#why have i not seen anybody drawing or talking about this

[pyrrha-dves-backside]

Tommy Arnold is a talented illustrator, yes, but i simply cannot get over the fact that he gave Harrow BONE TITTIES.

Ye olde halloween classic TITS ON A RIBCAGE!!!

Now we have some options as to how we choose to interpret this:

a) The least fun, most underwhelming option: publisher said "hOw wiLL thEy knOW pRoTagOniSt iS GIRL iF nO TITTY"

b) The theory i like to entertain: Upon the founding of the Ninth House, Jod or Anastasia decided that Bone Titties would be part of traditional Ninth House Tombkeeper garb. We know that Harrow loves traditions almost as much as she loves bones. She adores the human skeletal form—she would not have embellished a traditional ribcage-shaped corset by choosing bone titties herself; she'd see tits on a skeleton as completely useless extra appendages. She is likely wearing a corset that has been passed down the Tombkeeper's Line for generations upon generations... possibly making the corset's designer the original Tombkeeper, or worse: the original None House Left Grief guy who thought it'd be hilarious if his death cult had boob armor as part of their outfits.

[pyrriax]

You seemed to like the first ones so uhhhh here is more because i really enjoy drawing this guy. digital this time!

AUVFHJNDMKVFDK,LM?????/ MY BOY. MY BOY!

[be-good-to-bugs]

ppl who hate precure must be very sad

[2minutesnotice]

Why People With Mental Illness And Trauma Deserve Love

(and why Blitzø Buckso is one of them)

Grab yourself some snacks and a drink, I'll have a talk with you people who go all for the

"If you can't love yourself, you can't love anybody else"

mantra, which is toxic as fuck.

And sorry for the typos 😬🥲

SPOILER WARNING Full Moon

tw:mental illness / coping mechanism / self harm self worth / shitty parenting /abusive and toxic relationships

First of all, I'm autistic, so a lot of scenarios I'll give you will come from my experiences because it's easier for me to feel empathy that way and explain a situation.

BLITZØ IN FULL MOON

People come into my DMs and want to rant with me about him. I get it. It seems he's an asshole.

And he IS.

Blitzø has multiple character traits which are trauma coded and boy what a can of worms that is. Most of them are really hard in your face, like the fact that he can't stand his own face in pictures.

Which comes from a deep rooted self hate, which comes up in self worth issues. Blitzø had his fair experience with drugs and alcohol , even drowned himself in last to get over his shitty experience with Stolas at Ozzie's.

I'm not saying he's suicidal, but Blitzø's biggest fear is, to die alone.

Because he KNOWS how he is. That makes him really self reflected. He knows how he behaves, he knows his own coping mechanisms.

That's why it's so easy to make him mad. He's mostly angry at himself in most situations, so it also happened in Full Moon. Blitzø uses anger to get things out of people, because most people react to anger, but he's not doing it to HURT people, it's the only way he knows how to get an reaction out of people.

The reaction HE wants. Since Blitzø has no self worth he has no clue WHY people should love him. So he shoves them away and keeps them at distance.

At the same time he CRAVES intimacy. And here's the conflict. Blitzø's love language is sex.

He feels the closest to people if he can be intimate with them. And yes, even in a weird "I fuck Chaz to be close to M&M" kind of way. He is krass with his talking about sex, he over shares, he LOVES to talk about sex.

Because he's good at it. And because it gets him close to people. If the show had more time I bet we would've seen Blitzø having multiple one night stands over the time. Yes, even with his arrangement with Stolas. Because there was sex before there were feelings. Definitely.

Shitty Parenting x Self Worth

Blitzø got sold by his own father as a play buddy for a rich kid. Yes the rich kid was Stolas and it was cute, but still, rich kid.

And we all have seen, that he wasn't good at what his father made him do in the circus but what Blitzø always had, was his pride. Also, he's very good at making things up as they go. Doing that damn horse balloon and making a joke about it, shows how he is capable of selling himself still as the best, even if it isn't so.

We don't know much about Tilla, but we know Blitzø definitely had a closer relationship to her then to his father.

I know we only have two concrete scenes which show what kind of an relationship Cash and his son had, but the "I wish you were my son" card for Fizz kinda draws us the picture here.

As a child who always had to compete with a sister which was highly gifted, this does something to you.

You try to be better, at any cost. Sounds familiar?

"I'll try to be better".

But what? In what will he try to be better? I think Blitzø doesn't even know at what he will try to be better, he just does not want to lose this. But what is this?

RELATIONSHIPS

IF Blitzø would have just cared about his business, he would've walked away with the crystal. Just like that. He would've said

"Thank Satan, I thought I would lose my business,thanks Stolas, it was nice as it lasted" and he would've been gone.

But he didn't. He listened to what Stolas said but he didn't LISTEN. Because it was confusing as fuck, even as The Audience just watching it was a LOT what was said and going from

"I'll let you go" to "I have feelings for you, please stay" in a second.

And of course Blitzø would not understand that. Because Stolas could not MEAN it. Because Stolas has servants who are Imps and he called him names, a plaything and if Blitzø is anything for Stolas, at first, he's a whore.

Blitzø sold his body for a service. For his business.

They could have made that arrangement about ANYTHING. Money, another hitman service, bodyguarding.

STOLAS made it about sex. The thing Blitzø knows, the one he CRAVES, the thing he is good at, besides killing people.

But the one thing Blitzø is not good at, are words and feelings. And Stolas had a lot of them, at once. And it felt not fair for Blitzø to be cornered like that, because he had no idea what was expected from him. And then he used the ONLY thing he knows, which always gets something out of people: Anger.

That's the words and feelings he knows.

And he got an reaction, but also had to deal with the consequences.

STOLAS AT FULL MOON

I love Stolas. But he he's living in a romance novel world and there's also, trauma.

Stolas first words I had imprinted in my mind were "I always thought love could be fun". He wished for a happy family his whole life and all he got was an abusive wife and a loveless marriage.

He is a dreamer. Someone who loves the small things and he is caring. He loves to indulge in fiction, he loves telenovelas because even if there's drama, there are relationships. Something he never had experienced.

Stolas is a soft soul. But he's repressed and depressed as fuck. And that's not only because of Stella, but his upbringing and the knowledge to live in a Golden Cage. But he never voices that he has problems with THAT.

See, Stolas is a prince, he grew up with servants, Imps mostly. In a palace. Even if he despises Stella's parties, I bet if he wouldn't be an outsider in his own race, he would be the one doing the parties himself. It would do him some good because Stolas is also, lonely.

While Blitzø lived in Circus tents and tried to proof himself, Stolas had to proof that he's worthy his title as a prince. Being married, the whole heir thing, his duties.

And then Blitzø appears out of fucking nowhere, seducing him (like in his novels!), staying with him the whole night (showing him he's obviously gay), showing him he can choose, that he HAS A CHANCE to be happy.

With Blitzø.

And then we see the duet and the second Stolas sings about how he wants this to go, I knew they will fuck up. Because Stolas had played out this scenario SO OFTEN in his head, that he has so many images of Blitzø in his head that he knows this will not work out good. He has hopes and dreams but in the end, the decision falls on Blitzø.

So we go to Full Moon and Blitzø reacts... poorly. He even mocks him. And then he starts screaming and shouting and guess who else was always shouting and screaming? Guess who told Stolas his whole marriage that he's not worth anything. That he's not worth of love, that he's a failure, that his head is in the clouds and mocked him about everything he loves.

Blitzøs only way to cope with too many feelings is anger, Stolas trauma is based on anger and rejection.

But Stolas reacted so FAST. He gave Blitzø the crystal and he told him that he gives him the offer to stay, because he has feelings for him (like in his novels!) and his hopes are so high and the second he does not get what he wants, what he needs, he snaps. He's disappointed. He's hurt.

Because he wants this so bad to work.

But it can't, because they're for now reading the same book, but they're so not on the same page.

Because, and now we're getting there, they have to deal with what was said.

TRAUMA AND RELATIONSHIPS

I'm married for ten years now. My wife and I met each other 20 years ago.

I was suicidal back then, I cut myself regularly, I was depressed and had an eating disorder.

But I had friends. And I had relationships. And I loved so so deeply.

And then I got together with my wife 11 years ago. I was freshly diagnosed with being autistic, my wife has ADHD.

She also has several PTSD triggers, I have childhood trauma from living with my Mom who's an alcoholic.

And yes, I am able to have an relationship. We love each other dearly, we care about each other. We learn from each other, daily.

We have bad days, but we are GOOD for each other.

Because you DESERVE TO BE LOVED, no matter what.

In the first place is always that you're responsible for yourself. You can't trauma dump on your partner in excessive ways because that's not healthy. BUT learning to share your experiences but still being responsible for yourself and your actions, is a whole different thing.

You can love and be loved, even at your lowest.

But you have to be aware that your partner is not your therapist and that communication in a relationship, in which both parties are mentally ill, is KEY.

You have to go to the same ground, you have to explain what are your boundaries, what are your triggers but you have also to accept that the other one is sometimes not able to deal with your package.

My wife and I, we communicate DAILY. We have totally different needs. We have totally different views and patterns to deal with things. But we love each other.

Because we respect each other's differences.

And that's the homework for Stolas and Blitzø. They don't have to TO GET BETTER, they have to grow and they have to listen, communicate instead of just dumping expectations at each other.

You can't expect someone to break a pattern that is carved by trauma, just because you tell them you love them. And you can't expect that someone's listening when you push all their triggers at once.

I'm really excited how this will go. It's heartbreaking but I guess now that everything is said, they can finally be honest, without all the trauma dumping and pushing buttons.

And as I said:

You're worth of love. You're worth to be loved and you can give love, even at your lowest. Your deserve love, even at your lowest. You ARE loved.

Thank you for reading! ✨ Gold Star for you!

[probably-writing-x]

Another?

Summary: Rafe was known for how much his body could handle. Everyone knew it. The boy had no limits. So what happens when you try to keep up?

