and flared pants. 

“Nice jumpsuit, Howlett.” He yells over the din of the music of the band in the background, and you nod, feeling kind of hot with all the people around. “Here’s a whiskey sour, just how you like it.”

“Thanks. How are you?” You yell back, taking the drink, and Harry seems ambivalent until Peter strolls away, admiring the scenery. 

“Better. Still a little wary of how things are going.” Harry looks towards Peter and then back at you. “Sorry you had to get caught up in that- uh, argument- earlier, Lettie.”

“If it makes you feel better, it made me and Peter closer?” You watch Harry snort at that and then grin. “No, I know. Not the point. Just… talk to him when you have time, okay?”

“If he actually wants to talk, then sure.” Harry shrugs, and you wonder what that means, if Peter was the type to ghost him as well. You suppose you have that in common. “Have you changed your mind about the job?”

“Huh?” You think for a moment and then remember Harry’s offer about Oscorp’s position. “Oh god, Harry. I don’t know if I can stomach it.”

“C’mon… you said my dad has a certain reputation.” Harry whispers. “I think if anyone can come up against him, it would be you.”

“But…” You think over Harry’s words, and how they contrast to what he said before. “Come up against him? Like, what, running a coup?”

“Maybe.” Harry is mysteriously ambiguous about the whole thing. “Look, Howlett, I’m only telling you this because I trust you. Dad’s not doing so well anymore, and I know for a fact that he would like you.”

“And I would antagonize him, why?”

“Dad’s kind of an asshole. I want to see him have to think a little- I was thinking about what you were saying before- and I want him to actually be there for the little guy. Do more than be a selfish, opportunistic bastard, before he dies. If he likes you, he’ll listen.” Harry scoffs at that. “I know it’s a lot to ask for, especially because you probably don’t want to risk your career- so I could pull a few strings and give you a job somewhere else if it’s not going well at Oscorp, and you’ll still get to put it on your resume.”

Harry is right. It’s a lot to ask for, and your mind kind of runs over everything he’s saying. A big part of you is rather compelled- you do kind of want to know what it’s like to be a vigilante coder, and you have always, always wanted to make the world a slightly better place than it is- and the other part of you is overwhelmed. 

"Alright, Harry. I’m gonna take a couple days to think it over- and I think I’ll just sit down for a bit.” You wave at him and make your way towards a chaise lounge in the path, and sit down, but as you do, two other people sit next to you.

“You must be Howlett.” A tall Asian woman with sharp eyeliner, extending into a long wing that is far more avant-garde than normal, shakes your hand. “Love how you go by one name, too. I’m Elektra.”

You realize with a bit of lag that this was one of the people MJ told you she was suspicious of. Elektra, Wanda, and Bucky. The last guy doesn’t seem to be anywhere in your sight.

You take a large gulp of your drink for some courage. You nearly cough it back up- Harry has definitely put the strongest whiskey possible in your cup.

“Hi. It’s great to meet you!” You start, and she gives you a smile that doesn’t seem to reach her eyes- you feel unnerved by that, and you can’t really read her. “MJ always said you were gorgeous- she didn’t lie.”

“Did she ever say anything about me?” The other woman huffs. She’s got a vaguely Eastern-European accent that you cannot pin down. “I’m Wanda, by the way.”

Her hair is a dark brown, but other than that- she and Elektra are dressed in matching crimson latex suits, although their cuts are different and well suited to their bodies. They seem to really be on the same wave length.

“Um. I think so?” You shake your head, unsure of how to respond. “She’s always very complementary towards everyone.”

“Even those two idiots over there?” Elektra points to the redhead woman with a bob cut, and another woman with a high ponytail- they’re currently dancing with each other. “Ah, of course MJ likes them. They’re all Dior anyways.”

You don’t know enough about fashion houses to clarify anything so you just stay silent, continuing to sip at your drink. You finally notice that Peter is off to the side, being held hostage by a dark, brunette, scowling man, who’s got a bit of beard and steely blue eyes that easily intimidate him, and you wonder which one of these three is the culprit.

Wanda gives Elektra a stern look. “They’re really not that bad if you get to know them, Elektra. It’s not their fault you always keep to yourself- and Barnes.”

She stands up dramatically as Elektra sputters in place, and because you seem to be the only sympathetic person there, she confides in you.

“Wanda has always been soft. She doesn’t get that me and Barnes- you have to do what you have to do to get ahead, right?” Elektra takes a gulp of her champagne, and you seriously wonder if she’s basically just implicated herself.

She wanders off to dance with a glittery gold woman- you realize with some mild surprise that it’s all body paint, so the dancer is completely naked, and you wonder if all of them are- and Peter and Bucky come your way. Peter has a strained smile- he does not like this guy.

“Howlett. Hey.” Peter sits next to you, but so does Bucky, and you move closer to Peter because apparently Bucky Barnes has no sense of personal space. His hand is skirting where your thigh and hip is, and based on Peter’s grim expression, he hates it. You’re only allowing it because he seems drunk, and you do not want a fight to break out if you tell him no.

“Bucky here was just telling me about the world of modelling.” Peter clarifies, and that’s all it takes for Bucky to start ranting in great detail about how his stupid fucking assistant forgot his custom made hair mousse and how his hair looked flat and not shiny enough during his latest show.

“That sounds horrible.” Peter remarks, half-mockingly, and he takes a sip of his cocktail. Apparently his fifth one of the night, if you’re keeping track of all the different glasses and colors of the drinks that Peter has been holding throughout the last hour. He must be trying to get wasted.

“Yeah, it really, really was. You can’t buy good help these days.” Bucky affirms with not a hint of irony, and the fact that he doesn’t know that you and Peter are in an entirely different tax bracket doesn’t escape you. You literally know people who work for the one percent, CEOs like Norman Osborn, and the poors like you get tossed aside as soon as you’re deemed disposable.

It just reaffirms that you do want to listen to Harry- you could do great things at Oscorp.

Bucky Barnes is abhorrent and you want out of here. You don’t know how MJ puts up with him- but you remember she said she’s only really close with Natalia and Kitty Pryde, so perhaps inviting this guy was just for her networking optics. 

“God, you’re pretty.” Bucky suddenly claims as he turns towards you, getting progressively drunker and obviously not filtering his thoughts, and you can tell this must be a line that he uses on many, many women, just based on the confidence that’s oozing out of him. “If there was a spot available on the Dior lineup, I’d put you on there for sure- well actually, there might be, if you prove you can model. Whaddya say? Wanna head back up to mine?”

You feel Peter’s fist clench and you firmly grasp his wrist before he can stand up and do something stupid, along the lines of the fight at the New York Airport, and Peter’s fist loosens, before he grabs your hand, holding it tightly. Maybe a little possessively.

You ignore thoughts about that being hot. 

“I’m not really interested in being a model right now, but do you have an email or something I could contact if I ever get the urge?” You sweetly tell Bucky, in your most sincere, professional, networking tone, and he seems a little thrown off by that since he was flirting so heavily. He takes a look at you and Peter’s intertwined hands, and how Peter is peering at him from just beyond the glass he keeps sipping, and seems to put something together.

“Uh, yeah. Here-” Bucky reaches for a pen inside his blazer’s pocket and signs your wrist with his email address in a tender motion that you did not ask for. Bucky whispers something into your ear that try as Peter might, sounds entirely unintelligible to him.

“Hey, doll. I know the drill- I’ll be waiting in my room, just come up when you’re free of the ball and chain.” His mouth is practically on your ear as he says this, and your face is burning with a mix of confusion, drunkenness, and annoyance that Peter could ever be a ball and chain.

