#this is all entirely to my own tastes but i will defend each and every song choice

[nose-coffee]

kiriona gaia / commander wake / pyrrha dve / griddlehark masterplaylist * / harrowcore / john gaius / gideon vibes / camilla hect / alecto

*harrow + gideon's playlists combined

#my post #fuck off lou #music #playlists #tlt #the locked tomb #kiriona gaia #commander wake #pyrrha dve #harrowhark nonagesimus #john gaius #gideon nav #camilla hect #alecto tlt #this is all entirely to my own tastes but i will defend each and every song choice #don't try me. i have spreadsheets #also yes wake's playlist is almost entirely mcr but i do not care

[softdykellie]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ illicit affairs | ellie w.

PAIRING : dealer!ellie x fem!reader

SUMMARY : ellie williams has been in love with her best friend for as long as she could remember, there was only one problem: her girlfriend. that is until reader finds herself needing some comfort.

WARNING : cheating and somewhat nsfw!

WORD COUNT : 1,027

Your head was in Ellie’s lap for the fourth time that week, the familiar smell of weed and sandalwood overwhelming your senses as she exhaled the cream smoke facing towards the ceiling. Abby had cancelled on you again, urgent basketball practice, desperate excuses, bashful nicknames, a promise that would not be kept of making it up to you. Ellie passed you the blunt placing it right between your softly opened lips and watched with eager green eyes as you inhaled, her teaching, as you could finally avoid the embarrassing coughs rejecting the substance from your throat. Nothing could get past your best friend, especially not the tears that prickled your eyes in abnormal gloss.

“Hey” she said softly, taking hold of your chin between her fingers, squinting eyes as you exhaled directly at her face as a failed distraction tactic “Abby’s a fucking asshole, alright?”

“Don't talk about her like that” you defended instinctively.

Ellie raised both her hands in defense before snatching the blunt from you and placing it down, unusually letting it go to waste and bringing a pout to your face in response “All I’m saying is if I had a pretty girl like you waiting for me to get back every day I would do absolutely nothing of my life except going home to you”

You had kissed once, years back. Two sixteen year olds who had gotten into the liquor cabinet blissfully unaware of when to stop, challenging each other for one more chug. When the world spun out of control, a staring match bloomed for grounding. She’d figure you’d both burn out laughing at the nothingness, but your irises turned out to be magnets. Twenty seconds you stood in silence, basking in each other's personal sunlight beaming of indecipherable desire. You leaned in first, she remembered. Strawberry lip gloss like an ode. She still licked her lips after every taste of strawberry milk– remnants of you. You never spoke of the kiss again.

“She's got half the cheerleading squad chasing after her at every game, way prettier girls at every corner-”

“They've got nothing on you, have you seen you? Fuck, you are breathtaking. I'm a fine arts major and half a blunt away from going asthmatic, trust me I know breathtaking when I see it”

“What did you lace your smoke with, I think it's messing with your brain”

“I’m not being funny” she said seriously, scooting in a way that forced you to sit up from her lap and face forward. You weren't entirely oblivious to the romantic undertones of your friendship with Ellie, it had been there long before either of you fully knew what it meant and it would likely stay long after you have decided to act as if it wasn't there, this was just the first time you felt impulsed to act on it. The way she looked at you drew shivers up your spine and tired your eyelids, feeling completely seen and understood under the warmest gaze. You had thought yourself insufficient many times, unloveable a hundred more, and though not fully anyone's fault but your own, those doubts seemed to only slip away when Ellie had you trapped by her gaze. You watched intently as she lowered her eyes towards your lips. Your voice reacted before your body could.

“Ellie we can't-”

“Shh” she mumbled, leaning in “tell me when to stop”

Her lips ghosted over your own and you closed your eyes at the feeling of her warm breath so close, you were only children when your first and only kiss had occurred and Ellie has had plenty of experience afterwards, nowhere near as shy as you had remembered her to be. Her nose caressed your own in the lightest of touch and her hands reached up behind your neck, gripping you. You whispered her name in disapproval as it was all you could bear to do with the fast approaching lump in your throat blocking all senses. She hushed you again, leaning against your face and getting abnormally close to your ears, taking a strand of hair and placing it behind it.

“Tell me to stop and I will” she whispered in a low voice.

Before you could process anything her lips sucked in your earlobe softly, you let out a gasp that only made you feel her smile against your skin, slowly trailing wet kisses down your neck stopping by the clavicule. She stopped herself to look you in the face, demanding softly you opened your eyes and against all judgement you complied. Inches stood between you, there was still time to look back. Except maybe you didn't want to. You were desperate for attention and there it was, being handed to you on a silver platter by someone you so dearly trusted. It had been the second time you were first to lean in. You captured Ellies lips in the softest of kisses, melting into her touch that held you at the waist as though any gust of wind would carry you away from her reach. Soon enough the kiss was hungry, desperate even, your hands at her hair pulling it down, letting her groans echo inside your mouth, she leaped you into her lap and traced the arch of your back underneath the oversized shirt you wore till it reached and undone the clasp of your bra.

“Breathtaking” Ellie mumbled against your lips, grabbing a fistful of your breast and squeezing it, proud of herself at the moan you let out. She kissed down your neck once again, pulling on your shirt so you'd raise your arms and allow her to pull it off you. She wanted to hear her name come out of your lips, wanted to claim territory in every inch of your skin and dip herself between your legs with such earnest desire you'd know deep in your bones your girlfriend had never touched you this way.

And then your phone rang. The pet name baby lighting up your screen. You looked between your phone and Ellie for a moment, and then you picked up.

“Hi, yeah, I'll go find you. I missed you too.”

#dealer!ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams #softdykellie #ellie x fem!reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction

[angieloveshua]

“My five starts danmei novels.” Short, well, you do know, not short reasons why I like them.

🎋 —C Language Cultivation.

carrd.

Programming? Cultivation? A pretty man with long hair? Fucking swipe my card— wait, I don't own a card... Anyways, you get my point!

This novel, C Language Cultivation, had all the possible elements to make it into the top of my favourite novels. Did it achieve it? Well, fellas, it is in the post for something!

Believe me, for a moment, I was crazy enough to think that studying Computer Science because of this book was a good idea of a degree (it is, but Angie is a literature girl), so Imagine how good it is.

If you're done with slow burn (I'm never done with slow burn, but there are times when I appreciate a couple who gets straight to the point), read C Language Cultivation! Dong Jun and Lin Xun had THEE tension going on from the moment they've met, and I was screaming with every single interaction.

I believe this novel had one of the best plot twists I've read in my entire life (and I've been reading since I was 10, guys, 10 years old!). I was literally staring into the wall, trying to process what I've just read. I still can't believe how it fucking played with me.

Alas, Dong Jun and I share birthdays! Do you need another reason to start reading it, like, mmm, NOW?

🎋 —Beyond The Outline.

carrd.

Grab yourself to something because this is the second, THE SECOND novel with almost no angst (there are sad moments, but it's mostly cute) that I ranked as a five starts book. The author? Obviously, Mu Gua Huang.

You see, guys, Mu Gua Huang makes me love happiness and to be quite addicted to it. Once I started this novel, I would keep reading it until 5 a.m., and it was worth it!

Beyond The Outline has a precious message behind the hilarious and mysterious situation where two high school students, completely opposite from each other, switch bodies after being hit by lightning. I was this emoji 🥺 all the time.

I love this couple. Shao Zhan 🤧, look, I don't mean to spoil you, but he does something that I was like, “No man will do this for me never. He's the last romantic.” He's the best boy and the best boyfriend. If someone hates him, they seriously need some help.

🎋 —Alpha Predator.

No carrd, unfortunately.

Some of you may say, “Angie, didn't you review this novel before?” And I will do it again.

Alpha Predator is the last novel of the 188男团 (if you don't know, basically, the gongs are all 188 and scummy) and the best I've read from Suida. This book basically fell from the sky for me. I was on a reading block (is that the right term in English?) and needed something that made me retake my usual reading rhythm. May I aggregate that this has been the best novel I read in 2023 by so far? It is.

As the title suggests, Alpha Predator is an ABO world where rank plays an important role in society. The ML and scummy gong (mi bebé solo estaba jugando) is an S class Alpha, which means he is the one on top of the pyramid. I love Qu Moyu, and I am willing to defend him with my life. I accept that I tweeted that he was a stupid Alpha, but we all make mistakes, hahaha.

I love QuShen. 💜 They are my favourite 188 couple, and the best, in my not so humble opinion. They admire each other, and they come to love each other despite all the misunderstandings, and that makes me 🤧.

If you like scummy gongs and trust my taste, give it a try!

🎋 —Po Yun.

carrd.

What do we have here? My last reading, the best crime book, and the novel that made me couldn't look my chemistry teacher straight in the eye! The last point is kind of a long story that I'll tell you some other day.

Anyways, who are these sexy gentlemen? I'll introduce you to Yan Xie and Jiang Ting, the protagonists and couple of Po Yun!

I have great memories of reading this novel. I remember sending voice messages to one of my friends about this book: “Girl, you wouldn't believe what just happened...” Dalia and I agree that this is an amazing book.

I also found it quite realistic in the aspect of how much can drugs fuck up someone's life. I won't elaborate on this because it's spoiler, but you will piece a lot of things once you know about a certain character past.

As for the romance, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, WHY THE FUCK I WASN'T IN THAT WEDDING. I WOULD HAVE CRIED WHILE DRINKING EXPENSIVE WINE (I don't even like wine). They're HOT and they LOVE each other.

🎋 —First-Class Lawyer.

carrd.

Look, maybe I wouldn't have dropped out of law school if it were as entertaining as this novel, but it wasn't in my case. Putting that new fun fact about me aside, welcome to First-Class Lawyer by Mu Su Li.

This novel is set in a futuristic environment, so Yan Suizhi and Gu Yan are not just lawyers but interstellar lawyers. Amazing, isn't it? The mystery involves the other planets, so you'll see them space-travelling to find out the truth. And if that didn't sell you, Yan Suizhi is “dead.” Yup, our main character was awakened from death and put in another body in the first chapter. As the critics (me) say, “You know the book is good when the author kills the protagonist in the first page.”

The couple, aw. Imagine having someone you could tell anything, it doesn't matter how insignificant it is, and that they listen to you and that they love you so much —that's Gu Yan and Yan Suizhi. They're also teacher × student, from those who like that kind of dynamic!

As I told you in the beginning, this is written by Mu Su Li, author of QQGK, which means it is freaking good!

Some of you may be wondering, “Where the fuck is BAB?” I'M WAITING FOR OFFICIAL ART. 😭 HOW AM I SUPPOSE TO ART BAIT YOU IF THERE IS NO OFFICIAL ART???? /cries in it's my favourite book and it doesn't have art even though it was signed to a lot of publications

[coughs] I hope you like this pt. 4 of Angie recs! I don't know when I'll post the next, but this is my humble effort of making you read these amazing novels!

#angie recs #danmei #danmei recs #c language cultivation #beyond the outline #alpha predator #po yun #first class lawyer #wrote his at 3 am again

[mizukagami-takamagahara]

Favorite and least favorite Blazblue characters?

Yay~ finally getting to this ask. I’ve got a lot of really cool asks (thank you everyone so much) that I’ve been wanting to get to, but my health is Rather Poor, and when I do answer these things, I want to be able to put a lot of energy and attention into them.

