#I love her and want to give her all of my worldly possessions

[aimzicr]

Hunter The Parenting plot thoughts (because I love mysteries and roleplaying and I keep waking up at 2am Thinking About This Plot).

Things that seem important (in various nonspecific order, though somewhat from timeline of video):

Giles is a better fighter than his mates, actually showing some skill (compared to Simon's existence as a wet towel and Brok's brute force)

Harry's focus on Highland Legend seems a bit at odds with his muscles being 'just for lifting things', given the link in pop culture with Highlanders being warriors who fight to be the only one. Still, there's more to study beyond the Hollywood thoughts, and I'm very curious to see what Scottish myths get brought up (if any). He also has access to Storage and Security.

Followup thought: if all the characters are in the World of Darkness (specifically The Reckoning/Vigil), then perhaps each staff and student's respective areas of study reference specifically to one of the games. Fatigue with The Apocalypse/Forsaken, Elise with The Dreaming/Lost (Lost seeming more appropriate because 'I haven't found a single fairy'), and so on. Horse's prophecy referenced 'kine, kindred, garou, milklings, elohim', so that's Hunter, Vampire, Werewolf, Changeling and Demons specifically mentioned. Would Harry's 'highlander studies' be on Mages or Prometheans? Will we see Wraiths/Geists, now or in the future?

Elise does not have access to Storage and Security. Also, I will respect her pronouns at all costs.

The Doctor - Scholar of Psychotronic Studies - the has taken at least two bumps over the course of the night (visible residue on her face at Occam's collapse and just before Brok kicks the door down). You can't show any withdrawal symptoms if you're high on something else (though as Chapman mentioned, even high-level drugs 'don't even compare', but it might take the edge off for a while). Considering her academic focus, she might have been able to make herself a Very Powerful Cocaine. (Actually no 'psychotronic' refers to low-budget movies so WHAT??)

Lord Fatigue - of Lycantropy (not Lycanthropy? A typo, or something else?) - I saw someone posting about him being quickest to recognise the symptoms of someone going through a change, and I highly agree. He's also a lovely old man ('toffee pud', wreathed in golden light from the Archives, etc) so maybe he just doesn't want to see anyone suffer? Kindness often gets punished in WoD games.

Brok is sitting on a different chair. His mother's chair follows him everywhere he goes, does it?

I'm calling it, Chekov's M60s Mounted On A Bus. BUT. Not for this particular arc.

If there are keys to steal, in order to get into the Archives, they would be taken from Occam, Blacklaw, Dr Waters, or Lord Fatigue.

There are no other entryways to the Archives but there may be passages around, beneath, or above the Archives. Walls thin enough to use Vampire Magic through?

Giles knows that Spit is out of Ritalin, which serves as an explanation for Spit's symptoms and proof that the guys keep an eye out for each other.

Spit seems to be the biggest red herring. Something is very wrong with him but it isn't being Ghouled (and it isn't just something that can be managed with Ritalin). Still, when he gives his blood sample, he doesn't give two drops: he hides out of sight and only delivers a blood-smeared chalice. We don't see him giving blood, and the sample is darker than the rest. Older blood? Stored and poured?

It's Elise that pickpockets Giles of all his worldly possessions (while Spit is being consoled by Fatigue). She even takes one of the smokes for herself, having it in her mouth at the top of the stairs and then as she descends. So, then, she handed the smokes over to Olivia at some point. Maybe when Elise was 'looking for Grimal at the time'. A gift? A trade?

At some point after the 'I said FOLLOW MY LEAD' fight, Blacklaw and Brok work to get the Cold Tessellation out of the wall. Where the hell did D go (and why is it under the stairs, digging through old newpapers). How did he get out of that fight?

Grimal is in the Security Room, crying, when Occam is attacked. Could she have seen who attacked Occam, or did she miss it because of her tears? ('Noises of insecurity' in the Security room is pretty funny, I'm sorry.) HOWEVER. Grimal does NOT have access to Security, according to her chapter card... but Elise did steal Giles' keys, so perhaps Elise let Grimal into the Security room? Now the question is, was the door locked behind her? Did Elise leave other doors unlocked as well?

Spit says he knows where Giles' things are. How? A good nose for it? Or just an excuse to get out of the room (where a lot of dead animals are)? He then goes... downstairs, to the Music room. Lord Fatigue says he will go look for Spit, but goes upstairs to the Staff Break Room instead, diagonally above Occam. The minimap shows Spit stressed, Occam tense/in pain, and Fatigue with... the same facial expression. Is Giles doing something to the blood? Is Fatigue doing something to the blood? Is there some direct line of connection between the three? Is there really only one way into the Archives, or is there a way up from below, or down from above? The placement of Spit and Fatigue on the minimap feels incredibly important to figuring out who attacked Occam (even if that doesn't have anything to do with the ghoul).

Elise is in the middle of taking her ponytail out when Kitten returns from his pacing and fuming and brief stop in the kitchen. As a ponytail haver, the decision to NOT undo the hair after starting to do so is significant. But then again, maybe giving her a different animation model wasn't in the cards for the episode. (She's hot enough already idk).

There are large claw marks on a lot of walls and doors in the Chapter House…

There are 15 people in the Chapter House, but 16 cups are strewn about when Occam is found. All 16 cups are bloody. Someone else is present? Someone left an extra cup, some extra blood?

Kitten is focusing on 'who could have attacked Occam as we were leaving' but is that really the timing of the attack?

'Your papa could never take a punch like that' says the man who has been fighting Blacklaw all evening. Playfighting? They've been playfighting this whole time? Yet the man can handle a bottle being thrown at him by Marckus, so he at least has some grit.

"Look. It's the same. Indisputable." So if Blacklaw cannot tell the difference between 'a bleak British man and a middle-eastern meat-slab', either his eyesight is shitty and thus he cannot be trusted to give any trustworthy visual evidence, OR, he hasn't looked at D in actual decades because D is the Devil and must not be observed directly. Which is kinda countered by how often they face off and glare at each other, so.

Other things that might be of note and/or are things I noticed:

Amanda's blue gloves - does she have a latex allergy? Or does the Arcanum not provide boxes of disposable gloves for the staff and they have to just make do with one set each? As someone who worked back of house in hospitality, this seems... bad.

Both Blacklaw and D have yellow and black as a major colour to their outfits, but inverse to each other (jacket and tank top vs jacket and vest). IDK maybe that's something worth noting, or it shows how more alike than they like to admit.

Hardcore Kitten steadying inhale in front of the portrait of the dead knight made me think to how TTS ended... Then again, the man out here killed a vampire with a shove and an iron fence while being badly hurt so like. Man's badass enough on his own.

Git works with the Lady Regent's favourite daughter. Could Poly have slipped him something, made him a ghoul without his knowledge? Man can reverse-drink a beer but his favourite food being available at his place of work could lend itself to some Manager-induced tampering of the safety seals.

Kevin was invited to the 'funny phrenology library' but decided to stay in the basement. He might have recognised the ghoul right away. He also might have gotten D's family Blood Hunted AND targetted by the Coalition, if that were the case. For reasons of safety first, comedy second and plot third, Kevin stays at home.

Hey uh what's the Penis Explosion Room on the mini map and why is it Elite Access and also why is it there and why is there no doorway to it and also what

Harry being able to get dressed very quickly between listening in at the door and then D showing up with the keys. I know he doesn't really do Anime but I feel like that must have been a magical girl transformation somehow (/j)

Guy Chapman might be the most dangerous ghoul at the moment: 'sharpened senses, inhuman strength, even the power to bend minds' He did drink the blood of Kevin, a Vampire Wizard. I'm thinking about Marckus' night pubbing, and how Chapman heard the beginning of the vampire talk, as well as the fact that Brok's first and second knife broke dramatically. The cop did it, with his new vampire magic.

The portrait on the wall (when Elise is doing D's hair) - baby Occam is adorable, I'm sorry his mother is a Blacklaw but she seems far more hinged than Remold, is baby Brok okay, is Brok's mother the blonde woman from the interrogation room - if so who is the woman standing with Blacklaw? And the slacker behind her? A Blacklaw Family Drama photo, I'm very pleased.

'Amanda never sweats, she's lower class' I've never seen a Rich Bastard in media who thinks this, this is fascinating. Normally it's 'sweating is for the lower classes' but here we are in the reverse. Does Blacklaw think the 'lower class' are literal automatons or

Fatigue dies in the room where his younger Hunter self is immortalised in a portrait on the wall. Taller, younger, still with the same glasses, nose, and ears. Just how old is he?

Side note: 'did anyone find out if Mummies are real yet' - yes, Marckus, they did, in The Resurrection/Curse. You were right.

#hunter the parenting #hunter: the parenting #htp #h:tp #theorycrafting #theories #analysis #i miss roleplaying games so much I want to play in all of them

[notroosterbradshaw]

I wish you would write a fic where…Rooster teaches someone to play the piano. Could be to anyone: reader, reader’s child, or a music teacher!Rooster AU…anything you can come up with!

it's like you were in my daydreams, nonny, seriously. understand i don’t know the first thing about playing the piano so hopefully, this does not suckkk. I would have loved to have written music teacher!rooster, but I wouldn’t do it justice. So, if any of my friends know piano enough, I will put this to them! fluff awaits in ficlet form, I hope you enjoy x

Bradley had been gone a while, needing to shower before dinner after a sweaty afternoon in the cockpit. He enjoyed his space to shower, give him time to go over his day and just take time for himself (except those rare times when you’d join him of course, but those were a rarity these days). 