Warnings: Alcohol and substance use, cursing

Author’s Note: Thanks for all of the love recently, I’m glad you’re all liking my writing again !! Now prepare for Rafe being a douche and making your life hell :)

You had known the Cameron’s since you were little, having grown up as their neighbours. You’d spent nearly every day with them, Thanksgivings, July 4th’s, Christmases - they were like a second family. You and Sarah were inseparable, growing up like the twin sisters you’d never had. And Rafe? He’d always found a way to get under your skin. He drove you insane, the one person it seemed that you could argue with for hours on end. But he had the other side too. He’d punched your first boyfriend in middle school when they’d split up with you, and he went with you to prom before anybody else could ask you to be their date, he bought you Christmas presents and gave them to you when nobody else was around. Rafe cared for you in a way he didn’t seem to care for anybody else. Everyone could see it, it was like he had a whole new heart just for you, different from the one he showed to everyone else.

Another thing about Rafe - he always hosted the biggest parties. And tonight was no different. There were people here you’d never seen before, and all of the regular offenders.

“Hey (Y/N),” Topper grins when he sees you, two red solo cups in his hand, “I’ve been told to give you this.”

You smile and take the cup from him, “Thanks Top. Quick question though, who the hell are half of these people?”

He laughs, “Rafe invited a bunch of the holidayers, don’t ask me why.”

You roll your eyes, “Because god forbid his house isn’t overflowing.”

Topper laughs and leans back against the counter in the kitchen where you stood. You two had always stayed friends, past whatever had happened with him and Sarah. He was too sweet for his own good, as much as that was his worst trait sometimes.

“Have you seen him? He’s on it tonight,” He gestures towards where Rafe was snorting another line from the kitchen island.

He’s in a white tee with an open button down shirt, looking handsome despite his habits. His hair is fixed in the curtains around his head that he would constantly complain about, telling you that he should just shave it all off. So far, you’d been able to convince him not to. There’s a beer bottle in his hand but he takes a shot glass from the table and overflows it with tequila, tipping it back like it’s just water to his waiting liver.

“No different than normal, right?” Topper nudges you when you don’t respond, like drawing your attention back to reality.

But you weren’t so sure. He doesn’t seem like the boy you knew. There was something darker about him recently, like the drink and the drugs were more of a coping mechanism than a release. He needed it more than he wanted it recently, and it terrified you.

“(Y/N)!” The familiar low rumble of his voice calls out to you, and you look up to see him stumbling a little in his beeline in your direction.

“Rafe,” You reply, “Having fun?”

“You two are being boring,” He gestures between you and Topper, “You can’t just stand around all night.”

“I think we’re fine, Rafe,” Topper states, taking a swig of his beer.

“No, no, no,” Rafe shakes his head, swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, he lifts the hand with the bottle in the direction of Topper, his words slurring into, “I’ve told you before to stay away from her bro.”

“What are you talking about Rafe?” Topper clenches his jaw, looking at you as if he needs you to back him up already.

“Go for my sister, I don’t care. But if she doesn’t want you, that doesn’t mean you get (Y/N).”

“Fuck you,” Topper spits, downing the rest of his drink and walking out of the room, even the mention of Sarah fuelling the anger inside of him that it used to be rare to see.

You turn around and step out of Rafe’s grip, “Well, you can apologise for that in the morning.”

“I’m not apologising to him, I see the way he looks at you,” Rafe shakes his head, sniffing as if his body is already longing for its next hit.

“Rafe,” You’re slow in your words, forcing him to listen, “Me and Topper are friends, same as always. And, even if there was something there, it’s not your place to tell me who I can speak to.”

He takes a big gulp of his drink, not even the slightest hint of distaste on his features, his jaw clenches and unclenches before he speaks, “So you do like him?”

“You’re too drunk and high, and too far gone on whatever is in your body, for this conversation. I’m going home, and I’m going to bed. And I suggest you do too,” You grab your jacket from the counter and tug it over your shoulders, walking away before he has the chance to stop you.