Now, getting to the ask! I had a lot to say, and it all came out messy... and somehow, I only ended up talking about one character, Nu 13. Who fits as both one of my favorite and one of my least favorite characters, for reasons detailed below. To not make this an entire fucking novel, I'll cut the post off here and consider it an early birthday post for her.

That said, here's a quick run down of some other stuff I didn't get to talk about, relevant to your question.

My other Hated Fave is Nine/Konoe. One of those “I love the character but if we were stuck in a room together I’d maul her” situations. I consider her to be a misandrist, and I have a very charged history of like, generational reactive sexism in my family, so her generational reactive sexism (relationship with her father coloring her relationship with men overall) enrages me. On the other hand, it’s so well written, SHE’S so well written, she’s an incredible character and I adore her as an art piece. She is like a cathedral to me. The most beautiful symphony in a key you hate.

Touched on briefly in the post below, my all time absolute favorite is Terumi/Susano'o. That's a story for another day. I like him in a very particular way where he's like, the best character ever, but also he's constantly on probation. Or reverse probation? I need to see him try to kill/maim/ruin someone once a month or he's at risk of being evicted. Being the champion is a title you have to defend, y'know?

I think the character I study the most and talk about the most is Noel, although to my tastes, she's very middle of the road. I feel neutral about her. I just use her as a guinea pig for all my BB related project. You know Dangan Ronpa? How they used Sayaka and Leon as a starting point/beta test for everything? It's kind of like that, except I haven't gotten so sick of her yet that I'm killing her off or anything.

With all of that covered, allow me to get into the actual post! Thank you for your patience!

Off the top of my head at least, I can’t honestly think of BlazBlue characters I dislike. Every character that comes to mind shares something that makes me hesitant to actually claim I dislike them. That is, the characters I like the least are the characters I understand the least. Spinner Superior and the entire Bloodedge Experience cast make the list… but I haven’t read BE. Valkenhayn makes the cut- another character I really don’t pay attention to. Bullet, Hibiki, maybe Amane- all characters I really just… haven’t paid much attention to yet.

I don’t really want to claim I dislike them at this point, because when I really think about it, I’m like 99% sure that I lack interest in them BECAUSE I haven’t taken the time to look at them.

One of my hobby/goal/things in my free time is working on these BB character documents, analyzing everything I can about each character in the series for my own personal work. I have a feeling that when I get to really analyzing and writing about these characters, I’ll find things I like about them.

Here's a quick look at my files, to see what I'm talking about. Have mercy, it's very WIP.

There are two characters that stand out to me in an… almost “love to hate” way, but not quite. I have a lot to say about these characters, but I’m still tired, and this post is going to be LONG as is, so I’ll try to keep it brief.

Author's Note: I fail to keep it brief.

Before BBDW, my least favorite character was DEFINITELY Nu13. Ironic, because she almost got me into BB back in the Continuum Shift days. I saw her and some of her crazy behavior and thought... well, not much, just kind of an error message in my head going “hot woman spotted.” So I looked into her, and her story!

And got bored immediately. At first I was intrigued- I love violent characters that could arguably be described as “rabid” or “feral,” but upon further inspection, she had one of the few character flaws I just can’t look past. She was absolutely static. Immutable. The only character she was willing to interact with was Ragna, and even when interacting with him, she couldn’t hear a thing he said. In my interpretation, at the time, this made her a character that couldn’t connect with the outside world in any way. To me, she was an island. Absolutely remote. And completely useless to my interests.

A fear years later, a few months before the launch of Chronophantasma Extend, I ended up getting into BlazBlue anyway powered by sheer Terumi thirst. Are you guys starting to get a picture of my type yet? From then on, BB has remained my all time favorite series, and Terumi/Susano’o continues to be in my top three favorite characters, usually comfortably wearing the “#1 all time fave” crown. I suppose that answers the other half of your question.

Throughout this time, Nu still didn’t appeal to me at all. Locked in as my least favorite, definitely. Eventually, I got my college roommates into BB. One of the girls fell in absolute love with Nu. I couldn’t understand it at all. In hindsight, she’s right on every point about Nu that she likes, and I really appreciate those traits now too- but I couldn’t see it at the time. She was able to see Nu as an incredibly tragic character for the same reasons I saw her as inert. In the C-Series, Nu is alone, horribly alone, locked in her pain and her delusion. I saw that and ultimately felt she was beyond saving, but my associate felt that made her into a beautiful tragedy, a princess more worth saving than any other. Maybe I’m getting a little abstract out of nowhere here, but I now feel that’s the best way to look at Nu’s story- she’s locked away in this fairy tale delusion. Ugh, I have more to say on it, but look at how long this has gotten already!

Anyways, then BBDW came out, and Mori gave us a glimpse of what he intended to be the next step in Nu’s story. Juusan, XIII, Thirteen. And hooooooooooooly shit my guys, I absolutely love Nu, XIII, and her arc now. It’s her fucking healing arc! It’s her fucking growing arc! She’s finally able to start becoming a person, fleshing out, interacting with the world!

I’m not the type who really needs or even WANTS redemption arcs for characters, but Nu DESPERATELY needed this chapter. My biggest gripe with her, as mentioned, was that it seemed impossible for her to have any kind of relationship with ANYONE. I guess I was a little close minded- I needed to see evidence that Nu could be reached, that she could wake up from her fairy tale slumber and start really living. And we have that now, in XIII.

Looking back on the writing from the earlier games, when I hated Nu so much, I see those scenes in an entirely different light. Her first fucking scene in every route is waking up, our sleeping beauty. But she wakes up to the same dream every time. She’s put right back into her coffin, death, to dream and dream and wake and be killed again. Isn’t that kind of beautiful??? Her CT story mode IS a dream, it’s a desperate dream, the one she holds most dearly but doesn’t even understand- Nu is a character who THINKS what she wants more than anything is a romantic love with her prince charming, but we see in her story mode there, and in the relationships that finally save her, that what she really wanted was a full relationship as a real person. Platonic relationships, with no expectations, just someone seeing her and maybe offering her a smile. She craved, needed, the ability to connect with others, but that was a dream so far out of reach she couldn’t understand it. I KNOW I’M RAVING AT THIS POINT, I DIDN’T MEAN TO, BUT C’MON IT’S BEAUTIFUL.

And, and!!! As I mentioned, the relationships that finally save her, finally wake her up from the dream the same way the BB world is being woken up from ITS looping dream (WHICH IS ANOTHER AWESOME CONNECTION AND GREAT WRITING, THE WAY NU AS A CHARACTER CAN BE SEEN TO EMBODY THE LOOPING WORLD, NEW AND BROKEN AND UNABLE TO CHANGE WITH NO HOPE OF TOMORROW)

Ahem, ahem-- It’s familial connections. She so badly wants that romance with Ragna, but it isn’t the love of a prince that saves her- it’s when he accepts her as his sister. It’s when he accepts her as a victim and her own person and not a bastardization of Saya, and comes to save this lonely girl. An echo of his little sister he couldn’t save. HIS ENTIRE JOURNEY WAS TO SAVE HIS SISTER AND HE FINALLY DOES. IN SO MANY WAYS, INCLUDING IN THAT MOMENT OF REACHING OUT TO NU.

And then it’s Noel. And Lamba. Her sisters. Again, people who once saw her as a disgusting representation of what they feared the most, a replacement or a copy- when they let that go, see past it, and really face her, they take Nu in as their little sister. And its their patient love that heals her. Just like Ragna, when they first met Nu, her connection to Saya and themselves terrified them, infuriated them, but now they look directly at that connection and don’t see it as a threat. It fills them with compassion. It can be a lovely thing, to share something so fundamental as your creation with someone else. There’s love in that. They see it now and are able to offer it to her.

This answer has been very messy and very long, but hey, let’s pretend it isn’t that bad. Give me some mercy, I’m on so much cough syrup.

#ao no kokagami #nu 13 #juusan #konoe a mercury #yuuki terumi #noel vermillion #ragna the bloodedge #lambda 11 #bb meta #prime field device #boundary interface prime field device #murakumo unit

[quarantineddreamer]

Hi, idk if you're doing the ask game still but if you are, could we get rebelcaptain for number eight?

Hi, anon, thank you so much for the ask 💜 Confession? I read the prompt wrong a bit wrong and got through this whole thing before realizing it was things you said when you were crying 😬 but I'm going to argue that in this they both cry at points, so I hope you'll forgive me my error (and I really hope you like it!!)

things you said when you were crying

It took all of Cassian’s concentration to command his left foot forward, hands gripping the bars on either side of him so hard it hurt–though not nearly as badly as the rest of him. 

Every muscle in his body was on fire, every bone sharply aching. 

Not even ten minutes into today’s session of physical therapy and he was drenched in sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, shirt stuck to his chest, the salty taste of it on his lips, stinging his eyes. While he glared down at his feet, a large bead of it–containing all the grace of a raindrop and none of the beauty–dragged down his nose and fell to the floor.

The next step hurt just as bad as the last, and the one after that took twice as long and left him trembling, teeth practically rattling from the effort. 

But he was determined, eager to heal. The Rebellion needed him. Already he felt like he’d been away for too long. Months spent in and out of surgery, in and out of consciousness, he refused to let any more time go to waste.

Cassian squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, fighting a wave of exhaustion, pain, and nausea that threatened to drown him; they were sensations he had grappled with more times than not since Scarif, and he had quickly learned that each was tortuous in their one unique way. 

“Take a break if you need to, Captain,” the medic told him. “You have a long journey ahead, so pace yourself.”

Screw that. He opened his eyes again and, biting back a shout, forced his foot forward again. 

But the toe of his shoe slid in a pool of sweat–all of his own making–sending his leg sliding out from under him. He tried to catch himself with his arms–to brace his weight on the bars framing either side of him–but his palms were too slick, making his grip precarious, and he crashed to the floor, the intense agony of his injuries hitting him all over again. 

“FUCK!” he shouted, because what else was there to say when you could remember taking down stormtroopers without so much as a blink and now a single step had turned you into a humiliated tangle of limbs, sprawled across the ground. 

Fighting for breath, he used what little energy he had remaining to reach up to the bar above his head and pull himself upright, clumsily positioning his back against the wall.

But following that act, he had nothing left with which to defend himself against the frustration, the hurt, the fear that fell upon him, predators on wounded prey–devouring, consuming–until he’d forgotten himself entirely and all he knew was the dark wash of anguish tearing him to shreds from the inside out.

“Cassian, Cassian.” A hand caught his own midair, preventing him from smashing the floor with his fist again. 

The touch grounded him, bringing reality surging back to his frayed mind–he found himself wishing it had left him alone. 

No…not now. He didn’t want her to see him like this. Couldn’t bear the look of disappointment he expected to find on her face. “Jyn…” He caught her knees on the floor beside him out of the corner of his vision, made himself look up at her, her image swimming before him.

 “Let me–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” He tore his arm free from her hand.

“I came to check on you, I wanted to–”

Cassian did all he could to turn away from her. “Don’t,” he said sharply, loathing the tears that were cutting lines down his cheeks. 