He’d willingly accepted the whiskey you’d handed him when he walked in, on ice when he arrived to cool him somewhat. And he’d kissed you slow and purposefully, grounding himself back to the Earth and more importantly you. You hadn’t mentioned to him that the one item he’d been waiting weeks to arrive had been placed with love and care in the study. You wanted him to unwind before -

“Daddy! Hurry up, you need to see this!” 

Well, the peace and quiet were nice while it lasted. You heard the shower shut off and the sound of feet thundering down the hallway towards the bathroom,  knocking incessantly. 

A few minutes later, Bradley reappeared in his boardies and a loose white tee, bare feet, hair loose and tendrils stuck to his forehead, wandering down the stairs with his baby girl on his hip. “What do I just gotta see?” Rooster chuckled, placing his little one on the floor and she took off. “It finally came?” he asked you hopefully.

You gave a wink in confirmation as he kissed you tenderly and took off with the same speed as your daughter.

“Okay, kiddo, ready to do this?” Rooster asked, plopping little miss on his lap as she bashed the keys in only the way an excited child can. It had been months since Rooster put his dad’s piano in storage to move to California. All of your family’s worldly possessions slowly but surely arrived, but his piano, the biggest and heaviest, was last.

The house was now a home. His study was finally complete with acoustics, a random bongo from his travels and his dad’s old piano.

Rooster’s fingers drifted across the keys, following his daughter’s as she giggled, trying to escape him and Rooster huffed a chuckle behind her ear. You smiled at them, leaning against the doorframe and letting them have their space. You pulled your phone from your pocket and started recording as Rooster asked for her hands, and started helping her find notes. Something to send to him on a long deployment when it was all getting a bit too hard.

“This is a C, gently press the key, sweetheart.”

BANG!

It wasn’t a note exactly but Bradley encouraged her to try again with gentler fingers this time. He held her wrist and showed her the force she needed and you swore, you could not have met another man you’d want to go through this life with than Bradley Bradshaw. Not the perfect man or father, but perfect for you and your little girl. 

This went on for another few minutes and as you expected, Bradley had the patience of a saint with her. You sometimes wished you had the same ability. You lost your cool so much easier with the amount of sound, mess, selective hearing -

“I hate to cut in, Bradshaws, but it’s nearly dinnertime,” you interrupted as Bradley nodded but didn’t make an attempt to finish up to prepare the table. You wandered over, massaged his strong shoulders and tenderly whispered in his ear, “You’ve got five minutes, Lieutenant Commander.”

He shuddered. “Yes, ma’am. Wouldn’t dream of bein’ late.” 

“I hope not,” you said, hearing him tell her he was going to play Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and they were going to learn together over the next little while together. 

“I used to sing this to you every night when you were just a baby. When you were still in your crib.”

“Before I started walking and talking?” she asked.

“Yep. And making messes, and sassing Momma. And going to kindergarten. You’re growing up too fast...” Bradley tutted her. “Fingers here, baby girl. Let’s have a few more minutes then dinner.”

A few hours later, Rooster had finished bedtime and wandered back down to find you reading in the study, legs hiked over the side of the arm. He knocked them off and spun you to sit up with a low squeal. He crouched before you and spread your legs wide, his large palms pressing into your ribs and dragging you forward. “How’s the book, Momma?” 

“What book?” you teased. He knew he had your undivided attention, took the book and tossed it away gently. It was so few and far between you got moments together. While Rooster had relocated and taken up a permanent position at Top Gun, he still travelled a lot. He still worked long hours. He still missed a lot of the important stuff. But he was home every night and that’s more than you could ever ask for. 

You laced your fingers in his hair and pressed your fingers into his scalp. His honey-coloured eyes fluttered closed and he leaned forward into your touch. “You gonna play something for me now?”

“You want Twinkle, Twinkle too?” he muttered a joke, your fingers feeling so damn good and he wrapped his arms around your waist, letting his weight collapse against your chest. 

“Not Twinkle, Twinkle,” you told him without having to tell him as he grumbled a quiet laugh. “Our song.”

“Why our song?” he opened his eyes to you and moved his lips for yours, leaving a gentle peck against your mouth, his tongue darting out and sweetly sweeping against yours for just a taste.

“It’s our wedding song, I love it. And I love it more when you sing it for me.”

He gave you a shy kind of smile. “Okay, love. Your wish is my command,” Bradley moved to stand, caressing your chin with his calloused palms and he passed and moved back to his piano stool. He so desperately needed a new one. The cushion was so very well used and the material desperately needed reupholstery. You knew why he hesitated and you knew when you’d never take it upon yourself to do that for him but it did really need some love.

“It was Dad’s, it’s perfect,” he told you one night when you asked. 

He looked back at you and gave a small grin, gently rubbing his lap, and begging you to take a seat. “You aren’t getting out of this so easy,” he offered you his hand. You pulled yourself off the seat and took his waiting palm. He pulled you over, sitting you down right where he needed you. He nuzzled your ear and whispered, “Gonna be my good girl and learn with me?” 

“Can’t I just sit here and watch you get lost in the music instead?” his voice made you heady and needy in a matter of moments. 

“No, you have beautiful hands, you can play with me.”

“We can skip the lesson and I just play with you anyway?” 

He huffed a laugh into your skin. “You can do that later. But right now, we’re doing this,” Bradley’s fingers grazed down your arms and his hands came to rest on the keys. “Now... each key on a piano uses seven notes - ” 

“C, D, E, F, G, A, B,” you muttered. You weren’t a fool. You knew the basics... just don’t ask you where they were on the keyboard before you.

He hummed proudly. “Good girl. And these notes repeat themselves all over the keyboard. This is C,” he guided your hand to the key and let you press it. “Good,” he gave a dimpled grin back as you glared at him. 

“I think I can play a key, Bradley.”

“I know, but I love riling you up, so...” he admitted, kissing your clavicle. “Try D, E... F,” he instructed as you did as you were told. “Very nice,” he breathed into your skin. “A plus.”

“A plus? I didn’t realise this was graded, sir,” you mocked, knocking back a quick rendition of Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star as Bradley chuckled. “Honestly, had no idea I’d remember that after all these years. Don’t think I’ve played since I was little one’s age.”

“Wasn’t your thing,” he understood, fingers gracing over the keys in a melody that only he knew. Sweet, slow, sexy. Just like your man. “I didn’t have a choice. After Dad died, Mom put me into class, and my hands weren’t even big enough to reach the right keys. I feel like she didn’t want me to lose that part of Dad, but I don’t even really remember him playing anymore.”

He didn’t remember much of his dad at all, truth be told. He’d grin and listen as his dad’s old team would talk about Goose’s exploits with Mav, but really... he couldn’t even really remember what his old man looked like if he wasn’t looking at a photo of him. He knew he resembled him, but he was his mother’s son too.

“Little love will need a few more years to practice with me before we put her into a lesson. If she even wants to.”

You reached back and wrapped your arm around Bradley’s neck. “Whatever you think, sweetheart.” 

He nodded, satisfied. 

“But are you going to play me our song?” 

“I’ll play our song,” he agreed, his voice low as he played the opening keys to the song that would only ever be played for you, his soft, gravelly voice simply melting you as he commenced. The rumble of his chest reverberated through your back, warming you, calming you.

🎶 Well I've always known, pain's like a heavy stone. It's too much to carry... to carry alone.

That's the story of love. It takes time to know it's true. You need someone to lean on. I need someone to lean on too. Someone to help you through. Hey, so just let me carry you.

Carry you, carry you, carry you, oh baby. You let me carry you. Carry you, carry you, carry you...🎶

“God, I could listen to you sing for hours,” you rested your head back on his shoulder as he placed a kiss on your temple and he kept singing. You could feel it in your soul how desperately he felt the words called to you, your relationship, the love you had for each other. 

🎶 Just you and me baby. We can weather what's wrong. A heavy heart is a heavy load to carry alone 🎶

When he stopped playing, he urged you to stand and went over to the record player, holding a finger up and tenderly urging patience as you leaned against the piano and watching his shoulder and biceps tense and flex as he flicked through his record collection, looking for the perfect song to cue.

He smiled as he turned, the gentle crackle of the old vinyl eerie in the quiet, dim room as he held out his hand. “Come dance with me, love.”

“Class is over?” you teased, approaching him and reaching for his hand as he carefully twirled you under his strong arm and guided you into his arms. He nodded softly and you felt the air in the room change.

“Class is over, love. Dance with me now. Need to touch and feel you.”

Your knuckles grazed his cheek, unbothered by the marring of blemishes from his wiry scars. The most beautiful man you’d seen and he had the audacity to be in love with you too.

masterlist.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x And if you haven’t downloaded it already, go get The Teskey Brothers, please. Quick smart.