“(Y/N)!” He shouts out, but it drowns out amongst the pulsing of the party.

~~~

Rafe had sent you a string of drunk texts last night after you’d left but none of them made enough sense to understand - just a lot of letters jumbled together. You could still hear the party going on late into the night from your house and part of you feared just how drunk Rafe would be the next day. No. It wasn’t your responsibility.

It’s midday when you walk past their house, taking a quick glance up like you normally would. And you spot him. On the porch, surrounded by bottles and cups and cans, sat on the couch as if not at all phased by it all.

You can’t help but be drawn towards him.

“Hey,” You speak quietly when you reach the top of the steps to the porch.

He looks at you through blurred eyes, picking up a beer bottle from the table and swigging it.

“You’re still drinking?” You raise your brows, the worry settling over your face.

“Shame for it to go to waste, right?” He shrugs, finishing the rest of the bottle and throwing it to the pile.

There were the remainders of various drugs spread across the table and you were almost completely certain that they were all his. The sight made your stomach turn.

But there was something in you when it came to Rafe, an urgency to help him as if you were the only person that could.

“Okay, I’ll have one too,” You set your bag down onto the table and take one of the full bottles, cracking it open and chugging at least half of the bottle.

“What are you doing (Y/N)?”

His hair is in disarray like it normally was in the mornings and he’d changed his clothes, so you knew he’d gone to sleep and woken up. If anything, that made things worse. This wasn’t the continuation of a late night, it was him waking up and realising he wanted to drown out another day before it had even started - the likelihood being that he had hoped he hadn’t had to wake up. It brought a lump to your throat and a tear in your heart.

He opens another bottle and so you finish yours and open another too, the beer already bubbling uncomfortably in your stomach.

“Cut it out,” He rolls his eyes, “I don’t want to deal with this today.”

“Clearly,” You state simply, sipping when he sips.

It continues like that until he’s finished another bottle, grabbing for the bottle of vodka next. You take the tequila, fighting back a wince as you mirror him sipping it down.

“Just fuck off (Y/N),” He says coldly, a kind of tone he rarely ever directed at you.

With that, he reaches for one of the small plastic bags of infamous white powder and tips out enough for a line.

“What? Are you doing this too?” He raises his brows.

You shrug, “Whatever you do, I do.”

Rafe laughs bitterly, setting out another line of equal size just next to his. He does his without flinching, as if it’s practically air to his immune body. You swallow the lump in your throat and pull your hair away from your face.

“You can’t be serious, (Y/N)…” His voice trails off and for a second you know that he’s nervous.

You don’t speak, bending down towards the table, your nose just inches above the wood.

Within a second, a blow of air comes from beside you, Rafe spraying the powder as far from you as he can get it, looking at you with an anger in his eyes.

“What the fuck is this? You think I’m just going to let you start doing drugs in front of me?” He scoffs, his voice raising just a little.

“How do you think I feel, Rafe? I’m watching you practically dig your own grave!”

“That’s not the same thing, okay?”

“I’m tired of acting like I shouldn’t care about this stuff, Rafe! I care about you, and I’m watching you destroy yourself, and you won’t talk to me, you won’t do anything, and you’re acting like I should just sit around and watch you become something and someone that I know you’re not. And of all your yes-men friends, who else is going to be honest with you?”

“I didn’t ask you to do this (Y/N),” He comments, regretting it almost as soon as the words come out.

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” You grab your bag and stand up, storming back down the path away from his house as quickly as you can, your limbs trembling.

You’re not sure if you hear him, or perhaps it’s just that your hopes had been answered, but his hand grabs you and it feels like both of you are grounded in that moment. It’s a harsh contact, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist, but the sting is one of relief; of knowing he was there.

“Please don’t go.”

[silverskye13]

how did you get the confidence to write fanfiction? i always worry that i won't portray the characters properly so any ideas or wants to write fanfics that i have go away or i talk myself out of it :(

Well! First and foremost: Most people don't start writing,,,, anything with confidence. Let alone fanfic, where you know other people are going to be looking at it, with their own ideas of how the characters are supposed to act and feel influencing what they're coming to the story with. My first fanfic I was very insecure, which I feel like was evident, reading through the author's notes now. Apologies whenever something that required a lot of suspension of disbelief happened, a poll so readers could decide the ending so I wouldn't disappoint anybody, only to end in me writing and posting three different endings. Long justifications for why I chose certain things in the author's notes. The fic nowadays reads to me like a very rough apology.

"Hi I'm sorry I tried. Be kind I'm very scared."

But the thing about writing that fic was, it was the writerly equivalent of jumping into the deep end of the pool for the first time. After I bobbed back to the surface and realized a shark hadn't like, taken my legs off while I was down there, jumping in again got easier. And kept getting easier. And now I just write and post things.

There's kind of two schools of thought that I've seen people subscribe to, when it comes to taking the first leap. The one that's really popular around here on Tumblr is: Do it scared. It is simple and straightforward. You are scared. You will be scared. You probably never won't be scared. So do it scared. Write your thing, close your eyes and hit send [either to post it or to share it with one or two friends, or even just hitting the "save" button and not deleting it]. Get scared, do it, close your eyes, finish. When you open your eyes again and nothing terrible has happened, you can breathe a sigh of relief and do it scared again. It's a little nerve-wracking at first, but the idea is giving your mind the association of jumping and not falling. I did it and I didn't fail, therefore it is safe to do it again.

The other school of thought [the one I specifically subscribe to] is: Do it once. What you think or feel about it doesn't matter. What matters is you did it once. Maybe it will be hell, or it'll suck terribly. Maybe you're really excited! And it turns out great! Maybe its a wild ride of ups and downs, and by the end you need a few months to catch your breath and decide if it was worth it. Regardless: you did it once. Now you know, if you want to, you can do it again. Now you can decide if its worth doing again. For me, the euphoria of finishing a project always far outweighs the trouble getting there, so the step forward of "Do it once" is powerful for me. And that can be broken down too. "Write one chapter." "Draw one drawing." "Clean one room in the house." There is no pressure to continue if its really that terrible, but you at least get to decide if one was worth it [and a solid 9 times out of 10, one was worth it enough to do it more.]

Now, all that said, if what you're worried about is writing the characters right and nothing else -- don't worry too much. Most people care less about how true to life the characters are, and care a lot more about consistency in the story. An example from RnS: In canon, Helsknight is a cartoonish villain with one motivation, and that motivation is taking over hermitcraft Doofenschmirtz style. To date, no one has come into my inbox demanding I change him, because he's so OOC he's basically an OC at this point. What people have come into my inbox about though, is "Hey, you established X in this chapter, but he said Y in this chapter. Was there a reason for that?" which is them saying, "Why didn't you keep your character consistent?" If you tell your audience what the expectations are for the story and you stick with them, they will stop caring about OOC moments and characterizations, and will trust you're going somewhere with your writing. Suspension of disbelief, your powerful friend! They put the world on their shoulders and carry and everybody watches and claps.

If you're also worried about consistency, then start out with one shots! There's a lot less room for error, no large, sweeping character arcs to keep track of. And stringing a bunch of one-shots together can give you practice with character consistency and progression without committing to something massive and overarching. If you're truly worried about making the characters exactly like Canon [or the Canon in your head], I recommend making little lists of character traits, or important things you want to keep in mind. At that point you're scared of your own consistency, and you just need a framework to keep yourself consistent enough for yourself, if that makes sense?

Hopefully! This helps! Sorry I'm a little scattered today :'D

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 8: Jealousy Doesn't Look Good On Anybody Except...

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eight of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo and this should take you to the song. It's the song I named the series for, because I believe it encompasses how both the reader feels, but also how Soldier Boy will feel in a few chapters. I also believe that the song House of Memories by Panic at the Disco, fits the more modern parts of the series.

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

********************

Philadelphia 1938

The lights twinkled along the ceiling of the dance hall as the gentle swell of jazz floated through the air. Couples swayed on the dance floor clinging to one another as the soft tones of the music soothed the dull throb of the whispers of rising tension overseas. It was a Saturday night, and you and a few of your friends from the Dawson School for Girls had slipped away to spend the evening twirling in the arms of whomever caught your fancy.

Well, at least that's what your friends wanted to do. There was only one particular man who'd caught your fancy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The Dawson School for Girls was the answer to your mother's prayers, a boarding school in Boston, far away from Ben's "corruptive influence" as she put it. Ben was currently at boarding school number ten in Upstate New York. The last time you’d seen him was when you were on break and Ben had just left boarding school number nine for fighting with other students, but he wouldn't say what for. You’d sent him a few letters to tell him how bored you were including a few sketches and watercolor paintings, with minimal response, but it was like him not to write back.

You hadn't mentioned that Howard Stine had been coming on the weekends to take you out. Your mother was pleased with him, he checked all the boxes: wealthy, not Ben, educated, not Ben, from a nice family, not Ben, and of course most importantly, not Ben.

She was practically making wedding invitations and choosing the names of your children after only three months. However, it was nice to see her happy for a change, kept her from sniping at your figure now that someone was interested. Well, not sniping that much.

Howard was… nice, but he was one of the most boring people you'd ever met and he never understood why you always carried a sketchbook with you. When he'd taken you to Franklin Park one weekend, you stopped along the pond to sketch some of the ducks that were waddling on the bank, but Howard told you he didn’t have time to wait for you to draw them. Instead of telling him that he could just leave, you shut the sketchpad and continued to walk with him and quickly learned that it was better to leave your sketchpad at the dorm whenever he was in town. You also found yourself talking less and less, allowing him to fill the silence with his talk of the stock market crash and how the United States economy recovered due to the efforts of President FDR.

You hated that. You didn't recognize yourself when you were with him. You didn't feel like you.

And every time he was here all you could do was compare him to Ben. Ben would never tell you to stop drawing, yes he would tease you about it, but he always sat next to you while you were sketching, watching you work. You never understood that. Ben was so impatient with everyone else, but he was willing to sit with you for any inordinate amount of time if you were drawing while making you laugh the whole time.

I miss him so much.

"Can I get you a drink?" Howard puts his hand on the small of your back, leaning in to whisper in your ear. You try not to flinch at his touch. He had already been in town, walking you home from a dinner that was dominated by awkward silence and the clicking of utensils on plates when you'd run into your friends just as he was walking you back to the dorm. They had rounded the corner giggling and begging you to come with them. Despite your insistences for him to stay in and relax for the night at his hotel, he refused.

It meant that now you were stuck with him while all your friends got to twirl around with men that made them warm and giddy. Howard made you feel like you'd swallowed a lemon.

"I'm fine, but thank you." You force a smile.

