#they’re inseparable your honour

[missingsunlight]

dnf talk about……. the weather !! (*'▽'*) 💙💚

[goblinbugthing]

Dropping by with an ask for Hara!

I heard you were Gala's wife? How did the two of you meet and originally fall in love?

“We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“My parents had moved to live nearby the Palace after my mom started working as a Yonna there, and Galacta lived in the Palace for his whole life. My other mom and Gala’s mom got along super well and eventually became good friends, so Gala and I saw each other a lot.”

“As for how we fell in love… I guess it just kinda happened gradually.”

“She means the world to me.”

(Side note: a Yonna is basically the Halcandran-Draconic equivalent of a Nun)

@kirbyoctournament

[thedwarrowscholar]

Is there a marriage proposal in Khuzdul? Like how would I say it?

Well met, sunnyofitaly!

What a wonderful question — and one that digs deep into the stonework of Dwarvish sentiment. I’m truly glad you asked.

Proposals among Dwarves — if they happen at all — are rare, meaningful, and, above all, private. Dwarves do not take such bonds lightly. As explored in this earlier article of mine on Dwarven marriage customs, only about a third of Dwarves are women, and of those, very few marry. When a match is made, it is for life — forged with all the seriousness one might expect from a people who see love as an inseparable bond, profound familial honour, and a link to their past and even their gods.

Dwarves rarely engage in public displays of affection. Marriage is often quietly arranged or mutually acknowledged — though I imagine even the most stoic Dwarf has their own private way of making their intentions known.

🪓 Would There Be a “Proposal” as We Know It?

I would imagine not in the way Elves or Men might do it. But that doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be words — carefully chosen, spoken with solemnity, perhaps whispered over a forge or in a quiet stone hall.

It’s worth noting that either party may express interest, but it is the Dwarf-woman who ultimately chooses her husband-to-be — a tradition both ancient and quietly powerful. Once she has made her choice, it is the male who follows with a formal proposal, which includes the acquirement sum or contract ("zarb"), offered in solemn recognition of the union to come.

Part of A Dwarvish Zarb

Only once both parties are in agreement does the betrothal period begin.

The traditional order is strict and honoured:

Either party may declare interest

The Dwarf-woman makes her choice

The male proposes — with words, possibly a gift and a zarb

The woman accepts (hopefully - well, she should really, as she made the choice to begin with)

The betrothal period begins

Given their fierce loyalty and private nature, such proposals would not be made lightly — and would almost certainly occur in private, shared only between the pair (perhaps even whispered, not spoken aloud).

💍 Suggested Proposal Phrases:

Zasakrisikiya kayalzi y'amê? “Will you join your lineage with mine?” (Echoing the joining of lineages and the reverence for ancestry.)

Balulmâ mânefan, azafr ritihakhât ni ikh-khebab. “Let us bind ourselves, as ingots in the forge.” (Honouring the binding metaphor — a sacred joining.)

Khebabê tarsari khamazi sullu. Zasasbariya 'arasikhi? “My forge burns for you alone. Will you answer its flame?” (More romantic, but still rooted in Dwarven craft metaphors.)

🌍 Would a Dwarf Go Down on One Knee?

Unlikely on one knee... more likely on both.

Dwarves, much like the ancient cultures Tolkien drew from — particularly Old Norse and Hebraic — are more likely to see marriage as a solemn pact, a joining of Houses and lineages, rather than an emotionally demonstrative moment. Norse sagas and Hebrew texts both emphasize contract, lineage, and honour over ceremony or romantic flourish.

So while a Human might kneel, offer a ring, and proclaim love in the open square, a Dwarf would be far more private — presenting a forged item with both hands or a written zarb (marriage contract) as proof of their intention.

Instead of bending one knee, it would seem logical that they go down on both knees, showing total submission by lowering their head, and presenting their crafted token with both hands, then speak their carefully chosen words softly but with full weight — not as a question, but as a statement of will.

To a Dwarf, marriage is not an emotional leap… it’s a final deliberate forging. And every master forging begins with the steady hand of a craftsperson who knows exactly what they’re doing.

📜 A Final Few Cultural Notes:

It is the Dwarf-woman who chooses her husband-to-be. The male retains the right to accept or decline, but the initial choice rests with her. While it is the Dwarf-male who does the (perhaps somewhat non-surprising proposal)

Proposals may involve gifting a crafted item — a ring, yes, but perhaps a brooch, token, or something forged by the proposer themselves.

The act of proposing may carry more weight than the words — the forging, offering, and silent exchange.

If verbalized, the proposal would likely be brief, poetic, and deeply symbolic, often involving metaphors of forging, stone, and unity.

The proposal would almost always be private — shared between the two Dwarves alone, without spectacle or audience.

Once joined, marriage is for life. Dwarves do not take second spouses, and they marry only once — if at all.

Ever at your service, The Dwarrow Scholar

[jammyjams1910]

They’re besties, your honour, they’re inseparable

[ghoultrifle]

it's mushy may time, bitches !! thank you @forlorn-crows for the prompt list and general organisation <33

prompt: cuteness aggression

relationship: sunny/swiss

word count: 750

summary: sunny sleep talks and swiss finds it unbearably sweet. it's very silly.

please be kind, i am not very practiced with writing anything that isn't porn. rbs are appreciated and will hopefully mean i do more than one single prompt in the whole month sdjhfskjfhk (feel free to play the game of 'what funky word did i learn today ?' eheheh)

read on ao3 or below the cut :))

“No you can’t delete the watermelon, it’s in the desk!” Sunny mumbles, her mouth partially blocked by the pillow she’s unceremoniously shoved under her.

Swiss awakes, ready to whack his love with said pillow. “Shine, it’s early, go annoy Mountain please?”

“The shoes can’t go in the wall, they’re too hot!”

A smile creeps onto Swiss’ face. It’s a uniquely vulnerable experience, being on the receiving end of a sleep talker. Sunny has no idea what her unconscious brain is feeding her- or perhaps vaguely catapulting towards her in the hopes that something will stick. Yet Swiss has the honour of being there for the barely-formed, mismatched set of words that leave her mouth. He knows they’ll giggle about it in the morning as they always do; Sunny attempting, to no avail, to connect Swiss’ feedback to her hazy memory of the dreams her brain concocted for her viewing pleasure. It never works; the nonsense she spouts seemingly untethered from reality altogether, plucked from a different plane of existence, perhaps one where footwear temperature is a real concern for its occupants.

Sunny continues to lie fast asleep, the tendrils of sleep latched onto the depths of her mind, keeping her peaceful while her brain whirs, stirring her thoughts but not her vessel. She’s sprawled out on the bed. Head to the side and mouth wide open, in what looks like an effort to chew the pillow. In reality it’s acting as less of a neck support and more of a drool-catcher as spit tumbles its way out and onto the floral design.

Swiss only looks on in admiration, the moonlight creating a shimmer in the puddle as it soaks into the fabric. His smile grows wider, fangs catching on his bottom lip. He likes to think Sunny’s body wouldn’t let her talk in her sleep if she didn’t on some subconscious level feel safe with him. It’s a testament to the bond they’ve created topside, inseparable since the day Sunshine was summoned; partners in crime, wizards of whimsy, goofy guys. All silly ways of saying ‘I love you’, which is exactly what Swiss wants to shout from the rooftops.

“It’s not my fault you flew into the glove,” she snarls.

“Is too! You had the map, sunflower,” Swiss tuts under his breath playfully. He’s careful not to wake her when she’s like this but he can’t help joining in on the shenanigans once in a while. He’s imagining a tunnel, for fighter jets- or perhaps drones would be more suited to his skillset- it’s got one entrance and five exits, each one representing a finger on a glove. In his on-behalf-of-Sunny-dream, he’s in control while Sunny’s frantically trying to unfold a comically large map that supposedly holds the secrets to navigating The Glove. He’s asking her where to go but the map is unfolding ad infinitum and before they know it he’s flying through a finger hole (the middle one of course) lest they crash into the purlicue (The webbing between your thumb and forefinger, Swiss, how do you not know that? He thinks back to Aether and his endless list of things you didn’t know had names).