Finally, Bucky leaves, and you immediately pull Peter closer to you even though he’s right next to you. Things are kind of hazy in your mind right now, but something has clearly been illuminated for you.

“What a fucking pervert that guy was, right?” Peter scoffs, and you giggle. “Who the hell asks a girl to fuck like seconds after meeting? I guess models, but still: ew.”

“Jealous, Peter Parker?” You lean in kind of close, and Peter doesn’t pull away- he likes that your face is practically brushing his own. “I was worried you were going to beat him up, too.”

“As if. He’s still going to be at the wedding.” Peter shrugs, tipping his glass back and finishing off his drink. 

“And that’s the only reason you stopped yourself?” You look at him. “Too bad. I wanted to see some wedding drama.”

“Hey. You know the precedent I set before, Howlett. I’d totally be all dramatic and soap opera-y for you.” Peter grins boyishly, and you feel your heart warm at that. “I just figure after the TSA dude and Harry, it’s probably best to just… think first. Act later. Don’t want to start a bad trend if I’m serious about you. Plus you can handle yourself, it’s just my dumb feelings.”

“Wow. I never thought I’d see the day that you’d become mature.” You cross your arms, and Peter lightly punches your side. “Okay, I’m sorry! But you’re right. This whole wedding has too much going on, even without fights. On the bright side, I figured something out.”

Peter is staring up at the night sky, and you shake him by the collar. “Hello? Peter?”

“H-Huh?” He’s kind of lost in this fire that’s in your eyes now. He likes it, to the point where he’s not sure what you’re talking about. When did he get so drunk? His mind isn’t really latching onto anything but your face.

“Okay. I’ll explain upstairs because people could be listening here-” You look from side-to-side and Peter’s only following your gaze because you just seem so striking at this moment. “And because I think something about outside is distracting you.”

“Not true, Howlett. Something right in front of me is distracting.” Peter immediately shoots back at you, and you blink before smiling up at him, shoving his chest lightly. Very gently. Somehow it only brings him closer as he resists your pushing, as if Peter is some kind of immovable object that cannot stay away.

Peter stares at your bare back as you lead him away, into the Villa, upstairs to his bedroom, and he can’t control his indecent thoughts this time. 

/

“Okay- are you listening, Peter?” You start, and he nods, wiggling into the massive pillows that adorn his bed. He turns dramatically and fixes his gaze on you, and your face turns mildly red- you type on the robust laptop that Peter obviously brought for work, still feeling his stare. “Here. We can start tracing back who sent the email that removed MJ from New York Fashion Week- she sent me the original that has an ‘anonymous’ signature.”

“Wait, wait.” Peter suddenly shakes himself a little out of it, feeling considerably less wasted as he focuses on this. “How do you know that it’s Buckboy’s email, for sure?”

“I have an educated guess.” You snort at his portmanteau of fuckboy and Bucky. “Elektra said something about Wanda not understanding how to get ahead, but that Bucky did, and Bucky said that there’s a spot opening up on the Dior model lineup, which is enough evidence for him, right?”

“Oh, and that’s why you got his email.” Peter realizes. “Damn, I’m slow on the uptake. But nice one, Howlett.”

“It’s okay. Drinking and detective work don’t really go hand-in-hand- I’m surprised I figured out this much.” You type in Bucky’s email address: jamesbuchananbarnes@gmail.com. “What are the chances he has some separate hooking-up email address and a professional one?”

“It’s 2023, Howlett. People don’t use email to hook up.” Peter snorts. “Shouldn’t you know that?”

“I guess this makes it clear that I don’t do hook ups.” You sniff, and Peter immediately takes on a mischievous smile.

“I can change that-” He starts but you immediately smother his face into the pillow. “I’m kidding! Of course an idiot like that would use the same email for everything.”

The software you’re using to trace back the IP address of the initial email is going to take a while. Dior forwarded it from an anonymous source to MJ, and she then forwarded it to you, which means there are like three or four layers of data to scan through and peel back. 

“We got time to kill. What’s up?” You ask, and Peter frowns.

“Don’t you think it’s sad that MJ has to be buddy-buddy with people like this?” He sounds deep in thought. 

“MJ also likes Natalia Romanov and Kitty Pryde… and that Wanda chick doesn’t seem in on this, so maybe it’s not so bad.” You try, and Peter nods. “We all have to deal with people we don’t like.”

“I guess that’s true. But still- sometimes I wish it was as simple as it was back in high school. When it was the four of us. I never realized there would be a time when it wasn’t like that anymore, and now I feel bad that I didn’t treasure it enough.” Peter sounds wistful as he stares up at the deep yellow canopy over your bed. “Isn’t it crazy how everyone’s lives are changing? Big milestones are happening. Gwen and Miles, MJ and Harry, first weddings, then probably career stuff, then houses and babies… I wish I hadn’t been so stupid back then.”

“Huh?” You interrupt Peter’s drunken rambles about the stages of life. “What do you mean?”

“I should’ve just bit the bullet and just asked you out. As soon as I had an inkling of a feeling for you.” Peter sounds genuinely distraught now, while you wonder when it all started for him. “I mean, I always thought- you’re my best friend, so it would be wrong- but I really, really think I was repressing my feelings because it feels way clearer in hindsight, y’know? Like I was just too scared. But if I had just figured it out back then, I would’ve had you at my side sooner. Imagine being as stupid as me and spending the last ten years completely oblivious to your own feelings, Howlett.”

“Peter-”

“And another thing!” He gets a sudden burst of energy and sits up next to you, stumbling a little. “I spent all of college missing you. It was bad, Howlett, I don’t think I even properly had a girlfriend. But I didn’t- I couldn’t figure out how to bridge that gap between us when you were drifting away already and it seemed like you didn’t want to be friends anymore, and I pretty much thought that I only missed you as a friend because I wasn’t around you, so I couldn’t figure out that I love you, and holy hell I need you to promise that you won’t leave me.”

“I won’t.” You can’t look at him, because you know that Peter has just laid his bare heart out to you, and he’s said that he loves you, but it’s too much for your little drunk mind to understand. The best you can do is say that you’ll never leave him. 

“Good.” Peter breathes a sigh of relief. He seems to have no qualms about telling the truth like this, even though it’s really all that drunken courage racing around in his bloodstream. “I wish I had said something back then so we would just be together now.”

“Who says we aren’t?” You kid, pointing out the lack of distance between you two. 

“No, not just next to each other like this, like- together together. Like instead of MJ and Harry’s wedding, it would be ours.” Peter falls silent after that, and you take it in, wondering what it would actually be like to be Peter Parker’s wife. 

You know how it would go already. Because you spent a good portion of high school fantasizing about this. Peter and you would probably have a flexible cycle of work being freelance and all, and he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you, and you know he would probably be the type to meal prep a ton and be really type A about what you feed your kids, who would be named Logan JR. and Mayday. Probably. 

You bite back a laugh. “Aw, Peter. It’s okay. Things turn out how they’re supposed to, right? Think about how much we’ll have to look forward to. When we’re not drunk and back home.”

Peter likes the sound of that, and he cutely leans his face into the crook of your neck, his giant mass of hair brushing your cheek and jaw. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. Or that I made you suffer.” Peter whispers, and you’re really only focusing on how his lips are brushing against the tender skin around your collarbone. 

“Yes, Peter, you were the bane of my existence.” You say drily, ignoring the flush of heat spreading from your neck through your body, and Peter’s laptop suddenly pings back some results. “But it’s okay. I’m cool with it now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it built character for me.”

“Okay. Okay. Cool.” Peter looks up, leaning his head against your shoulder, and his arm snakes around your waist. 

“Okay… the IP address isn’t encrypted anymore, and… the email is Bucky’s.” You look at Peter in mild surprise. “Why do you think he got MJ booted off the show?” 