Before Scarif he had been better than this at controlling his emotions, hiding them from others, but the regiment of medications he was on created a fog so thick he discovered his own thoughts betraying him all the time. If it wasn’t his short-term memory in shambles, it was his temper–forcing everything to be felt with a heightened sensitivity. The perfect storm of conditions under which he was dealing with perhaps the greatest challenge of his life. 

It was hell. 

“Will you please look at me?”

“Leave, Jyn. You don’t have to be here, this isn’t your problem. Leave.” His head fell back against the wall and he watched as Jyn’s face darkened, her fingers curling into tight fists where they rested over her thighs.

“Is that what you really want?” she asked quietly, fixing him with a hard stare.

No… A strand of her dark hair was hanging across her face and he wanted to push it back–maybe would have if he’d possessed the strength to do so. Force, her eyes were beautiful.

He was on the floor crying from pain and exhaustion; what must she think of him? Weak, pathetic.Yes, yes I want you to leave… 

But she wasn’t looking at him like that, no, he wasn’t quite sure what her expression was saying, but it wasn’t that. I don’t know… 

“What if I told you I’m not going anywhere?” Jyn murmured, reaching a hand tentatively towards his face, wiping a tear from his cheek with surprising gentleness. She caught his eyes again, still waiting to see if he would offer a reply.

“I’d say it’s just like you not to listen,” he finally sighed. 

“It does sound like me doesn’t it?” she teased, lips briefly twitching upward. But her voice was serious, expression intent, when she said, “Cassian, why are you asking me to leave?”

I don’t deserve this… I don’t deserve you… At his best he’d been a mess–so used to playing whatever part the Rebellion needed that he’d half-forgotten himself–what could he possibly offer her or anyone else now? It wasn’t clear yet if he’d ever be able to walk well again, much less run or fight. He would only slow her down, burden her–and Jyn had carried enough in her life as it was without adding his weight to the equation.

But Cassian didn’t know how to put those thoughts into words–or maybe it was that his voice was betraying him as much as he felt his body was–so he just shook his head, looked across the room to where the medic was standing in the distance, awkwardly trying their best not to encroach despite the need to hover.

“I’ve pushed people away before,” Jyn said softly, pulling his gaze back to her face. “Usually when I needed them most… I did it before they could do it to me, because I thought that’s how it always went, that there was no other way that life could go.” Her hand returned to the side of his face, thumb gently brushing over his cheek. “But it’s not like that with you… I said horrible things to you on Eaudu, but afterwards, when I needed you, there you were.”

“This isn’t like that,” Cassian murmured. 

“Isn’t it?”

“You can’t help me with this,  I might not get better. And then what?” his voice broke on the question, the first time he’d dared to voice the possibility aloud. If he considered the notion for too long he thought it might take life, form the shape of a black hole, a yawning void that would threaten to swallow him alive. Where would I go? What would I do? What now? 

Jyn blinked at him. “You think that’s a reason for me to abandon you?”

“I’m not the person I was–I might never be again.”

“Neither am I,” she replied fiercely. “Neither is Chirrut or Baze or Bodhi–any of us. How can we be? After everything we went through? And besides, it’s not the first time any of us have changed–I know you know that. ” He opened his mouth to speak but she held up her hand. “No, listen. I know you’re going to say it’s not the same, and you’re right, it’s not. This is a big change, a hard change. None of it was your choice, and I can’t even begin to understand what you’re going through. 

“But if you’re trying to tell me that your ability to ‘get better’ is what determines your worthiness? I’m going to…” she took a deep breath, “to have to fight very hard not to strangle you, because whether or not you know this right now, you're worthy no matter what happens next.

“However you have to show up each day, however you’re feeling, the good, the bad, I’m with you. Same as…same as I know you’d be for me.” She cleared her throat, blinked back a watery shine that had fallen over her eyes. “Okay?”

He leaned his head into her palm. “Okay,” he breathed, because even though he knew he might not believe it tomorrow, he believed it for the moment–and he had a feeling if and when he changed his mind, Jyn would do all she could to bring that belief back.

She wiped her tears from her eyes and offered her hands to him, “Can I help you?”

It still wasn’t easy. He still felt some embarrassment, he still held anger and frustration for it all. He still hurt…

But together, they slowly rose to their feet. 

#rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fanfic #b writes #ask b anything #jyn x cassian #this one is long enough im just tagging it as a fic buuut i did write in a drabble mindset #i hope i did this alright tried to draw from my own experience but i know it is a tricky subject #and one in which perspectives and experiences are almost all unique to individuals #okay here goes nothing

[haunthouse]

thinking about how i found someone a couple weeks ago who'd copied my entire personal website exactly for their own website (right down to the images, what each different page looked like, and the hobbies on the 'about me' page), and had it linked on their linkedin account where they claimed to be a software developer as their own work. and i emailed them asking them to take it down, obviously, because what the fuck, right? and i quoted a bit, in my email, from their linkedin post about their (plagiarized) site where they went on about how making "their own" site was an opportunity to let their own gaudy tastes fly free or some shit.

and they replied "lol so embarrassing I had chatgpt write that… ;_;"

followed by three paragraphs of an apology that was obviously, blatantly, also written by chatgpt.

they did take down the website, but like. i'm still astounded by the total lack of regard for other people & the blatant unapologetic plagiarism being used to try to get jobs. also like, the sheer lack of curiosity that goes into doing that — don't you want the satisfaction of making something that's actually yours? don't you want to mess around with things until you figure out something that works?

anyways i think about this every time i see posts defending using chatgpt to write essays or ai art or whatever. this is how you get people who don't care at all about boundaries, who never have to actually develop the emotional depth to articulate an apology themselves, and who never have to respond to the consequences for their actions because hey, they can just make a robot deal with it instead and shield themselves from any guilt, right? you never have to care about what other people are feeling if you can pass all your excuses off to a computer.

#kaylee.txt #ai #i was way nicer in my emails to them than i shouldve been lmao i wish i'd been more of a bitch #anyways. last rb about chatgpt reminded me that i'm still slightly mad about this #also i only found out about their site because they'd copied my code so exactly that i was getting emails about comments on their guestbook #lol lmao

[sailxrmxrs]

more infinite blue fics who could have guessed teehee. this one's for tobias nation i am being nice to you for once <3 but also make it rivals to lovers because i want to write about tobias being mean but also i adore the 'we dislike each other but also pretend we don't secretly have feelings for each other' trope so much it tastes so good. i had a whole other plan for this but then rings of power happened and the galadriel/halbrand dynamic grabbed me in a chokehold so u get this instead. writing this was also a struggle of me battling my internet while also fighting the urge to keep playing piofiore episodio 1926. it's been a TIME. but take some more fantasy/historical au tobias bc WHY NOT RIGHT also!! a content warning for violence/blood/injuries basically your usual fantasy things. stay comfy gamers and buckle in bc it's a long one o7

The sun had about reached its peak in the sky as you strolled through the castle grounds. Today was a rare day spared from your regular duties, a blessing that only came once every few weeks. There truly was no greater pleasure than to be awoken by the sun’s first morning rays brushing your face and turning over, burrowing further under the covers for an extra hour of sleep. That extra sliver of rest was enough to alleviate the persisting tiredness from the last few days. And now, a clear schedule ahead, there was a window of time dedicated entirely to you. So, as fitting with your station, you were making your way to the main training room. Other fighters of the King’s army were scattered about the courtyard, those relieved of their duties for the day swing swords at training dummies or sparring with a partner. Considering the bright skies and gentle warmth in the air, most were making the most of the nice weather. What nicer backdrop to the rigorous training regimes than a clear sky and the far-off sound of birds chirping atop the castle walls? However, in spite of the perfect conditions, days off were enjoyed much more thoroughly when spent alone. Of course, you enjoyed the companionship of your fellow fighters—they were the people you trained so hard to defend and aid in battle, after all. But no matter how close you may be with a great deal of them, days off were you to revel in your own company.

There were no sounds to be heard coming from inside the training room, the exact sign you were hoping for that the next two hours of your time would be spent in comfortable solitude. Releasing a satisfied sigh, you stepped over the threshold and assessed the equipment available. In doing so, your eyes landed on a familiar figure loosing an arrow into a target standing at the far end of the expansive room. Tobias. He was no new addition to the fighting ranks but had been a thorn in your side from the moment you laid eyes on him. He’d been recruited after a raid on a suspected rebel camp years ago after pleading innocence and offering his services in the form of battle prowess for the King. He was employed on a temporary basis until he was proved trustworthy enough to not act as a double agent and had been part of your day-to-day life ever since. At first his overly confident words were brushed aside as a nervous desire to be accepted among the others but as time went on, he proved that he was simply that confident in himself. Although perhaps arrogant was more apt. Tobias walked about the place as though he owned it, when he wasn’t being watched by superiors, that was. He held himself with indescribable regard that perhaps even the King himself couldn’t match And, of course, he could sense your dislike for him from a mile away. He would find ways to get himself assigned to work alongside you, would seek you out as for sparring practice, would take up a seat beside you during meal hours. Tobias spent more time with you than your shadow did—it felt that way, anyway.

Typically spending so much time in another person’s presence led to a close friendship developing but the exact opposite had transpired between the both of you. The mutual hatred was palpable, creating a tension so heavy it could almost be seen if someone focused their eyes hard enough. Threats of violence were commonplace and whenever you sparred together, neither held back; someone always walked away with a black eye or bruised rib from a harsh kick to their side. How the contempt for one another had grown so far was a true enigma to many of your friends, all looking on in question of whether the animosity was purely hatred or if another emotion lingered deep beneath. There had not been one standout moment to facilitate your less than pleasant feelings toward Tobias, but rather a general sense of distrust. He was not one to share much of his past nor did he show any desire to partake in activities that weren’t mandatory. He’d cite excuses of prior plans or tiredness from a day of patrols and leave for his room, only to be undiscoverable within the hour. Where he went was unknown to anyone but himself and you couldn’t help but begin to harbour seeds of distrust, only fuelling the fires of resentment with each day that passed.

Even now as Tobias lazily approached the target, having shot it directly in the centre, you were itching to wipe the smug smile that no doubt stretched across his face. He had paused at the target with the arrow sitting now in his hands as he examined it, fingers gently touching the head of the arrow with each gentle tap against his fingertips. Eyes darting to the throwing knives beside you, temptation snuck up onto your shoulder and whispered in your ear. Tobias had not yet noticed your arrival or, if he had, he was ignoring you likely to incite action. If action was what he sought, you would happily oblige. You took up a knife, eyes zoning on your target and letting it fly free. The throwing knife hit its mark exactly as intended, brushing past Tobias’ cheek and implanting itself in the target in front of him.

“A dangerous game you’re playing there, aren’t you? Two can play at that game,” he drawled, indifference lacing his words before he snapped into action and notched an arrow, aimed and shot at the spot on the wall right above your head. It had come dangerously close to your scalp, the feeling of the arrow brushing over your hair and sending a shudder down your spine.

"Is it dangerous if I trust in my skills?"

"Ah, but what if I had moved in the way? Would you tend to my wounds for me?" Tobias prowled across the training room, eyes fixed on you. He met your scowl with his mouth quirked into a scrutinising smile, as though he were calculating your intentions and assessing the best way to slither beneath your skin. Judging from the amusement all over his face, he was well into the process of concocting said plan.