Howard shrugs, before he walks away towards the crowded bar on the other side of the room and blessedly far away from you.

Your thoughts drifted to Ben. You missed your friend more than words could comprehend. Not just because you were far from your family in another city, but because it felt like you were missing apart of yourself when he wasn't there. You briefly wonder if he felt the same way when he wasn't with you.

Probably not.

You turn away from Howard's retreating figure, to watch the couples on the dance floor. You sway to the music, holding your arms around yourself and feeling your dark green dress swish around your ankles, one that you'd picked out yourself, not a monstrosity of pink tulle, but something that you believed accentuated the natural curves of your body that your mother used other dresses to hide. Your mouth turns down into a frown remembering how Howard had reacted to seeing you in it, when he tried to give you his jacket to cover up, but you refused.

You had wanted him to be stunned by how you looked in it, or at least, wanted someone to be. The same someone that was miles away and probably tickling the skirt of someone who caught his fancy.

"One of the most attractive men I've ever seen in my life is at the bar." Your friend Pearl stated looking behind you with wide eyes.

I've got you beat. You think to yourself to a sigh, wishing, again, that you were here with Ben instead of Howard.

"Very funny." You roll your eyes, thinking that she’s making fun of where Howard is sitting probably flagging down the bartender with both hands to catch his attention.

"I'm not talking about Howard. This guy is seriously a looker. And he's staring at you." Pearl says again.

"Sure." You continue to watch an elderly couple sway back and forth to the smooth jazz that ebbs from the band on stage.

Must be nice to be with someone for that long.

You watch how effortlessly the couple moves as one, how the man stares down at the woman with more love than you can comprehend. It makes your heart sink in your chest.

The way things were panning out, you were going to end up with Howard and you couldn't imagine looking at anyone like that other than Ben.

"You're about to see, because he's coming this way." Pearl takes a step back from you as if anticipating the stranger interrupting your conversation.

"He's not-" You begin to say, but you feel someone place their hand on the small of your back, turning you towards them.

"Fancy meeting you here." Ben smiles down at you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Ben!" Your heart soars when you recognize your friend and you can't help but hug him so tight he laughs, the movement of his chuckle makes you feel alive for the first time in weeks. The sharp smell of whiskey and the familiar spicy scent of his cologne greets you.

"Guess you missed me." The rumble of his voice vibrates where your cheek rests against his chest.

"I did." You pull away from him reluctantly. "What are you doing here?" You can't help but smile at him, probably wider than what was attractive.

"Thought I'd stop by and visit on my way back to Philadelphia. Saw you walk into this place. " Ben shrugs. "What are you doing out so late?"

"Looking for trouble." You smirk.

"You found him sweetheart." Ben leans down towards you making your throat get unusually tight.

"Hi." Pearl says interrupting the conversation.

 Ben turns his smug smile on her. "Hi."

"I'm Pearl." She looks from you to Ben as if trying to decide that it's okay for her to introduce yourself.

"Benjamin." You watch him slip into the cool and smooth Ben, the one that charmed whomever caught his eye.

You can't help but feel a prick of jealousy against your skin. It was familiar, but every time it happened, it didn't make any of this easier. You knew that you shouldn't be jealous, you didn't have a claim on him, you were friends, just friends, only friends, best friends…

And now you were with Howard.

You let out a soft sigh watching the way that Pearl looks up at Ben and the way he leans towards her with the confident smirk you love so much on his face.

"Would you like to dance Benjamin?" She asks.

"I would." Ben's smirk turns into a smile.

Pearl steps forward to reach for his hand, expecting him to take it, but he doesnt.

"Come on sweetheart." Ben reaches out and takes your hand, twirling you ahead of him onto the dance floor.

"Ben-" You giggle, head spinning with the movement, but when he twirls you back into his chest, you feel your breath catch. This wasn't the first time you'd been pressed up against him and it wasn't the first time you recognized how perfectly you fit together. Your soft curves molding against the hardness of his muscles as you sway back and forth to the music. When you were pressed up against him, you didn't feel like you were too big, you felt perfect, because of the way you fit against him.

"You know I am here with someone-" You say, before you get too wrapped up in how good it feels to be with him.

"Yes. Howard Stine. Though I do believe you said he stepped on your toes." Ben smiles at you, eyes twinkling in the light.

"That was four years ago, and he's… sweet?"

"Hmph." Ben rolls his eyes. "You can't even say it with a straight face sweetheart."

"I have never said anything bad about your companions."

"Missy-"

"Besides her." You frown.

He laughs at your reaction, the hand clutched in your right seems to warm with his smile. "You've never said anything about them period."

Because I hate thinking about how many of them there have been. Because I hate that you don't see me as someone who could be with you.

"I try not to dwell on your numerous escapades."

"You sound a little jealous doll." He smirks at you.

"What was that you were saying about Howard again?" You tease, holding on to his shoulders as you sway back and forth to the music.

"Can't be jealous of someone I've seen get chased by a duck." Ben's eyes trace your body for a moment. Your cheeks blush under his gaze. "You look nice. Not one of your mom's I'm guessing?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You don't look like a cupcake." He spins you away one more time before bringing you back into his chest.

"No. I think she'd probably have an aneurysm if she saw me wearing this. Howard also thought it was a bit much-"

Ben's hand tightens on your waist. "What?"

You shrug, leveling your eyes on his chest to distract yourself from his hand placement. "He tried to get me to wear his coat."

"He what?"

You shake your head to dissipate the self-doubt and body-shaming conversation that was about to unfold in your head.

"It's nothing." You raise your gaze back to his, but you're surprised to see the anger that burns behind his green eyes.

"It's not nothing. He had no right to-"

"Ben." You soothe, rubbing your thumb over his shoulder to comfort him.

The song shifts to something softer, forlorn, a song that reminded you of the heartache you felt with Ben, but also a melody that eases your soul somehow.

"I don't understand why you're with him." Ben sighs, but you can still feel the tension in his shoulders beneath your hand.

"My mother is happy-"

"But you're not." The look in his eyes is unfamiliar, almost earnest, as if he's trying to get you to understand something that he can't say.

"Ben." You breathe.

"Fine. I don't want you to think about him when we're dancing to our song anyway." The look in his eyes shifts back to the playful green they'd been before.

"Our song?" The words make your heart skip a beat and you can't help but smile at him.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd smiled this much. Probably the last time I saw him.

"Yes." Ben dips you back, before bringing you up against him, the playful look in his eyes becoming softer as you come back.

You know that your own gaze is filled with love and you remember watching the elderly couple. The way they looked at one another warming your heart as you gaze up at Ben. The three little words tiptoe against your tongue, the three little words that you'd been trying to say forever, but you can't. You don't want to lose him, don't want to live in a world without him, because you know that it won't be worth living.

So instead you lean forward and lay your head against his chest, in the space between his neck and shoulder as the song continues. You think that you feel Ben's arms tighten around you, pulling you further into his embrace, but you chock that up to wishful thinking.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You hear someone yell, and all of a sudden someone's hand is on your wrist jerking you away from Ben.

What?

Howard is standing there his chest pushed against Ben’s, trying to look intimidating, but Howard's inability to reach Ben's shoulders made it difficult for him.

You rub your fingers over your wrist, where Howard’s bright red handprint stands out against your skin.

Ben’s eyes shift to notice your ministrations, darkening with the force of his anger at the thought that Howard hurt you.

“I think I was dancing with my girl.” Ben’s eyes narrow, skating back to Howard.

Your heart skips a beat when he says that, but you shake away the thought, knowing that Ben is only saying that to make Howard angry.

“Your girl?!” Howard sputters, his face growing red. “She’s not your girl!”

“Howie, buddy-“ Ben’s confident smirk slips over his features but you still see the anger beneath the surface. “Calm down, you’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

“Just because you think you have some claim on her because you’ve been stringing her along with the harem that usually follows you, does not make her your girl!” Howard fumes. “She’s with me.” Howard grabs your wrist again and drags you towards him.

“Hey wait a minute-“ You begin to say.

Ben grabs the front of Howard's tailored suit, rumpling the pristine fabric. “Don’t you dare touch her like that.”

“I will touch her however I damn well please! She's mine-"

The grip on your wrist is so tight that you know it’ll leave bruises. “Howard wait-“ You try again to diffuse the tension, bringing your free hand to rest on his forearm to make him let go.

“Shut up.” He snaps, eyes flashing back to you.

Ben’s temper flares and the sharp crack of his fist against Howard’s face echoes through the room. Howard stumbles away, letting go of your wrist as he reels backward to the welcoming hardwood floor that catches him when he falls.

“Don’t you ever speak to her that way you arrogant son of a bitch!” Ben shouts taking a step forward. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched at his sides and his jaw is tight, as his anger burns through the air.

By now the band has stopped playing music and all the couples around you are watching with wide eyes.

I have to do something before he kills him.

You put yourself between them, your hands firmly planted on Ben’s muscular chest so your back is to where Howard stands fuming. “Ben. Don’t.”

But he’s not looking at you, his gaze is locked with Howard’s, eyes blazing, muscles tensing beneath the palms of your hands. You try to ignore how good his chest feels beneath your touch.

Damn it.

“Ben.” You say his name again.

His eyes snap back to yours. The soft green has hardened to an emerald with the force of his rage, so different than how he looked when the two of you were dancing. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Please.” You whisper. "Stop."

Ben looks from you to Howard, before he finally exhales. “Fine.” He mutters, and he turns and vanishes into the crowd of people without another word.

A minute passes and the music begins all over again, the band on the stage starting with a lively tune that makes the couples around you to move back on to the dance floor, but the tension of what just happened remains in the air.

Because what did just happen? Did Ben do that because he was protective of me? Or did he do that because he was jealous?

Your eyes trace where he vanished, longing for him to come back, but when he doesn't appear, you're left to deal with the aftermath. 

********************************

After numerous apologies to Howard, he finally relented and took you back to your dorm, leaving your group of friends at the dance hall. You knew there would definitely be a conversation about what just happened between you all when they got back, but even you were confused. Ben was always protective of you, but what happened seemed over the top. You think about how Ben called you “my girl," the way he said it sending a thrill down your spine. He’d never done that before and you wondered if it was because he wanted to get a rise out of Howard or because he believed it.

Not like he’s tried to do anything about it. You think to yourself stroking one finger against your bruised wrist. The discoloration was more prominent now, black and blue marks beginning to sprout like flowers in spring. Howard’s eye didn’t look much better when he dropped you off. You were surprised that he’d been forgiving enough to continue to see you, not that you wanted to see him, but you didn't think you could handle a letter from your mother.

Then again maybe she would pull you out of this ridiculous school.

A small tap at your window causes you to raise your head to look out the glass. Ben is sitting there, but he doesn’t smile like he usually does. Your dorm room was on the first floor, which meant that Ben didn't need to shimmy up a tree to get into it like he did when you were home. Then again this was the first time he'd showed up here and you wondered how he knew where your room was. You also weren't thrilled at his appearance because you didn't know when Pearl would come back and you weren't sure what your roommate would do if she came back and found Ben in your room. She was a stickler for the rules and despite your friendship, rooming with her was one of your least favorite things about the Dawson School For Girls.