#dad-ley #notroosterbradshaw #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x oc #rooster x female reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw smut #top gun smut #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine

[mikuni14]

The Sign - Ep 5

As usual, I'll start with the police part of the story, the least important. All the time I was thinking about only one thing: if only you were so motivated, if only you devoted as much time, resources and effort to catching a fucking r*pist as you put into catching a grief-stricken, sick man. If only the inspector team leader shook the victim's hand and promised them everything like he promises a fucking criminal. Copaganda just doesn't work anymore, sorry guys, but acab 🤷‍♀️

I was kind of puzzled by Phaya's behavior at the beginning of the episode, I think he should have believed Tharn, his behavior is a bit ooc. I.. think? I assume that the still angry Phaya is just done so that the plot can later give a scene of him coming to his senses after almost losing Tharn (*and insert romantic scene here*). What I liked was how in character Tharn was, and he acted exactly as he should. And the look on Phaya's face when he unintentionally hit Tharn.

Phaya and Dr. Douchelaton scene was simply awesome, starting with the two of them momentarily slipping into the world of supernatural 🤩. Everything was cool here, Phaya's claw-like fingers, the way Doc could barely control his rage (that clenching jaw), their fight for dominance, for Tharn. Omg! Personally I like jealousy done well and Phaya fighting for Tharn and winning was a *chef's kiss*. And wow, Heng perfectly shows what a psycho Dr. Chophisdickoff is, his behavior, his expressions 👌

I love that when it comes to sexual fantasies, Tharn is slightly brothel-ish and Phaya has soft fantasies decorated with dancing luminous lights ✨

The shock on the face of the naga-possessed vigilante when the knife pierced Tharn, instead of that pesky bird, was so cool. Also telling. Tharn shielding Phaya and fighting the enemy with his superpowers was my fav 👌👌

Phaya and Tharn's reconciliation scene… oh gosh, what can I say except that when Phaya is angry, he is angry, but when he is not angry, he literally makes the most romatic, raw marriage vows. Or something. The way they touch each other tenderly, how they get lost in each other's eyes 🥺

The bed scene had me chewing on the walls, crawling on the ceiling and understanding quantum physics for a second. Ok, but this is what I call chemistry between characters (actors). It was Tharn trying to mold his body around Phaya's, wrapping around him, leaving not an inch of space between them. The way Phaya gently lifts Tharn's head to cradle him in his arms, to hug him closer, to make sure that there is absolutely NO space between them, that he finally has the opportunity to have Tharn in his arms. IT'S HOW NATURAL THEY LOOK TOGETHER, HOW PERFECTLY THEY FIT TOGETHER LIKE PUZZLE PIECES. The way Phaya took care of Tharn and looked at him with tenderness, the way he stopped Tharn's hand from going any further. Phaya is such a good guy. The way Phaya looks like he's experiencing nirvana when he finally has Tharn in his arms, cuddled up to him. (as a person of refined manners and uninterested in worldly pleasures, I will NOT write anything about the effect that Tharn's shaved legs certainly do NOT have on me. I will also politely ignore how Phaya's attention immediately shifted to those legs in this 👇 scene)

gif by @mymycorrhizae

I also want to say that I keep thinking about how caring, how forgiving Tharn is. How I think of his sweet, sweet face, especially upturned as he looks at Phaya with devotion and love. Tharn has my whole heart. I love how Tharn "don't come near me, you handsome cow" freaks out every time there's even a hint of the possibility of losing Phaya, like when Sand offers Phaya a date with her friend, or when Phaya gets mad at him and don't want to talk to him 😭 So I'm really looking forward to the next episode and long-haired, sweet Tharn/Wansarat caring for the wounded enemy Phaya/Garuda.

#the sign the series #bl drama #thai bl

[gggreengoblin]

1.838 words, 2nd part of this, Girl!Daniel wanted to move wanted to move away from Monaco to help her move on from her feelings for Max.

CW:: WAG (kelly, only mentioned), Girl!Daniel

It would be good for Daniel's mental health to move and bring some fresh air into her life. Her therapist suggested it. She had considered it for almost a month.

She had been doing the same routine for years, just rinse and repeat. Racing since she was a toddler, traveling since she was a teenager, and moved to Monaco in her early 20s. And Daniel believed that moving to a new place would help her feel better. And maybe living in one place permanently, with less traveling, would give her some sense of stability. Something that she lacked.

She had already told her family about her plan. She had told them about her little apartment-hunting adventure, how she found her lovely one-bedroom flat in northwest London, how she fell in love with it because of its open-bricked accent wall, electric fireplace and tall windows. She also told them about her plan to set a chair and a table in front of one of the windows.

All that remained was to announce the news of her moving to her friends. She wanted to tell Max first. He was one of her closest friends, someone who she hung out with at least twice a month and texted her daily.

Daniel had baked some chocolate cookies. She was letting the cookies cool down on her marble kitchen island. The whole apartment smelled delicious, chocolate-sweet, just like her cookies.

Her cell phone rang. Max was outside of her apartment,  waiting for her to buzz him in.

She opened her door for Max. He was in his casual clothes, with no Redbull logo in sight.

"Smell good, Daniel," Max's first words to Daniel.

"Yeah. Just finished baking."

Max passed the shopping bag he was carrying to Daniel. Inside is a box of chocolates. It was the expensive one from Daniel's favorite brand.

Max went straight to the kitchen, eyeing two baking trays full of chocolate cookies. He took a cookie and blew on it. He took a giant bite of it. "Very delicious."

"Is P staying with you and Kelly?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, she is. She wants to go karting tomorrow."

"Cool. Can I pack some cookies for her? Is that okay?"

Max nodded so Daniel took a small lunchbox and put some cookies for the little girl.

"Thank you. She loves your cookies."

Max took more cookies for himself. Humming while chewing.

Daniel took a deep breath and cleared her throat. "Max I need to tell you something, yeah?"

"I will move to London in two weeks."

Max stopped chewing. He put the cookie he had bitten onto the kitchen counter.

He glanced at Daniel.

"I'm moving to London. It will be easier for me if I live closer to the factory. No more unnecessary plane rides. Good for the environment, you know."

Max turned his back on Daniel.

"Max?"

Daniel saw how Max's ears and neck turned red. Of course, that man noticed how some of Daniel's belongings disappeared from their usual placement. She had packed some of her worldly possessions. Her decorations, trophies, and her vinyl collection had been packed into cardboard boxes that piled up in the corner of the room, leaving her pristine white walls bare.

Daniel did not expect this kind of reaction at all. She knew Max would ask a lot of questions but she never imagined he would be mad.

He took a deep breath and turned around. "Why? What happened? I don't get it, Daniel."

"Yeah, I feel like- I don't feel Monaco is the right place for me anymore."

"But I thought you like Monaco."

"I have liked Monaco, for years, but not now. I want- I need something new."

Max walked out onto the balcony, leaving Daniel standing alone in the kitchen. Too stunned to say something.

She followed Max to the balcony. Max was just standing there. Staring into the dark sea in the distance.  His hands were clenching the railing. 

"I'll be my closet, packing my old clothes, yeah? Find me when you're done staring at nothing," Daniel mumbled.

She sighed when she sat on her closet floor. A huge pile of clothes waiting to be sorted. She took two cardboard boxes, one for things she wanted to keep, and one for old clothes she wanted to throw away.

Her closet was years' worth of clutter she never bothered to sort. Maybe moving to London was a blessing, an opportunity to put her life back together. It forced her to sort things out, take her future to London, and leave her junk in Monaco.

She folded that pile. She folded her old, faded t-shirt. Her dresses that she only wore once. Her old hoodies. She did not want to keep them, so she put them in the put-away box.

She heard sounds from her bathroom. Door closing, water faucet running. She let Max be.

A few minutes later, Max joined her. His face was still blotchy and his hair was a little wet. His face was blank from any emotion. Just like the Max Daniel would find on the track after a horrible race.

"I am sorry," Max said as he sat down among Daniel's colorful mess, "of course, you can move to anywhere you want." He didn't even look at Daniel's face. Eyes focused on the wall behind her.

"Why are you so upset?" Daniel put down the half-folded shirt to focus on Max.

"You are moving to England, Daniel. Of course, I am shocked."

Daniel couldn't believe what she heard.

"We will be seeing each other less and less," Max muttered under his breath.

And it hurt Daniel when Max said it out loud. It is true, they would be seeing each other a lot less than usual, but isn't it the point? Also, she was sure Max would still hunt her down during his stay in England.

"Would you not feel the same way if I move?" The emotionless mask slipped from his voice. That crack showed a sliver of Max's emotion but Daniel was too scared to name it.

"To be honest, I don't think you will ever leave Monaco, Mate. You love the Mediterranean too much."

"Well, there are few places I like better than Monaco."

"You mean a place like a secluded mansion in the south of France?"

"No, l like Australia too, you know."

"Australia is too different from Monaco. The sun is hotter, the waves are stronger because of the ocean. I don't think you would like that."

The thought of Max and Kelly moving to Australia was a nightmare. For a second Daniel imagined Max and Kelly moving to a beach house in Perth with their beautiful blond-haired children. Daniel would rather pack her bags and move to Greenland than share the same city with them again.

"You have no idea, Daniel."

"Would you not feel sad if I move to another country?" Max asked again. His fingers were fidgeting with Daniel's peach and creme-colored cardigan.