"In your dreams. Watching you bleed out would give me great pleasure," you quipped, arms folding across your chest as you refused to back down to his towering frame. Tobias was far too tall for his own good, and it only fuelled his already staggering self-confidence.

His smile turned to a grin as he stopped in front of you. "Well, I do strive to please. In all areas, might I add." Tobias' grin only grew as you scoffed and pushed him away with disgust. "Too far? And here I thought you could handle a little more than that." Tobias now had an arm holding onto the casing of the door frame above your head as he leaned in closer despite the hand that tried to keep him at bay.

“Do you have to stand so close?”

Tobias ignored you, staying completely still as he continued on as though you’d never spoken. “You know, I’m surprised you’re not out there training with the others. You know how much I loathe seeing you spar with anyone other than me.”

“Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind that I do it simply because you hate it so much?” You could feel yourself getting more and more frustrated the loner you remained talking to Tobias, but there was no backing out of this encounter. Not if you wanted to retain any semblance of your dignity. Should you walk away now, Tobias would hold it over your head for weeks or, more likely, months.

The corner of Tobias’ lip twitched as though the idea of being so thoroughly disliked by you entertained him—as though this were all some long-running game of cat and mouse. “I’m flattered you think of me so much around other men. You know, if you crave my attention so badly, you need only visit my room. You know where it is, after all.”

“Rather presumptuous of you to assume my thoughts of you are in any way nice.”

Tobias raised an eyebrow at your dismissal, quickly firing back with his sharp tongue. “And it’s rather presumptuous of you to believe I don’t enjoy that to my very core.”

You blanched for a moment, Tobias managing to knock you off balance with each quip he sent your way. The man was insatiable in all the wrong ways. “What? You enjoy the fact I loathe your presence? I’m not one to judge but that doesn’t sound entirely healthy.”

“Have you never heard of the saying ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’? Well, little fox, wouldn’t you like to find out how close we can be?” Tobias' voice was a low purr, his face now barely an inch away from your ear as he let the low dulcet tones of his voice sink beneath your skin. He was a lethal man in so many ways, but this felt far more life threatening than any dagger to your throat or arrow to your heart could ever feel.

"Not in the slightest. Now are we done here? Some of us have plans they'd rather leave undisturbed." It took a great deal of self restraint to not take a small step back or waver under Tobias' watch. He was still leaning in close, clearly unaffected by the distinct lack of amusment on your own features. He seemed to be weighing up his options, but at your refusal to back down he finally moved away, bored with your lacking reaction. Tobias wished you a happy training session, his voice completely devoid of any genuine well wishes as he walked away. It took a good few minutes to calm the annoyance that had swelled during the short encounter with him, your mind replaying certain choice words and phrases he'd used while you warmed up to train.

The remaining afternoon passed by uneventfully, your training session alleviating all Tobias related stress. There really was something therapeutic about slashing a sword against a training dummy as hard as you were physically able. Eventually your body reached its finishing point, muscles tinged with dull aches that could only be relieved by a steaming hot bath. It was the signifier you needed to call it a day and return to your room to enjoy the remainder of your afternoon without any pressing duties. You were free to spend some time indulging in hobbies you otherwise had to set aside in place of training newer recruits or studying new formations. That peace was later shattered, of course, when news arrived that the castle was under attack. Of all days for there to be an ambush of any kind, it had to be the one day you were supposed to be relieved of duties. But, despite fate's cruel timing, you prepared to take up arms and fight as was expected of you. This was what you trained so hard for.

Commotion and chaos consumed the courtyard. What once had been the sunny site of peaceful afternoon training was now a bloodsoaked battleground. Night had fallen, bringing with it the cover of darkness—which had its own benefits and drawbacks. The diminished light meant that you could easily hide in the shadows before striking the castle's attackers but, by the same token, they could just as easily do the same. Still, with all your experience in battle you believed wholeheartedly in yourself and the soldiers at your side going out into the night. Clamour of swords clashing, metal on metal like a cacophonous thunder, and the shouts of angers were the music of the night. It was never pleasant, nor did it get much easier with each fight you found yourself entrenched in. It wasn't long before your sword was stained a deep, dark colour, far removed from its once silver sheen under the light of the moon. Flecks of blood and mud adorned your cheeks, none of it your own. Though some of your comrades were not quite so lucky. There was no time to dwell on whose injuries were beyond saving no matter how biting the sting of death always seemed to be. All those complicated emotions could stir once you were safe again in the comforts of your bed.

Advancing to another section of the courtyard, you searched for signs of further infiltration. There was always the chance this onslaught of attackers was a mere distraction from some ulterior motive playing out elsewhere. Despite having slipped into the shadows to make your escape, a stray attacker took advantage of your false sense of security. Just as you registered the presence behind you, a sharp sting heated at your side. Ignoring the building pain, you swung into action. Luckily this was your only combatant. With your newly acquired injury, fighting more than one opponent would prove rather challenging. Possibly fatal. Dying here was not an option. Not for you. Even as you moved a portion too slowly, the hilt of your attacker's dagger colliding with your head, you couldn't contemplate the chances of losing no matter how quick your attacker might be—and they were unbelievably fast. You raised your sword, bracing for the oncoming pain that never seemed to arrive.

When you refocused your vision, adrenaline the only force keeping your knees from buckling, all that you could see was the all-too-familiar head of golden hair stood before you. Tobias held a bloodied sword in hand as he fended off your attacker with an excellent precision; he might be insufferable, but the man could certainly fight. Your vision blurred, the inflicted wounds creeping up on you—not to mention the pounding headache that had just been inflicted upon you. There was no chance you'd be seeing this battle to its end with these injuries. No matter how much you wanted to press on, you had to bandage the still bleeding wound at your side and find something to ease the ache in your head. A cold darkness threatened to pull you under, the blanket of unconsciousness feeling like a welcome idea if not for the fact that Tobias had just killed your attacker. Grasping onto those wispy tendrils of consciousness, your breathing heaved as you focused on Tobias. If anything would keep you awake and aware, it was spite; you couldn't let Tobias hold this over you. Never in a thousand years would you allow him to be the one responsible for your survival and so you moved to continue fighting, despite your instincts telling you to retreat.

"I knew you were stupid, but I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to throw your life away. You're injured. We need to fix you up," he called out, his breathing laboured as he remained rooted in place.

"So what if I am? I'm fine. I can fight." You had never been a good liar.

Tobias knew it too, walking closer as he reached for your wrist. "Please, just let me patch you up. You're clearly hurt." If you didn't know him better, you'd think there was some semblance of pain in his voice. Surely not.

"I told you, I'm fine. It's not as bad as you think. But I'll tend to it anyway. Alone." You made sure to stress the finality of your last comment. This was the last scenario in which you wanted Tobias' presence, let alone his aid. It wasn't that deep of a wound anyway. Nothing to fret over or concern anyone else with, least of all him. Despite his continued insistance to clean the wound and help dress it, you waved him off, erasing any evidence of the pulsing pain at your side until he finally gave in and listened. You weren't sure if he'd believed your claims but at least he'd finally acquiesced. Perhaps if he hadn't been so insufferably vexing in the training room earlier you might have relinquished and let him help you. But this was Tobias, ever the pain in your side even when staring in the face of mortal danger. When you finally reached the privacy of your rooms, peeling away the leather armour that protected your torso from sustaining further injuries, the pain only spread from the loss of pressure on the wound. You hissed at the feeling, head snapping up when you heard a familiar voice sigh from the doorway. Of course he hadn't believed you. Of course he'd come after you despite your instructions not to.

"And you said it wasn't that bad," Tobias said, his voice surprisingly languid considering the urgency with which he'd spoken earlier. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded as he stared at the open wound at your side and the blood seeping onto your blouse.

You glared at him, unable to move the hand that instinctively came to your side to attempt to combat the pain. "Is this the part where you say ‘I told you so’? Because I’m really not in the mood for it right now, Tobias.”

He shook his head, stepping closer. It was now that you could see the dampened washcloth and gauze in his hands. “I’m going to patch you up like I said I would.”

“Thought I told you to leave it. That I could manage it myself."

“Did you really believe I’d listen? Did you really think I wouldn’t follow you?”

“No. I knew you would.” Your voice was quiet now, barely above a whisper as you angled your head away from Tobias. “You always do come to help, don’t you?”

Tobias continued his ministrations, treating your wound with utmost care. His hands were surprisngly gentle, barely ghosting your skin as he cleaned the wound as painlessly as possible. Whoever this Tobias was he was a farcry from the man you'd clashed with just a few hours ago. With every hiss of pain or involuntary twitch, Tobias would pause, eyes searching your face for any hint of distress.

“You can stop looking at me as though I’ll break. I can handle it,” you scolded, finally meeting his concerned look. He seemed strained, as though he was holding something back, though what exactly that was, you weren’t sure. Tobias was notoriously hard to read.

“Maybe you can. But I can’t.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Tobias sighed. You didn’t expect to feel the loss of his hands so strongly. “Nothing. Just…please don’t get yourself hurt like this again.”

You looked at him incredulously, the slight movement of your body sending a painful reminder that you needed to remain as still as possible right now. “And why do you care? I didn’t ask for you to come help me. Or even defend me back there. I don’t know what you were thinking, you could’ve gotten yourself injured or worse, killed!”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Tobias scoffed. He had finished cleaning the wound and had begun to dress it, his eyebrows knitted in annoyance. “If I hadn’t stepped in you’d be in a lot worse shape right now. Possibly not even standing to scold me.”

“So why’d you do it? Since when have you cared about my safety? I vaguely recall you shooting an arrow at my head earlier. Not exactly the actions of someone who cares for my physical health."

“You seem to forget that was an act of retaliation after you threw a knife flying past my face." He paused for a moment, hands halting in their movements. "And besides, little fox, the only one who’s allowed to kill you, is me.” Tobias had his hand on your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze. The eye contact was excrutiating, especially when you could see the murderous intent swimming in his eyes. Why he didn't just finish the job now, you didn't know. Clearly he wanted to. Yet he was bandaging you up as though he were a caring friend or doting lover, concerned for your wellbeing.

"Heavens above I hate you, Tobias," you whispered, knowing he heard every syllable as he looked into your face. If either of you moved even the slightest bit closer, his nose would be pressed against yours.

"All this talk of hating me and yet you didn't stab me when you had the chance, hm? I know you threw that dagger with no intention to strike true. You could've done it, you know? A single thought and I would have been gone. None the wiser to who my assassin would've been." Tobias' breath was warm over your face, every word painting your face and weighing you down. "Or perhaps you enjoy this little dynamic we have going on? Pretending that beneath all that hate and contempt there isn't the pulling tug of desire, begging for one of us to finally give in."

You tried to ignore the hand that danced on your uninjured waist—not to mention his burning touch still lingering on your chin. "You'll find me dead before I admit any kind of feelings for you."

"Oh, so you acknowledge they exist then? No matter how buried they may be, I guarantee it won't last. I know you far better than you give me credit for." The hand on your waist slipped beneath the blouse, his fingers cold on your side. You couldn't help the shiver that traveled the length of your spine as you struggled for a reply.

"Merely a lapse in judgement," you spoke, finally finding your voice. "Trust me, the moment I no longer owe you for saving my life? You're dead."