“If they find you here I’m going to be in so much trouble.” You say helping him through the small window, putting your hand on the back of his head so that he doesn't bang it against the glass. "You might like getting kicked out of boarding schools, but I don't."

“They won’t find out.” Ben rolls his eyes. He glances at Pearl’s empty bed on the other side of the room. “Roommate not back yet?”

“No she was still dancing when I left.”

Ben frowns. “Where’s the asshole?”

“Ben-“

“What?”

“He left. And I don't exactly invite him up to where I sleep."

“Good.” Ben flexes his fist.

“How did you know which room was mine?” You ask. Ben had never come to see you before at boarding school and the fact that he was here probably meant that boarding school number ten was out.

“I might have guessed wrong.” He smirks.

“Uh-huh.” You sigh, but all you can think about is how he acted earlier. Your feet shift back and forth “Why did you hit him?”

Ben’s eyes darken. “He shouldn’t have touched you like that or said that to you.”

You stand there for a minute observing his reaction.

“He kinda deserved it." You say slowly.

You knew it was true. When Ben showed up Howard shouldn’t have lost it like he did, he definitely shouldn’t have grabbed you like that or called you his-

You stutter on that thought. But maybe he is right. I am Howard’s. We’ve been going steady… The thought of being his makes something curl up in your chest and die. There was only one man that you wanted to belong to.

"Yeah.” Ben sighs.

"Why did you call me your 'girl'?" You ask.

"Um." Ben shrugs. "Felt right in the moment."

"What?"

"I mean you are. You're my friend-"

"But that doesn't mean friend Ben." You say it gently trying to catch his eye, but Ben won't meet your gaze.

"Fine. I just wanted to mess with him a little bit." Ben frowns. "But I didn't like that he called you his, or the fact that he hurt you."

“But Ben I am his.” You whisper even though you don’t want to. “We’re going steady-“

“That doesn’t make you his!” Ben snaps, eyes flashing. “Just because he feels the need to say it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“But Ben-“

“And I never want to hear you say it.” He continues loudly.

What is wrong with him? I've never seen him this angry about anything.

“Why?”

“Because that means he has some claim on you. You’re not his, you’re my friend.”

"You're being ridiculous. You're saying that he can't have some claim on me but you're possessively calling me your friend!" You shout back frustrated.

Why is he acting like this? Does he really hate Howard that much?

"I am not! I'm just saying that you're my friend and you're not his!"

“I can’t be both?” Your words hang in the air between the two of you and you mentally beg Ben to answer. He was acting like he wanted you to be his, like he believed that he had some claim on you and you couldn't remember another time that he'd acted this way. Sure he teased Howard, but this was more than that.

It was almost possessive and it kinda scared you how much you liked it.

Ben doesn’t answer your question. His shoulders are tense, hands clenched into fists at his sides, while something lurks behind his eyes that you can’t identify.

“Ben?” You say it like a question, ignoring the urge to press your hands against his chest like you did earlier at the dance to calm him down.

His gaze drops to your arm, where Howard grabbed you, tracing the bruises and clenching his jaw together. Ben’s right hand comes to delicately pick up your bruised wrist, running his thumb over the discolored flesh with a frown. “Does it hurt?” He rumbles changing the subject.

“No. Does that hurt?” You breathe noticing his bruised knuckles and gently probe your fingers along them.

You hated the though that he was hurt and for you, no less.

Why did he have to intervene? Why did he hit Howard?

“It was worth it.”

You both stand there for a minute, with Ben holding on to your wrist, touch surprisingly gentle.

“I just don’t like that he hurt you okay?” He mutters raising his eyes to yours. You weren't prepared for the soft look in his eyes. You expected him to still be angry over Howard, but he almost looked, worried.

“I'm okay Ben." You whisper back.

You want him to answer your question. You think again about telling him those three little words you wanted to say when you were swaying on the dance floor together but you can’t.

He nods once before he looks around the room, eyes falling on your sketchpad where it lays closed on your bed. "Got any new ones?"

You knew it was Ben's way of asking if he could stay, trying to tell you that he didn’t want to go back to Philadelphia that night, and you didn't want him to either.

"A few. If you're not too tired-"

"I’m never too tired for you."

You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest. “Okay.”

The whole time you sit together on your bed, Ben doesn't drop your wrist, in fact he continues to brush his thumb against it while you look through your sketchbook. And in a few hours when Pearl finds you and Ben curled up in bed together, you’re not embarrassed, because deep down you’re starting to believe that Ben cared for you more than he was willing to admit.

*******************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126

[nightgoodomens]

Shipping D/M is fine, cute even. It's disrespecting their partners that a lot of us draw the line at. Don't say that never happens either. I have seen it personally and have blocked more than one blog for it. Calling their relationships with their partners fake, or over, or nothing but baby trapping, or whatever else is beyond just cute fun shipping. It's actually hurtful and has led to things like Georgia being bullied off Twitter. That is taking things way too far.

Super long answer so I put it under read more, also if you’re not interested in these conversations then you can simply not click ‘read more’ and everybody wins.

You do realise that nobody is obliged to respect and love Georgia and Anna just because one is David’s wife and the other is Michael’s girlfriend?

There is this weird thing in this fandom that just because you’re Michael’s and/or David’s fan you must love and respect their partners and think their relationships are perfect. And that’s simply not true.

Georgia and Anna are separate people. I will judge them based on what they show and it would be healthy if others started to too, because while many are shocked that the ladies are not entitled to automatic respect and in extreme cases worship, I am surprised Georgia is called a Queen because she films David doing grocery shopping and Anna is called a Queen because she will post a picture of miserable as fuck Michael.

But you know what? It doesn’t bother me. They make people happy? This is what people think they deserve to be worshipped for? Cool. I might think it’s weird but I will let people be and I’d appreciate if they let me be for not thinking that the sun shines out of their asses. What I see from them make me not a fan of them but I hardly have any deeper feelings about the two of them, so I usually don’t talk about them.

People are allowed to theorise on celebs, their partners, and their relationships, based on what they see from public people who provide the material themselves. There are private couples out there who share nothing because they don’t want the public to theorise, but the people we talk about aren’t one of them.

There’s no terms and agreements that you are only allowed to squeak at what you see.

It goes both ways. If someone is allowed to comment positively, then someone else is allowed to comment negatively.

You are allowed to disagree with one and agree with another or form a completely different opinion.

The blogs that I read merely provide their thoughts on what they see. The shippers themselves discuss and sometimes even disagree with each other - politely. One thinks that. The other thinks something a bit different. Third one pops in with a completely different mindset. And that’s fine. They have a chat and that’s it. If it bothers anyone to see discussions about relationships then they can always block. But it looks like it only bothers when the discussions aren’t positive.

I block people being creepy about Crowley and Aziraphale and they’re fictional so I don’t blame anyone for blocking anyone else for whatever reason. It’s your space. Make it whatever you want it to be.

Now, Twitter is hell. It gave people the opportunity to talk with celebs. Some use it wisely. Some are slightly over the top, some are pure creeps, some are weird. If someone messages Georgia or Anna with their theory then they’re an idiot. That’s it.

I have never heard of Georgia being bullied off Twitter because of shippers so I can’t comment on that. The last time she was bullied off Twitter was because she searched her name on Twitter which she’s known for and then responded to a teenager who talked about her views (without tagging her) regarding the war. She decided to respond. People attacked. She decided to quit.

Now, I have two opinions on that - One, I think what happens on Twitter is insane. There is a reason why anybody with bigger following is refusing to post any opinions now because no matter what opinion they will give, it won’t satisfy everyone, and a mob of hate will follow. Two - barely a few months prior Georgia saw exactly what happened to Michael for sharing his opinion when he was actually asked for it, so I am not sure why she thought that fishing for trouble herself was a good idea. I guess she thought she’s above the treatment that Michael received which is interesting. Or she simply didn’t think. But considering she was posting photoshoots of herself moments later on Instagram fishing for compliments from fans… She survived the realisation that not all fans will always worship her.

Also - just a final point. It really isn’t evil or stupid to theorise and I’d urge people to have a bit of a read about PR relationships because it’s nothing new. Generally have a read about PR and you will understand why believing everything that you see on social media is simply foolish. Use common sense, trust your gut, question yourself and your views. There is a reason why celebrities have PR. There is a reason why there are contracts involved. If a bunch of people say something stinks here and they’re noticing patterns of PR/fake relationships/unhappy relationships etc… maybe have a read instead of having a meltdown about how dare they suggest this relationship isn’t an utmost perfection.

It’s good for your own development; learning behaviours and patterns to make it easier for yourself to spot people fooling you in personal relationships and in business relationships. Learn the signs of bullshit and toxicity, you will be surprised how much easier they can make your life and have you avoid shit. Be critical and use common sense. If something doesn’t click, there is a reason for it.

You see on social media how your friend bullshits people because they post a picture of the best boyfriend in the world while you know they are fighting three bloody times a day. You think celebs are truthful on social media?

Anyway this has gotten long - my point is: People are allowed to theorise but they’re stupid if they directly message the person about it.

[treefory]

Snorpy’s theory

768 words

And like that he was gone.

“Hello? Is anybody there? Anyone?” He called out only to get silence in return. After pouring his feelings out to his beloved Chandlo, he got nothing

he turned back around and put his glasses back on. One of the lenses was smudged and the other still dirty.

He peeked his head out the mill's door. “Chandlo are you there?”

But of course he wasn’t there. Only the snaks from Gramble’s barn acnolaged him. With a disgruntled sigh he returned to his cleaning.

“How odd…”

— — —

That night he stood in front of his conspiracy board Looking over his meticulous work. Red yarn linked drawings of his theories together. Yes it looked like a bunch of random papers pinned to the wall but that didn’t matter.

But no matter how much he tried to focus on what the grumpinati was planning for him. The thought of his confession to Chandlo plagued his mind.

The way he didn’t even react to what he said then ran off after Beffica. It disturbed him. And the way he said “terrible secrets” Was weird too. Chandlo doesn’t have any secrets. So why would he ask about that?

Unless that wasn’t Chandlo…

“Dear grump. Has the grumpinati already figured out how to make clones? Perhaps lifelike robots?” He went to his small shelf and took some paper. He made a drawing of two Chandlo’s and wrote the word impostor on top of one then hung it up.

“Terrible secrets, huh? My love doesn’t have any!” He mumbled to himself. “Its ai is possibly the best I’ve ever seen. When I get my paws on it I’ll Tear it apart and turn it against you!”

He cut some red yarn and connected the drawing to the grumpinati symbol. “I’ll foil your plans once again, just you wait.”

“Hey Snorp-dawg!”

Snorpy squeaked when he heard his best friend (with benefits) greet him, but Everything seemed normal about him… so far.

“Ah Chandlo, it’s just you.” He said as he gave him an awkward smile. “Or is it…” he whispered

“How’s your day been? Any new invitations?” Chandlo asked as he took off his cap, letting his shaggy hair fall out.

“Of course you would ask about my inventions, Impostor.” He said under his breath

Chandlo sat on his bed “Huh?”

“Oh nothing “Chandlo” my day was wonderful!” He smiled. “Say…”Chandlo” If you’d like we can talk about your terrible secret now.”