"Of course, I'll be sad we won't see each other much. But if moving would be better for you, make you feel happier, then I'll support you."

"This is why you are so much better than me," he whispered.

"Let me help," Max took the cardboard box that had been halfway full. He put the pile of clothes that Daniel was going to throw away into the box. Then he moved on to another stack of folded garments.

"No, not that one."

Max stopped and put the pile back down.

"I don't know what to do with this," Daniel looked at that pile. Her old race suit, fireproof, and balaclava.

"You should keep them," Max traced his finger through them, one by one, lingering on Daniel's name.

"I can't. I don't have enough space. The place I rent is way smaller than this apartment."

"Why did you choose that place then?"

"It is gorgeous." She ran to her bedroom and took her phone. She showed him the pictures of her new apartment. Max just nodded, not impressed.

Max took a new box and wrote "Daniel's racing gear" on the side of the box. He put the pile in that box.

"Just send the things you want to keep to my place. I have enough space. And maybe, if you change your mind, you can just fly back here because you already have some of your stuff at my house."

"I will not come back."

"How can you be so sure?"

Daniel didn't answer. She knew Max was still upset and unconsciously acting like a prick.

"I don't understand why you have to do all of this, Daniel. Why do you have to change your life because of him?"

"It's not because of him."

"Of course it is because of him. Don't lie to me."

"Maybe some of this change happened because of him. But like, It would be easier for me if I didn't see him as much. It would be easier for me to move on."

Max looked down and said, "I wish you never met and fell in love with him."

"No, Max. I will never regret meeting him."

"Fuck, Daniel," He groaned. Jaws already clenching.

"Tell me who he is."

"No."

"Please, just tell me already."

"Why are you forcing me? What will you do if you know who it is?"

"I want to punch him. I want to hurt him for hurting you like this."

He stood up. They were at the same height, maybe Max was a little taller than her by one or two centimeters, but standing face to face with upset Max was too much for Daniel. She knew he would never hurt her, but the intensity of his gaze made her shiver. 

"Tell me something about him. What makes him so special? What does he have that makes you love him like this?"

"Max, what are you talking about? You know how unhappy I am. I complain to you, like, all the time. But is this your reaction when I finally tell you what I need to do to fix my situation?" she snapped "I thought you cared and want me to be happy."

"I need a minute." He walked out of the room.

"No, Max. You need to go home."

He just stood there, in the hallway. Anger slowly disappeared from his eyes. His mouth was open but he said nothing. Max didn't even protest when Daniel led him to the front door.

"I will be back to help you with the packing tomorrow," he said.

"Nope. You'll go karting with Penelope and Kelly tomorrow."

She almost forgot about P. She hurriedly took the lunchbox from her kitchen island and shoved it into Max's hand.

"We will talk again when we've calmed down, yeah." She patted his arm before closing the door.

.....

The very next day, at 10.08 a.m., Max called her. He said he was waiting outside her building with his big car, the one with big enough trunk to take Daniel's boxes.

#maxiel fic #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #f1 rpf #maxiel #girl!daniel #my fic

[watermelonolemretaw]

I cannot accurately put into words the amount of love I have for this animated news reporter. She gives me unbridled serotonin and I want to give her all of my worldly possessions

#veronica hill #hamster and gretel #now to be CLEAR #i am NOT straight #but if i WAS #also don't worry i'll get back to real posts vaguely soon

[littledreamling]

I love posts/fics about Hob meeting the entire Endless family as much ad the next person, but I genuinely think that the only one he shouldn’t (and wouldn’t want) to meet is Destiny. I firmly believe that he and Death would be besties (and probably meet more often than Hob and Dream, let’s be honest). If Hob ever met Destruction, I think they would be week;y drinking buddies, reminiscing about the past, about the wars, and hoisting each other out of maudlin musings of all they have been responsible for in the past; I think they would be good for each other. I think Desire would take a keen interest in Hob, right up until they realized that the only desire Hob has is a desire for life, for everything that life has to offer; he has no interest in material possessions or any of the other worldly ambitions that most mortals have. Despair would adore Hob, if only because he would welcome her presence; he understands her importance and has felt her influence throughout his long life far too many times to be uncomfortable around or hateful towards her essence. Delirium, too, would love Hob, because his love of life, his delight in the simple joys, mirrors hers; he would be perhaps the most patient and understanding of her eccentricities and odd behavior (he has raised a child before, and Delirium’s temperament is not unlike that of a child; it sparks that same paternal instinct that urges him to comfort, to play along, to listen enraptured to her long-winded and winding stories).

Destiny, however, is a painful meeting. Every meeting with Destiny is painful, not because he is cruel, but simply due to his nature. He is the past, the present, the future. He is everything you must know, not necessarily what you want to hear. And he knows this. To Dream, he even says “I am Destiny. I am what must happen, will it or no. And I am your brother. If I could live your life for you, I would. But that is not within my power.” He knows that his advice and guidance is unwelcome, just as he knows exactly how those around him will react to it. He knows whether or not they will follow it before he even gives it. He cares deeply for his family but even as he tries to help them, he knows how futile his efforts are, and he hates it. And while this has somewhat devolved into a half-assed character study of Destiny, I think that he’s the one Endless sibling that all of the other siblings would try to keep Hob as far away from as possible. His presentiments are painful enough for his fellow Endless (going so far as to send Dream spiraling into a half-page meltdown); I can’t imagine how Hob’s human mind, immortal as he may be, would react to finding himself face-to-face with Destiny and all of his infinite knowledge (which, as we see with Delirium’s shift from Delight, isn’t as infinite as Destiny likes to think it is, but that’s beside the point). Destiny knows everything about Hob, his birth, his life, and his eventual death. This wouldn’t be welcome information for anyone involved, yet Destiny carries the burden of this knowledge, and everyone knows it. It would be a meeting on eggshells and a bed of nails.

This got really ramble-y but long story short, I think Hob meeting every other Endless sibling would be humorous/wholesome, but everyone has a vested interest in keeping Hob away from Destiny. It would be a meeting that could only end in pain and heartache and far too much insight into his own future, insight that no human should ever have.

#dream of the endless #morpheus #the sandman #sandman netflix #hob gadling #death of the endless #desire of the endless #despair of the endless #delirium of the endless #delight of the endless #destiny of the endless #destruction of the endless #the endless #the endless family #neil gaiman

[randomfanner]

I want to do the Durge ask game by @daemon-in-my-head with Calax

Do they miss their adoptive family? Why or why not? Yes, he had an adoptive mother. She was a retired monk who took Calax in when she found him. He listened to his mother's teachings to the best of his ability even with his urges until he killed her and Scelteras came along.

Did they keep anything from their old family and home? A memento or a skill perhaps? Does his class count? Because he is definitely a monk because of what his mother taught him(He did become a shadow monk but that was because of the role he was playing.

When Sceleritas fetched them from their comfortable home, what did they do on their journeys? Did they take on any jobs? He traveled extremely light, taking nothing with him. He didn't take any jobs because he would just hunt and kill animals(and people) to eat.

Do they speak casually or do they try to adorn their speech with frills? Do they maybe even dare to curse? Calax rarely talks. He is over all pretty quiet unless he is with Gortash.

What was their relationship with Sceleritas like? Did they like their ever-adoring butler or did they try to run from the most wretched mother hen? Sceleteritas was punted like a football frequently.

Bhaal loves money; did your Durge inherit that trait? Do they enjoy luxuries or try to live a frugal life, giving their all for their temple? No, no Calax really didn't. He gave it mostly to the temple because he doesn't care about much worldly possessions.

Did they have any connections or companions outside of the local underworld? If so, what were those connections like and if not, why? Nope- Calax could not be bothered.

What was their relationship with Orin like? Did it change at some point? Calax did like Orin and almost envied her. However they began to butt heads quite a lot due to Gortash.

What would a typical meeting of the chosen have looked like when your Durge attended? Calax not paying any attention and just agreeing with whatever Gortash said.

Gortash seemed to have admired Durge, what did they do to deserve this admiration? Did they have any notable personality traits or did they impress him in some other way? Calax was an extremely talented person at going in and getting the job done. He was quick, efficient and quite blood thirsty when he fought. On a quieter level, Calax genuinely found Gortash's work and studies interesting. Watching silent from over his shoulder that even if he wasn't fully aware of what was going on, it was interesting.

The other cultists. How did your Durge view them? Did they enjoy their following or did they dread being idolised? Annoying. He would avoid them most of the time.

Durge gave a gold coin to a beggar once; why did they do it? Did this occur regularly? The beggar looked like Calax's adoptive mother. it wasn't a common occurrence.

Orin has her faithful group of changelings. Did your Durge have a similar 'personal guard' or task force at their back and call? No, Calax would have done it himself.

Durge famously acted as an assassin in the last decade or so. What was that like? Did they plan everything out meticulously, or did they act spontaneously and on whims? There wasn't a plan going in most of the time, but he was quick and very sneaky, being able to get around with out being noticed unless he wanted to be; which in that case there would be no survivors.