Jolting out of his trance, Swiss realises he may not have been as awake as he thought during his own dream-like sequence. He leans into his weary state, the dumb smile on his face returning. As he shifts on bed, carefully trying to manoeuvre his mate’s hand, Sunny decides she has other plans. A small hand with not-so-small claws abruptly finds itself on Swiss’ face, nipping him ever so slightly.

“I really love him, Lus, he’s always there for me,” she whispers, and Swiss can’t take it anymore. His internal jar of love is spilling over and his nervous system is screaming at him to let some out. So he does what any normal person does and bites Sunny, in the little nook that’s just the right size for him to gently sink his teeth in. 

“It’s a purlicue!” He mocks in a hushed tone, as best he can with Sunny between his teeth, hoping his wave of quintessence is strong enough to puncture Aether’s sweet dreams with a million images of weird hand parts.

In the morning Sunny will admit to Swiss that she did remember the dream where she was talking to Cumulus. She’ll leave it there though because she doesn’t have the heart to tell him it was actually about a sentient grocery bag that followed her around to carry her shopping.

[hendolish]

I love that pic you posted tonight of Jude bare chested on a white couch in his team's track bottoms and white sports socks .

You wondered which of his boyfriends took the pic.

Are you able to write a few lines naming each of his boyfriends and what type of relationship they have?

Or whatever strikes your fancy.

Of course, you are not obligated to do anything. 🙂

certainly anon!! v important jude bf lore incoming…

erling haaland💛

they were just kids at bvb and grew up together into two of the world’s best players ♡ jude is very tactile (cheek kisses and such…) and erling is very possessive (he doesn’t like to share…). jude likes that erling is taller than him as not a lot of ppl are. erling makes him feel safe.

gio reyna🤎

again, a bvb product. jude was very young but they’re still good friends today (swapped shirts at the wc:). not even gonna mention that yt vid where they mentioned how it looked like they were filming p*rn bc of the hotel bed they were sitting on…

trent alexander-arnold🤍

“stroll in the city with bro”, they were on a DATE your honour ♡ absolutely inseparable whenever they’re at england and always gossiping between them. height difference is mwah x

jordan henderson❤️

they love each other a lot. no denying that. jude holds immense respect for hendo and hendo thinks jude is absolutely amazing. hendo is always there to comfort jude, more experienced and hardened by england’s losses than jude’s young heart. need more be said than their celebration at the wc??👀 in the words of my flatmate, “ARE THEY GOING TO KISS?”

james maddison💙

again, a source of comfort to jude when he’s torn up about england but these two also get on like a house on fire! madders absolutely loves jude and thinks he’s so amazing and mature for the way he goes about things. jude thinks madders is hilarious and loves him for it!

vini jr🖤

new relationship alert!! still a blossoming romance but these two’s chemistry is undeniable for madrid. they’re both v supportive and touchy and will go on to do great things together <3

(honourable mentions: rammers, phil, rashy, camavinga, toby bishay… the list goes on x)

♡

[metaltourniquet]

( savannah lee smith , cis-woman , she/her ) did you see them ?! that was CAMDEN FARADAY, the winner of the 83rd hunger games. they’re back for the 92nd games as a TRIBUTE, and you know they’re one of my favourites! the TWENTY-FIVE year old brought such honour to DISTRICT 6 when they won their games with STRANGULATION. they’re known all over panem for being so INSPIRING despite being so BRATTY. they remind me of the final note of a song echoing in an empty auditorium, a disbeliefing grin and a kept promise, and conviction in a final desperate act, and when i think of them, i think of THANK YOU FOR THE MUSIC by abba .

; bio

name: faraday, camden

nickname(s): cam

date of birth: september 5th, 67th year

zodiac: virgo

sexual orientation: lesbian

relationship status: single

past partner(s): tbd

home: the victors' village, district 6

profession: mentor, victor, tribute

; history

OVERTURE

you grow up in the hum and clatter of the district 6 train station, the air always thick with steel dust and old diesel. your father, elias faraday, works the early shift; tightening bolts, checking gauges, shouting over engines with a voice that’s been ground down to gravel. you’re five the first time you trail after him, your boots too big and your hands stuffed in the pockets of a coat that used to belong to your older sister. you don’t understand any of the mechanics yet, but you understand rhythm: the clack of wheels, the hiss of brakes, the low whistle that sings before departure. so you start singing too. silly little songs about boxcars and oil cans, or lullabies about staying on the tracks when everything else comes loose. the engineers call you “the bird.”

your mother, mairin, works night shifts at the medical depot, patching up overdoses and sleep-sick rail operators. you barely see her except at dawn, when she falls asleep sitting up at the kitchen table with a half-burned cigarette still between her fingers. your siblings ( owen, age thirteen, and baby delia, born when you were seven ) keep to their own corners of the house: owen with his drawings of trains that will never be built, delia with her toy instruments and wide, silent eyes that always watch you. but it’s rowan who sees you, really sees you - your best friend since you both stumbled into school on the same rainy day, soaked to the bone, late and loud. you and rowan are inseparable from that moment on. they teach you how to throw a punch, you teach them how to harmonize. you both talk big about getting out of the district, about riding the rails forever.

when you’re twelve, you start working at the station full-time. no more tagging along. you wear the uniform now, carry the grease under your nails like a badge. but you never stop singing. even when your voice starts to change, even when the older workers roll their eyes, even when the capitol inspectors walk past with their cold stares. you sing softly sometimes, just under your breath, songs no one else knows. they’re yours.

and then one july morning, the reaping comes. you and rowan are side by side in the square, fingers laced. when the name is called ( rowan leroy ) you don’t even think. your hand goes up before your heart catches up. your voice is steady when you say “i volunteer,” but inside, everything breaks like glass. you don’t look at rowan when the peacekeepers lead you to the stage. you’re afraid you’ll sing.

ENSEMBLE

the capitol is too bright. too polished. everything smells like perfume and chemicals - sweet, cold, wrong. the walls gleam, but the air feels sterile, like it’s never touched by weather or time. the windows don’t open. you try anyway. every day.

your room in the tribute tower is luxurious in the way a mausoleum is. wide, spotless, lined with velvet and chrome. there’s a bed the size of your whole house, a glass shower that fogs like mist over the river back home. the silence is deafening. there’s no sound of trains here. just your breathing, the occasional hum of the vents, and the songs you sing to yourself when you can’t sleep.

your prep team descends like buzzards, clucking and scrubbing and waxing and tweaking. one of them calls you “endearingly rough,” and you almost bite her. you only stop when you see your reflection: half-stripped, furious, afraid. you look like a cornered animal. the Capitol will eat that up. you know it.

your stylist, sera, is different. she watches you like she’s waiting for the truth, not the performance. she doesn’t try to tame you. she doesn’t ask you to smile. for the parade, she dresses you in black and copper: sleek metal plates that shimmer like train tracks in the heat, soot-blown silk trailing behind you like steam. you look like a machine made to survive. when you step into the chariot and the crowd roars, you keep your expression neutral. a disbeliefing grin just twitching at the corner of your mouth. the cameras eat it alive.

in training, the others size you up like meat. you keep your head down. focus on survival skills: knots, shelter, plant ID. you practice with rope more than any weapon. you pull dummies to the ground again and again, until the trainers tell you to stop. the careers laugh behind your back. one girl ( calla, from district 2 ) tosses a coil of rope at your feet and says, “tie me up, district six.” you smile without blinking. you’re not thinking about rope then. you’re thinking about how her neck is almost the same size as the training post.

you don’t spend time with halden ( your district partner ) but there’s a nod between you, a quiet alliance without words.

your interview is chaos behind the curtain. your prep team wants softness. wants tears. but you walk out in rust-colored velvet, hair slicked back, face unreadable. you tell caesar flickerman that you used to sing to the engines back home, that the rhythm of machines was your first lullaby. the audience leans in. “and now?” he asks. you shrug. “now i sing to myself, to remember who i am.” when he asks what makes you special, you grin wide and say, “i don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”

they eat it up. they love you. or maybe they love the idea of you.

and then it’s time.

the morning of the Games, your room is cleaned spotless. your prep team won’t look you in the eye. sera hugs you longer than she should. there’s a breakfast tray you don’t touch. the silence is a weight pressing into your throat. you pace. you hum a little. an old tune, one you made up when you were seven, waiting for your dad at the station.

the hovertrain hums below. the metal disc waits.

your song cuts off mid-note.