“… what terrible secret?” Chandlo asked. “You know I wouldn’t keep any secrets from you.”

“Oh so you don’t remember what we were talking about earlier?”

“No? I haven’t been here since this morning.”

Snorpy turned back to his board “ah, so I see that you're not the imposter then.”

Chandlo got up “Huh??? Snorpy, what imposter?”

“Oh it’s nothing.” He dismissed

“Why would you think I’m an imposter?” Chandlo said as he now stood in front of Snorpy.

“Well if you insist, When I was cleaning my glasses you came to me and asked about a “terrible secret”. And after I spoke to you, you ran off after Beffica. but since you have no recollection of that ever happening, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are two of you.”

“What? Bro that’s impossible. Maybe you just confused me for someone else?”

“Hmm perhaps. But who would ask me such a question?”

“Maybe Beffica? She did have pinkle arms and I’m pretty sure I saw her with one of my jerseys. You might have thought she was me.”

“Hmmm I suppose that is a possibility. She is known for being in others business, no matter how private.” He said as he adjusted his apron. “But I still think you should keep an eye out for anymore of you. Just to be safe of course.”

Chandlo gave him a warm smile “anything for you snorp-dawg!”

— — —

Stars now filled the night sky as the mill’s wide doors now let in A nice breeze. Snorpy gently pulled the glasses off his face and set them on his shelf. Chandlo was already in his bed on the other side of the room.

Snorpy sat on his bed “Chandlo?” He called out softly

“Yeah Snorp-dawg?” Chandlo responded sleepily

“Since that wasn’t you earlier… I’m guessing you didn’t hear what I told you? About the “terrible secret”?”

“Nope.”

“Ah… I see…”

Chandlo sat up in bed looking Snorpy in his eyes although all Snorpy could see was a green blob. “Something you wanted to tell me?”

“I- uh… no. No I-it was nothing” and with that he laid down in his bed “good night Chandlo.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Bing Bong Bing;

So I’ve seen a bunch of friends fics being written and I thought I’d give it a go so voila enjoy x

Summary - awaking in the middle of the night draws a fear to you, only for your best friend to find out your well kept secret

Pairing - Chandler Bing x Monica’s roommate!Reader

Warnings - dangerous use of frying pans, secret relationships

A racket reverberated from the kitchen, echoing through the hall and there was no doubt someone outside. You couldn’t help but walk out of your room which was next to Monica’s and plod through the living space through the dead of night, all to witness your roommate holding a frying pan suspiciously and Chandler cradling the crown of his head.

“What is going on here?” You groggily asked, screwing your eyebrows up at the situation, not knowing all too well how to intake the scene given the fact that you were still half asleep and wishing to god that all things remained sealed by any lips present. “Don’t tell me you hit Chandler with the pan Mon!”

“No I’m just holding my head for an entirely different reason and Monica hit somebody else on the head with it.” Monica had her arms crossed as she looked between the pair of you, her senses picking up on evidence of panic that was slowly growing from you as you awoke to an understanding state.

“Anything you wanna tell me y/n?” She asked, tucking her weapon of choice behind her elbow as she quirked a brow at you and crossed her arms. You could only imagine how her cooks responded to her but you weren’t ready to give in so easily, she’d have to cook you a little longer.

“I mean if it were Joey at least he wouldn’t be able to lose any more brain cells.” You offered with a sly smile, earning a eye roll from the younger Geller sibling. Chandler huffed, asking if anybody was going to fetch him something to ice his injury with before he walked to the freezer himself.

“About why Chandler was sneaking in at this time y/n? Got any ideas on that?” You bit your bottom lip for a second as you thought before the perfect excuse rang through your brain that hadn’t been rattled by a metal utensil or at least yet. You’d have to remember to leave your key at home if you went over to Chandler and Joeys otherwise you’d be caught red handed all again.

“Um I reckon he snuck in to steal food like he always does.” You shrugged causing Monica to silently turn to your male friend in question to see if that was really the reason.

“I’ve stolen food now to ice the lump that is gonna expand from my scalp.” He gestured to the bag of peas that he was holding to his head. “But yes I came here to get food because I love food, food is beautiful and I never want to spend a second away from food. I can’t sleep without food beside me because I worry about food and if I were in the same apartment as food I’d do the same thing to protect food if someone was trying to break in as Monica just did!” He exasperated breathing heavy from the metaphorical rant that he had just spoken.

“Food loves you too Chan.” You spoke, understanding all that he was putting across and as you had said that a weight was lifted from his very chest. “And food is sorry that Monica hit you with the frying pan.”

“Something tells me we’re not talking about food. I’m a chef and even I’m not this attached to it, I get it. You love him you love her, and you didn’t want anyone to know about this little affair behind closed doors, not even me…”

“Mon come on, it’s not like I didn’t want you to know, your my best friend of course I wanted you to. But-“

“Enjoy your food, I’ll see you guys in the morning.” She put the frying pan on the side and walked to her room leaving you and Chandler alone after the two of you had confessed your love for each other.

“Maybe next time I’ll get a takeaway at my place.” He suggested causing you to laugh as he walked closed and as he did so you grabbed the bag of peas and held them in place for him. “You know she’ll forgive you she’s just mad you didn’t tell her, all with pass and you’ll be as tight as magnets again.”

“Or as close as that frying pan was on your head.”

[stillnothereforanyrealreason]

Yes, I do believe in a Redemption for MR. Puzzles [Rant]

This is a rant and opinion though, so don't take it too seriously. PV was evil yes, he tried to kill them, yes. I can't deny he was evil. But his story lines up a bit TOO well with 3's Both craved attention from the beginning/ were ignored/ was an outcast of some sort with an especial lack of friends. Then copied a show/movie, a thing they saw as a way to entertain the masses normally at the time. They are then opposed for this and outshined in a climatic battle which includes them using some sort of magic that gives them control. (The remote vs the ratings and PV's own remote) They both ALMOST kill someone, successfully landing a hit on any given crew member WITHOUT killing them (PV shot Luigi, turning him into Luigi the Meat Mallet, SMG3 shoots Meggy, causing her to sing). it having a different effect. When they are finally defeated, they are banished to a far away area. So if 3 got a redemption...why can't Mr. Puzzles? Bonus: They both had a cast they did not treat fairly. (The Anti-Crew for SMG3) Mr. Puzzles is a redeemable character, you just have to give him friends. Think about it. During IGBP the only reason 4 didn't continue with the perfect video while spiraling is because SMG3, his friend, helped him with emotionally driven words. Same with Meggy, she would have lost it if not for Tari, her friend, calming her down. The problem here, is Mr. Puzzles, as mentioned in his song ("Our scene opens on a little Mr. Puzzles! Now cut to him having no friends. It was a struggle to find anybody who could be my buddy!") Had no friends, hence him constantly referring to the cast as "My friends" and having his ego (as seen in the "You handsome devil you." scene.) His ego is derived from having no one to compliment him (at least most likely) Because 'If no one will tell me I did well, then why not do it myself?' is a mindset some people have. On the contrary this means there's no one to tell him what he is doing is wrong, I mean seriously you can't convince me if he DID have friends they would have just let him cut his head off, or at least have noticed his unhealthy behavior. So for 4 to literally Home Run slam this Twink of a TV into next Sunday was kinda out of character and mean IMO?? I mean after IGBP and understanding a wish for perfection for an audience? Anyways thanks for reading my rant (if you did.) This is my tired little hyperfixated brain talking, I'll go back to drawing.

[specialagentlokitty]

Lucifer (fox) x reader - the time of giving

For Fox Lucifer, could you do a Christmas one where Reader is a janitor and is upset because she can't afford to buy Christmas presents for her kids so Lucifer decided to drop a couple of checks in Reader's bag. - Anon💜

Sitting on a chair in an empty interrogation room, you felt tears brimming your eyes as you looked at your paycheck.

They had just been given out, and you were hoping for maybe a Christmas bonus or something would be handed out but apparently not.

You weren’t part of the police, you were just part of an external company who the police hired to come and clean the building.

Folding it up, you put it back into your pocket and ran a hand down your face.

The door opened and you quickly got up, grabbing your things.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware anybody was in here.”

“Sorry Mr Morningstar, that’s my fault. I’m just finished if you need this room.”

He looked at you as you walked past.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, of course.”

You gave him a weak smile and quickly ran off.

Lucifer furrowed his brows as he watched you leave.

He had seen you around, a lot of people enjoyed chatting to you. You were friendly, and helpful, and you kept anything the officers lost so they could have it back.

He hasn’t had much of a conversation with you before, but he knew that there was something wrong with you.

So he left the room, and made his way back to where he had come from.

“Detective.”

“Lucifer.”

Chloe looked up from what she was doing and he glanced down at the present she was wrapping.

“Is that for the spawn?” He asked.

“Lucifer does Trixie look like she would play with a toy truck?” She asked.

Lucifer shrugged a little bit.

“Maybe.”

Chloe groaned, rolling her eyes at him as she carried on wrapping the present.

“It’s for (Y/N)’s boy, every year we all come together and buy a few things for her twins.” She said.

“Who’s (Y/N)? Why haven’t I met her? Why do you buy her kids gifts why can’t she do it?”

Chloe glared at him, hitting his arm.

“Don’t be such an ass lucifer, not everybody can afford to buy presents. (Y/N) was in hospital a few years ago, she got shot protecting one of the uniformed officers downstairs, and since they we all try get her some stuff for the boys.”

“Okay, but who is she?”

“The cleaner? You talk to her everyday. How do you not know her name lucifer?!”

“I never asked!” He huffed.

He watched as they put a hamper of presents together for you, and he felt something bugging him about it.

The fact that you had this medical debt, and the force wouldn’t even clear it for you.

As he was walking around trying to think of something, he bumped into you again and you smiled at him slightly.

“See you later.” You said.

“Yes, have a good day.” He smiled.

He watched you leave, and noticed something fell out of your bag, and that’s when the idea hit him.

Quickly pulling something from his pocket, he slipped it into your book and jogged after you.

“(Y/N)!”

You turned around.

“You dropped this, here I’ll put it in your bag turn around.”

“Oh thanks.”

He put the book in your bag and zipped it up for you, and you waved at him before leaving.

Happy with himself, lucifer went back to find Chloe again.

When you got home, you paid your babysitter and set your bag on your bed before leaving your bedroom.

“Niko, Julian, come on snack time!”

The two boys came running through to the kitchen before climbing up at the table to sit down.

“Will you draw with us mommy?” Niko asked.

“Of course I will sweetie. Eat your snack first. Julian do you want to draw?”

The other boy shook his head.

“What do you want to do?”

“Trains.”

“Okay, well how about while we draw, you set your trains up and we’ll draw them, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Laughing softly, you happily spent the rest of the afternoon with them until it was their bedtime, and you went to your room to read.

Grabbing your book, you opened it to pick up from where you left off and you notice a couple of things fall out.

“Oh my god…”

You looked at the cheques, and the sheer amount of money that was written on them.

Quickly grabbing your phone, you found the number for his club and called it, waiting for someone to answer.

“Oh, Mr Morningstar, I’m sorry to bother you I was wondering if we could talk?”

You listened to his reply.

“Yes, you can come to my apartment.”

Giving him your address, you got up to begin cleaning for when he arrived which didn’t take long.

He knocked on the door and you opened it, letting him in.

“Is everything alright? I assume you would have called the detective.” He said.

Then he grinned a little bit.

“Unless you wanted to see me.”

You laughed a little.

“Nothing like that, I actually have something for you.”

You walked to your coffee table and brought the two cheques back over to him.

“I think you lost these, I wanted to return them as soon as I found them.”

He looked at them and chuckled, shaking his head as he covered your hands with his, pushing them back towards you.