Bhaal handcrafted Durge. Do they enjoy and worship their appearance, or did they have a rebellious phase, trying their best to change their Lord Father's grand design? So in the past Calax didn't like his appearance, having grown to kind of hate the color red and his ears, horns and eyes along with a cloud of red on his face, but he didn't do anything to change it. However after the adventure his appearance is changed a great deal with instead of red being the second color, changing to blue.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur gate iii #bg3 durge

[mergrl]

happiness. (youcef/MC)

s4 | youcef/MC | 3.7k words | read on AO3 here

A/N: this is my submission for @litgwritersroom ’s lie detector prompt! francesca is the MC of my upcoming slow burn villa fic for youcef - this is obviously in villa as well, but as an AU from my main fic. i wanted to give a happier perspective of what happens when your partner says everything right - but also showing the other side of slow burn love triangles, and hopefully make najuma feel a bit more complex and human than what fusebox gave us. it’s meant to feel bittersweet, i hope you enjoy! and a massive thank you to @rebelrayne​ for beta reading this ❤️

it’s the first question that makes youcef pause. he hesitates, his hands curling up into tight fists, and najuma doesn’t know what to do. why was he hesitating?

it was easy for her to make sense of the end of their relationship when he was so clearly head over heels for fran. she’d have to have been blind not to see their chemistry. and of course she was happy with oliver - so why was he hesitating? why was he complicating things? and why did she feel so complicated about it?

---

francesca can’t remember the last time the villa felt this peaceful.

the spanish sun is shining down, bright and warm, as she spreads out across the daybeds, her head resting on youcef’s chest as he toys lazily with her hair. it had been about a week since they’d finally coupled up, and things just felt right. after weeks of back and forth, what felt like a never-ending game of cat and mouse, friends quickly turned into something more, it was as if everything had finally fallen into place. 

“do you think anything exciting’s going to happen today?” she muses, pushing her sunglasses up so that they’re resting in her hair, shifting her gaze to look up at youcef. it felt like it had been a few days since anything had happened - no dates, no challenges, no new people.. nothing. 

it was almost eerily quiet, but maybe that’s just because they were nearing the finale. none of them quite knew how much time they had left, but they knew it was coming soon - you could feel it in the air around them, a quiet, static electricity that foretold the end was near.

“we’ve only been together for one week, and you’re already getting tired of me?” youcef teases, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “shut up,” francesca laughs, her mouth twitching up into a smile. “i could never.” she wraps her arms around him, settling in comfortably against his chest. 

“besides, if i was going to get tired of you, it would have happened weeks ago.” they’d only officially been coupled up for a week, but it had been much longer than that - filled with longing glances, almost kisses, and a million what ifs. if she was going to grow tired, it would have been then, it would have died with the agony and the not knowing, the silent screams of ‘what are we’ - but she couldn’t grow tired of him, not when he looked at her like that.

like he was looking at her now, like he’d willingly sacrifice all of his worldly possessions, like he’d give up the moon and more, if only for another moment by her side. 

“being right here with you is all the excitement i need,” youcef murmurs after a moment, his hand resting on her lower back as he pulls her in for a kiss. in this moment, everything felt right. 

somewhere across the villa, a text tone rings out, followed by thabi’s familiar squeal of, “i got a text!” 

—

the text reveals that they’ll be testing their relationships by taking part in the lie detector challenge. the girls are all huddled in the living room, sprawled across various surfaces, the room filled with anxious sighs and the frantic scribbling of pens against paper. 

najuma is sat next to francesca, and can’t help but to steal glances over to the other girl’s notepad, before she finally just pipes up and asks, “what do you think you’re going to ask, fran?” she was curious, more than curious - it’d been a week since she and youcef had broken up for the last time, after a rollercoaster of a summer, and it felt like he’d turned into a completely different person with francesca. 

he’d always looked at najuma like he was surprised to see her there, and sometimes it was a happy surprise, but other times she couldn’t tell what he was feeling. but he’d always looked at francesca like she contained galaxies. like the entire universe laid beneath the surface of her skin, and he’d give anything to explore it’s depths. 

but it’d taken them too long to admit it - not until tom had fucked up royally, letting dylan blow up their relationship like dynamite. it was a bit amusing, seeing the demolitions she dealt with at work everyday make their way into love island, or it was amusing until it was her relationship. 

she wanted to be happy for them. francesca had always been a good friend to her, stood up for her against lexi’s snide comments, supported her through all of her arguments with youcef. and if she was being honest - wasn’t that what today was all about? - she and youcef had never really been that compatible. they were driven by lust, more than anything, and it didn’t take long for that to fizzle out.

that didn’t mean that it didn’t fucking hurt though. 

“i don’t know,” francesca sighs, tapping her pen against her notepad. this is perhaps the most ungraceful that najuma has seen her - she always looked so poised, towering over the rest of the girls like a supermodel - but she’s hunched over now, notepad resting on her knees, and najuma notices it’s mostly filled with scribbled out words and half finished questions. 

“d’you need help?” she offers, and francesca shakes her head no, blowing out a huff of air. they’d spoken to each other so freely and openly for the past week, and everything felt like bliss. she knew that youcef would tell her anything, if she just asked, so why did this feel so difficult? 

and francesca knew what she wanted to ask. more than anything, she wanted answers on what had felt like years worth of back and forth condense into a few short weeks - but by asking, did she admit her own complicity? that she had been just as stubborn and selfish and foolish as he had?

but it had been nearly a month and a half to the day since he’d entered the villa - she’d been counting, even if the producers took away all of their clocks and calendars - and she’d known she’d been falling for him from the very beginning. and even though he had confessed his feelings, and they were now happily coupled up, there’s a small part of her that wanted to hear him say it: he had been falling for her too. 

“no, i know what i want to say,” she admits, dragging her pen lazily across the page. “i just need to figure out how to word it, you know?” she shrugs, looking over at najuma’s notepad with a half smile. “what about you? have you worked out what you’re going to ask oliver yet?” 

najuma’s heart does a flip at just the sound of his name, and she makes no attempts to hide the smile creeping on her cheeks. “i think i’m going to take it easy on him,” she responds, “it’s early days and all that, you know?” it was early days, but he made her blush in a way that youcef never could, and she found herself melting every time he smiled at her.

he was sweet, had come in and immediately swept her off her feet, and had made the past week and a half much easier to swallow than it would have been if she’d braved it alone. but she couldn’t help the sinking feeling that he deserved better - someone who wasn’t so hung up on her past couple - he’d had most of her attention, but she always felt guilty when her mind strayed elsewhere. 

it was such an odd feeling, having to reconcile the ending of one relationship with the beginning of another one - but that was love island, wasn’t it?

“look at you, blushing,” francesca playfully nudges her knee against najuma’s, smile spreading across her lips. “i’m so glad you’ve found each other.” 

—

the challenge seems to have everybody on edge. once they’ve all finished writing their questions, they congregate in the living room, where the producers have set up a large screen tv, projecting in from the hideaway. there’s a lull of silence before the challenge starts, as they’re all anxiously awaiting the first text to signal the challenge has begun.

“i don’t know what everyone is so nervous about,” youcef is the first one to break the silence, as he seemingly always was. francesca seems to know what he’s going to say before he begins, and braces herself from the groans and the eyerolls from her fellow islanders. “if everybody is honest, then there’s nothing to worry about with this challenge, no?”

“that’s rich, coming from you,” angie retorts from further down the room, and francesca’s stomach winces at her response. “how long did it take you to tell fran you were into her, huh?” 

her voice is riddled with her typical sarcasm and snark, and next to her there’s an anguished look that passes over tom’s eyes, if only for a second. they had ended up together if only by default in the last recoupling, with tom being one of the last to pick, sending tiffany and dylan home.

“hey -” francesca starts, and angie just shrugs. “i’m just.. not saying it’s wrong or anything, but, he’s certainly one to talk about honesty.” at this, youcef lets out a light, airy laugh, as if he was completely unaffected by the tension in the room. he wraps his arms around francesca next to him, pulling her in close and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“i will be utterly and completely honest today, amour, you have my promise,” he murmurs, just loud enough for her to hear. she rests her chin on his shoulder, looks up at him to find his hazel eyes staring at her with the same intensity he always had when looking at her. “so i hope you didn’t go too easy on me, no?” he teases, and she laughs, reaching up to brush his hair back and out of the way, giving her a better view of his face.

“i wouldn’t dream of it.” there’s a playful smirk tugging at her lips, and it feels like they’re in their own little world - his arm around her waist, her head against his shoulder, this was exactly where she was meant to be.

—

they’re one of the last couples to go. some of the others had been rocked by the answers they’d received - valentina had to look away as she failed miserably not to tear up when will’s admission that his head wouldn’t be turned on the outside came back as a lie, and they had all had to witness the way bruno’s face fell when cora admitted that she didn’t think they were compatible. 

francesca had asked hard questions. she knew she had. but she was feeling confident - the other’s relationships were teetering on the edge, but not hers. not them. not today. 

it seems like a cruel twist of fate that najuma is assigned to ask youcef fran’s questions, but they’re stood in the hideaway, a lab coat draped over her body, as she stares down at the same notepad that she had witnessed francesca scribbling in earlier, now with three questions clearly outlined at the bottom. 

youcef’s face appears cool and collected as he sits before her, but the way he taps his fingers on the arm of the chair tells najuma that he’s just as anxious as the rest of them had been, he was just better at hiding it. “you ready, youcef?” she asks, trying to ignore how backwards this all felt. 