“Obviously so he could be in it instead, right?” Peter thinks it over for a moment. “No, that doesn’t make sense- why would a male model fill in for MJ?” 

“You’re right, that doesn’t make sense.” You bite your lip, and click an attached file on the original email, trying to find out more. “Wait, remember how the email said that MJ was fraudulently using model-in-training funds?”

“Yeah. Definitely not true.” Peter shakes his head. “MJ never even brought up Harry in any of her recorded interviews, her auditions, or any of her actual files when I looked, so there’s nothing fraudulent about it.”

“Oh my god, Peter- look at this.” You turn the laptop screen closer to him. “This is clearly an edited, drawn over PDF file- the numbers don’t actually match the line of the rest of the words. This can’t be MJ’s balance sheet, can it?”

“Only one way to find out.” Peter takes the laptop from you, and with a bit of tech wizardry- he believes he’s undid the edits. “Ahhhh, Howlett. You little genius. No wonder MJ didn’t pick up on this- the fake numbers on that sheet must’ve matched her bank account.”

When you search for the original bank account number, just using your own bank app to make a fake e-transfer, the name attached to it is Elektra’s.

“Wait, so Elektra was the one who was using Dior’s funds?” You look at Peter, totally confused, and it suddenly seems to dawn on him. 

“Ye-e-es…Elektra is that tall Asian chick, right?” Peter scratches his face, and pulls up a video of one of MJ’s early model-in-training videos. “That’s her? Behind MJ?”

“Yup.” You nod. “I guess she and Bucky were working together on this… or maybe she was the mastermind who wanted to take MJ’s spot.”

“Well, she’s not in any of the later videos…” Peter examines the unedited PDF again, and makes a guess. “Is it a stretch to say she was using Dior’s funds and got kicked out for fraud? Hopefully unceremoniously? Probably trying to frame MJ?”

“I would assume that’s the case.” You agree. “But this doesn’t make sense, Peter. Why would Dior believe her?”

There’s a beat of silence, as you peer at the screen, and suddenly you come to an understanding.

“Oh my god. Peter!” You leap onto his lap, too elated and not sober enough to stop yourself, and he immediately catches you, his hands wrapping around your waist to steady you as you eagerly wrap your arms around his neck. He adores the sensation of the bare skin of your back against his palms, but you don’t seem to notice his touch. “Don’t you get it, dummy? None of this is real!”

Peter takes a second, because he’s hyper focused on your presence on his lap, and he’s still just drunk enough to not be able to stop pulling you close, even if you’re looking at him insistently to understand the situation. 

Peter is still pretty smart, though, and he figures it out.

“Oh. This isn’t really Dior’s email at all.” He genuinely looks shocked as he reads the email address over your shoulder- diorNYFW@gmail.com. It’s definitely not official, but he can’t blame MJ for not checking the email address when she’s been so busy with the wedding. It’s clearly the fault of those two master manipulators who hardly deserve to be at this event.

“A dummy account- probably to make it seem official? So MJ’s… still in the show.”

As Peter revels in this knowledge, you nod, coming even closer to him as you want to explain more and more, and he can’t stop you. “I’m going to say Bucky had something to do with Elektra’s connections in the industry because apparently he’s been there a lot longer, so they just took their story and made it seem plausible that MJ had done the same thing, maybe they thought she just wouldn’t fight it?-”

You suddenly shudder to a stop, because Peter’s hands are roaming, and he’s snickering at your reaction. “What’s wrong, Howlett?”

“I- Uh-” You feel Peter’s forehead brush your own, and his mouth is hovering over yours. Hot breath is making it difficult to not just lean in and kiss him, and you’re not sure how long you stay like this, with your eyes closed, half drunk on alcohol and emotions, your nose brushing his. You feel something hard between Peter’s legs, and he lazily- but with some aggression- splits your thighs more open so you’re right on top of it. He groans in satisfaction, and you so want to do this, you just don’t want it to be during this drunken time where you can’t remember it later and when you have extremely vital information to share to MJ that could really make or break her life, depending.

“We should tell MJ. C’mon, let’s go back outside.” You pull away from him, regrettably, and get off his lap. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “Okay, tease. We’re gonna have to wait for the flag to go down from full mast.”

You bury your face in your hands and Peter laughs, and then kisses your cheek.

[eternally-writing]

Late Night Talking | jjk.

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: fluff

Theme: best friend!au , friends to lovers

Warnings: N/A

Word count: 1kish i think maybe shorter it’s just a lil drabble for funsies

Synopsis:  “I bet you could kiss me right now and it would mean nothing.”

Banner by me!

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

“This again? Really Kook?”

You stared at him with slightly glaring eyes as you turned to look at him in the driver’s seat.

“I’m just saying… I think we should give us a try Y/N, I think we could be a really great couple” muttered Jungkook with a shrug as he tapped his finger on the steering wheel, as if the statement was as uncontroversial as saying that cheese belongs on pizza.

You both had this conversation more times in the past week than you could count. It all started one day when during one of your regular “I’m going to keep you on facetime and we can just go about our lives” chats and he confessed. And you almost fell for it. Almost. After questioning whether it was a joke and threatening to never talk again if he was kidding, you finally let yourself entertain the idea of the two of you dating. The truth was, you basically acted like you were - your friends knew that you mostly traveled as a package deal, he’s  the first person you text when you wake up and the last person before you fall asleep, and you spend most of your time together.

However, you couldn’t help but be scared of taking that extra step. Dating Jungkook would mean putting your relationship with him in potential jeopardy - and losing Jungkook, well that just wasn’t an option.

“We don’t work Jungkook, I can only say this to you so many times” you huffed in the passenger seat. You had the sternest look you could muster on your face, facing forward to avoid that doe look that you already know he’s giving you.

“Really? How confident are you.”

You took the time to mull over Jungkook’s question. If there was one thing you ever believed in, it was the scientific method - when you have a problem, make a hypothesis, and test it experimentally.

“I’m so confident, I bet you could kiss me right now and it would mean nothing.”

Jungkook instantly put his turning signal on, pulling to the side on the empty road as his grip on the steering wheel became tighter.

“Are you serious, Y/N? Don’t fuck with me right now.”

You chuckled - there was more than enough time for you to take back your statement with the new tension-ridden silence that hung in the air, but the small part of you that didn’t want to seem to overrule you. Jungkook knew you almost better than you knew yourself, which shouldn’t be a surprise after all the time that you have spent together. You were a lot of things to him: funny, loyal, beautiful, but above all, you were honest, which meant that he wanted to take your words as the truth.

Jungkook took one hand up to your cheek, pulling you closer to him. If Jungkook knew he could only have you once, for one small moment, he would take that moment. “Can I do this?” He whispered, his lips ghosting over yours, faces so close together that you could feel his breath on you.

Because kissing Jeon Jungkook was the opposite of bland. Jungkook gave you fireworks, explosions even. It was all too cliche for you, it was everything you were confident it wouldn’t be. Kissing Jungkook made you feel like you were living in a romance movie and Jungkook was the perfect male lead.

With every second Jungkook’s lips stayed pressed to yours, your resolve continued to dissolve away, the walls around your heart actively crumbling. Yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, at least not until you were gasping for air.

Jungkook softly called your name after your lips parted from one another. He leaned his forehead gently against yours, not wanting to get too far from you. You knew that you were already falling too deep, too fast, and you needed to talk your way out of this against your will if you were ever going to convince yourself that you are not in love with your best friend.

Jungkook swiftly cut off your statement. “Can I kiss you again, Y/N?”