DUET

the arena begins in the sky.

a towering pirate ship creaks through the clouds, its sails snapping in invisible wind, floating not on water but on air. it groans like something alive. you’re dangling from one of its crossbeams - one ankle bound in thick rope, hanging upside down with twenty-three others like a grotesque wind chime. the deck spins beneath you. the clouds swirl below like a second sky, waiting to swallow whoever falls.

your blood is rushing to your head. your vision flickers. the countdown booms through the clouds, distant and metallic, like thunder breaking against steel.

three. two. one.

you move fast. not clever, not lucky, just trained by years of slipping through station gaps, of untying tangled cable with fast, impatient fingers. you reach up, teeth gritted, and claw at the knot. one tug. twist. release.

you drop.

your shoulder smashes into the deck. you roll hard, biting your tongue to keep from crying out. someone screams behind you ( a boy from district 9, you think ) but you don’t stop. you lunge for what you can grab: a short rope. a rusted fishhook. a water flask with a cracked cap. that’s all. it’s enough.

you disappear into the ship’s lower levels while the bloodbath tears the sky above you apart.

you stay there, hidden between barrels and rusted piping, while the chaos burns overhead. the air down here is hot and sour. you wrap the rope around your wrist like a promise and wait. you don’t sleep. you don’t dare. you hum under your breath to keep from unraveling. just old songs. ones you wrote when you were small. the kind you only sang to the engines.

within a day, the ship starts to die. the sails sag. the wind peters out to nothing. the whole thing groans once, a long, terrible sound, and crashes into something solid. not water. not sky. sand.

when you crawl out, you find yourself on the edge of a lush island: thick jungle, buzzing heat, and at its center, a jagged mountain that cuts the clouds. you make for the trees.

you don’t kill anyone. but you don’t come through untouched.

a girl from district 10 catches you off guard and cracks your jaw with a rock. you shove her down a ravine, but she lives. a boy from district 3 slashes your leg in the dark; you leave him concussed with a broken stick. there are mutts too, things with too many limbs and wet, yellow eyes. one nearly takes your hand. another tears your calf. you fight them off. sometimes you win. sometimes you run.

your body becomes a map of bruises, welts, and blood. your breath whistles through a cracked rib. you hold your rope like a lifeline and count the cannon blasts at night.

until there are two of you.

you, and jason - district 2’s golden boy. all steel and arrogance and trained precision. you’ve watched him circle the others like a wolf. he’s everything the Capitol adores. you wonder if he’s already rehearsed his victory speech.

then the voice echoes from the sky:

“only the bravest of the brave may claim the crown. ascend the mountain. jump.”

you both climb.

the mountain is cruel. slick with moss, sharp with stone. your palms split open. your feet slip. halfway up, you see your own blood on the rocks behind you and wonder if it’s already over. but you keep going.

at the peak, jason is waiting. breathing hard, shirt torn, eyes sharp.

“after you,” he says, smirking.

you don’t answer. you run.

you leap.

you hear his body beside you, slicing through the air. he grabs you mid-fall, trying to pull you down, maybe to steady himself. doesn’t matter.

you’ve still got the rope. you’ve always had the rope.

you loop it around his neck. twist the stick. pull.

he kicks once. twice. then nothing.

you hit the water screaming, but it isn’t fear. it’s release. it’s the final note.

ENCORE

the aftermath isn’t glory. it’s quiet.

when the hovercraft pulls you from the sea, you don’t speak. when they wrap you in warm blankets and offer champagne and gold-threaded robes, you don’t lift your hands. someone brushes the wet hair from your face and says, “smile, camden. you did it.”

but you don’t feel like you did anything except survive.

and not even all of you made it out.

they crown you with laurel leaves dipped in molten bronze and say you’re the pride of district 6, the voice of a new generation. they replay the fall a hundred times on capitol screens, slowed down, turned into ballet. your hands around jason’s throat become symbolic. your scream becomes theatrical.

you become something you don’t recognize.

your victor talent is singing. of course it is.

sera, your stylist, says it was obvious. “that voice of yours, it’s pure gold.” the capitol eats it up. they hand you a stage and a piano and tell you to sing songs about triumph, about hope, about glory.

you do.

you keep your voice even and your face still.

you wear silk and velvet and wipe the blood off your throat with glitter.

but after every performance, when the lights go down, you hide in dressing rooms and bite your tongue until you taste iron. you do everything in your power not to hate it. because the truth is, singing is the only part of you that didn’t kill someone. it’s the only piece left.

you go home to a victor’s mansion. everything’s quiet there. too clean. too wide. the house they give you is polished and empty. you miss the grime of the station, the clatter of trains. your father barely speaks. your mother cries in the kitchen when she thinks you’re asleep. delia doesn’t look at you the same. owen’s drawings are darker now.

rowan is gone.

everything is quieter, but nothing is softer.

months pass. then a year. then two.

and then, one night, a woman you don’t know sits down next to you at a post-performance banquet in the capitol. she smiles politely, sips her wine, and whispers something so simple:

“you’re not the only one who hates what they’ve done to us.”

it starts small. fragments of conversations. names passed between strangers. books that aren’t in capitol archives. songs that end in different chords.

the rebellion isn’t dead. it’s buried. it’s breathing.

and you say yes.

you work carefully. behind closed doors. on trains that take you between districts. songs with double meanings. a shipment that “goes missing.” you use your Capitol spotlight to distract, to mislead, to protect. no one suspects the bratty girl from 6 is capable of strategy. you let them think that. you let them underestimate you.

but nothing is safe forever.

the 92nd Hunger Games approaches. your name isn’t in the reaping pool. you’re a victor. you’re supposed to be immune. until you're not. until coriolanus snow considers your death his very personal birthday present.

they draw your name anyway.

you’re twenty-five. still breathing. still singing. still fighting.

and this time, they send you back in.

[taintandviolent]

Ever since I read your coquette killer x James fic, I’ve been coming up with so many headcanons for them…

Her and James are inseparable, killers in love ♥️

She likes to claw and place pressure against his neck wound while they fuck. Seeing him bleed turns her (and James) on. Sometimes she’ll stab him while they fuck, then cleans him up by licking him clean. He’ll delicately carve little patterns with a blade over her body to claim her.

She essentially does what Elizabeth does and lures men back to the hotel and shows them a “good time” while James secretly watches in the corner. There’s a mirror on the wall above the bed where she can make eye contact with James, teasing him with a cute little gaze as she rides her victim.

Before her victim can climax, she ends him with a knife James had custom made for her. A pretty, pink handle with a bow and long, shiny blade. She’ll ride out the rest of her victim, looking back at James while doing so until she cums. James fucks her after, with the body is still there.