“of course,” his voice is as collected as always, and najuma draws in a deep breath, takes it as a sign to begin. they run through the first two questions - is your name youcef? are you from france? - as a sign that the machine is working properly, and when both answers light up the machine green, she knows it’s time to dive in.

najuma shakes her head, tries her hardest not to scoff as she reads francesca’s first question. “do you think your head could be turned this late?” she reads out, studying youcef’s face for a reaction. could it, youcef? 

there was a bitter irony to the question, knowing that he had dumped her not only a week ago - but she supposed his head had actually turned long before that.

“no,” youcef’s answer comes so easily, and his voice is sincere. “of course not.” 

no, of course not. if it could, najuma wouldn’t be standing here, she’d be out there, and perhaps francesca would be the one asking the questions - nothing could have turned his head from her. they had found something truly special in here. what more could she do than accept it?

“looks like you’re telling the truth,” najuma remarks, the machine flashing green. 

of course he was. it’s all that francesca can think as she watches the exchange from out in the living room, trying to hide the smile that spreads across her features. she had included the question as an easy one, having already known the answer. they were both all in to making this work, after everything. 

“that’s a good sign, right?” thabi asks cheerfully. she’s sat next to fran in youcef’s absence, arms wrapped around her in a warm embrace. they’d been close from the very beginning, and francesca was grateful for her presence. “yeah,” francesca breathes out, “i think they’ll all be good. i trust him.”

—

najuma sucks in her teeth as she reads the second question. it was something she’d been wondering too, for the longest time, and she’s on pins and needles to know youcef’s answer. “did you have feelings for francesca during the kiss or miss challenge?”

the challenge had been weeks ago - it felt like a lifetime, now - but it had caused her first major fight with youcef, the first of what would be many. after the new girls had come in, and it felt like he was wandering, and after everyone had told her about how he kissed francesca during the challenge, how it didn’t look like just a challenge kiss, but like he meant it - 

“yes.” youcef’s voice rings loud within her ears, and najuma draws in a breath. she doesn’t know what she’d been expecting. of course he had. of course he had. she’d have been more shocked if he said no, she thinks, because then that meant that fight, everything, would have all been for nothing. because he was bored? 

she didn’t know what to think of him anymore. they’d been coupled up for weeks, but who had she been coupled up with, really? it felt like she was staring at a stranger. 

“that’s the truth, too,” najuma gives a playful half smile, “looks like you were telling the truth about being honest, huh?” and at this youcef gives his signature french scoff, “of course i was.”

in the living room, the exchange draws a few laughs from some of the islanders, who seem to be relieved by his answers, grateful for the break in the drama. francesca and thabi are holding hands now, and fran digs her nails into thabi’s palm slightly, her smile growing wider by the second. 

that was one of the harder questions for her to ask, because they’d both been so fucking stupid back then, refusing to admit their feelings, but she could feel it during that challenge, could feel it in the way he kissed her, could feel it in every kiss they’ve shared since then. and it seems like they’ve shared a million in the past week alone - as if they were making up for lost time, as if all that either of them wanted was to get lost within one another. 

“how are you feeling?” thabi whispers next to her, and francesca squeezes her hand. “happy, he makes me so happy,” she murmurs, “but it’s the next question that i’m nervous about.” 

—

“last question, how are you feeling?” najuma asks, tapping her pen against the notepad. she’s asking to be polite more than anything, but it’s clear that it’s not needed, as youcef responds back, “confident. happy. good. i thought she was going to go hard on me, but ah, i suppose she’s saving that for when we’re alone later,” he laughs at his own joke, and najuma forces a smile. “don’t get too cocky just yet, there’s still one question left.”

and fuck, what a question it was, she thinks as she reads the page.

“would you tell francesca if you fell in love with her?”

it’s the first question that makes youcef pause. he hesitates, his hands curling up into tight fists, and najuma doesn’t know what to do. why was he hesitating? 

it was easy for her to make sense of the end of their relationship when he was so clearly head over heels for fran. she’d have to have been blind not to see their chemistry. and of course she was happy with oliver - so why was he hesitating? why was he complicating things? and why did she feel so complicated about it?

this was the question francesca had been the most nervous about, she can feel a lump forming in her throat as she watches him pause on the screen before her. she’d wanted to ask the question because it had taken him so long to admit he’d even had feelings for her, if he had fallen for her, would he say it? would she have to force it out of him?

if she had fallen in love with him, what would he say if she told him? she knows that she has. she’s known for a while now, this was more than just some summer fling, that the feeling that rose in her chest whenever he was around was more intense than anything she’d ever felt. and so she needs to know: could he say it? would he say it?

 it feels like a lifetime before he finally speaks. 

“if i’m being honest,” youcef sighs, spreading out his fingers as he grips the arms of the chair. “no.”

there’s a shared, loud gasp that resonates around the living room, and francesca can feel thabi’s hand on her knee comfortingly, not quite sure what this meant, but there for her regardless. 

the machine dings green, but it almost doesn’t matter, because youcef continues speaking, his eyes staring straight ahead into one of the cameras that was recording them. “no, because, i have already fallen in love with you, francesca, and i have simply been too much of a coward to admit it. but, so much for that, hey?” he lets out a nervous laugh he hadn’t known he was holding in, his hands gripping the chair tight. 

“i am sorry i couldn’t work up the courage to tell you sooner. but i hope you can forgive me, because i am in love with you, francesca. i think i always have been.” 

it feels like time stops. 

najuma can hear the clapping and cheers from the other islanders on just the other side of the door, everyone just as shocked by his revelation as she was. she knows she didn’t have feelings for him anymore. she knows that she had moved on. she knows that whatever feelings she did have for him were nothing like what he shared with francesca. those were all objective truths. they could not be disputed. 

but hearing his answer? hearing that he was in love with her? that it felt like he always loved her? it painted the past month in an entirely new light, and she feels sick, like the room is going to start spinning. she doesn’t know how to feel. she doesn’t know what she’s allowed to feel. should she be happy for them? should she be upset, feel fucked over, like her time had been wasted? 

was she even allowed to be upset - in a place like here, when francesca was her friend? was there any space for her emotions?

—

francesca is trying her hardest not to run to the hideaway door, her smile so bright she thinks her face might break, but she’s there to greet him when he exits, and she doesn’t even get a chance to say anything before he’s lifting her up, pulling her into a kiss. 

everything around them fades to black. the other islanders have crowded around, to celebrate the happy couple, but francesca couldn’t care less about them, instead letting herself melt into his kiss, reveling in the feeling of his hand on the small of her back, the smile that spreads across his lips. knowing that he was hers, utterly and completely, hers. 

“you bring out the absolute worst in me, you know, cherie?” youcef laughs after a moment, his voice quiet and breathy, and there’s an incredulous look to his eyes as he gazes down at her, as if he can’t believe this is real, as if he can’t believe they’re sharing this moment. “everyone thinks that i am so smooth, or so confident, but with you.. i always worry i’m going to fail you, or say the wrong thing. i’m sorry -”

francesca cuts him off before he can finish with another kiss, small and sweet, before she pulls back, resting her forehead against his. “youcef,” she whispers, and the sound of his name on her lips sends a shiver down his spine. “i know. i love you, too,” she admits, and they both break into wide, unbreakable grins. “i love you, i love you, i love you,” she murmurs against his lips, her hand cupping his cheek. 

she’s never felt such bliss than in this moment. there was never a doubt in her mind, that she was in love. 

this, this is what happiness felt like. 

najuma is standing back from the group, still stood in the entrance to the hideaway as she watches the scene play out before her. she’s wrapped her arms around herself, holding the clipboard with francesca’s notepad tight to her chest, sucked in a breath of air, not sure how she should feel. 

the rest of the islanders are quietly buzzing around her, as if the declaration of love was healing them from the drama of the day, but najuma can’t help but to fold in on herself. thabi seems to be the only one who notices, stepping away from the group to approach her. “hey,” her face softens into a sympathetic smile. “are you okay?”

najuma’s body seems to go into autopilot, and she’s responding before she’s even had a chance to process the question. “yeah,” she puts on a fake smile, wide and too bright, “i’m just happy for them, you know?”

#litg #litg s4 #litg youcef #love island the game #whats this? my first non smut writing i've published? #and it's for youcef? absolutely no one is surprised #i hope you like it i'm going to go scream into the abyss now #also it would mean a lot to me if you read it on ao3 too :) #fran/youcef

[saintmachina]

Have you done any Isaac and Rebecca ficlets in the past?

Isaac spends an hour in the marketplace, scouring the jeweler's stands for the perfect dowry gift. In the end he settles on a golden sunburst nose ring and beaten bangles as silver as the moon. He will give his wife the heavens, he decides, to wear as her adornments.

He can barely sleep those long weeks his father's servant is away, scouring the land of his ancestors for the right bride. He takes to wandering the fields in the blue-light just before dawn, kicking up rocks and conversing with the Lord. He is 37, well past the age of sweaty palms and ruddy blushes, but still he is nervous.

What if the girl doesn't want to come live in with him? What bitterness and enmity is sown between them? What if the marriage bed is frigid?