Tobias chuckled, the sound as cold as his touch had been. "We'll see about that, won't we? Hate me all you want. But we've got to keep you alive for that. I don't want you dead yet, anyway. And I'll kill anyone that even thinks about stealing my pleasures from me."

#infinite blue #infinite blue x reader #infinite blue fanfic #infinite blue tobias #tobias fox #infinite blue tobias x reader #wow look at that i'm not slandering tobias for once #okay maybe a little bit still #also yes this version of tobias was inspired by jacks from once upon a broken heart do not perceive me okay he is hot and unhinged #shoutout to ito can't wait to watch u scream for an hour trying to read this #and if u see this tag calling u out no u don't <3 #anyway it was only a matter of time before i made myself write more solo fics for infinite blue #alexei and brooklyn u are next i am running in ur direction #anna writes

[shroudkeeper]

S O F T for either of your ladies?

SFW Alphabet Ask Meme

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect their partner? How would they like to be protected?)

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) I answered this one previously in the other ask ❤️

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

----

Since Kikyo has never had a partner or been in a situation like this, I will shift the focus to my elezen. Rivienne is extreme when it comes to protecting a loved one. She will literally throw herself in the heat of battle ( and thrive ) to keep her partner or family safe and ensure that this threat is eliminated entirely. Often leading to her opponent's demise. Interestingly enough, she is just getting accustomed to being protected, for she never really depended on anyone or anything else to provide that security for her. She thinks it is rather cute, and sexy, that her partner would defend her.

In the end, it benefits them.

Rivienne, once upon a time, was quick to get married. She was young, in love, foolish and excited. Though much of that comes from inexperience and naivete. She has grown a lot since that time, being an elezen well into her 40's, and has learned to take time with her commitment, to allow it to grow and flourish in its own time. Will she marry the man who has kept her heart safe these past couple of years? I believe so, but she is enjoying the adventure and allowing it to take them both there when the time is right.

---

Kikyo would be the type of person who puts a lot of effort into dates and yet manages to keep them from getting too grandiose in the process. Since simplicity in fact can speak volumes since everything she does is from the heart and done so deliberately.

The young lady would choose a date when the moon is at her fullest, or when the plum or cherry blossoms have bloomed; perhaps she'd pick a spot at a shrine where they could be visited by the forest spirits. And she'd always prepare meals for them in which one could taste the most important ingredient: the love she pours into each dish.

All her gifts would hold special meaning, whether it is an arrangement of seasonal flowers, intricately folded origami, or a haiku - it is all personal and made by her hands. Nothing she does is without thought of intent, since she is non-verbal, every act of kindness comes from love and is meant to address the feelings she wishes she could express with words.

#SFW Alphabet Ask Meme #ask meme #ffxiv #thank you this was fun!

[dilesxpressions]

Welton Czhang

1. Name, Year, Major, and Hometown

My name is Welton Czhang, I’m an Animal Science major, and my hometown is San Gabriel!

2. What’s your roman empire?

My roman empire is thinking about cats and how complete my life would be if I had pets, how I can constantly adapt and improve my boxing stances and punches, and finally how frequently I can plan hangouts with people around my schedule while also leaving to study. 

3. What is the best compliment you have ever received?

The best compliments I have ever received are from my friends stating how I do the most for other people, and give away so much love.

4. If your life was a movie what genre would it be (comedy, horror, drama, etc.) and what actor would play you?

If life was a movie the genre for mine would be a dramedy! David Tennant would play me and absolutely crush my role.

5. What is something on your college bucket list?

Something on my college bucket list is to bike all around Davis from night until morning with myself, a friend, or a group of friends, and to not check our phones for the entire duration of that time. Only until morning would we check where we’ve been, and track the amount of miles we’ve biked, and then bike back home! 

6. What’s your guilty pleasure? (song, movie, food etc.)

My guilty pleasure is spending a LOT of screen time on Instagram sending silly reels or memes to my friends. 

7. What are your bad habits?

I do not make my bed every morning, I sometimes do not wake up on my first, second, third, fourth, or fifth alarm because I am a heavy sleeper, and I enjoy my long showers. (~40 mins) 

8. What are your favorite song lyrics?

One of my favorite song lyrics is from Last Kiss, “I love how you walk with your hands in your pockets, How you’d kiss me when I was in the middle of saying something, There’s not a day I don’t miss those rude interruptions. And I’ll go, sit on the floor wearing your clothes, all that I know is I don’t know, how to be something you miss. “ I love how Taylor can tell stories in a song, maybe it’s romantic, maybe it’s bittersweet, but the way the lyrics rhyme and be catchy as well as paint a picture in your head is why I love Last Kiss, as well the rest of her music!

9. Defend your unpopular opinion/ hot take

In n Out is mid, the bread tastes like sandpaper, McDonald’s is better in literally everything, Cane’s is also mid, it tastes so plain, if it wasn’t for Cane’s sauce, they would be nothing. KFC is the best fast-food place for chicken because I grew up with it, and the oil, skin, and chicken they make has the best 1:1:1 ratio. Drake only knows how to make catchy, popular songs but is not a good artist. I like some of his songs but he is not good. 

10. Describe a time where you had to step up and be a leader?

One high challenge situation that really put me in a leadership position was the time that I was placed into a group project where we had to create a song about DNA, and I was a freshman who had just recently transferred into high school. In my group were sophomores and juniors who were uninterested in cooperating with me in completing the project, rather, they much preferred each other’s company. They spent most of their time joking and chatting with each other, and initially it was so hard to get anything serious and project-related done. They also ignored me or glossed over what I, a freshman, had to say. With a deadline a couple weeks away, I spent a good chunk of my time first setting aside my own differences from the group so that I could bond with each one of them personally before bringing them all together so we could achieve the task that loomed ahead of us. If they wanted to have fun, we had fun, we just made the project fun in our way! It wasn’t easy, the communication aspect and team-bonding part was already not a part of the assignment, taking up so much time for effective planning. Regardless, our final product was something that we all collectively put our heads together for, and we ended up really happy with the outcome. When it came our turn to present our song, my teacher loved it, and the class cheered us on afterwards with a standing ovation.

#gudechaco's giggling pussy crushers

[markwatkinsconsumerguide]

Consumer Guide / No.120 / Q & A with writer / broadcaster (The Burkiss Way, Quote...Unquote) Nigel Rees, with Mark Watkins.

MW: As a child, what did you inherit (and from whom)?

NR: My parents were not really into books or what we now call media but my father did have a sense of humour and I inherited that. If I had an inspiration it was from my uncle, Tom Gleave, a Battle of Britain pilot who was shot down and badly burned but who lived to fight on (literally) and write a book about it. At the age of 8, he had a dream to fly and he got away from his Liverpool home and achieved something heroic. I, too, at the age of 8 had a dream – to be in broadcasting – and I, too,  got away from there to do that.

MW: Have you ever sworn on The Bible?

NR: Only for jury service which I have done once (and am now too old for it). I found it a most interesting experience at Southwark crown court in 2002. I did two cases both involving black defendants on charges of petty theft, possessing knives, etc. We let them both off. Although one was almost certainly guilty, the police work was so inadequate, it was a no-brainer to do this.

MW: Your favourite music to wake-up to? Switch-off the world and unwind to?

NR: My wife listens to BBC Radio 3 all day, so by default that is what I hear. We like to go to the opera (favourite Eugene Onegin) and ballet but my tastes in music range right across the spectrum. If I listen to music on my own, it is mostly pop (up to about 2000). I have a vast collection of albums which I carry around with me on one small SD Memory Card. Coming from Liverpool, I naturally prefer the Beatles to the Stones.

MW: Do you have a study at home?

NR: I have two homes, so two studies. In each, I have a trestle table from John Lewis, both purchased in 1973. On these I have written all of my broadcast scripts, my 50 or 60 books, and everything else.

MW: What sorts of things are in your personal archive and what systems, if any, do you have in place to retrieve items for reference purposes?

NR: Over the past ten years I have digitalized everything – so I am more or less paper free, thus saving a huge amount of space. Scanning all my writings and all my photographs was a mammoth task but tremendously well worth it. I can now search through the entire system very quickly – an absolutely marvellous resource.

MW: Have you ever “culled” due to necessity or overwhelm?

NR: Yes indeed. I am now very firm about not keeping books that I expect never to read again or which don’t earn their space on my shelves.

MW: Tell me about your devising ability…

NR: I created Quote … Unquote for radio because I wanted to provide myself with a work opportunity, writing and presenting. The same goes for a now-forgotten quiz, Where Were You in ’62? (Fifties and Sixties nostalgia on BBC Radio 2), which to my mind was a better show, if now forgotten. Again, I devised it in order to have something to do to earn a living. Same goes for all those books.

In creating other shows – for radio and TV – and proposing books, I have always been heavily involved. So choosing the guests – and usually picking the signature tune – has been what I do. If you are self-employed, as I have always been, you just find the energy – in order to stay afloat.

MW: Give your Top 3 favourite quotes and by whom, and the background behind them...

NR: Easy. I carry these quotes in my wallet, ready for when I am asked this question:

‘All political lives, unless they are cut off in mid-stream at a happy juncture, end in failure, because that is the nature of politics and of human affairs’ – ENOCH POWELL

– last words of his book Joseph Chamberlain (1977). Leader of the Liberal Unionists in the 1890s, Chamberlain never became Prime Minister and had to retire from public life through ill-health, with his tariff reforms (giving preferential treatment to colonial imports) not yet in place. Powell may also have had himself in mind when writing this concluding passage. Every day that passes I find proof of its wisdom.

‘Nothing matters very much and very few things matter at all’ – ARTHUR BALFOUR

– I saw this quoted in 1971, but there appears to be no other source for this much-quoted observation. Helps to keep things in perspective. Compare what Bishop Creighton (1843-1901) said when reassuring an anxious seeker after truth, that it was ‘almost impossible to exaggerate the complete unimportance of everything’ – quoted in The Lyttelton Hart-Davis Letters (for 2 May 1956).

‘Consider, Sir, how insignificant this will appear a twelvemonth hence’ –  SAMUEL JOHNSON

– quoted in Boswell, Life of Johnson (1791), relating to 6 July 1763. When Boswell talked of some temporary setback as a serious distress, Johnson laughed and promulgated this excellent piece of advice.

MW: You’ve written specific books on Graffiti….but is it really art?

NR: My five paperback collections of humorous graffiti sold several million copies in the early 1980s – and were a spin-off from Quote…Unquote. So-called graffiti “art” just didn’t enter into it and I dislike it. Graffiti humour is now completely dead in the water and if people want to share jokes etc they have social media, email and text to do it with.

MW: You’ve had numerous guests on Quote… Unquote, from serious to showbiz. I’ve cherry-picked just a few here right across the board for you to comment on...firstly, writer, Monica Ali…

NR: She was an absolute gem and was absolutely right for the programme (2018) as well as having great charm. The first thing she said to me was that she had visited Tolstoy’s estate Yasnaya Polyana in Russia and called it a high point of her life. Having just done a visit there with my wife, I totally agreed with Monica, so we were off to a good start.  

MW: James Burke…

NR: Do people remember him now? He was a TV science presenter, covered the moon shots etc. I can’t really remember how James did (in 1979) but suspect he didn’t quite have the sort of knowledge we were after. (Incidentally, I possess recordings of every single edition of Quote… Unquote – all 506 of them – and so technically I could listen to the two he appeared in, if I was so moved.)