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡–

A/N: i haven’t even touched writing in months and this is a WIP from forever ago that I kinda proofread but there’s probably still things I need to look over LOL. Anyways, all the love to you for reading this and I would love if you interacted if you enjoyed it <3 Until next time! - Emily

[synchodai]

I agree with you completely. I also think the team helming this thing aren’t very mature and they put their tantrums into whatever part they write, ignoring everything else. Like you can always tell when Hess is running things, Daemon all of sudden does things to paint him negative that he never did, or couldn’t have done in the books. And when Ryan is in charge all we get is Allicent propaganda throwing in Rhaenyra wherever he can to push that ridiculous fixation on them he has.

But both of them got so angry how much everyone loved Daemon. And they didn’t want us to or think we should. There’s interviews you can almost hear them pouting 😆 These people are supposed to be professionals and they are making their job personal when it definitely should not be.

The result is a mess and a whole season that Ryan says is Daemon atoning for the sins of his past. It’s all ridiculous. And I don’t even know what they are doing with Rhaenyra. Omg Blood and Cheese, their ineptitude is broadcast so loud in the decisions made for that.

It truly is a shame HOTD was not written by true professionals that are good at their job, and understand the responsibilities of it. The amazing writers we could have, and should have had.

Firstly, I appreciate you sharing your thoughts with me, anon! Thank you.

Secondly, this is nothing on you, anon, but I'm not really onboard with the fans' tendency to assume things of individual writers or paint them as dumb hacks who are outright disrespecting the source material. Fire and Blood isn't a sacred text and poor adaptations aren't a crime, so I try not to speak poorly of them as individuals and focus my criticism on the work itself. (And while I think HotD could have been better adapted, I still think it's good overall, especially in the realm of 90s fantasy lit adaptations *cough*Wheel of Time*cough*)

I've received a couple of messages like this one that have been even more accusatory (for a lack of a better word) towards HotD writers like Condal and Hess, and I've left those unpublished because I didn't want to give space to that kind of vitriol. I published this ask because anon here is tame in comparison and still had criticism grounded in the actual show. I know a lot of ire directed at the showrunners comes from things they said in supplementary interviews or their social media — stuff that I don't really read or seek out, so I don't really engage with discussions on the show's paratext. (Although I do see some of that in passing on my dash sometimes, it's mostly contextless snippets that are hard to comment on.)

Condal, Hess, Patel and whoever else are just one person in a massive crew. Cinematography, acting, directing, and even marketing all play a huge role in the final product. Yes, Condal is the showrunner who is ostensibly in charge of keeping everyone executing the same vision and for that, he deserves to be criticized if not everyone is on the same page. But I also don't know what external forces he's beholden to. Season 2 of HotD was filmed during the 2023 WGA Writers Strike, so that could very well have contributed to the lack of continuity and character cohesion that could have been ironed out by on-set writers.

I understand the fans' frustrations because I am MEGA frustrated a lot and the whingiest of whingers when it comes to HotD. But whether we think their work is good or not, the writers who worked on this are still true professionals in that this is their living. And prior the Writers Strike, they weren't even making a very good living out of it and had to fight to be involved during production. Before that, most shows would just have writers churn scripts pre-production and never involve them again.

Please, do criticize the show! Analyze the writing and pull it apart to your heart's content! Criticize Condal's adaptation choices and ability to run a show (without making assumptions about their person ofc because we don't know them). But also keep in mind that HotD is a huge collabarative work and writers make for easy scapegoats.

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

I feel so lonely. I know that I'm only 25 (and soon I'll be 26, and that doesn't feel right), but I also feel like I'm running out of time. More and more of the people my age that I know have gotten married or will be married later this year. And I've been invited to the wedding of a friend that I am honestly happy for and looking forward to seeing, but I noticed that my mood was brought down on the day that I got the invitation. And I didn't think it was related until I was watching a romantic show later in the evening and was brought to tears.

And, to be honest, watching or reading romance stories have always been something I've enjoyed but over the years I've been getting more and more jealous of these fictional characters. And I'm starting to think that maybe I don't enjoy romance stories anymore.

The way that the protagonists pine, and how they are being pined after. The way they see each other's flaws and have the desire to cherish them. The way they want to take care of each other, how they want to see the other happy, how they want so desperately their feelings to be reciprocated all the while they already are... I think these things haven't been making me swoon or feel giddy for the past couple years. They just make me sad. Because I lack them.

I've never even had a partner. I think the only time I had feelings reciprocated was in the 1st grade, and I didn't even know it. We were six, and we called each other "boyfriend" and "girlfriend," but insisted it was because "he's my friend that is a boy!" and vice versa. We were only six, but he got me a bouquet of flowers on Valentine's Day. And our mothers took us to Chuck E. Cheese and he gave me all the tickets he won. And it makes me happy that I had someone that liked me that much. But it makes me sad that that's the last romantic gesture I've had. 

And for a very long time, I hadn't even had my first kiss. And I was getting impatient. I always dreamed about what my first kiss would be like. How it would feel like a crescendo. How delicate or rough it would be. Would it be behind the school? Would it be at my doorstep after a date? Would it be at the top of a ferris wheel? Would it be in the rain? But my first kiss was also during my first sexual encounter at 23. And we had only gone on a couple of dates. And afterwards, he ghosted me. I tried to convince myself it was fine; I don't think losing my virginity was this life-changing event (in many ways, I still feel like a virgin), and it wasn't like I was in love with the guy. But I felt played. 

And every single time after the first grade, every single person I've liked has rejected me. And almost all the guys that have shown interest in me have turned around and been cruel once it was clear I didn't reciprocate. Without exaggeration, most of them became red-pilled incels. And it seems that's the main brand of dude that I still attract.

As for women, I haven't been pursued, and I attempted to pursue two. Both were unsuccessful. One even snapped at me. Both were bi, like me, so it wasn't like I was barking up the wrong tree. Both have even been flirty with me. It really seemed like I was getting moves put on me. But both were way more conventionally attractive than me. 

And maybe that's the crux of it. Maybe I'm not pretty enough, thin enough, to be cared for. Maybe I'm only pretty enough to fuck for one night, to be someone's friend, to harass on the street, to be thought as obtainable by the detestable, to get a swipe to the right on a dating app but no messages.

I just want someone to think I'm worthwhile enough to give all their Chuck E. Cheese tickets to again.

Love,

Maria

[ghastlybin]

hi there! i wanted to request a dreamcatcher sua x 8th member scenario: ok this is super cheesy but whatever, basically all of the dc members are dating someone and sua and 8th member are the only single ones. Since reader is the latest addition to the group compared to other, they didn't think much of it but on the other hand, sua has been feeling kinda lonely and touch starved, so she's happy when a new member arrived that way shes not that lonely anymore. they both start becoming very affectionate with eachother (always huging or having any kind of physical contact) until they both develop feelings for eachother? (a little angst at first but lots of fluff pls)

Thank you for the request! I hope I added enough fluff, otherwise please let me know if you’d like me to edit with more!! I tried my best without being overly cheesy or overly angsty (actually tried to keep it subtle lol)

Pairing: Sua x (Gender neutral) Reader

Word count: 939

Genre/contents: Dreamcatchers 8th member! Reader x Sua, a lil angst but way more fluffy (I hope)

Note: is “co-members” even a fcking word LMAO but uhhh I don’t really have much of a note this time? Just that I will finally admit that maybe I am not very good with fluff but hey, I still love it. Too cheesy? A little cheesy? Good thing I like cheese amiright?? :,) Someday I will be good at writing the fluffiest fluff imaginable.

Can she just reject me already so I can move on? Or like… Yk, give me a CHANCE :,((((

Sua was happy for them, seeing the girls with their significant others. She was happy they found someone who treated them with respect and cared for them.