“You misunderstand love, they’re for you.”

“W..what..?”

Lucifer helped you sit down, and he sat next to you.

“The detective told me everything, how you struggle for money, and what happened a few years ago. Frankly it’s unacceptable, so this is enough money to clear your debt and give your spawn a good Christmas for a few years.”

Tears burned your eyes and you clenched your jaw a little as you shook your head.

“I.. thank you but I.. I can’t accept it..” you whispered.

“Why not? I don’t need it and you clearly do.”

You sighed.

Sniffling a little bit, you wiped your eyes, shaking your head again.

“I’m sorry.. I.. I can’t..”

Lucifer frowned.

“Is it not enough? I can give you more.”

“No! No…”

You took his cheque book from him and set it on the table, looking at him

You took a deep breath.

“Yes, okay. I need the money, but taking it now won’t change anything. I’m raising two boys on my own, I’m going to have things I can’t afford, and that’s okay. They’re happy, they’re healthy and that’s all I could ask for.”

“Yes, maybe so, but this can clear all of that.”

You heard footsteps and you turned around.

“Julian? What’s wrong sweetie?”

The boy padded over, climbing into your lap and rested his head on you.

“The monsters are back..”

Lucifer titled his head a little.

“The monsters?” He asked.

“They’re under the bed…”

You smiled softly, kissing his head.

“How about I’ll go check for monsters, and then afterwards we’ll put the Christmas tree up a little early, how’s that?” You asked.

Julian nodded his head and you sat him next to lucifer.

“You stay here with Mr Morningstar, he’s a friend.”

With that you got up and left the room and Lucifer looked at your son, watching as another came padding out to sit with his brother.

“You dress funnily.” Niko said.

“Well so do you, your shirt is backwards.”

Niko frowned, and he glared a little at lucifer.

“Santa won’t bring you present if you’re mean.”

“Is that so?”

The two boys nodded their heads quickly.

Niko got up, and he began to get his toys out and lucifer watched him.

“Why are there monsters under your bed?” He asked.

“Sometimes they just stay there… I’m scared they’ll hurt my mommy…” Julian whispered.

“Well, from what I heard your mother is a brave woman.”

Then an idea hit him.

If you wouldn’t accept his money, then instead he would do the boys what they wanted Santa to bring them.

Then he would buy the presents and bring them over for you a few days before Christmas.

It was a flawless plan and he was proud of himself for it, and he couldn’t wait to see the look of shock when you saw

[ohitslen]

Thinking and headcannoning the shit out of angry Stampede! Vash and how Wolfwood deals with that first thing in the morning because i think him getting angry about something and letting down some of his mask in those genuine moments of anger is super awesome

Before we continue I have not read the manga yet so if you read something incredibly obvious or redundant to your experience, well, haha or something OQNENW

This is a VERY LONG Vashwood ramble I have to put SOMEWHERE or I will explode, so feel free to join if you want.

Vash is an overall very expressive person right? very emotional too generally, but the thing is I like drawing people getting angry so that’s what you are getting from me.

And I also often think about the fact that it’s Wolfwood and Knives the ones that have seen him be like that (most often than not towards them).

Wolfwood specifically, I think that he WOULD get scared because when Vash is angry angry, he just seethes and looks like he is three seconds away from being love and peace to hate and war. These are probably the moments in where he carries the most resemblance to Knives, and to anybody that has experienced the man firsthand they know how scary that is because everyone and their moms knows that he does not hesitate to resort to murder if he is upset about something or if it’s inconvenient to him, so it is rightfully terrifying to even think of him getting mad.

Now take the same idea and apply it to Vash, he is so friendly and playful all the time and he gets kicked around all the time too, that it would be almost impossible to imagine him getting angry in a genuine way. That is UNTIL his ideals and morals are being countered or challenged by someone and THAT’S when people are gently reminded that oh yeah he can get mad too, and really fucking mad at that.

The peak of his anger doesn’t last for too long because he tries to level himself quickly, he is aware of how he can look when he gets like that, and it would be showing a little too much about how he is not very human in nature for what he is comfortable with. I think that when he gets mad his expression turns into something very vulnerably honest, to the point in where he unconsciously looks imposing and demanding, paired with his uncanny vibes it really is a treat and anyone at the other end of it would be other than also upset, quite scared. Like Wolfwood.

There is something very obviously other about Vash and he has the privilege of knowing just exactly why that is, and considering that his brother has a record for being a certain way when angry, knowing what he is does not soothe him at all. Then again, Wolfwood cares for him still and he is a stubborn guy himself, so even when most likely scared shitless, he would not move his ground, and the only thing that reassures him that things will be fine, is Vash’s pacific nature and also knowing that he cares deeply for him too, but that is a thing he would not think too much about other than the flash of thought that it is in the moment.

Vash is petty as hell too, he remains silent and gives the cold shoulder to the other person that was involved in the argument, and it is usually, once again, Wolfwood at the end of that stick. Wolfwood is a “mind your business and I mind mine” kind of guy considering he never asks things, but traveling with that idiot and having to be with him 24/7 and being given the silent treatment has to be uncomfortable at best incredibly annoying at worst. So even though he won’t change his opinion most of the times, he still insists on talking to him idly sometimes after they argue, something he would usually not do.

All Vash ever responds with are the necessary answers, at first shrugs or nods, then very short and to the point sentences, he eventually warms up to him again and they talk the way they usually do; and just like that things seems to be at bay for the time being until the next unavoidable argument comes by.

No matter how many times they argue, when things escalate and Vash begins to show his very honest anger, Wolfwood’s instincts would be screaming at him to stop it and to get away, because whatever Vash is feeling is reeking of a danger that no matter how enhanced he might be, he is NOT gonna make it through whatever will happen to him worse comes to worst. But when has he ever actually heard his instincts when it comes to dealing with Vash. So he always replies and stays.

He is somehow one of the very few (almost non existent) people who can deal with Vash when he is like that, one thing is getting mad at Vash and the other is him getting mad at you, and he has bite alright, he will say things that can come across as hurtful and very venomous when he starts to get more visceral, and yeah the whole predator kind of vibe he can give off is there too.

Maybe Wolfwood also knows how hurt Vash would feel if he retreats because of how scared he feels and that’s why he doesn’t back away. It would be reasonable if he did, hell he doesn’t owe him shit for all he knows and he would be in his whole right to run away scared if he wanted, but for one it would be too cowardly, and two Vash would be once again pushed away for being something not human, and that would be a scar he would carry for his whole life and Wolfwood does not want to be a part of that. So that’s another reason to the ever growing list of “why don’t I just let this be”.

There is an odd sense of comfort in seeing Vash get mad, knowing that the man knows his ground, that even he has lines he won’t allow anyone to cross, that he can allow himself to feel something genuine for once and not the fake little things he is always doing. It is the positive side Wolfwood tries to see in those situations and what he has to remind himself over and over again so he doesn’t flinch away. Good thing he has some practice in arguments thanks to his little siblings back at the orphanage, practice he refuses to let go and holds on to dear life because he needs any crumb of reason at those moments.

At some point when hands are involved, when a clench to the shirt and a push to the shoulder escalates to shoving the other to the ground and a punch to the gut, Wolfwood goes full survival mode because no one told him that Vash was THAT strong and THAT heavy and THAT intimidating. He could have guessed after having watched the man fight. He is capable and strong, he usually moves with a certain preciseness and care under the goofy display, he may twirl around and stumble when dodging, but he is dodging and also landing hits.

He knows that Vash is strong and that he is also incredibly careful. But that’s when he is in all his senses with a mostly cool head, so having him hovering over Wolfwood pressing him down rendering him to the ground while very obviously mad and trying to prove his point, he freezes before he can react and fight back.

Those are the times where Vash feels the most guilty after the fight from what Wolfwood can gather and wildly assume. If him not eating (again) for days or even refusing to acknowledge Wolfwood unless necessary is any sign. That behavior can last over a week which is a little too long for Wolfwood’s peace of mind. So he starts poking again because apparently arguing again is the only way to make the bastard answer more. And it usually works, some nudging here and there and putting lemon with salt to the wound seems to do the trick.

It entails more shouting and screaming at each others faces their flaws that they already know like a script, until things start to calm down when Wolfwood reassures him that he is tougher than he looks, and that no matter what he won’t just leave Vash in a ditch, and if they were going to travel together for the future to come they would have to learn how to sort things out. Something he knows neither of them will probably never learn, but it is what it is and that’s what he can resort to at the moment, and it does seem to satisfy Vash a little. So once they are done, and they go their separate ways, never too far from each other, Vash starts to nibble at his food and says or asks little things to Wolfwood, and just like that they are good to go again.

They are both aware that addressing out loud how fucking scary Vash can be at those raw moments of anger, would be like painting a line of ‘I am this and you are that so we shouldn’t be doing this’ that neither of them would actually want to have. So even when yeah it can be horribly scary and surprisingly intimidating to deal with Vash when he is angry, Wolfwood is willing to stay and fight with him if that’s what he wants, if that’s what he needs. Even if it’s starting to take a toll on him. He is getting used to it though so it will be fine.

Probably.

[alessiathepirate]

No Time To Die

FOXGLOVE: Lyutsifer Safin x fem!reader

Summary: Saying I love you wasn't anything new to them - they said it daily to the other. Saying it in another language on the other hand...

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

Warnings: the Russian I attempt to use, plus some very slight references to murder

•••

"Ya tebya lyublyu..." the words were quiet in the garden, no more than a whisper, even if the world around them was completely silent.

But still, Lyutsifer heard it.

The pronunciation of the words, the slowness and uncertainity in each syllable was so obvious - even strangers to the language itself would've noticed it. Safin did too.

He noticed it. He appreciated it much more because of it, and that was the reason why he stopped working with the plants.

He turned towards the voice, towards his lover, who stood there with a stiff posture. Her cheeks were a light shade of pink as he read the embarrassment and shyness off her face.

They seemed so different, the kind of people who would never in a million years could be imagined as a couple. But they were one, a very loyal and loving one. Even if his posture was serious and confident next to hers, even if she seemed too simple next to his complexity.

"Say that again-- please."

Her shoulders slightly fell forward as she hugged herself with her arms, her whole being screaming from anxiety.

"I'm sorry if I didn't say it right, I just wanted to-"

"No." his voice was soft as always, but with her it lost the kind of monotone seriousness he was known for - with her he didn't have to impress anybody, she was already his. "Please, say that again darling. I'd like to hear it again."

"Ya tebya lyublyu." the 'ly' sounded too dry and the 'u' too soft, but to Safin it was perfect. It sounded like perfection and she looked like it too, the most honest and alive thing in the garden and possibly on the island.

"Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu." he said as he examined her face, wanting to know if she understands it or not.

She did. He saw it on her face as it lit up.

"Did I say it right?" she asked as he looked up at him, her eyes meeting his as she quietly appreciated the beauty of his whole being.

"Yes, you did." Safin answered. "It was perfect."

She nodded, shyly understanding, because Lyutsifer never lies. He always tells the truth, no matter how he dresses it to make it sound prettier or how he uses a monotone undertone so it sounds like a fact.