MW: Benny Green…

NR: Jazz musician turned wonderful critic and writer (appeared many times from 1977). Noted for his slightly sour persona. When (actor) Ian McKellen sang a song on the show, Benny said, “I wonder if they’ll ever set that to music?”

MW: Matthew Parris…

NR: Perfect for the show (many times from 1995). He covered a wide range of subject matter – from politics to bookish stuff and also had plenty of personal anecdotes. Unfortunately, he regularly presented other shows on BBC Radio 4, so we couldn’t really use Matthew as often as we might have liked.

MW: Tim Rice…

NR: Appeared twice on the show – first in 1986 and then 33 years later. I have always admired the way he forged a whole new career for himself after parting from Lloyd Webber – collaborating with Elton John and garnering a shelf-full of awards. A good bloke too.

MW: Tom Stoppard…

NR: I met Tom first at the very moment he became famous (on the Edinburgh Fringe where his first play was put on by the same company which was presenting a revue I was in). When producer John Lloyd and I were making the Quote…Unquote pilot in 1975 we were determined that the guests should not be the usual sort of showbiz people who did these quizzes. So we had on Jonathan Miller, Germaine Greer, Michael Frayn and so on. Tom did the pilot with his then wife Miriam and, as this became the first to be broadcast, he got us off to a predictably good start.

MW: Fiona Richmond…

NR: Perhaps a surprise choice (in 1981). I had seen her act in a stage show Pyjama Tops (even reviewed it on the BBC Radio 4 arts programme, Kaleidoscope) and was aware of her supposed sex diaries in Men Only but can’t really recall how she came to be on the show, except that as with Stoppard she was not the sort of person you would expect to find on a Radio 4 panel game. We had 595 guests on the programme and we spread our net wide. Their only qualification was whether we thought they were up for it and up to it. I think she was – just. Or perhaps I was amused to be able to introduce the sex queen as the daughter of a vicar, which she was.

MW: The Goodies…

NR: Graeme Garden was on a lot in the early days but then he went off to I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue and we had a sort of rule that we wouldn’t have anyone on who was regularly appearing elsewhere. Bill Oddie (in 2001) rubbished Shelley’s ‘Ode to a Skylark’ which made me wonder whether he was really our sort of person. As to Tim Brooke-Taylor, I got the impression that he never liked me or my works, so I stuck to our rule not to have on people whom neither my producer nor I fancied!

MW: Rounding off, tell me about your Newsletter and other (known) plans post Quote… Unquote moving forward…

NR: When I brought the radio show to an end in December 2021 (after 46 years) I made it clear that The Quote… Unquote Newsletter which I had produced for 30 years would continue. This is a quarterly email attachment that goes out to over 1,200 subscribers round the world.

It grew out of an informal sheet of quotation queries that I began in the late 1980s in response to listeners and to readers of my 50 or so related books.

And so it goes on – details on my website http://www.quote-unquote.org.uk/

Otherwise, I am enjoying my retirement and have no plans to do any more broadcasting or write any more books.

There were several reasons why I decided to end the radio show but Covid knocked it on the head – because I was not able to do it as I had done for all those years.  As to the cultural changes in the world at large and the BBC’s woke agenda, don’t get me started …

© Mark Watkins / May 2023

[leam1983]

Respite

The dogpile's found its way to the couch again. Walt's been swallowing flies all afternoon, so we're guaranteed a peppy Polycule Dad for the evening. As a result, our eyes might be closed, but we're deep in discussion.

"It's just - homophobia feels like a termite infestation, to me," he says. "You're both right, I would've steamrolled these two idiots in any other setting. When I don't have wiggle room, though, or have a sense that slurs are being tossed in my face while I'm on my playing field, they just sort of stick to me, and wriggle their way through everything I've built. All the rationalizations, the self-soothing measures and..."

He pauses, and I feel him smirk. "And the literal fat I've packed on. Yes, that too. On my best of days, I feel my own weight as a positive. I feel big. I feel solid. I feel dependable."

There's a sigh. "Because I couldn't pivot and because these fuckers left me no breathing room, they just ate through it all like termites through softwood. One of them eventually tossed a barb about how I couldn't possibly last in bed, couldn't possibly satisfy anyone - and they echoed the exact same words my ex used to bring me down.

I felt small, yesterday afternoon. I felt useless. I felt like nobody could see what I work so hard to bring to the world, to you two."

I sighed. "We see, big guy. I know it's never this easy, but if something like this ever happens, just remind yourself that only two opinions about you seriously count: mine and Sarah's. I'm not here to land a sermon and I definitely won't wag the Weight Loss specter in your face this week, hon."

He chuckles. "No?"

"No. I don't have a time limit, but for now, I'm dead-set on loving each and every one of your extra pounds, hon. I love your gingham and your pocket squares, I love your wire-frame glasses, I love the way your neck fat bunches up because of your neckties - and I'll forever be grateful for the fact that you trusted us enough to join us - to love us. I love your taste, literal and figurative, I love the way you care, I love how fierce you can be about defending us...

I could go on."

He chuckled again, but it was strangled. This time, though, it wasn't sorrow that clutched at his throat, but more love than he knew how to express. He kissed me, hard, and then turned his head to give Sarah the same long and exploratory liplock.

"I love you both so much," he then hissed, "that it actually hurts, sometimes."

I leaned in closer. "You told me you had me, a few months back. That I could lean on you. Consider this a tacit return of the favor. I'll help you and Sarah however and whenever I can."

A few more hard kisses followed, almost aggressive in tone. He eventually guided Sarah's hand downwards as he used his other hand to briefly lock my head and gaze in place, straight into his own eyes.

"I want you both. Right now."

The usual triangle formed. Walt wanted to taste the comfort we could offer in its most literal sense, and Sarah acting like Walt's caregiver for the day had already seeded a few fantasies in the back of my mind. I wanted her, I wanted Walt, she wanted both of us and he wanted Sarah and I.

It's half past five and Walt and I's bed is thoroughly ransacked. He buried his head in several pillows to scream his release and all the irrational ways we ended up promising the world to one another. All professional courtesy's been tossed to the wind - the three coworkers are gone, for now. In their place, there's three lovestruck idiots very knowingly building castles in Spain. Sarah wants us to take the rest of february off and to spend it as overgrown teenagers finally introducing their big brother to classic video games. I want to do the same, but with a tower of books and day after day of longing, tender glances.

Walt's the typical high-flyer and big spender, and again imagines us moneyed and independent, free to waste entire years away on sunlight and food and booze - whenever he doesn't imagine us pounding it like animals in a small houseboat off the coast of Jamaica.

"I'm old and fat and overly dressed and I want so much for us it hurts; I look at myself and see more of a stud than anything Hollywood wants to sell me. I overeat and oversleep and love every second of it; I'm all your fetishes combined and I want more, more, more - always more..."

Walt's mantra during our last go is a reassurance of sorts: he's back to his expansive self. He's the polycule's bulwark again, the slab of well-dressed and ravenous flesh that's as much intellectually famished as physically craven. It's nonsensical and still utterly true, it's pure Word Salad by the end, but it speaks to the fact that we're all part of the same mechanism. We need each other like a spoke needs its wheel.

"Will anyone ever understand?" I ask, joining in. Sarah's happily exhausted, at that point.

"It doesn't matter," she says. "We carry our own magic. Nobody else matters but us."

Walt gasps as he finally crests. "Nobody else but us," he repeats - like an affirmation. Or a prayer.

Or a pact.

#life post #lgbtqa #gay #bisexual #polyamory #cw: sex mention

[twfarlan]

I recently read the quickstart for Free League's Dragonbane, their upcoming revamp of the original Swedish TTRPG from the early days of the genre. I thought I might offer my impressions for those interested.

Dragonbane is subtitled as a "mirth and mayhem" game, suitable for quickly-assembled one-shots or longer campaigns. The quickstart is thin on setting details for obvious reasons, but the general idea is that the world is the way it is because of the forever-burning hostilities between the orderly dragons and the chaotic demons. The main dice mechanic references this; Dragonbane's roll under d20 checks call a natural 1 a "dragon roll" as a critical success while a natural 20 is called a "demon roll" to represent the critical failure involved.

Attributes are the 6 familiar stats from many fantasy games with Wisdom replaced by Willpower. The attributes determine some derived characteristics and also serve as placeholders for negative conditions, of which there are only six. When you have a condition, you roll related skill checks with a bane, which is Disadvantage by another name. If something would give you a condition you already have, you take one associated with another attribute instead. If you have all the conditions, you can't get anymore, but you also can't Push a roll to give yourself a Boon, because you must impose a condition of your choice to Push.

Beyond that, attributes don't seem to actually be used except for rare occasions when you're trying to do something that doesn't have an associated skill. Skills don't seem to be better through association with an attribute. They have their own levels; this applies to the three schools of magic, as well.

There are six species to play, including Mallards and Wolflings, which are the anthropomorphic beings you're imagining. There are professions that give you particular abilities, but every PC is basically an adventurer.

Initiative is a draw of one card out of ten; you take your turn and then you're done. Action economy is like a recession, and if you need to react to actively defend against something happening to you, it'll cost you your entire turn in the round.

The quickstart includes almost no explanation of skills, only a limited selection of spells from its Willpower Point-based system, and a brief dungeon crawl as an introductory adventure to play through with pregenerated characters. The enemies are particularly from the Monster type, and combat against them could be rather brutal due to how Monsters work. They have a selection of Monster Attacks, the moves they will take at random on each of their turns, of which they may have several in a round. Monster attacks always hit; yes, always, with no roll. You either take the damage and effects or, if you haven't acted yet in the round, sacrifice your turn to attempt to Evade. Heavily-armed and armored characters like Warriors can Parry regular attacks, but Monster Attacks can't be Parried, only Evaded, which Warriors won't excel at thanks to their armor.

Dragonbane's quickstart gives you a taste of the flavor and playstyle of the full game. It's a balance of old school design sensibilities and modern game mechanics which could be fun to play, though I think I'd find some of the elements I've described frustrating. The QS doc includes some optional rules, and I suppose the full book will include more such that might fix those for me. Have to wait and see once the book releases.

As of now, late pledges are still available, and the full game should be available through FL's usual channels later this year.

#tabletop roleplaying

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

INSPIRED BY LOVE STORY BY TAYLOR SWIFT... royal forbidden relationship au w mingyu

you're arranged to be married to this snobby prince who only likes you for your name and riches but you're in love with mingyu who could be of a lower class (baker!mingyu me thinks) or the prince of another kingdom and you both sneak out to see each other often because absolutely no one can know of your affairs (making love in secret mmmmmm)

@berrryshortcake hi bestie </3

no bcs you’ve been friends since childhood with Mingyu, the two of you were always found playing in the garden of the castle, all while Mingyu’s father was a servant to your family - the royal family, to be exact - and his mother was trying to keep their family bakery up and running.

Years passed and when you finally became of marriage age, your father arranged to be married to prince Jeonghan of the neighboring kingdom - quite the strategic move, resulting in strengthening the political ties of your father. And that was the only thing he cared about, not even about the happiness of his own child - because you already knew that this....prince didn’t even care about you, he just wanted the power your name holds.