But with that happiness on their behalf, also came a sense of longing. Loneliness that couldn’t be eased.

When you were added into the group’s lineup, she was glad to find out you were single as she would no longer be the only one in the group without a significant other.

She was just glad to have someone to hang out with without being third wheeled or feel as if she were intruding in the girls’ relationship.

With you, Sua felt less alone. Neither of you had a special someone to spend your free time with, thus spending it with each other by watching movies, eating at a small restaurant together, visit the karaoke bar- Anything that could be done with another person, there you and Sua were, having the time of your lives.

The only people that didn’t think you two were a couple- with the amount of time you’ve both spent together- were you and Sua.

“A new bakery shop opened up down the street,” Sua raised an eyebrow at you expectantly, “wanna come?”

You had already started to walk towards the door, where Sua stood.

“You had me at bakery.”

Sua grinned, linking her arm around your elbow and skipping out of the door and down the street with you.

The bakery had a few people already there to check it out, but there were plenty of tables for you and Sua to sit down together while enjoying one of the baked goods they sold.

“How did you find this place?” You asked, covering your mouth so she wouldn’t see you talking with your mouth full.

Sua smiled, “just in the neighborhood and saw the ‘grand opening’ sign.”

You took a short break from eating the pastry you had ordered, seeing how most of the customers were together- most notably, they were couples, holding each other’s hands, laughing with each other, one couple was even sharing a milkshake.

“Aw, are you going to replace me?“ Sua joked, seeing you were looking at all of the couples in the bakery. She felt a pang in her heart when she said that, thinking of the possibility.

You shook your head in response, finishing the pastry.

“No, never.” You replied, swallowing before continuing, “I do, someday, want to go on a date- An actual date.”

“What’s wrong with the dates we go on now?” Sua asked, although she was joking again, she was afraid of what you’d answer.

“I mean as a couple type of date, not a friend date.” You smiled, pushing your empty plate forward as you leaned back into the chair.

Sua felt that familiar ache in her chest. The longing and loneliness she felt when she saw the other members with their significant others.

She didn’t understand why it pained her to hear you say that or why it bothered her deep down when you called your time together, ‘friend dates’.

You noticed she had zoned out, staring at you with a soft frown. You brushed it off, though, and stacked her empty plate on top of yours.

“Besides, I don’t know if I want to date right now.” You spoke, seeing she was still staring at you with the same expression. “You know, with group promotions and all.”

Sua blinked after so long, forcing a smile, “yeah…Me too.”

You raised your eyebrows, unconvinced.

“I’m joking.” You smiled. Sua didn’t know what the joke was. She just figured you were going to find someone else to spend all of your time with and be clingy as you and Sua were with each other.

Sua realized that her pain wasn’t because she didn’t like the thought of you replacing her as a friend because she’d be lonely.

It was because she just didn’t like the thought of seeing you with someone else.

“I want you.”

You froze at her sudden words, grinning when she started to get flustered, her face turning red and her hands flying up to her face to ‘hide’ from you.

“I mean, I like you.” Sua clarified, still not meeting your gaze.

You reached across the table, taking her hands into yours, the grin still on your face.

“I was hoping you’d be the first to say that,” you chuckled. “I was terrified of what you’d say if I confessed first.”

Sua readjusted her hands in order for her to be able to rub her thumbs on the back of your hands.

“I was hoping you would be the first to confess.” Sua seemed less flustered at this point, her once flustered eyes were now focused solely on you.

“Does this count as an actual date now?” You scrunched your nose, half-joking.

A part of you wished she would say yes.

The other part of you wanted to restart on a different date, only officially as a couple and not as ‘friends’ or ‘co-members’.

“No,” Sua let go of your hands, standing up and grabbing the plates when she did. You followed her, hoping she’d clarify more. Sua set the plates under the sign where guests have been asked to set used dishes.

Sua looked at you, cupping your worried face and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“We will go on an official date.”

You felt relief wash over you, smiling happily as the two of you walked out the same way you both walked in.

Sua’s arm linked around your elbow.

Only this time it was as more than friends.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Chef Happy by happyaspie

Part 2 of my new series! Happy Hogan's [Ever Evolving] Resume

No Archive Warnings Apply | Rated G | Word Count: 2,138 | Happy Hogan & Peter Parker

Summary: Somehow or another, Happy is tasked with watering his boss's stupid plant while he's out of town. He's just finishing up when Peter Parker comes waltzing in, having forgotten that Tony won't be there. He wants to just send him on his way. But the mother-hen tendencies he didn't even know he had kick in, and he's suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to make sure the kid eats. It's fine. He loves to cook. And he makes a pretty darn good grilled cheese.

[Except Below the Cut]

Happy walked into Tony's empty penthouse with a huff. He crossed the living room and approached the stupid plant that, for no good reason, had been left in his care. He looked at the deep green leaves and sighed, wondering when Tony had become obsessed with the thing. He didn’t even know when it had shown up. Or why. Tony could barely take care of himself most days. Then all of a sudden he decided he wanted to be worried about the care and keeping of a ficus lyrata. He rotated the plant a quarter turn to the right and checked the soil hygrometer. He compared the number to the ridiculously complex notes that had been left for him and gave the thing a few good spritzes. When he was done, he snapped a picture as proof he’d actually checked in on the thing. He was just starting to type out a clipped message to go along with it when he heard the elevator doors open.

Seeing as Tony was due to be back for another thirty-six hours, his head whipped to the side and his body automatically went into a defensive posture. He reached for the pepper spray on his belt, prepared to douse whatever intruders had been smart enough to infiltrate Tony Stark’s personal space. He released his grasp on the bottle and rolled his eyes as he watched a mop of brown wavy hair bounce into the room.

“Hey, Kid. What are you doing here?” 

Peter looked perplexed with his head canted to the side and his face scrunched up. “It’s Tuesday. I'm always here on Tuesdays.” A beat passed and a dawning look crossed the kid’s face. “Wait. What are you doing here?”

Happy gestured toward the window. “Making sure this stupid plant doesn’t dry out and die in the next day and a half.”

“Why?”

“Because apparently my ever-evolving job description now includes house sitting,” he grumbled. Every time Tony left town, he ended up with an extensive ‘honey-do’ list to go on top of his routine duties. He’d never understand why everything perpetually had to be him. “He’s a billionaire. He could probably hire a master gardener or professional botanist to come and look after this thing. But no. He wants me to do it.”

Rather than commenting on the justifiable complaints, Peter made a small noise of confusion and asked, “You’re house sitting?”

“Yes, Peter,” Happy exasperatedly replied. “The boss had to fly out to California for a couple of days, remember? He’ll be back tomorrow. I thought you two rescheduled.”

He could practically see the wheels in the kid’s head turning. He crossed his arms and waited for it all to click. 

[Continue Reading on AO3]

@spagbol99

[ndostairlyrium]

3, 7, 17, 23 from the fandom asks! :]

HI <3 Thank you so much <3

3 - a character that fandom has helped you appreciate

I have to admit it's many :' but the most blatant example is Sera. Frankly I was annoyed with her attitude, but then people had me noticing the layers of her personality in relation to the context and I started to appreciate her much more

7 - your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

I'm captured by anything slice of life, melancholic, or ironic. Speaking for myself, I draw and write a lot of comfort food :'D for me, at least. I did a specific tier list some time ago about it, lemme link it *slides battle couple in the mix*

17 - the thing in canon that everyone loves and that you also love

Already replied here But I'm adding that I love some of the most stupid visual inner jokes you can find in the games, like the cheese wheels scattered everywhere, and I'm glad the fandom is with me on that

23 - the fandom you're curious about because of a mutual

I'm blaming @melisusthewee for The Terror, because I see her posts about it and after those I'm totally going to rewatch the show in a different light and obsess over dynamics among characters I have no memory of :'D

The meme

[focsle]

One more from Mr. Haviland tonight. The captain gets intensely steamed about some defacement on the wheel house.