He never once lied to her.

She can't lie to him either.

"I learned something else." she started, a slight confidence showing in her voice. "Ty krasivyy."

She waited patiently for his features to change, so she'll know he had time to take in and understand the meaning of her words.

Safin is, however, very hard to read. He is an open book most of the time, he doesn't hide anything at all, but still - that's the reason why he's so hard to read. The most honest man on Earth, yet he's the hardest to understand and solve.

A smile slowly formed on his face, a small one, the kind Safin's capable to do. It was simple, but it still made her heart beat faster than ever.

"I have seen many beautiful flowers on this island, yet you are the prettiest of them all." he complimented too and she felt her cheeks darken.

"I still like to listen to you talk about them." she explained.

"I can, anytime you want me to." Safin stepped closer, his arms still having a slow and serious movement as he gently touched her face, his thumbs drawing invisible circles into her skin.

He looked at her like she's the best thing on Earth.

He was still himself, he was always himself, yet he was much more honest around her. He showed her his emotional side - even if it wasn't the strongest part of him.

"Can you please tell me about the Foxglove again?"

"Of course, zolotse." the Russian came so easily from him, yet it was so sudden that she felt her heart flutter.

It must've been a nickname, she thought.

Nicknames from him were special, always special even if it was an everyday occurance. But hearing something like that in another language, in his, from a part of him, felt much sweeter, like an unexpected gift on a regular day.

As they slightly leaned over the purple flower, so beautiful yet so deadly, she examined his features, the way the light met his scarred skin. For a moment she thought about how no way on Earth could she imagine someone more perfect or lovely. Safin would say something to that, if she said that out loud. Something about how she feels about a killer that way, how she always sleep next to one with complete blind trust. She'd answer, to try to get her point through - Safin is one handsome killer. A very clever one too.

"I'd like to learn more." she spoke up suddenly. "In your language, about the flowers too."

A new kind of softness ran through his eyes for a second, but it disappeared just as quickly. He stretched his arm out towards her, letting her grab onto it gently as he slowly lead her out of the garden.

"If you'd like that, than it can be arranged..."

[shit-taster-connoisseur]

fav ship / character and least fav ship / character? 🙏🙏🙏

favorite ship:

who couldve seen this coming?/j

read more as it's just me taking any excuse to yap BDJD

honestly, how talk abt them to friends sometimes arent my actual characterizations of their dynamic/relationship. But really they're spinning in my head like a microwave everyday, so my interpretation of them of them generally change depending on settings, aus, or just my mood.

The thing that draws me to them is the fact that Fanny seems like a loyal solider(quite literally), but to where she'd definitely throw herself off a cliff for her leader/command(for rachel only really.) Meanwhile Rachel is pretty oblivious to the length Fanny would go for her – and visa versa. They're devoted to each other, yet are scared to repair their fractured friendship at the same time(mostly on fanny's side).

Honestly idk how to explain it xjsb

also the fact Fanny was Rachel's runner up for her GOT fuels me everyday, cause besides this moment, we don't really get too many moments where rachel isn't pissed at fanny for reasons.

could just be her being harsh as it comes with a leader, cause welp, fanny does fuck up a lot. But with these interactions you'd think Rachel wouldve considered ANYBODY else – besides nigel – for her second choice. so 1000000000% rachel had to have ALOT of trust in Fanny to place her as a second in command of an entire global organization, despite her trackrecord of botched missions(which, honestly i believe is why Nigel had been Rachel's first choice, because while nigel had seen mostly sucess in his teams' mission, fanny had gotten the short end of the stick and just faces failure after failure from what we've seen.)

uhhh anyways!! Fanny fell first(unknowingly) amd by the time they become teenagers, Rachel ends up falling harder and depressingly misses her GOT while she's suffering in TND orientation.

TLDR: a shitty anaylsis(barely) on how loyal moonbabes are to one another and they have trust!! I'm not normal about them

If ur curious abt my ranking for ships than here ya go:

1. Moonbabes

2. Lizzie/10

3. Wally/Kuki

4. Kuki/Fanny(or alternatively; Fanny/Kuki/Rachel)

Favorite character?

It's technically split down the middle between Rachel and Fanny, but my focus usually flipflops. So this week we got:

1. Rachel

2. Fanny

3. Chad

4. Cree

5. Negative 362 and Negative 86

Rachel: for reasons, honestly, I loved her since i was a kid. There's a lot to disect about her, and i love that, love her position, her personality, the kind of the role she plays, etc etc idk how to explain any of jt, or the specfics so you get this short ass summary instead

-also headcanon: her relationship with Harvey is rather strained, so Rachel tries to make it up to him by favoring him when it comes to mission assignments when he joined the KND, he also struggles to get her approval by completing them

Fanny: ashamed to admit, i cannot sit through a fanny episode withoht needing to pause and pace around – but like rachel, i like pretty much everything about her, she's interesing to disect as so much of her background is left up for interpretation. Like why did ahe join ths decommissioning squad? Why is she the way she is? Because of the decom squad or her time as a nurse, or just life in general bxns?

-headcanon: Her real name is Francine, and Fanny's a nickname because she thought it sounded less mature and didnt put too much thought in it's meaning in Ireland cuz she didnt live there that long (also her mother didnt have the heart to sit her down and explain it to her at her young age)

other global ops dont bat an eye to it, unfortunately Irish operatives cringe everytime they hear her name.

3. Chad is a loser. A failure. And i love him for that/j but actually, his entire character is interesting, and so much is left in the air for me to dig my teeth into and make up shit for him. One major headcanon i've convinced myself of for him is that he's related to rachel/harvey (cousins???)

-another hc: he's on the aromatic spectrum(shout to friend Amber for the idea cmdb)

4. Cree love her. I can forgive a woman of her crimes always xmsn one reason she's high up on the my list this week is she's interesting(duh), but like all the others she has so much character/info on her but little bits not filled to where i can just make up shit- canonically, i love her role, hsr character, she's an amazing villian/antagonist steals the show everytime - i'd pay warburton with my own money to write what she was like as a KND operative, she is quite skilled from the bits we've witnessed in flashbacks and in the present. One thing that runs through my mind is that Warburton in a Q&A, hinted that Cree probably wouldnt have scouted by the TND, that she was already trekking on a dark path while in the KND. BSJDB

-Headcanon: her and chad and steve have nights where they just hangs out and they watch stuff on Adult Swim. She probably likes South park

5. -362 and -86, got nothing to abt thene beyond they're silly(and possibly evil)

Least favorite Character/Ship

To be honest, i got no hate towards any of the characters in KND, they're all really interesting in their own way.

If i had make a tier list tho-

He'd be at the bottom. Only because he'd definitely call me a slur/j

And for ships, i'm not a multi shipper but i'm neutral to most.

tho fanny x a man will kill me, Cuz man, idk how you can look me straight in the eyes and tell me she's not lesbian,

Just LOOK AT HER

-

Thank you for the ask!!

[high-dragon-bait]

Did anybody ask for Solas and Anders banter?

You just did!

God I really just shoved as many headcanons that could feasibly fit into this. I’m so sorry. 

Like the Fenris and Solas banter, this takes place post DA2 but during Inquisitions timeline.

___

Anders: You must hate what I did with Justice.

Solas: Why would you think that?

Anders: I took a spirit into my body. Now he’s gone. He’ll never go back to the Fade. I can’t imagine you’re pleased with that.

Solas: I was under the belief you did this to help it. Is the truth you coerced it? Bound it and forced it to be one with you?

Anders: No. Never. He was my friend.

Solas: Then I fail to see where I would draw my judgement.

Anders: It was unnatural.

Solas: Only by your understanding of nature.

____

Solas: I am glad to meet another counting spirits among their friends.

Anders: Just the one spirit. And it’s not as if we’re talking much these days.

Solas: I’d argue you’re always talking in some ways.

Anders: I miss him sometimes. The Justice I knew before.

Solas: I’m not sure I understand.

Anders: Justice, when I met him he was different.

Solas: I’m sorry, I’m still confused. How could it have been different?

Anders: He was kinder, before he... met my anger.

Solas: You believe your anger effected it? Changed a spirit of Justice?

Anders: What else could it have been?

Solas: Justice is fluid, just as wisdom, hope, and valor are fluid. The justice you seek against the templars is different than the justice a Grey Warden seeks against the darkspawn. Indeed, even the child crying at her mother after a sister steals her favorite toy is seeking justice.  

Solas (Cont.): Justice simply became the force you always sought.

Anders: That still sounds like I changed him.

Solas: One could argue change is all Justice is. 

____

Solas: I saw you healing a scout in the yard, Anders. He looks well, but I must admit I’ve never seen healing magic such as yours before.

Anders: I made a lot of it up.

Solas: I’m sorry?

Anders: You aren’t taught healing in the circle, no more than you’d need to heal a templar’s burn. Maybe some are, if they’re obedient enough to stop when the Knight Commander says they’ve done enough.

Solas: Forgive me, I may know less of the Circle than I thought. Why wouldn’t they teach such vital magic?

Anders: Think about it. A healer holds the life of another in their hands. A real healer could bring a man back from the edge of the void, but all the Chantry sees is how much power that gives to a mage.

Solas: So your skills you had to learn on your own?

Anders: I experimented. Improvised. I tested new ideas on myself first of course. Turns out being Hawke’s friend offers more opportunities than the Wardens.

Solas: I was aware of the limitations the Chantry places on magic, but that seems...

Anders: Monstrous?

Solas: Bluntly, yes.

Anders: The Chantry doesn’t care how many people it kills to keep mages caged. “Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.” Words twisted to doom us all.

____

Anders: Is it possible for Justice and I to be separated?

Solas: No.

Anders: Couldn’t live without my head, I guess.

Solas: Even that example is too separate. A head can be removed from the body, however messy the process. To separate you and Justice… it would be like trying to take water from rain, light from the sun. What are you even seeking to remove?

Anders: Is it- strange to find that comforting?

Solas: Not at all.

____

Solas: It is not so unnatural, your merger with Justice.

Anders: I guess you could argue possessions are natural.

Solas: Even possessions were not always seen as you know them today.

Anders: What do you mean?

Solas: There has always been the tragedy of a mortal mind breaking against the corrupted nature of a spirit. But what you’ve done, joining your soul with a spirit, was a practice known among the ancient elves.

Anders: Elves... allowed themselves to be possessed?

Solas: A talented scholar may ask to be with one with a spirit of wisdom. While a devoted priest may beg an embodiment of faith. Such joinings were rare, but only because a spirit will not join with one that will harm its nature. For it to accept meant your drive was true, and for that it was seen as a great honor. 

Anders: I can’t tell you how badly I wish I could see this world.

Solas: They were called the somnlin. The Blood of Dreams. Our deepest passions given flesh. Justice believed in you, Anders. It still does.

Anders: I... thank you.

____

Solas: What you did in Kirkwall, I understand.

Anders: There are days now when I’m not sure I do.

Solas: There come times when an action is necessary, but we as mortals can only guess what action that may be, along the consequences it will carry.

Solas (Cont.): We cannot predict who it will truly help nor who it will hurt, even if we believe we do. All we can do is choose to act, or choose to wait and hope another will do so in our stead.

Anders: I had waited too long already.

Solas: And the bravery enough to admit it is a rare gift indeed.

____

(Bonus because it’s a radically different tone from the rest)

Solas: Is it true you escaped the circle seven times?

Anders: I like to say ten, but apparently it doesn’t count if they find you within the first half-hour.

Solas: You’ll have to tell me the stories soon.

Anders: Really I’d like your stories. An apostate all your life, surely you must’ve dodged a few templars.

Solas: Not so I’m afraid.

Anders: Really? Your whole life, not a single templar on your ass?

Solas: I have been asleep for most of it.