He imagines what she may be like, dark or fair, curvaceous of slim, somber or smiling.

He decides, he tells the Lord, that he will be grateful with a kind spirit and a pair of lovely eyes.

When the caravan finally reappears on the horizon one blazing hot summer day, it's nearly doubled in size. The new bride has brought her nurse with her, and household servants, and all her worldly possessions.

Isaac drops the scythe from his hand as the caravan comes to a stop next to the field where he labors. A woman dismounts her camel and strides across the parched earth to meet him. He can make out the glint of his bracelets on her wrist, the glimpse of a lovely brown ankle under her skirts, but her face and hair is veiled.

She stops directly in front of him, holding her chin high. Her khol-lined eyes are dark and lovely as a night without stars.

Will you not let me look at you? He asks.

You procured me for your wife sight unseen, she shoots back, raising a thick eyebrow. Perhaps I shall hide my face from you until the wedding night.

A smile tugs at his lips.

She's testing him. His mother would be proud.

Isaac takes her hand, rubbing a little circle into her palm with his thumb. She softens under his touch, her muscles giving way. She does not expect his gentleness, he realizes.

Then we will learn to love each other by touch and smell and sound, he says. Although I should hope someday to earn the privilege of gazing upon you.

She pauses for a moment, then reaches us and pulls the veil from her head. Black waves tumble over her shoulders, framing a ruggedly beautiful face with a full mouth, square jaw, and strong nose.

I am no great beauty, she teases. Perhaps you'd like to send me back and order another bride?

You are the very promise of God made flesh, he says, then cups her face and kisses her.

#i've never written these two before thank you for the request! #bible fic #bible poetry #christianity #progressive christianity #christian mysticism #catholicism #saints #answered asks #writing #politicalmamaduck

[johnlocsin-johnyakuza]

If the 6 Main Omori Cast Members has Irezumi tattoo's, what would they have?

As someone who played all the Yakuza games and saw numerous tattoo's, I'll give my professional opinion.

Sunny: The Koi (Carp)

The Koi is meant to represent perseverance, courage, and transformation. One theme of the Koi dates back to ancient China, where a legend tells of how any koi that succeeded in climbing the falls at a point called “Dragon Gate” on “Yellow River” would be transformed into a dragon. Based on that legend, it became a symbol of worldly aspiration and advancement. This can fit into the context of Sunny overcoming his trauma.

Mari: Amaterasu (Sun Goddess)

Amaterasu is the Japanese sun goddess, representing warmth, light, and love. Amaterasu is also known as the goddess that brings light and happiness. In the context of Omori, she was the one who helped bring the entire group together perfectly, and when she died, so did the light and happiness of everyone.

Kel: Inugami (Dog Spirit)

The Inugami represents loyalty, championship, and protection. This can really reflect Kel's loyalty to his friends, him never giving up on them after Mari died. Kel can also be seen as a steadfast companion, as he always stuck with Sunny till the end, which I say fits him very well with Inugami.

Hero: Ryujin (Dragon God)

Dragon's in Japanese mythology represents wisdom, strength, nobility, and the strength to do good for mankind, and Ryujin is no exception to this. I feel Hero fit's the dragon very well as the composed and calm demeanor, as well as his supportive role in the group. Dragon's can also clutch in one of his claws an object that is variously shown as a ball, a pearl, or a jewel. It represents the spiritual essence of the universe, by which the dragon controls and protects it from those who might usurp those powers, which I feel fit's Hero in his support for everyone.

Aubrey: Tora (Tiger)

The Tiger represents strength, courage, and independence. This can be reflected on Aubrey's fierce, determined, yet sometimes aggressive personality, given by how resentful she became over the course of the 4 years. Tiger's, however, are considered to be the supreme of all land animals by the Chinese, representing strength, courage and long life. Tigers are also said to be able to ward off bad luck, disease and Demons. This can fit into how much Aubrey really cared for her friends.

Basil: Kodama (Tree Spirit)

The Kodama symbolizes nature, tranquility, and growth. This can fit into the context of Basil's love for plants and wanting to preserve the memories of his friends. This can also represent his journey to healing and finding peace both for him and Sunny. In ancient times, Kodama were said to be Kami, nature deities that dwelled in trees. Whatever form they took, (i.e., Daruma), Kodama were said to be possessed of supernatural power, that if properly worshipped and honored, would protect families and villages, which I feel fit's in with him wanting to protect Sunny.

[mingi-bubu]

little bit, a little bit, in love with you

For the Carat’s Cloud server’s Inaugural Secret Santa!  My giftee is the delightful and lovely Eishi @cherrybxmbby!  Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and I hope you enjoy~!  This is like, one of three different ideas I had for what I wanted to write.  The title is from Lykke Li’s “Little Bit” which honestly I really feel like does add to the vibe of this

f!reader x minghao, minghao + reader + mingyu best friends, mingyu actually like takes up a good portion of this but it’s for the #bants, uni au, mentions another svt uni au currently in the works, ~1.6k/words

You wave at the rest of your group mates as they gather their things and leave the library, a tired (and somewhat forced) smile on your face.  Mingyu ruffles your hair as he passes behind you, and you slap at his hand.  You know he’s doing it just to make your smile a bit more genuine.  He’s the easiest to read of your friends, and you know he worries about you.  Granted, the late nights you have, because you lose track of time studying, do give cause for concern.  But still, you do appreciate it.

“Are you staying here then,” he asks, hovering while looking like he’s trying not to hover.

“Yeah,” you say.  Well, it’s more of a resigned puff of air than an actual hard agreement, but details.

“No café today?”  His tone is casual, but you know him better than that.

You raise your eyebrow.  “Is there something you want to tell me, Gyu?”

“I- no,” he says.  You watch as he grows fidgety.  “Okay, yes.  Are you not going because of Growly McWhines?”

You snort at the newest sobriquet he’s gifted your friend and his partner for a different class project.  “Why you don’t just tell them that you’re interested rather than furthering the animosity between you two is something I’ll never understand.”  You shake your head slightly and continue, “But yes, I’m not going to Carat Cloud because of Growly McWhines.  I would appreciate just one day when I don’t have to hear one of you complain about the other.”  It’s so obvious that you guys are into each other anyways is something you decide can stay in your head.

“I would,” he says, “honestly, I would.” You give him a flat stare, not believing him in the slightest. “We can talk about it later.”

You nod and assume that that's the end of it, turning back to your notes. You were wrong.

“Ni Hao, wo Ming!” You don't need to look up to see the stupid grin on Mingyu's face. You do look up anyways, because this greeting can only mean one thing.  Xu Minghao was approaching.

It wasn’t like it was a new thing, him hanging out with you and Mingyu.  After all, the two of them have known each other since high school; Gyu’s family was Minghao’s host family when he came over from Liáoníng to study.  They are, for all intents and purposes, brothers in everything but blood.  So yes, you know Minghao.

… You like Minghao.  And honestly… what about him isn’t to like?  You like that he is generally calm and collected, a contrast to Mingyu’s energetic puppy aura, but he also knows how to let loose.  You’ve seen him go from zero to a hundred during some go-cart competition that his dance team was having.  And on-stage… in those performances and competitions?  God, it’s like he’s possessed by some other entity.  It’s as if Terpsichore herself has descended from the cosmos and made Minghao her vessel to humanity.  (Or, well, everyone who fits in the auditorium that the competition is held in.)

He is immeasurably kind and has hosted finals cram parties (wherein all you do is study with what feels like several dozen non-alcoholic drinks and snacks like carrots and apple slice bunnies within easy reach) for your group of friends.  Sometimes, if he knows someone in one of his classes is really struggling, he’ll invite them as well.  And he’s just so worldly.  He memorizes poems and historical anecdotes and recites them at the drop of a hat.  He stays up to date on so many different topics.  He is endlessly interesting to talk to, and you know you could spend all night staying up with him, just… just talking about anything and everything, if you let yourself.

“That joke was barely funny the first time, and it gets less funny as time goes on,”  Minghao says, though the smile he wears belies his true amusement.  “How are end-of-semester things going?”  He shifts the strap of his backpack, pulling the hood of his coat out from underneath it.

“They could be better,” Mingyu allows, a tiredness he hadn’t shown before seeping into his voice.  You and Minghao glance at each other; the both of you have a fairly decent idea as to what could be better.

“I agree,” you say, joining the conversation officially, “this group project is slowly sucking the life out of me.  Like, don’t get me wrong, I love Joshua, and he’s been my lifeline for this class.  But…”  You lower your voice, glancing around to see if anyone else was listening.  “Okay, is it necessary to bring a color-coded spreadsheet for the second actual out-of-class meeting we’ve had?  We just decided on what topic we’re going to cover.  How does he have a spreadsheet already?”

Minghao huffs out a laugh at your complaints.  Mingyu snorts and then slaps a hand over the lower half of his face as if it would prevent anyone from having heard it.

“So you’re both showing up to the cram parties then, I take it?”  He asks rhetorically.  “I talked with the owners of Carat Cloud, and they said we could hang out there to study.”

“Sounds good.  Message me the rest later?  I gotta jet,” Mingyu pulls out his phone, checking the time.

“I will,” Minghao says, “I’ll probably just send a message into the group chat.”