“Dec 31st The last day of 1856 has been an unlucky one for the forward hands on board the Bark Baltic. Someone has scratched an image and the letters TH + O which has made the old man out of humor and he has taken the wheel house leaving those who are obliged to stand wheels exposed to the bitter cold rain hail + wind.  Because one man has scratched a little on the wheel house all hands are obliged to suffer and are liable to catch their Death cold. For it is very cold down in these Latitudes + hardly a night passes that we do not have a very cold rain. We are obliged to stand two hours + two and a half + any one in one of the cold hard rains cannot help getting thoroughly drenched + he escapes without a heavy cold he is lucky + many a man has taken his Death cold under much less exposure. The Captain says the house shall not go on again until he finds out who has done it. And no one knows who has done the Deed. Nothing else is talked of but who wrote on the wheel house. No one of course knows who is the man. Jan 1st The old man is an awful bad way on account of the scratching on the wheel house. He was intending he said to give us the same grub he did on last New Years day Veg Ginger Cake cheese Plum Duff +c to day nothing more than common + he has stopped our butter which we have had ever since leaving New Bedford. Last night a heavy gale of wind sprung up accompanied with hail + rain. It seemed to please the old man very much to see us poor fellows standing at the wheel exposed to all the wind rain + hail. Every one of us puts on all our Donkey contains with an oil slick and we can hardly keep warm even then. We are under close reefed topsails heading E.N.E. This on the whole has been the most unpleasant New Year Day I ever spent. I can imagine the merry jingle of the sleigh bells + some young couple riding along gaily chatting of the pleasant time they intend to have a tripping of the light fantastic toe. Oh if I was only on my own Dear American soil once more. I should think twice before I left the land. Jan 2nd Fri This is the most severe gale we have experienced while on board the Baltic + what makes it worse is we have nothing to shelter us while taking our trick at the wheel. No sail on except Double reefed main topsail. No quarter watches as usual. The old man says no one could have made those letters on the wheel house except a well educated person for he allows it is a great deal better than he can do it. The consequence is the charge is laid to your humble sev’t.”

[nirby-wirby]

AN: This work is for @maridotnet! I was your @mlsecretsanta :) I hope you enjoy this fluffy Adrienette fic! I really enjoyed working on it. Summary: Marinette, Adrien, Alya, and Nino have a sleepover at Marinette’s house. Will Marinette and Adrien finally confess their feelings? Title: I loved you then and I love you now

Adrien stared into his reflection in his bathroom mirror, determined. He was having a friendly sleepover with Nino, Alya, and Marinette. He was going to have a nice time and when Alya and Nino fell asleep, he’d confess his feelings to Marinette. Maybe. Hopefully.

His previous attempts hadn’t been so great. After waiting for a couple months to see if Marinette had ever confessed to buttercup and gotten a boyfriend, he’d realized that he was paying attention because he didn’t want her to get with the mysterious boy. Of course he wanted Marinette to be happy— she was one of his closest friends— but he wanted her to be happy with him.

Then, the reveal happened. They’d both rushed into an alley to transform and hadn’t noticed each other until bright green and pink lights illuminated the small space and they’d almost been blinded. They hadn’t had time to talk about it at the moment because an akuma was wreaking havoc in the city, and they hadn’t really had time in the past few weeks.

Of course, he’d tried to talk to her. He’d wanted to talk about the reveal and confess his feelings for her. But every time he got to the point where he’d say he really cared about her, she’d say something like, “Right! Because we’re very good friends!” then laugh nervously and run away with an excuse.

But tonight would be different. Possibly.

He smacked his cheeks lightly, trying to psyche himself up. He could do this! He’d just correct her before she could run away. And where would she even run? The sleepover was at her house. It would be after the bakery closed. If she made an excuse this time, then maybe she just wasn’t comfortable being near him. He frowned. He thought they’d gotten past this. 

Adrien shook the thoughts away as he checked the time. “Plagg?” The kwami appeared beside him, popping a triangle of camembert into his mouth and swallowing it whole. “It’s time to go. Don’t you think you have too much cheese for one night?”

The kwami looked at the bag he’d filled with seven camembert wheels. “No? Why would this be too much?”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He’d just make sure the bag was sealed completely so Marinette’s room wouldn’t stink.

A knock came from his door. “Adrien,” Nathalie called, “your driver is ready.”

“Coming!” He grabbed his overnight bag as Plagg hid in his shirt pocket.

He could do this, he reminded himself as he stepped out of his room. Tonight he’d confess his love for Marinette and, hopefully, everything would be fine. 

————

“I can’t do this!” Marinette exclaimed, hands pulling at her hair. She was pacing in her room as Alya watched her from the chaise lounge she reclined on. “Why did I think this was a good idea? A sleepover? At my house? In my room? With Adrien?” The girl whirled around to face her best friend, “Why didn’t you talk me out of it?”

Alya laughed, “Relax, girl. I’ll be here and so will Nino. If you need anything, we’ll be here for you. There’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Marinette frowned. That was easy for Alya to say. Somehow she always managed to be calm, cool, and confident. And Marinette was cool and confident, too! …Just not so much around Adrien. And definitely not calm. If she was Ladybug, then yeah, she could be calm. Sometimes.

Which Adrien knew. Because he was Chat Noir. Her partner, her best friend, and her kitty. Marinette blushed, she still couldn’t believe they were the same person. Silly, flirty, easy going Chat Noir that she could always be herself around was the same boy she could barely hold a normal conversation with. It also meant that it was Adrien who kissed her hand and winked at her and called her his lady. Oh god. She was not going to survive the night with that knowledge.

Marinette groaned, pulling her hands down her face as she sat down next to Alya. Alya put an arm around her shoulders, rubbing one in a comforting manner. Marinette placed her head on her friend’s shoulder. “I don’t know if I can confess tonight. I’ve never been able to, so why’s tonight any different?”

Alya gently nudged Marinette off her shoulder and placed both her hands on Marinette’s shoulders. “Hey, look at me.” Marinette slowly looked up at her. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready. But I know you can do this! If you just can’t get the words out, then have fun tonight. It’s a sleepover with your best friends! We were able to get Garba— I mean, Gabriel Agreste to let his son leave the house. That’s something to celebrate! Right?”

Marinette smiled. She was so lucky to have such great friends. “Okay…thanks, Alya.”

Alya grinned, hugging her. “Anytime.”

“Marinette?” Her mother called. “Can you get the door please?”

Marinette pulled away from Alya, nervousness creeping back into her. Alya patted her shoulder reassuringly. Marinette nodded, taking a deep breath. She could do this. She was going to survive the sleepover.

As she walked down the stairs, Marinette hyped herself up. It was just one night. Just a normal sleepover with her friends.

(And the love of her life. But if she thought about that, then she wouldn’t survive the night. And she couldn’t let Adrien have a bad sleepover experience. And if she died at a sleepover, then what would her tombstone say? “Died from being too close to Sunshine Child who also happened to be Charming, Flirty Kitty”? And—)

She was at the door. Ok, Marinette, she told herself, just open the door. You can do it.

Her hand closed on the handle. She turned the knob, then—

“Hey, dude!” Nino smiled as he waved at Marinette.

Oh, it was just Nino. Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. She could deal with Nino. “Hi! Come on in,” she grinned. As Nino walked in, Marinette caught sight of blond hair. Oh no.