You were growing sick and tired of this, nobody ever asked how you felt living like a royal, your entire fate decided since your birth and of course, without being able to defend yourself. You felt like a crystal vase without flowers - beautiful and eye-catching, yet completely empty inside. You were just a pretty accessory for any power-hungry, snobby royal person.

But to Mingyu, you were the light of his life.

After the passing of his parents, he was left to run the bakery of his family, the only thing left behind by them. But his skills were enough to make it the most talked shop in the kingdom, all kinds of people swarming to the bakery to get a taste of his freshly baked loaves of bread and sugary sweet cakes - although others just wanted to admire the man himself. And rightfully so, because Mingyu is definitely one of the most dashing bachelors of the kingdom, despite his humble bloodline. His silky black curls, broad frame and bright smile, accompanied by his warm and gentle personality could make any lady swoon, noble or not.

But his heart belongs to none other than you.

He risks his head every night by sneaking into the castle through that poorly repaired metal gate you had discovered back in your childhood, that conveniently leads right under the balcony of your private headquarters. But you’re always there waiting for him, as if you had made an unspoken promise to each other. You had grown brave enough to jump off the balcony and land right into your lover’s arms, dressed in humble clothing, the ones that make you feel like a real person and not a porcelain princess doll.

Hushed giggles and stolen kisses are all you exchange when escaping the castle, which turn into labored breaths, passionate kisses and airy moans once you’re completely alone, making love to each other right next to the lake in the woods, the place you first met each other almost fifteen years ago.

These moments are what keep you alive and make you feel alive - the intimacy you share with Mingyu, being able to touch him in ways nobody else can, him stealing your breath away with his lips on you and bring you closer to heaven, eyes fluttering shut, his name rolling from your tongue like a prayer.

“Of all the sweet delicacies I’ve created in the past, you’ll always be the sweetest I’ve ever tasted, my love”, Mingyu breathes, his lips slowly yet precisely pleasuring your aching core, your eyes focused on your lover savoring your juices like a thirsty man lost in the desert.

“Y-You’re so good to me, Gyu, always so good”, you breathe shakily, your hand buried in his soft curly locks, holding onto them dearly. “How could I not, my beloved?”, he lifts his head and hovers over your body, your back pressed on the soft grass, watching Mingyu’s lips glistening under the moonlight. “You’re the only one I ever wished for”, he whispers and captures your lips in a searing kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue, yours hands cradling his face like your most precious treasure. 

“I love you so much, yearn for you every day”, you confess with a shaky voice and you feel his strong arms wrap around you, his natural warmth enveloping you, making you feel safe and loved, like home.

Because Mingyu is your home.

#anon your mind 💔💔 #i salute you #mingyu angst #mingyu fluff #mingyu smut #svt mingyu #kim mingyu #svt angst #svt fluff #svt smut #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen #answered✨

[lantsovsupremacist]

nikolai lantsov: currents

warnings: nikolai lantsov being the best man ever wouldn’t you know 🙄☝️

spoilers: set during king of scars but no major spoilers!!!

you looked up from the paperwork strewn about the desk situated in a far corner of the war room. tucked away here, you would never be the first target. some might call it paranoia or chalk it up to the trauma of the civil war, but you simply preferred a spot to observe quietly in the shadows.

toyla and tamar followed the king inside, nodding at zoya, genya, and david surrounding you.

“oh. it’s you. it’s all of you. i...” the man, or more likely boy, who skittered into the room spoke in a squeaky tone, “an absolute honor. a dream, really.”

briefly meeting nikolai’s eyes as he turned around from shutting the door behind him, you transferred your line of sight to the figure now bowing at your feet. zoya scoffed, eyes rolling to the heavens. genya and david shared a cohesive frown.

dropping the pen from your hand, you pushed your hair over your shoulders and straightened. you listened thoughtfully as he gave an introduction to each of your fellow grisha, recounting his apparent conclusions of them. when he treaded the sparkling waters that were genya, your face began to drop into anger.

“the first tailor, who bears the marks of the darkling’s blessing.”

her flinch did not go unnoticed by you. and as the only one whose temper rivaled yours kept hers in check, you failed to. the pressure immediately began to decrease in the room and the air dry of any moisture. nikolai’s head whipped up, perhaps the one most familiar with your temperament (other than zoya in your shared youth—never happy to be on the receiving end of a soaked kefta in class).

his hands flew up, taking a step towards you, bartering with any position he could gain. your fierce protection over genya was not unknown to those close to you, a flaw in the monk’s faulty perception. you let your shoulders fall, calming any potential downpour.

if yuri noticed your show of power, he made no move to address it, “ravka’s most powerful tide maker. oh the stories of how the darkling sanctioned you with the power to drown men on land.”

you froze but not because of a lie. his words were all true. the darkling hand selected you for this special training at age eleven. you allowed the legend to transpire, protecting you much like kaz brekker, dirtyhands of ketterdam. this was not a lore you would repeat with starry eyes and dreams of an otherworldly fantasy. none of the lives you had been forced to take before jumping ship to join sturmhond during the civil war could be washed away.

for all of your hard edges and brutal words, there were chinks in your armor that could not be hidden. tamar and toyla brought a hand to their weapons in startling unison. zoya’s eyes called out for yours.

nikolai’s features immediately darkened, an eclipse shadowing the usual light in his eyes. he rose from his chair slowly, exhibiting all of the power that he had inherited.

the shameless monk managed to hold himself upright but the unchecked tremble of his fingers exposed the fear instilled by the king’s actions.

“if i ever hear of her name—any of their names—leaving your mouth again,” nikolai began, his words sharper than the edge of his sword, “for any purpose in any country,” nikolai paused to watch yuri shrink under his steady gaze, “there will be nothing left for your believers to mourn into martyrdom.”

you held your chin high, your eyes twin daggers poised to launch across the room and eagerly embed themselves in a target. the ire in your chest began to subside upon witnessing yuri’s response to your boyfriend’s threats, only to be readily replaced by a flush of desire as his hazel eyes sharpened.

breaking eye contact with the monk who could not decide where to offer his, you glanced about the room. zoya had steeled herself beside you, radiating enough anger to address each of yuri’s mislead and misspoken opinions. even david’s face appeared from behind the book in his hands, though he kept his page by leaving it open to rest on his lap.

“am i correct in my assumption that you have heard me clearly,” nikolai’s voice carried across the walls, not quite commanding any longer but instead demanding the attention of those stood inside.

“y-yes your highness,” yuri stumbled out weakly as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his wiry nose.

after finishing up matters with your friends, nikolai took off out of the room, glancing back to make sure you intended to follow. you fell in step behind him, remaining quiet until you reached the stairs leading up to his chambers.

“i could have handled him, you know,” you pressed nikolai, hands repeatedly flexing and unflexing as they brushed against the sides of your blue kefta. your tone held no anger, simply indicating a truth.

nikolai drummed his fingers against the railing, pausing before turning back to face you, “of course you could have, love, but where’s the fun in that for me?”

you appreciated his willingness to defend your honor but the playfulness in his tone felt forced. he did not even make an attempt at his trademark smile imbued by charm and confidence. you decided in that moment that you would do to see it’s safe return.

“nik,” you spoke, repeating yourself after the absence of an answer, “nik.” your hand finding its way into his own hanging limply at his side.

“do you really see yourself in that way?” his voice shook, nearly choking on his final words.

any time the topic was brought up, nikolai was reminded of your stance. you had broken down to him the night after the darkling fell at the hands of alina starkov. no matter any of your friend’s persuasion, you stood firm in your position. you deserved to pay for the harm you inflicted on so many innocent. you were a monster, one who had given in to being handcrafted by another.

the untroubled nature with which he typically carried himself had vanished. your own expression faltered. his particular kind of magic, knowing smirks and careful quips that were like incantations for smiles, vanished.

and while it was normal for nikolai to drop the facade of a charming king around you, the pain held in his eyes plummeted your heart into your stomach.

“i think i did once,” you replied airily, not wasting your breath on a lie that nikolai could surely detect before the sound waves settled, “right after the war ended.”

nikolai chewed on the inside of his cheek anxiously, “but you’ve intentionally chosen past tense to describe these feelings.”

“yes,” you nodded, drawing your lover closer to you by the lapels of his jacket, “always so observant. it’s only of the many things i admire about you.”

nikolai sighed, closing his eyes and letting his blonde curls fall upon your forehead. you brought a hand up to stroke his cheekbone, soaking in the warmth of his skin pressed up against own.

“your strength,” nikolai said after a moment, drawing a hand to your waist, “your perseverance.”

“hmm?” you hummed quietly in question, content to reside with him inside this moment only belonging to the two of you.

“qualities i admire in you, my love,” he smiled after a moment, not entirely to be described as filled with confidence but surety nonetheless.

the flush of color in your cheeks always reminded nikolai of the pink dahlias planted in his favorite corner of the garden. maybe it was because it was where he had first kissed you. he decided that was probably his reason, although he never needed one to justify the beauty of either the memory or girl in front of him now.

too caught up in the memory, nikolai’s lips dipped to yours. you could always grasp a lingering taste of saltwater no matter how far away he was from sea, how many weeks removed. it reminded you of home. it was home.

“i love that you protect me, sobachka” you whispered against his lips, down his jaw and neck.

you did not need the exaggerated tales of your terrifying capabilities to destroy to wear as armor anymore, for you had the best man you had ever known to guard you.

as his hand wove into your hair and the other spiraling lower down your back, your breath hitched in your throat when he answered, “i can do so much more than that, my sea.”

nikolai settled on a simple quip, something guaranteed to make you smile. as a boy, he dreamed of a girl who would laugh at all of his jokes. when he grew, he figured many would be forged, a fallacy to fall in good graces with the king. he had yet to detect a lie within the giggles that left your lips.

the golden haired king would do anything to see you smile. he would pour hours into chasing perfection for you. once, he had even allowed toyla to confer with him about romantic poetry. despite the recitation being quite dreadful, you had laughed the most you had in a long time that day. now, just to catch up with the smallest piece of that magic again, he brought a new poem to you each night.

“i thought that i had seen the most gorgeous sights as sturmhond,” he began, unable to help biting his lip at your smallest quirk of a smile, “the volkvolny showed me how to fall in love with the endless waves at sea.”

you sucked in a breath, immersed in the way he spoke so intentionally. he was entrancing. you loved to hear about his travels before you met him, immersed in his storytelling.

“but none of them were every as beautiful as the ones you make,” he finished with a grin.

instead of reaching up to smack him at the cliche, you ignored your first reaction and instead pulled him closer to you. with your hands tucked against the back of his neck, you allowed your thumb to ruffle his lose and unruly curls. here, he was soft and gentle, untouched by his role.

“our ship had four other tidemakers,” you voiced softly, recalling your betrayal of the darkling after sturmhond’s crew imposed a mutiny, “but you chose me to lead the crew. you told me that was because i was the most powerful, but i certainly wasn’t with the waves. my power was not as practiced with currents.”

“but they were the prettiest,” he chuckled with puppy dog eyes honoring his nickname.

you gaped at this confession, “are you telling me you picked me as a leader during a war because the waves i created were pretty?” the initial seriousness in your tone melted away with every breath.