James teaches her how to properly cut up a body while they’re both nude. He stands behind her, running his hands over her, then bending her over and fucking her on the table.

Licking blood off each other.

James ultimate affection is praising her with little whispers in her ear, telling her what a good, sweet girl she is while she tortures someone. He tells her how gorgeous she looks covered in blood, how delicious and ravishing she is while he touches her.

He’ll gift her expensive little gifts and trinkets. (probably taken from their dead victims)

They’ll cuddle in bed after a kill, exchanging stories about their first and best kills. She’ll tell him all about her favorite movies and singers. Sometimes she’ll introduce them to him, he doesn’t get it because he’s out of the loop with modern things, but she’s just to adorable and lovely to ignore her little quirks.

(eek I’m sorry, ignore this if you hate getting these messages 🙈)

oh my god, anon!! not at all!! i'm honestly so honoured that a fic I wrote (albeit didn't come up with the original idea) would inspire someone to think of such wicked good headcanons, to be honest!!!

[rainbowstargazerlilies]

Mechs Ships Tournament: Shipping Round 3 Poll 1

Propaganda:

Polymechs:

They're inseparable they hate each other they would die for each other they actively enjoy killing each other ect ect ect

Look they're immortal and stuck in a spaceship you don't think they've hit all possible combinations over the years and settled into a weird comfortable vibe you can only get if youve murdered, been murdered, and had sex with every one (maybe minus nastya) of your friends?

immortal space pirats.... cuddle piles, romantic... not romanticm... poly mechs <3

(Points to every album) there thats my propaganda. But in all seriousness they are a group of immortals with nothing to do but sing and love each other in their own fucked up ways <3 

Chaotic little guys on a ship for a long time, the relationship web they got going on could rival the coven web

you cant tell me you would live with people for millions of years without it getting even a little gay.

Polygamy

when you spend millennia doing music and violence and shenanigans with the same 8 other people on a ship (and when the ship is technically another person), there's bound to be some group canoodling

i care them

they're everything to each other!!!

i refuse to pick

it’s polymechs!! what isn’t to love

Look at them.

how could you pick individual ships when they are so good together!! with the exception of nastya + jonny cos they are siblings your honour.

a lot of people have polymechs with her and aurora being monogamous but she canonically has queer orgies. on mechs tumblr account she describes herself as "The only one seemingly capable of a committed, responsible and fair relationship" so polymechs with all of relationships besides nastyaurora being on and off and everchanging is both the best polymechs and the most canon compliant polymechs to me

Nastya/Aurora:

So perfect and immaculate that they’re **canon** and I love them so much <3333

them <3

lesbian machines. thats it.

They're girlfriends!!!!

Lebabin

Funniest line in OUAT(IS)

what if your girlfriend was the ship of theseus and you were a princess who got revolutioned and love just wasn't enough in the end. what then.

them <3

https://themechanisms.com/fiction/ghost-in-the-machine/ (via @wormsontoast)

Round round-up here :)

[ma-lark-ey]

*opens book* “Whelk missed—“ ah shit. here we go again. oh maybe i get answers.

“he should’ve just abducted Gansey, now that he thought about it.” WHY ARE YOU SO NONCHALLANT ABOUT THAT? BE FUCKING CHALLANT WENT DISCUSSING FELONIES HELLO???

“The Parrish kid would have been a better bet. No one would miss a kid born in a trailer.” I am going to cool you like a stir-fry and server you to my dog. Get that boy’s name out of your mouth.

OH HI NEEVE 💖💞

trusting the process trusting the process trusting the process

GANSEY !!! the king returns (he was gone six pages) (it felt like decades)

something so tender about Adam “let me do it myself” Parrish finally admitting that he cannot, in fact, do it himself and being vulnerable enough to not fight Gansey on being his support. Only because Ronan protected him, too. These three are literally inseparable I’m unwell. they’re literally besties your honour. nevermind i was too hopeful about teenage boys having emotional literacy. blue come get your man (doesnt know which man i even mean)

NO GANSEY NO GANSEY THEY LOVE YOU SO MUCH GANSEY GANSEY NO GOD I WISH TEEN BOYS HAD C O M P E T E N C E FUCK

“all of your things in one place, under your roof. everything you own where you can see…” Maggie Stiefvater you already killed me did you also have to desecrate my corpse??

it’s awful because both of their perspectives make perfect sense to me & there is no solution to appease them both. Gansey cannot offer Adam refuge without Adam feeling pitied & manipulated, Adam cannot find refuge without accepting Gansey’s help. The problem is Adam only knows to bite the hand that feeds, not how to be feed & cared for. It’s a threat to him because it’s ALWAYS been a threat to him.

NOT GANSEY REFERNCING THE LIFE EXCHANGE. STOP.

“my words are weapons of destruction and i can’t disarm them.” is so the thesis statement of this whole thing. Gansey tries so hard to ground himself & understand how real life works for average people, and he fails just as spectacularly at it. & like, Adam knows & sees that, but right now he’s not in the headspace to process that.

went back to check the tarot reading bc blue referenced it & i couldnt remember what maura said and. AND. “Your father?” “Brother, I think.” “I don’t have a brother, ma’am.” BUT HE GLANCES AT GANSEY??? literally take me out like a horse with a broken leg rn.

if anything happens to neeve i wouldn’t care in general but if BARRINGTON does something to neeve I’m causing a riot.

he put his head in her lap… she reached out a hand to him… I’m not doin well.

NO. NO. NO.

OB THATS ADAM DREAM. THATS NICE SWEETIE. he wants to go home. im gonna scream. something sometthing longing for the concept of somewhere that feel like home and not the actual building.

hey adam i know your two teenage boys allergic to emotional vulnerability but can we mayhaps have a productive conversation with gansey. Consider. communication.

hey adam? what the fuck are you doing?

frankly hilarious how quick all three of these boys just accepted having a ghost around.

ADAM PARRISH YOU ARE NOT THIS STUPID. WELL I GUESS YOU ARE.

ew not artemus. disgusting.

so wait does the forest bend to wishes???

ADAM IF YOU GET HURT I SWEAR TO GOD ADAM

“I sacrifice myself” THE SCREAM I JUST MADE.

every option for why Noah needed to make sure Blue told his mom he was sorry is awful in every way and Im not sure i want to know.

Ronan Lynch the fuck do you MEAN “you took chainsaw out of your dreams”.

Ronan go sit in time out. I need to think about Noah Czerny and sob on the ground for approximately a week.

Lark Liveblogs Literature: The Raven Boys

okay so originally i was tweeting about my escapades but then i remembered i straight up have a tumblr post series of just. doing this. so hi!

first impressions; crazy that i didn’t know there was a woman in this series considering she’s the main character. I cant decide of that’s the fandoms fault or if I built this feed brick by brick. Probably a mix of both.

also. keep misreading gansey as gamsey. thanks, andrew hussie (with contempt)

i’ll be reblogging with more thoughts as i have them for more fun.

[prof-peach]

is the bronzong still on the island? can we see it?

The trio on the island, posted this a while back but no harm in doing it again.

Shen was the one who we found in a bog at the bottom of a hill, upside down, in a real state, in total shut down mode, asleep basically. He was the inspiration for the island insignia, and is our most respected family member.

We buffed off the worst of the rust, and he started to wake up after a few days. Seemed really excited to see something living. Bronzong need other creatures around them to sustain their life force, so he must have been alone for quite some time. People ask about his dinks and the bug crack on his front, but it does not hurt him, we offered to fix it but he wears it like a badge of honour. The rust that remains is deep stuff, we’ve put protective coating on it so it won’t get much worse at a rapid rate. He is very particular about how he looks, and didn’t want to remove all of it, so we did what we could to accommodate that without leaving him entirely orange like when we first found him.