“Hi, Marinette,” Adrien said, his smile dreamy as ever. Marinette’s heart picked up speed and she felt her cheeks heat up. Did she really just call his smile dreamy?

“Heeeyyy, Adrien,” she replied.

Two seconds. Two seconds was all it took for her to be a jumbled mess around him. How was that even possible? Did he put some sort of spell on her? No, he wouldn’t do that. Adrien was too nice.

Marinette stepped aside to let him in her house. “You guys can go upstairs,” she told the boys, “Alya’s already there.” She closed the door as they headed up to her room.

Her mom smiled at her as Marinette reached for the tray of snacks she’d prepared for them. “Good luck,” she said.

Marinette’s face burned with embarrassment. “Thanks,” she muttered. But, really, she did need the good luck wishes. She needed all the luck in the world if she was going to survive the night. 

Marinette stopped at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at them. They’d never seemed like much of a challenge, but in that moment, they seemed like the longest hike. 

Marinette shook her head to clear her thoughts. She was Ladybug! She could handle a sleepover with her crush and her best friends! It wasn’t the end of the world. Right?

————

Adrien didn’t think he’d ever had so much fun, or sugar, in his life. (Which was kind of sad, but he wasn’t going to think about it.)

Marinette and her parents had a steady supply of delicious pasteries that seemed to never end. Alya and Nino had also brought soda, chips, and candy. They’d played truth or dare, they’d taken random online quizzes, they’d challenged each other to eat sour candies without making faces — which had been hilarious — they’d had a pillow fight, then they’d built a pillow fort. (Adrien didn’t think he’d ever made a pillow fort before.)

Now, in the comfort of their small pillow fort and some warm blankets, they watched a movie on Marinette’s computer. But Adrien couldn’t really pay attention to it. Not when Marinette’s hand was centimeters away from his. They’d had to squeeze in close to all fit in the pillow fort, and of course Alya and Nino wanted to be next to each other. Naturally, Marinette sat beside Alya, which had left just enough room for Adrien to squeeze in next to her.

He wanted to hold her hand. So badly. He wanted to so much that he was actively holding himself back from closing the tiny distance between their hands. They’d held hands before, of course, but that was when they were running away from danger or his fans. He wanted to hold her hand in a romantic sense, like when they were cuddled in a pillow fort and enjoying small moments or walking along the Seine at the end of a wonderful date. And he really, really wanted to hold her hand in that very moment.

Instead, he moved his attention to Alya and Nino who’d fallen asleep. It was the perfect chance to get Marinette alone and tell her his feelings. He glanced at Marinette as she idly chewed on the popcorn they’d made for the movie.

Gosh, she looked so pretty. Her hair had come undone from the usual pigtails in the pillow fight and she’d just left it like that. Did she know what it did to him? Did she know that it only strengthened the yearning to play with her hair as she falls asleep? (Maybe one day he’d get the chance.)

Marinette’s eyes caught his and he quickly looked away, face burning. She’d caught him staring. Oh, no. What if she thought he was weird for staring? No, no, he just had to play it cool. Yeah. He could do that.

He cleared his throat and looked at her again. She looked back at him and — oh, why was he so nervous? He’d confessed so many times to her before, so why did he suddenly feel so anxious?

Adrien then realized he hadn’t said anything for a while after clearing his throat. “Uh.” Wow, what a great start, a voice that sounded a lot like Plagg said in his head. Maybe he was spending too much time around the sarcastic little guy. He tried again. “Do you…wanna get some fresh air outside?”

Marinette smiled and his heart stuttered. She was so pretty, and for what? To kill him? Probably. “Sure.”

Quietly, they tiptoed across Marinette’s room and out to her balcony. It was somewhat chilly, and Marinette was smart enough to grab a blanket on her way out. Adrien was grateful for his warm pajamas.

They stood side by side, leaning on her balcony railing and watching the streets below. It was late, but it was also the weekend, so people were still out and about. Adrien watched as a couple laughed, swinging their joined hands with much enthusiasm. Their wildly swinging hands came back to a normal swing as their laughing subsided. Adrien wished he could do that with Marinette. Maybe he would if he’d just confess.

Adrien looked at Marinette, grasping her blanket in one hand to keep it in place around her shoulders. She was smiling serenely as she watched the street below them. Her twinkling balcony lights cast a golden glow over her face. She looked breathtaking.

Ok, he told himself, you can do this! You’ve done it before and she looked just as gorgeous then. You can do this!

“Marinette,” he murmured, stepping in a little closer, “for a while now, I’ve been wanting to tell you this. You know you’re very important to me—“

“Right! Because we’re very close friends!” Marinette interrupted loudly, a nervous laugh escaping her. She turned on her heel to leave, but he couldn’t let her go yet again.

Gently, he grasped her hand, sighing, “Yes, we arevery close friends, but…” He looked her in the eye, mesmerized by the sea of blue that met him. “I want to be more than that. I love you, Marinette. I always have, whether I realized it or not, and knowing that you were the girl under the mask only made my feelings stronger.” It felt good to get it off his chest. “It’s ok if you don’t feel the sa—“

“I love you too!” Marinette blurted, her words leaving her so fast it took him a moment to register what she’d said.

“You…love me, too?” She nodded, tears in her eyes. Adrien laughed, picking her up at spinning her around in his arms. “You love me, too!” He exclaimed as Marinette giggled, cheeks flushed from joy.

He paused, his heart beat thundering in his ears. He wanted to kiss her so badly. But would it be too soon? They stared at each other, love in their eyes.

Then, Marinette blushed and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

Adrien grinned, leaning in and meeting her half way. Her lips were soft and warm, and her lipgloss tasted like passion fruit. When they pulled apart, he asked, “Did you wear that lipgloss on purpose?”

Her cheeks got even more red. “Maybe.” They giggled as he twirled her around again. “I’m so happy,” Marinette murmured.

“Me, too, Marinette, me too,” he replied softly, leaning in for another kiss.

————

Alya opened her eyes and grinned up at Nino. Nino grinned back. The two of them knew their friends were having trouble getting together so they made yet another plan. They’d encourage the two to confess as they always did, but also give them the opportunity to do so.

Obviously, Adrien and Marinette weren’t going to confess with her and Nino being right there, even though they both knew they liked each other. It was understandable that they’d want to be alone for that. The best way for them to be alone was if they thought she and Nino were asleep.

So, Nino suggested they watch a movie, then the two of them pretended to fall asleep within the first twenty minutes. It was hard not to smile when Adrien asked Marinette if she wanted to get some fresh air. Now, they just had to hope they finally confessed.

“Do you think it worked?” Nino whispered.

“I don’t know why it wouldn’t,” Alya replied. But then again, that’s what they’d thought about other attempts. “I’ll go check.”

Alya crept up the ladder to Marinette’s bed loft and carefully opened the trapdoor just enough to see Adrien’s feet on the ground, and Marinette’s in the air. He was twirling her around. Then Alya heard her giggle and say, “I’m so happy.” With a giant grin, Alya quietly closed the trapdoor and hurried over to Nino.

“They did it!” She whisper-yelled as she hugged him tightly.

“Finally!” When they pulled away, he kissed her cheek, softly. “Now, we can go on double dates without them complaining about being the third wheels.”

“But you know they’re going to be insufferable in their first month or so of dating.” The honeymoon period for those two would be as if honey was poured on cotton candy — sickeningly sweet.

Nino shrugged, “I think it’ll be better than hearing them pine over each other.”

“Good point.” The trapdoor opened. Alya and Nino tried to be casual as they turned to watch Adrien and Marinette move back to the pillow fort. “There you guys are.”

“Needed some fresh air?” Nino asked.

Marinette and Adrien looked at each other. “Yeah.” Adrien lightly swung their joined hands.