“i remember calling them the prettiest,” he twisted your hips, swaying you with him, “didn’t help me that the girl that could make them was the most gorgeous one i had ever seen. darling, i’m a prince, so i will inform you now that i have met a lot of people.”

your laughter was more delicate now, trailing off as you found direction in his eyes, “i had not been trusted with currents in years,” your voice softened, “he wanted my power elsewhere. i hated all of it. do you know the only memory i have of my parents is my father guiding the currents with me while we fished outside of town as a child? i was so excited to create like that with my power but all i did was destroy,” fighting back any moisture building in your eyes, you continued, “you gave me that back, nikolai.”

nikolai felt his heart stir inside his chest. he caught up to one of his most favorite smiles of yours. a rarity it was, reserved for the quietest and most understated moments that you could hardly share due to the both of your occupations and temperaments.

“i love every part of you,” nikolai dictated, “every drop of saltwater in the sea could not compare.”

you repeated the phrase before stilling, “well, now you’ve gone and ruined this with another one of toyla’s fictions.”

“ah, ah,” he tsked, “i made that one up myself, love.”

#nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #storm and siege #rule of wolves #sturmhond #zoya nazyanelsky #shadow and bone fic #nikolai x reader

[thefanbasewhore]

Bucky has a nightmare and hurts the reader?

Summary: Bucky has a nightmare and mistakes the reader for someone else.

Warning/content: physical violence, choking, Bucky is a mess, reader is hurt by Bucky.

Paring: Bucky Barnes x female reader

A/n: I wrote this really fast, it's not proof read.

Part 2 coming soon - comment If you want to be tagged

It all happened so fast, one minute she's fast asleep, not a worry in the world until a cool, vibranium arm wraps around her neck so fast her eyes could barely react quick enough to open and find the source.

Once opening, it's blurry. Unshed tears kiss her waterline as her body reacts naturally, scratching and clawing at the man pressing his metal appendages, squeezing her windpipe close. It doesn't phase him, the sting of ripped skin and taste of blood as it trickles down his face and taints his lips.

"Bu-." She tries but the metal grip only tightens. It burns, her throat is on fire, no doubt turning black and blue under the deadly squeeze. Pressure builds up in her head, making it unbearably hot and her chest stutters under the weight of his own.

Bucky is snarling, blue eyes boring into her own but only if isn't him, someone else entirely. The old him, no doubt deep in the confines of him mind making an appearance once again. His eyes are dark, filled with a deep, meaningless void.

It hurts, blood vessels pop pooling both eyes with a deep, crimson bed. With one last effort, fingers find the buzzed hair, nails curling around the back on his neck where she uses all her strength to scratch until she smells blood.

The sharp pain is enough to snap Bucky out of it, hand easing up as she inhales a deep, desperate breath. The look of realization, ocean blues ablaze, chest heaving with adrenaline and eyes never leave hers.

"I-." Hands pull away quickly, only to be held against his chest as he leans back, only to realize he's using all his body weight to crush her chest. When he sits up, the desperate sound of heavy breathing, burning lungs makes his bottom lip quiver.

She sits up, clenching her throat with small fingers, trying to sooth the buring ache. Now that she has an unlimited amount of air, her body doesn't seem to want it, the deep, chest filled coughs make it hard.

"I-I didn't know." Her chest still isn't moving, bloodshot eyes silently beg is own as he leans over, hand cupping her chin to notice the way her skin lightened, lack of oxygen taking the normal color. A hand rests against her chest and up to her neck, rubbing the raw skin.

"Breath baby, please breathe."

This has happened before but never this bad, never to the fact of almost falling unconscious from Bucky's wrath. Tears roll past his eye lashes, heart squeezing, his chest feels heavy, hurting under the burden of being the reasoning for this.

He fliches as her fingers push his away and crawls to the end of the headboard, trying to create as much distance as possible.

The first breath she takes hurts and it burns her lungs. Bucky let's out a breath of relief as he uses the back of his hand to wipe the endless stream of tears from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, God, I'm so, so sorry." He hiccups, he wants nothing more to reach out and hold her, sooth every ache and pain with the coolness of his lips. His chest stutters, catching a small cry in his throat.

He's cautious, making slow, seen movements as a flesh hand reaches out to cup her shoulder. Surprisingly, she snuggles into it, as the metal hand wipes away the small tears that fall to her cheeks.

"Oh, honey." He coos, biting his lip to prevent another cry that creeps up his throat as his fingers press against the ugly purple and yellow bruises and she winces. "My dream - I was dreaming, I didn't mean to -."

"I know." He cringes as the hoarse, low voice. Vocals cords completely crushed, sore and raw as he pulls away.

"I'm going to call, Sam. He's coming to get you, you need to get away from me." Bucky can't look away at what he's done, the tears are endless.

"Buck - wait... Don't."

Bucky reaches for the phone, ignoring her completely but the phone is yanked away with shaky hands and thrown over her shoulder. "What are you doing? Sam needs -."

"You didn't mean it." The first full sentence burns, red eyes filling with tears again, but instead of fear, not it's pain.

"How could you defend me right now? Look at you." Bucky can barely see in front of him, tears blurry his vision. He's hysteric, can't breath, chest giving out with ever word spoken, his broken heart pounds. "You need to get away from me, you can't be here with me, not anymore."

It's not his fault that demons haunt him in his dreams, that his life has been nothing but a series of unfortunate events. It's unfair, not to feel secure in your own skin, having to fight to stay alive for the last 70 years and be manipulated in ways that are unimaginable; brain ripped apart and frozen without any care.

"Bucky, it's okay." Smooth hands reach out to touch his tense shoulders to pull him close, and he can't help but fall into the crook of her shoulder. Tears smear the naked skin, fall and pool into collarbones as another cry rocks his chest.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, I never wanted to, always want to protect you." Soft lips press into the purple bruising, trying to kiss away the pain. Atone for his inexcusable behavior but it only makes it worse but she swallows the pain, the urge to move away as she rubs soft circles into the base of his lower back.

"We have to get you to the hospital." Bucky whispers against her shoulder, pressing a soft, sorry kiss. His eyes fall to her nakedness for a second, gentle fingers press her chin up to his own. She raises her arms as he dresses her slowly with shaky breaths and the quivering chin never leaves. "I'm calling Sam there, you're staying with him from now on."

"Buck, there are other ways."

He sighs softly, helping her dress into the oversized hoodie that smells way too much like him. Large hands cup her own as he kneels between her legs, eyes never leaving each other. "I cant trust myself, I rather die then something like this happen again."

"Don't say that -."

Bucky can't help the heat of anger in his chest, not directed towards anyone but himself. "just for now, just until I get this under control."

A silent nod catches his attention and Bucky doesn't hesitate to get her to the hospital. She doesnt miss the way Bucky's eyes shift to the floor as she tells a totally made up lie, he's consumed with guilt and leaves the room.

The call beeps in his ear, dialing and dialing until a familar voice speaks through the speakers. "Bucky?"

"Sam, I need you." He needs his best friend, someone to talk to, someone to tell him that he's fucked up that this isn't okay. The way his girl is taking this is unhealthy, like it's expected and it hurts, his heart hurts so, so much. Tears rolling down his cheeks as he leans against the hospital hallway. "I need you to come get her, room 234. I can't be here anymore."

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky x female reader

[pacific-rimbaud]

Okay but like if you DID want to defend Ron Weasley at length I’m just saying I would 100% read that cause he really does deserve it, I love him. Also agree that he’s not right for our hermione tho lol

Sidenote: half way done rereading laoha and I’m so stoked for the last chapter!!

Chaud, thank you!

First, I really don't care if other people legit hate Ron or Ron reminds them of actual shitty boyfriends they've had or enjoy Ron bashing or whatever, tagging is a beautiful thing and other people's tastes impact me not at all. Ship on, and take your hot cuppa fanservice how you like it.

Second, I'm an educator, and it is literally my job to see the best in every single kid under my umbrella and support their growth on their own terms and timeline. I've spent my entire adult life valuing children as unique and inherently worthy, rather than on the basis of their athletic skill, academic motivation, marketable talents, general Competitive Edge in Late Stage Capitalism, etc. I honor all hard work and earned accomplishments, and also recognize that attaching human value to certain talents/cognitive abilities/physical prowess/academic achievement/organizational abilities is ableist af.

It is also really, truly okay and an astonishing miracle within a mostly lifeless universe to just be a person in the world. Have a volunteer coordinator job or drive a city bus or be a teacher, enjoy your little coffees at Target, keep your truck running, trim your neighbor's maple and have a few close friends and family at your funeral whose hearts will forever ache after the way you would forget to keep opening your Christmas gifts when you unwrapped a book, you know? No one needs an Ivy League degree or principal role in a ballet company or a cock-shaped personal spacecraft to justify the time their meat-self spends consuming planetary oxygen. Two out of three of those are great if you want them. But it's also cool to just be here and not hurt other people and breathe.

Which brings us to Ron Weasley.

[Fair warning, I have never read or seen CC, he sounds like a douche in that?]

Ron's canon niche in the Weasley family is afterthought, at best, and punching bag at worst. None of the other Weasleys seem to particularly value or notice him. He's too far in age from highly accomplished Bill and Charlie to be interesting to them, and too different in personality from (also accomplished) Percy. The twins, who learned to capture attention through outlandish behavior, outright bully him. His dickishness to Ginny, the baby and only girl, is well within the bounds of typical sibling animosity.

The middlest of middle children then promptly becomes BFFs with the Boy Who Lived and Hermione Fucking Granger, Valedictorian. Everything that plays out between the three of them on a personal level is just a bunch of super predictable, ordinary teen drama. There is nothing to see here. Just kids messing around and sometimes screwing up and hurting each other's feelings a little and a lot, having a few really bad moments all around, struggling with jealousy and romantic inexperience and entirely: being eleven to eighteen years old. As a writer, I will always make heavy allowances for developmentally typical teenage self-centeredness, and not just when the teen in question is conventionally attractive/cognitively gifted/academically motivated/athletically talented/rich/Draco.

Ron, a Teen Fool, does a really shitty thing to his friends in a moment of deep personal weakness, then has to figure out how to fix it. He finds his way back to them alone, directly confronts his insecurity and lack of self-worth, then atones for his mistake. It's a big, ugly, shitty, climactic Teachable Moment where he earns an extraordinary prize: reconciliation with himself. He's a goofy, unevenly charming, wry, ordinary young man, and his arc is entirely about internalizing that 1)his friends and family are everything to him, and 2) just as he is, he is completely irreplaceable to those he loves. That he has inherent human value. That he's enough.

Not everyone comes into the world knowing that. It's no worse a peccadillo than, say, having to figure out how to not constantly steamroll everyone around you, or learn to trust other people or whatever. We all have our burdens.

I do feel strongly that he and Hermione are a terrible match, in both directions, mostly because outside of defeating Voldemort, I don't see common interests, habits, preferences, or compatible goals. They're just really different people. There's nothing wrong with that. As a person with an especially spectacular case of ADHD, I wouldn't want to be married to a high-achieving, tightly organized personality, and they would not want to be married to me (and I adore my friends who are constructed on these lines, and I think they like me, chaos goblin that I am). Know Thyself, etc.

So there you have it: Why I Think Ron Weasley is Just Fine and Also Should Have a Playful Easygoing Partner Who Loves Quidditch.

Thanks so much for the ask!

#You asked I answered #Ron Weasley #long post