Gil got brought to us not more than 3 years ago with a load of stuff in his gut that he shouldn’t have eaten, and is a grouchy horrible no good bird. He will steal your food, peck at you, and is a menace. But he likes Shen, and nested on his head. They’re pretty inseparable now.

[its-deputy-caleb]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well, I really love your writing and I recently tried to come out to my family but it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. I was wondering if you could do the four lords’ reactions to reader coming out as lesbian (it doesn’t have to be lesbian specific if you don’t want to) If you don’t feel comfortable writing this it’s totally fine, no pressure at all. And thank you for all of your work it really helps me just relax sometimes 😘

Hii, I’m so glad that my writing is able to make you feel happy! It honestly makes my day!! I’m so happy to write this for you and I feel so honoured to write this, I apologise that it’s late I wanted to write it sooner.

I’m sorry that all this has happened to you and if you ever need anything I will always be here for a listen if you need <3 just message x I also wrote this from some person experiences since I am bi and have also had bad experiences so this is just to make everyone feel loved and included!

Alcina Dimitrescu

You’re sitting on the lounge of one of the various sitting areas in Castle Dimitrescu, having tea with the Lady of the house one cold evening.

You were both enjoying each other’s company, having grown very fond of Alcina and her daughters. You’d become something like an aunt to the girls and Alcina had accepted you into her house with open arms.

The Lady Dimitrescu was currently speaking about another “man-thing” she had hidden in the dungeon when you told her about your own feelings towards women.

Your heart is practically beating in your throat as the nerves make you feel nauseous, anxiously awaiting a reaction from the Lady Dimitrescu. Your palms shaking slightly as she stopped speaking to glance at you.

Tears well in your eyes as you wonder if you’ve made a mistake, instantly going to apologise.

She takes two large steps towards you, kneeling down and takes your much smaller hands in her own. Her thumb moves in gentle circles along your knuckles as she soothes you.

“My darling, please do not cry… You’re too beautiful in your youth to be sad. Just know you will always be loved here in my castle both by my daughters and myself. No harm will come to you, I promise; I will protect you always.”

She brings her hand up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek, holding your chin up so you can look at her. Everything about her presence is calming and loving in that moment.

“All that matters in this world is your happiness, my darling, don’t let anybody take it away from you.”

She places a soft kiss to the back of your hand and uses it to bring you into a tight hug. Her arms wrap around you tightly and she holds you close, almost protecting you from the outside world.

“Come now; if you’re to be staying with us, you’ll be needing your own formal room. Besides if you stay with us you’ll find that you and I are not so different.”

You look up at her with wide eyes as she gives you a large smile and scoops you up in her arms. It’s there that she carries you to your new chambers just down the hall from her own and you continue to stay with the Lady Dimitrescu.

Each day and night she reminds you just how much you’re loved by her and her family, making sure you know just how much she cares for you no matter who you are.

Donna Beneviento

You’re standing on the porch with Donna, over looking the waterfall which her house sits next to. You notice Angie is not with her and she’s in lighter clothes than her usual layers which she wears to visit Mother Miranda.

It’s one thing you’re very happy about is Donna’s comfort around you. You two are very close and you’re the only person she feels like she can be herself even without her dolls. To her, you’re someone that makes her feel normal and safe in this crazy and chaotic world.

Much like Donna, you’ve kept to yourself, often hiding how you really feel inside but she’s someone who you’ve grown to trust with your life and who care for very deeply about.

That’s why you feel ready to finally tell her about your own feelings and who you are. Yet it doesn’t make it any less nerve racking, your friendship with Donna means everything to you and you don’t want to lose her.

She notices the way you tense up, how you focus more on the water falling to distract yourself, fiddling with your hands at the same time.

Donna leans over and rests her head on your shoulder which you relax into and place your head on hers as her arm wraps around you reassuringly.

“Angie and I still love you. No matter what, you’re still the only one who likes us. Just because you feel a certain way doesn’t change that.”

Donna’s hand squeezes every so often against your arm, a reminder that she means what she says. Her touch keeping you warm out in the cold as her words warm your heart.

Salvatore Moreau

You and Moreau have always found comfort in each other. The two of you feeling rejected by everyone in society, just wishing that someone would give you the opportunity to get to know you both better. To see the real you.

That’s what you were, inseparable and each other’s second chance to be yourselves. You were all you two had, telling each other everything and sticking by each other.

Hidden away in his reservoir was your own little world where no one could judge either of you and you could be yourselves.

That’s why with your hand in his, squeezing tightly, you decided to come out to him.

His hand squeezes back and matches your strength as he smiles at you, proud that you were able to say it.

“You’re my best friend, you know? And I will never view you any differently because you like girls, you’re braver than I could ever wish to be.”

Salvatore is captured by your ability to be yourself, especially around him. He feels honoured that you trust him with everything, even something as daunting as coming out and he makes you feel validated and respected all the time.

You’re something of a role model to him and the two of you work through all your troubles together, always relying on each other for support.

You never once had to face anything alone, no matter how hard it was for you to come out to everyone else, Salvatore was always there for you and was by your side.

Karl Heisenberg

You and Karl had an interesting friendship, something akin to the term “chalk and cheese”. He was the wild and crazy engineer, always tinkering in his workshops, working tirelessly for his revenge on Mother Miranda while you were the gentle and sweet soul who was once a member of the village.

No matter of your differences, you were both the only one you had left. You truly cared about each other. Although you both weren’t always great at saying it, you each had your moments.

After Karl told you about his childhood, the experiments he endured and the Cadou implant you both agreed to tell each other everything and he honest. Promising to be there for each other.

That’s why you knew you could come out to him and tell you how you felt deep down.

He instantly drops the hot piece of metal he was welding to draw his attention to you. Leaning in and listening to you as you told him all of what you had been hiding.

At the end of it you’re exhausted, teary eyed and in need of a hug which he gladly provides, practically crushing you as he holds you close.

“Hey now, you’re not broken like I am, there’s nothing wrong with who you are. Fuck what anyone has to say, if they want to hurt you I won’t let them okay? If they’ve got a problem with who you love they’re gonna have to deal with me. I mean it, if anyone gives you shit they’ll be fed to the lycans!”

You laugh at his little speech and he smiles when he sees you happy. Although apart of you knows he’s very serious and cares about you enough to rip anyone’s throat out for hurting you.

Karl Heisenberg was the last person you’d expect to find a friend in and yet he’d stop at nothing to make you feel loved and safe in his home.

i love all of you <3

[shammah8]

RHAPSODY OF REALITIES DAILY DEVOTIONAL

Monday, 30th January 2023

YOUR EXALTED PLACE IN HIM

Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son (Colossians 1:13).

PASTOR CHRIS OYAKHILOME

Oftentimes, some Christians describe their encounters with demons and how they’re often oppressed by the powers of darkness. To such folks, the question that often comes to my mind is, “Who is Jesus? Didn’t He give us power over devils?”

The Bible says we’ve been delivered—transferred and translated—from the jurisdiction of darkness into the Kingdom of God’s Love-Son. That’s your current place of domicile. You’re far above principalities and powers; vitally and effectively superior to Satan and the demons of hell!

Jesus said in Luke 10:19, “Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.” Until and unless this becomes your present-hour consciousness, perception and outlook on life, you’ll live a life that’s far lower than your calling in Christ.

Here’s something I did many years ago that I recommend you do for yourself: get your notepad or diary and write as a title, “Why I have power over devils.” Then, get into the Bible and write out every scripture you can find about Jesus, who He is, and who you are in Him! You’d be amazed and inspired by what you’d discover about Jesus Christ, the power He’s given you, and your exalted place in Him. You’re in Him; inseparably one with Him. As He is, so are you in this world (1 John 4:17).