“Oh, and what’s this?” Alya asked as though she didn’t already know what was going on.

Adrien smiled softly at Marinette. “We’ve decided to start dating.”

“That’s great! I’m so happy for you guys!” Nino nodded in agreement.

The two squeezed back into the pillow fort. “So,” Nino clapped his hands together, “who wants to try some more sour candies?”

The others cheered. Soon, they abandoned their movie and continued with their sleepover shenanigans. As Alya looked at the happy new couple, she grinned. This was surely a night to remember.

[510amy5]

So I was tagged by @lordfenric-writes for this, thanks! I enjoy doing these games.

First messaging app: so this was awhile ago. I didn't get a phone till way past my friends and for the longest time wasn't allowed to use MSN either. My first messaging app on my computer was actually called Ebuddy. My first texting app that I used on my ipod touch was text plus. I really liked that one cause it allowed me to chat with my friends on their phones as long as I had wifi.

Pickles yes or no: Depends on the type of pickle. Dill pickles absolutely. Put it on a sandwich, slap it on a burger, toss it in a salad or just eat as a snack. This is the prime form of pickle. Gerkins yes. Not as good or as multi use as the dill, but a nice snack along side some cheese once in awhile. Bread and butter pickles get out, dni.

Favorite mythical creature: My favourite is definitely dragons. They fly, they breath fire, they are intelligent, super cool. Of course that's all lore dependant but the fact that there's room to play is just as fun! My second favourite would be phoenixes though.

Longest book series you've read: For me this has to be Wheel of Time coming in at 14 long books. I would definitely recommend giving them a read! Book 1 has a very different vibe from the rest but they are all good. Some people say getting through a couple books was a slog but I didn't personally find that to be my experience

Playstation, Xbox or Nintendo controller layout: I'm not personally attached to any given layout. We didn't have a video game system till I was in high-school so I don't have a particular layout embedded in me from childhood. Honestly no matter what layout i use I will struggle to learn it and always press the wrong button at the worst times.

Best time to get out of bed: 9:30. 7 years ago I took some time off work for a mental health medical leave and one of my rules for myself was no alarm clock. After a couple weeks my internal clock regulated and my natural time to rise was 9:30 give or take 10 minutes. I also naturally prefer a nap around 3pm.

Did you ever have a tamagotchi: Yes but I wasn't into it like a lot of people were. I was a very casual tamagotchi owner. I would go through pets once in awhile, I would play when I felt like it. I was never super attached or intense though. Part of this may have been a difficulty in remembering which of the 3 unlabeled buttons did what and thus constantly doing the wrong thing....but regardless of the reason it was never a big deal for me if mine died and I had to start over.

Thank for the chance to do this! I enjiy these types of tag games. I will tag @crowreys-wormstache and @onlycosmere .

[greypetrel]

party 4 and codex 7 for all the girls (or whoever you want to do) :)

Hi Mary, thank you for asking!! :D

Here's another academic paper on my blorbos, thank you for enabling it! <3

Tis the prompt list

PARTY

4. Are there any companions (or advisors) they don’t get along with? Have any of them ever left the party?

Alyra: She had a rough time getting along with Leliana ("God told me to come with you!" "Oh most holy blessed Mythal give me strenght...") but they eventually found common ground and got along, Leliana taught her her specialization and how to stab people even better. The one she got along the least with is Wynne. She respect her skills greatly, but can't stand how nosey she is with her love life and why she thinks she has any right to talk. Everyone is an adult and expressed consent, there's no more to say. They may share some moralities, but their ways are really different. Nobody left the party, tho, she doesn't hate Wynne. Her hate goes only for Arl Eamon (Teagan's not intelligent enough, to her, to be hated).

Raina: Already answered here! (for brevity: she doesn't get along with Sebastian, both him and Anders left after the Chantry)

Aisling: Vivienne. She's a people pleaser and convinced that people are inherently good. But, there are boundaries she won't go against. They're really incompatible people, all in all. Aisling hates the Game and has to put effort in masking what she's thinking and feeling... Which for Vivienne is all political ammunition and something Aisling should stop doing. Aisling is not ambitious and couldn't care less for power, whilst for Vivienne is rightfully a matter of personal freedom and interest. Their relationship was... Polite, but educate, save a couple of episodes. Aisling avoid her at the best because she knows they don't get along, but keeps it civil. (Except the one time Vivienne called Cole "her pet demon" and she snapped and answered in tow. The whole of the Inquisition never says the word "Pet" in her presence as a consequence.) When Vivienne asked her for help with the potion... Aisling took it in stride, thought it was a way to finally build a relationship, that maybe Vivienne doesn't really hate her, maybe they can be friends! (she's a people pleaser, yes). When she brought her to assist to Laurent she was pretty sure she warmed up to her, got back to Skyhold all giddy and smiley. And then, Vivienne introduced her to Laurent's family just to make herself look better, all but told her she used her kindness... And that was it, for Aisling. She felt horrible and never trusted her again. She doesn't really believe that in the Exalted Council she got her to spa day out of good heart, for her it's pity at the best, some sort of political scheme at worst.

Radha: She smelled Blackwall's lie in a couple of days. She... Knew he was hiding something. Never trusted him one bit, he was too vague on the Wardens. Particularly after meeting an actual one. She never kicked him out, but it wasn't a surprise when he revealed his true identity. Sent him to the Wardens without a second thought. Wasn't so keen on Sera as well, too much shitting on her culture, she didn't feel like listening to her if she wasn't willing to do the same first, but she never kicked her out.

Codex:

7. How do they feel about religions that are not their own, like the Chantry or the Qun?

Alyra: You can believe in a mystical wheel of cheese for all she cares. As long as you don't hurt others, your house, your rules, she'll ask you what does the wheel of cheese do and leave you be. She's not ok with religion mixing with politics: it's not religion anymore, it's doctrine, and she's not ok with that. Particularly with the Chantry, she thinks it's highly hypocrite of them to fuck both mages and templars as they do and call it morality. Politically, she very rarely listen to the Chantry, cares about it just because she can... But let's say that in Vigil's Keep the Chantry has no saying or political power, they can hold mass and she's ok, she won't invite any Chantry Mother to her private council.

Raina: Doesn't trust the Chantry for obvious reasons, it was what forced her father and siblings to hide and fucked their lives. She's fascinated by the Qun. Mind me, she'd do HORRIBLY under it... But the idea of everything being in order, having some clear task to do ahead, is something she finds soothing. Elven gods are good enough, after enough with Merrill she'll got interested in them and will start to respect them enough, if Merrill wants to celebrate, she'll give her support and help. Why not? If the Maker and Andraste exist, why not the Creators.

Aisling: She's interested in religions as philosophies, she has no problems accepting Andraste too as a deity, why not? She doesn't worship nor follow the Chant of Light, but can see the beauty in its philosophy, will bring her mind leaves here and there. (started as a misunderstanding over the Maker's stale breath... She kept it up out of habit). Some things of the Qun are good as well, as a philosophy! She's very respectful for every religion in personal use... For her as well the situation changes when it mixes with politics. Can't condone the Chantry as an institution for what it did to both Mages and Templars, can't condone the Qun as an institution for how they treat mages and how in his personal mission Bull was nullified as an identity, and forced to choose between his culture and his men. She's the one more prone to come to a mixed cult, Ameridan's style.

Radha: Respects the right of other people to believe in what they want. As long as they keep her believing in her own gods. Has maybe a harder time distinguishing philosophy and institutions, Andrastianism for her is tainted by the Chantry, and the Qun as well. (even if she's the one who'll fare the best under the Qun, actually) Will learn about them for the sake of it... Believing in anything else? No, thank you.