How is He? He is the effulgence of the Father’s glory. He is glory personified. Who is He? He’s Himself, God! Where is He? He’s at the place of highest honour and supreme authority in the heavenly realm: “exalted as first above every ruler, authority, government, and realm of power in existence! He is gloriously enthroned over every name that is ever praised, not only in this age, but in the age that is coming” (Ephesians 1:21 TPT). The most enthralling part of it all is that you’re in Him, gloriously enthroned with Him and exalted, far above every ruler, authority, government and realm of power in existence. Blessed be God!

PRAYER

I live in the Kingdom of God’s Love-Son; that’s the realm into which I was born; a realm of glory, beyond time and space; the realm of the miraculous. I refuse to condescend to the earthly level of life or reasoning. I rule over demons and circumstances, dominating this physical world with the principles of our heavenly Kingdom. Hallelujah!

FURTHER STUDY:

Colossians 1:12-13 Giving thanks unto the Father, which hath made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light: 13 Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son:

Ephesians 1:21-23 TPT And now he is exalted as first above every ruler, authority, government, and realm of power in existence! He is gloriously enthroned over every name that is ever praised,  not only in this age,  but in the age that is coming! 22 And he alone is the leader and source of everything needed in the church. God has put everything beneath the authority of Jesus Christ  and has given him the highest rank above all others. 23 And now we, his church, are his body on the earth and that which fills him who is being filled by it!

Ephesians 2:6 And hath raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus:

[welcome-to-the-end-of-eras]

I feel so strongly that the three main pulleyverse protagonists would be the most chaotic best friends should they ever all meet, and I wanna talk about them so here we go:

-Initially Thaniel and Joe would absolutely not like each other. Like at all. But as soon as they find common ground they’re inseparable.

-Merrick is just a chill dude all around and is hard not to like so he gets along great with both of them off the bat.

-Out of all of them, Thaniel gets made fun of the most, and he just goes along with it most of the time because it’s funny, but the one time they decide to bring up the age gap between him and Mori he immediately goes for the throat. Like “oh I’m sorry, I thought the guy in love with his grandpa’s ex said something? I must’ve been mistaken” and “your parents weren’t even a fucking idea when Kite was committing war crimes”. They do not bring it up again.

-Joe is the one who gets the three of them into stupid shit, but Merrick is the one who escalates said stupid shit. If Joe’s starting shit with someone, you’d better believe Merrick’s throwing the first punch when they start getting in Joe’s face. Partially to defend his friend, but also just because it’s fun.

-As much as Merrick hates being perceived as weak, he plays the bum leg card with the other two all the time. If he’s losing an argument against them he just whips out the good ol “wow you’re really going to bully the disabled guy??? Really??? Ableist much???”. It has never worked even once because they’ve seen him swing said bum leg above his head at a guy who was staring at Minna’s chest and knocked him on his ass.

-Joe will jokingly flirt with the two of them at any given opportunity, no matter who’s around. Merrick takes it like a champ and will usually say something flirty back, but poor Thaniel gets so flustered every time, so he’s the target of it 9 times out of 10. Man gets objectified on the daily and he HATES it. The one time Thaniel did it back to like show him how awkward it was, poor Joe was rendered speechless for a solid minute and he continued to flirt twice as much.

-SIX’S FAVOURITE UNCLES. THAT’S IT THAT’S ALL I GOT, SHE LOVES THEM AND THEY ADORE HER.

-Merrick is the friend that always has shit the others need. A pen so Thaniel can write down his ideas for a song he’s writing??? Got it. Joe’s favourite cigarette brand and a match??? Got it. He keeps up a steady supply of things they need and always makes sure to have it on hand.

-Thaniel’s the one they go to when they need an honest opinion without any bullshit. No matter what they ask, he’s telling them exactly what he thinks. He’s not gonna be a dick about it obviously, but he’s not gonna lie either, and he ends up giving pretty solid advice.

-Joe’s the one they vent to. He’s very empathetic and is willing to yell and scream with them about the annoying bitch in the store who took the last box of their favourite tea, or anything small little annoyance that they need to get off their chest. With serious problems though, he’s the best of the three of them to just sit with and talk when they need it.

-They’re BESTIES your honour (and Valery K is absolutely joining their dumbasses when the book comes out)

[babygirlgalitzine]

i’d love you to love me (ao3)

it starts out with a pact. neither of them will date, until they can both find people to date. except, they don't expect to be honouring that years later, and when jay starts to fall in love with lola, he realises that it's time for ben to date someone too. in the most chaotic way possible.

or, a vague 10 things i hate about you au.

-

It’s a miserable day. The sky is an unrelentingly dark grey shade, cascading for miles and miles with no end in sight. The rain has been pouring down all day, and the wind mixes with it, causing the rain to hit against windows, creating a rattling sound all over. It’s that horrible misty spray that means Ben can’t even see that far in front of him, though he knows his way around Walford that well now that he really doesn’t have to look to see where he’s going. Jay’s walking out in front of him, a breaking leather ball at his feet, scraping along the wet pavement with an awful sounding scratch.

“It’s freezing!” Ben shouts over the rain, and he watches in awe somewhat, as raindrops fall onto his eyelashes, tiny little droplets clinging on for dear life. It’s true, it is freezing. The torrential rain bounces up off of the pavement and clings to his socks, climbing up onto his grey school trousers and staining them darker and darker as time goes by. There’s not a single part of him that isn’t shivering and wet, but he and Jay have a routine now, one that happens regardless of the weather.

The school’s over bell will ring out just after three, a shrieking tinny noise, one that’s surely going to be imprinted on everyone’s brain for years to come. Ben will stand next to the doors at the side of school, and then Jay will follow moments later, catching up with him. It goes unspoken, because this routine has been going on for so long without ever changing, that they’ll walk home together, strolling into a corner shop and getting as many sweets as possible, before going to their local park and staying there until they have to go home for whatever reason.

“Oh come on!” Jay turns his entire body and starts to walk backwards, the wind blowing his hood down within seconds and he scrambles to put it back up, though it’s in vain. “Are you telling me you want to go back home already? Because I know for certain you have science homework to do, and so does your mum.”

Ben looks to the ground, watching the raindrops splashing into the puddles and breaking into even tinier pieces before falling back down again. It’s almost relaxing to watch it, or it would be, if his hands weren’t currently frozen completely numb. “My mum’s got science work to do, has she?” He asks cheekily, but he knows Jay’s right. Jay’s always right. He knows that the second he walks through his door, he’s going to have to spend the rest of the evening doing his work for tomorrow, and he couldn’t think of anything worse than that, so staying at the park in the pouring rain wins yet again.

He manages to look up in time to see Jay roll his eyes, and he kicks his ball back towards Ben as they walk in the direction of the park. “You need a new ball, mate.” Ben comments, picking it up and throwing it back at Jay. He regrets picking it up, because the ball’s been collecting that much water as Jay kicked at it all the way home that it’s sopping wet and heavy.

“I know.” Jay replies, and they turn into the park. Ben’s got nowhere to sit, his usual place on the swing is collecting a puddle of muddy water underneath so the idea of sitting there doesn’t even cross his mind. Instead, he sits on the small brick wall, resting on the very edges of his coat to try and minimise how sopping wet his trousers are going to be when he eventually stands up. He realises that it probably won’t do anything sufficiently, and he’s going to be cold and wet regardless. There’s a silence that grows between them for a moment or two, but that’s normal. Jay kicks the ball against the wall that Ben’s sitting on and they both watch as chips of the bricks start to crumble away and swirl away in a stream of a puddle that runs downhill. “What happened in science today?” Jay asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ben huffs out a laugh, more sarcastic than anything else, because he’s been waiting all day for Jay to ask him, or at least, since the class directly before lunch. “Nothing.” He says, and then he looks down the road and sees cars driving slowly, headlights on full beam.

Jay nods slowly. “Right. So you’ve spent all day in a mood, for nothing? Makes a whole lot of sense that does, Ben.” He pauses. “I’m your brother. You’re supposed to tell me everything.”

Brother. It’s such a simple word. Of course, biologically, they aren’t brothers, but in every other sense of the word they are. They’ve been inseparable from the day they first met.

“I overheard Connor and Sarah talking.” Ben says, and he already he knows he sounds stupid for even being remotely bothered about this. “Saying that nobody would ever want to be with you, because I’m here scaring them off.”

“And you’re bothered about that?” Jay lets out a soft chuckle, resting his foot on the top of the ball. “Mate, I couldn’t care less about getting with anyone right now. Tell you what though, I wouldn’t be interested in anyone unless they wanted to be around you too. We’re a package deal, you and me.”

Ben looks up and rolls his eyes. “That supposed to be making me feel better, is it?” He laughs.

“If you were anyone else I’d be hurt by that.” Jay comments and kicks the ball a final time against the wall, so hard that Ben feels the wall shake slightly underneath him, and even more of the brick crumbles to the ground.

The rain doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, and they’re both starting to get far too cold and hungry and wet. The grey sky does seem to be getting darker though, and that’s probably a sign for it both getting later, and the weather getting worse.

“How about we make a pact?” Jay asks, though it’s clear that he doesn’t think of the implication of his words before he speaks, if the shock on his own face is anything to go by. The wind blows down his hood once again as it whistles and swirls around them, causing ripples in the puddles.

“What pact?” Ben asks, getting to his feet and swinging his bag across his body.

Jay shrugs as he tries to think. “How about, we don’t date anyone, until we’ve both found people to date.”

It’s completely and utterly ridiculous, and they’re both well aware of that fact. But they’re also both just a few weeks away from turning sixteen years old and if they’re being completely honest, neither of them have anything better to do with their time.

There’s a silence between them for a moment as Ben tries to take in Jay’s words and then slowly but surely, he nods. “Yeah.” Ben whispers out, and he can barely hear his own voice above the deluge of rain, with heavy and harsh droplets falling around them. “Go on then.”

So that’s it. Ben agrees to the pact, and from that day on, it becomes Ben and Jay’s rule.

Neither of them would date anyone, until they both found someone to date.

It’s just that, the pact was never supposed to last as long as it has.

It’s over two years later, and Ben and Jay are still in Walford. They’re probably always going to be stuck in Walford really - they know far too many people who have tried to get out into the world, only to come back not long after. They’re both still just as inseparable, and again, that’s something that is probably never going to change. The pact is still there, it’s still something that they talk about occasionally, laughing at how ridiculous it is, and yet, it still stands, though not through a lack of trying.

Nobody has really shown Ben much interest over the last two years, besides the occasional man at a party or a club, but nothing long standing. Perhaps it’s because he still lives in Walford, around so many of the people he’s known his entire life. In such a small place, everyone knows everyone and knows everything about everyone. It’s not exactly the best place in the world to be finding a partner, even less to find a gay man.

Or it could be because of the fact that Ben's got this wall surrounding him, built up so high, guarding him and protecting him from any hurt that could possibly come his way. Probably both, really. But still, nobody has ever met Ben and shown an interest in wanting to break down his wall. Ever. The story was the same for Jay as well. Nobody ever showed an interest in him, but because everyone already knew about the pact. That was, until Lola came into his life.

They’re sitting in the Queen Vic, at a circular table right in the far corner of the room. They can see almost everyone else in the building, all at their own tables or standing against the bar, chatting away and laughing. There’s even people playing darts, walking to and from the board, doing the maths in their head. In their own little space, they’re sitting at a wobbly table of three: Ben, Jay and Lola.

It’s not unusual for the three of them to be sitting together, though it probably looks unconventional from the outside looking in, especially given the fact that Jay’s got one hand outstretched, holding onto the back of Lola’s chair protectively. Ben’s definitely more than aware that he looks like a spare part, a third wheel. He knows it too. But Lola was the one to invite him along for a few drinks, though they all know she’s got an ulterior motive. She knows about the pact now. It didn’t take long for her to find out, really. From the moment her and Jay started to get close, he told her about it, and although she laughed at first because really, it is a ridiculous pact to have, she’s now taking it upon herself to make sure the pact ends, once and for all.

Lola’s got her phone in her hand, scrolling through it with a smile on her face. She keeps looking up at Jay and nodding her head silently, looking at him expectantly and then, when he shakes his head, she continues scrolling.

“Really good conversation guys, thanks for this.” Ben jokingly states, rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to The Albert after this?” Lola asks, sipping on her vodka and orange.

Ben glares at Jay, knowing that Jay’s told Lola about how he’s refusing to go in there after last time. “More than sure.” He says, draining the last of his beer. “Another?” He tries to stand up, but Lola’s too quick for him, dropping her phone onto the table harshly and reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“It was one idiot, Ben.” She says warmly. “Don’t let that ruin your experience.”

He smiles tightly, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He mutters something about going to the toilet, because he doesn’t want to hear about how his first time in a gay bar was ruined by some idiot starting a fight outside, throwing about homophobic slurs and punching anyone he could get his hands onto, including Ben. He takes his time in the bathroom, throwing some water on his face in an attempt to calm himself down, and when he feels better, he rejoins Jay and Lola.

“Sorry.” He says sincerely, sitting back down at the table.

Jay shrugs his shoulders. “It’s fine mate. But Lo’s right, you know? You’re young and you’re single. You should be doing what everyone our age does and go out. Don’t let one prick stop you from wanting to do that. You deserve to be able to go to whatever bar you want to go to.”

“I know.” Ben says, smiling. “Just give me time, yeah? And then we can all go out together.”

Lola perks up at that, because she’s been begging and pleading to go to a gay bar for months now, ever since The Albert first opened it’s doors. “I could easily set you up with someone you know?” Lola says absentmindedly. “You just give me your word, and I’ll find someone.”

Ben huffs out a laugh at that, and his eyes flicker up to Jay, just in time to catch him rolling his eyes at Ben’s reaction. “Know every gay man in the area, do ya?” He chuckles, but at least it’s a genuinely happy laugh. He likes Lola, he really does. Jay really went and found someone that fit perfectly within their dynamic, and he loves him for that, because nothing would be more awkward than Ben not liking Jay’s girlfriend, or her not liking Ben. But Ben can see that Jay really likes Lola - really likes her - and they’re so good for each other. It’s obvious to see.

“That’d be impossible.” She berates, rolling her eyes. “But I definitely know a few!”

She’s looking at Ben with those puppy dog eyes and Jay’s chuckling under his breath because he knows that Ben’s going to break any second now. “Oh my God!” She practically squeals. “We could go on double dates too!”

Ben’s eyes go wide at that, and Jay just about covers up the splutter of his pint behind a cough, but Ben sees right through him.

Lola looks at Jay, practically begging him for his help to get Ben onside. “Look Ben mate, I love you, yeah? We’re not asking you to marry the next person who walks through the door, but at least try. Just go on a few dates, find out what you like. You never know.”

Ben knows he’s being stupid. He knows that now’s the time he should probably try and go on a few dates here and there, and make an attempt at letting his wall come down and try to be happy. He knows that. It’s still scary though. Terrifying, in fact. He looks between Jay and Lola, and gives in, sighing. “Fine.” He exhales, and he barely has a chance to breathe before Lola’s practically leaping over the table to hug him half to death, squealing right in his ear.

When Lola finally peels herself off of Ben, and he rubs his face in hands, Lola speaks giddily. “I’ve got the perfect person, his name is Callum.”

This is happening.

[skye-huntress]

RWBY Ice Queendom Reaction

Episode 5 “Awaken in a Dream”

Because I was behind on finishing up the last one, I was also behind on even starting this post, so it’s not quite a true reaction but I’ll try to go off memory.

It hasn’t been clarified yet whether Lucid Dreamers are in any physical danger. All this is technically happening in Weiss’ head, but the dream is like its own little world as either a creation of the Grimm or the Semblance. Seems like Zaiden has the means to pull Dreamers out in an emergency if they’re fast enough but I wonder if there is a catch.

I like that they are trying to distinguish between “Negative Weiss” and the real Weiss, making it clear that the “Nightmare” is trying to turn Team RWBY against each other. It’s effective, too, since Nightmare Weiss is exceptional powerful by design and is probably the Grimm’s best defender.

Team JNPR have made another cameo. Probably just a reminder that they had it easy because Jaune was weak and therefore his own “Nightmare” was as well. Not sure there is anything they could do anyway. Zaiden would burn through their aura too quickly if they sent too many people at once.

On that note, I also wonder what would happen if Zaiden runs out of aura while Dreamers are still inside. Would their consciousness get trapped inside Weiss’ mind? Would they just wake up? Does Zaiden even know or do they always pull Dreamers out before they have to find out?

Ruby, just let your team go with you. You suck at stealth anyway, and you used up your coins way too quickly.

As I figured, all the weapons work a little different based on Weiss’ perception. Of course, Blake’s ribbon stretches to even more impossible distances. And Yang’s gauntlets have even more power than normal. Basically the weapons all have their most absurd qualities exaggerated to new levels.

So after a little while, it seems clear that the dream appears to be in a sort of loop, certain events repeat themselves. The White Fang attack plays out much the same way, then Weiss enters that central chamber and asks Klein for a report. The exchange is also fairly similar, although Weiss asks about Ruby and Yang. Seems after the real Ruby disappeared, Nightmare Weiss tracked down her Dream version and locked her up in the tower along with Dream Yang. Knowing what Weiss thinks about the sisters’ relationship, it’s likely their Dream versions are perhaps literally inseparable.

Despite the threat of the White Fang outside the wall, the city itself is still considered to have a chance at peace and without any interruptions this time Weiss is praying or meditating?

And there’s a glass coffin! It even has an image of an apple with a bite in it! Just, why?! I do not want to think about what would happen if Nightmare Weiss enters that coffin. It seems to be what the “Nightmare” is trying make Weiss believe going inside is what she wants, using her drive to reclaim the honour of her family name against her. I don’t think we want to know what happens to Weiss if her Nightmare version does go inside.

So, Pyrrha sings Weiss’ song and wear Weiss’ clothes. Is Weiss, the real one, perhaps trying to send a message to Ruby. The dream actors for the rest of Team JNPR look like they are waiting to respond to Ruby. They’ve made enough of an impression on Weiss to exist in the dream, but not enough that the “Nightmare” has any role for them to play, so perhaps Weiss on at least some subconscious level may be trying to take advantage of that. Time will tell.

Blake played the role of decoy so Ruby and Yang should not have been spotter, but Weiss still knew they were gone pretty quickly. Either they were spotted, or as soon as “the girl in black” popped up in the city, Weiss checked on Ruby and Yang almost immediately.

So, most of this dream has been the more negative stuff from Weiss’ life, but here we have a room where Weiss apparently keeps all of her favourite things, and also Yang. And of course, the bunkbeds from RWBY’s dorm are there, as if they weren’t brought up enough in the past two episodes.

Now, for the part that makes my WhiteRose heart giddy with joy. Weiss left the Knight chess piece that’s in Ruby’s colour on her bunk. The key to waking Weiss up (or at least one of them) and she left it where Ruby would definitely find it.

Also the strange sign. Honestly girls, you think this is about Weiss telling you to do a bunch of things but it’s clearly a reflection of how she is being pushed and pulled in many different directions, by her family, by society, even by her own heart and mind. It’s Weiss’ dream space, literally everything there is about her. That said, the fact the exact same sign popped at twice at points of interest would suggest the signs are important, not because of what they say but where they are placed. The first one was right by where the White Fang ambush happens, and the second one is placed on Ruby’s bunk with a key to the depths of Weiss’ mind. It’s like Weiss has left them as landmarks to guide her team.

Now, they assume the other chess piece is with Blake, but we saw a white chess piece in the glass coffin. Red for Ruby, white for Weiss. So unless there is a yellow and a black one somewhere, odds are this might be a sign that Ruby is the key to waking Weiss up. It makes a sort of sense, the Relics are part of a pair, and so are Ruby and Weiss. Of course, either way they still have to find a way deeper into the tower to find the Grimm and if that coffin is so important, it will probably be well guarded.

So Sleepy Klein is in charge of keeping Weiss’ little treasure trove locked up. He’s neither the most attentive jailer, nor is his lock hard to get through. It’s almost like he’s not actually meant to keep Ruby and Yang inside. It could be a happy coincidence that Weiss doesn’t dream up complex locks, or perhaps the part of her resisting the Nightmare intentionally made it easy for Ruby and Yang to break out.

Speaking of Sleepy Klein, I did a check and we’ve already seen 6 of Klein’s personalities. Doc Klein is the candle, Sneezy is the dog, Grumpy is the General, Happy is the factory supervisor, Dopey locks up the “Dummies”, and Sleepy guards Weiss’ favourite things. That just leaves Bashful Klein.

So Yang’s staying behind while Ruby and Blake head deeper in, although the place should still be on alert if security are looking for Blake.

A room of infinite chairs? I’m not sure what that’s supposed to be about.

Doesn’t seem like they are going to get much further though since Weiss has found them again.

If I counted right, they used three coins, two waypoints and a call to Zaiden, so they should still have nine coins, three each. That’s the good news.

The bad news, even two on one, I don’t think they’re a match for Nightmare Weiss, and she might be even more aggressive this time thanks to Blake’s presence.

Speaking of, Blake’s name has not been mentioned by anyone in the Dream once, even though it seems implied Nightmare Weiss has encountered her multiple times before. The thing is, when Weiss found out Blake was White Fang, she was conflicted because Blake is someone she is actually familiar with. Maybe not close enough to really call friends, but they fought together and got on well enough when they don’t bring up the SDC or White Fang. In order to cast Dream Blake as a villain, it seems the Nightmare did away with that familiarity and camaraderie that made Weiss want to give Blake a chance.

So I have a new crazy prediction. It is nearly impossible to move about in the dream without being noticed, and when they are, Nightmare Weiss is soon to show. She’s too powerful to face head on, and it’s nearly impossible to slip away because there are literally eyes everywhere. What they need is a distraction, big enough to occupy Nightmare Weiss long enough for the team to infiltrate into the deepest parts of the tower. If in the dream, Blake is still part of the White Fang, perhaps she can lead them into an attack on the city. That should be enough to get Nightmare Weiss’ attention. Conveniently, there is a handy landmark, likely placed by Weiss herself, where the team knows they can find the White Fang.

Either way, I’m getting the impression there might be more to the White Fang and Dream Blake, that the team will end up investigating. If they assume Blake has the other chess piece, perhaps Ruby and Yang will try to track down her Dream version. I also wonder, despite her hatred for the White Fang, Weiss isn’t some simple minded bigot that some people make her out to be. As I keep saying, her feelings are not without merit, and she’s also smart. Even though she avoids acknowledging it, Weiss is well aware of what her father made her grandfather’s company into, and that’s why she is so driven to change it. If she can understand that, then she knows full well why the White Fang became what they are, and why they attack her family and their company, even if she still hates them for it. It’s just that if it came down to a choice between siding with the Faunus or the SDC, the Weiss that didn’t get to befriend a Faunus would pick her grandfather’s company every time since she has a very personal stake there.