Mingyu nods, pockets his phone, and then ruffles your hair again before walking quickly out of the library.

You scowl after him, and then shake your head with a small smile.  You don’t bother to fix your hair again.  You turn your gaze to Minghao, taking in his outfit, well, the parts of it not covered by his coat.  He has on his so-called “grandma glasses”, chain and everything, and you can see the ends of his hair peeking out from under his speckled gray knit beanie.  It’s been permed and colored for his competition this weekend, a bluey-purple mix that you’re definitely interested in seeing more of.

Minghao pushes his glasses up from where they were sliding down his nose.  “So, um.”  He pauses.

You frown at the odd behavior, not really ever knowing him to not be confident in what he was saying.  “Is everything okay?”

He blinks a few times, as if getting his bearings after suddenly being woken up.  “No, it’s fine.  I’m fine.  I just.”  Another pause.  “So you know how I have the competition this weekend?”

You smile, more of an amused uptick of the corners of your mouth than anything else, but reply, “Yes.  And even if I didn’t, the hair sort of gives away that you’re going to be doing something soon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he jokes back.  The small exchange seemed to help, and you can see him become himself again.  “I was wondering if you would also help me record a solo tape?  There are some dance troupes who have shown some interest and I want to make sure I have something prepared for when, or if, they ask for more.”

You flip open your cartoon frog planner and check your schedule.  “When were you wanting to do this?”

“I was thinking after the competition would probably work best since the building where we’re going to perform at has a few dance studios the next floor up from the auditorium.”  He says, sketching a rough diagram in the air.

“Yeah, I can totally help with that!”  You agree.  “Let me write it down, make it all official and everything,” you tease, pulling out the blue gel pen you use for personal events in your planner.

“I was also thinking that maybe we could get dinner after,” he says, and his voice sounds forcibly casual.

Your hand freezes, the tip of the gel pen still pressed into the paper, the ink pooling slowly around it.  “As a,” your voice cracks, and you shut your eyes in embarrassment.  You swallow and try again.  “Are we meeting up with everyone after we finish recording?  Mingyu or Chan or?”

“I was thinking of dinner as a date.  Personally, I think inviting my not-brother and my co-captain might ruin that atmosphere.”  You open your eyes and see the little quirk up at the corner of his mouth.

You make a noise between a scoff and a snort, “Yeah, I think that would just about do it.”  You bite your lip, looking down at the box for Saturday, where “Minghao Dance Comp” and “Help MH Record After” were written next to little bullet points.  “Are you serious about this?”

You really, really hope he is.  He doesn’t seem like someone who would ask you out and not mean it.  But your anxieties eat at your perceptions anyway.

His voice is gentler than before, but firm in its intent.  “I do.  I am, I mean.  Honestly, I’ve been trying to figure out how I wanted to ask you out now for a while.”

You feel your heart flutter at that.  “Oh?”  A smile you didn’t even realize had started appears on your face.  “Well, we can’t put all your planning to waste then, can we?”

Minghao watches as you write into the planner, right under the previous two notes, “Date with Minghao <3”.

You can’t wait for the weekend, and from the way Minghao tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear before he leaves you to study, neither can he.

#carat's cloud secret santa #xu minghao scenarios #minghao scenarios #seventeen scenarios #the8 scenarios #!!! i'm like so obsessed with hao being so awkward in front of someone he likes and then having that person joke with him to break #whatever spiral he's gone down in his mind. like it's just *chef's kiss* ykwim? #also i know this wasn't about mingyu but also it was a little bit bc i am is do am in love with him a bit #sorry to detract from hao's moment ad;lfjsdf #but no yeah so!! i really hope you enjoyed it! i know i was slightly late but i loved writing this #grandma aesthetic!minghao is everything to me #merry belated christmas <333 #jae.works

[veryparynormal]

heyyy so ooc but

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals, followers and all the wonderful people on here!!!

(OOC POST)

Why not?

1. My romantic partners. We're in a closed poly relationship. We color-coded each other (orange, purple, green). We nerd out about cool shit. One writes poetry and amazing stories with intricate characters and obsesses over the Sims. The other has read through the entirety of Homestuck TWICE and is working on a third time (they scare me /aff) and is an AMAZING baker who made me a killer pie for my birthday. We call ourselves the Unholy Trinity. We went to see the Barbie movie together. We've been in trinity for a year and a half, but I've known them both for way longer. It's great. I love them so much. They mean the world to me.

2. My family, especially my grandpa and cousins. My Papa takes me fishing and he's always making jokes n shit. He's a goofy fella /pos. And my cousins live out of state, but whenever they visit we have this ongoing, years-long LARP epic that we've been doing since before their younger siblings were even BORN. We are DEDICATED.

3. My cat! Her name is Beans and I want to give her all of my worldly possessions and pick her up and squeeze her because she is so tiny...

4. Undertale. Like I KNOW that doesn't come up on this blog or even very often on my main, but I've been in love with the game ever since December 2015 (and I was, I shit you not, in elementary school). Because I was too young to have social media, I didn't get into the fandom until kinda recently and according to the horror stories I am grateful for that. I also got the collector's edition this year from one of my partners as a birthday present, and I've been playing the soundtrack on CD when I drive places. Makes things way more chill.

5. Team StarKid. It's my dream to act with them one day. I KNOW it's fucking insane and I'd have no clue where to start and I KNOW they don't do open auditions. But my evil plan is to apply as a fucking janitor all incognito-like, and then I'd audition at other places nearby, and then word would get around, and then they'll be like "ayo he's pretty good" and they'll approach me and they will NOT be able to resist my memorable personality and charm. MY PLAN IS FOOLPROOF /j /silly

#ooc post

[mintibunny]

Lost Things

There were no feathers on the windowsill today. Same as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before. 

It had been like this for a good number of weeks, now. Still skies, not a touch of burning heat. No flute songs to keep a hard-working Free Company like Gage Acquisitions awake at odd hours of the night. Just the sound of the massive windmill near the Sultana’s Breath turning in the wind, whooshing as it cut the air, occasionally punctuated by the laughter of miqo’te girls enjoying an evening dip in the Goblet’s hot tubs.  

It would appear that the attentions of an auspice are fickle, indeed. 

Come away with me, my love, she said on one of her nightly visits. Suzaku, the great firebird from the East. Stay with me at the shrine. You will want for nothing. I will endeavor to make every day better than the last and surround you with only the sweetest songs. You may help guard the shrine if that would sway your heart, even a little. 

Don’t you love me, Minti? Don’t you love me enough to come away? 

Put them out of your mind. They don’t love you as much as I.  

The auspice knew where and when to touch. Her wings were all enveloping and warm. She was generous. Their nights together should have been perfect. 

Don’t you love me.  

Minti did. But a mortal’s love and dedication can only go so far. 

The day was beginning to lose its luster, as was the last feather, left on a blanket outside Minti’s house. Before, it was vibrant oranges and reds and yellows, all collapsing into each other, over and over, hot to the touch. Examined closely with care, it was clear that the poor thing was terribly coarse. Why did she hold on to it? What was it supposed to mean? 

In one version of this story, the rabbit would give up her worldly possessions and dwell in the firebird’s house forever. She would be no different than Soroban, a kojin subject to the auspices’ whims and training, except there might be more intimate allowances. Twelve above know she’d live long enough to see the need to stall Koryo’s emergence. A well-trodden story, with a wise, long-lived envoy to the outside world gathering heroes – the small-town favorite, the voice of reason, the wisecracking sidekick, the love interest - to calm the aramitama once more and save the day. How lovely. Perfect. Tenzen reunited with their lover. 

But Minti was not that rabbit. She didn’t live in a storybook. And, most importantly, she was not Tenzen. Harsh facts to bring before a being whose aramitama led them to be blinded by whatever feelings they once cherished for a kindhearted man.  

Night chased after Day once more, leaving the viera little else to do but go inside her home and take a bath before bed.  

It was a nice bath, crafted in the Eastern style by Gage Acquisition’s resident home designer. Heated stones, scented soap, candles that never lost their wax – all things that should have made for a calm, relaxing soak. Tonight, it seemed, had room only for lost and fanciful things.  

#ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #mintiwol #minti chocolate #self writings #suzaku

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

When the Longing Returns (Phantom of the Opera 2004 Fanfiction) || Erik x Christine

Ch. 2 Author's Notes

Read the Fic here on tumblr or read a spicier version on AO3

◇ I specifically refer to the carriage here as a barouche, because I was tired of using the word carriage. I couldn't call it a coach because a coach is fully enclosed so I went and did my research and it's definitely a barouche. Which is to say a four-wheeled horse-drawn carriage with a collapsible roof. They may have one or two rows of seating. The one used in the movie has only one.

Fun fact, a barouche is specifically mentioned in Leroux's novel, though it's not the carriage that Erik actually takes Christine out in, which is a Brougham.

◇ Let's talk about Gerik and the gloves. Has anyone else noticed the fact that movie!Erik has gloves and stage!Erik does not? So the whole first part of the First Lair he's touching her sexily WITH LEATHER GLOVES, and not actually making any skin contact. Of course there are the BDSM tones there, but more importantly this could be read as him keeping a barrier between them, either out of fear or respect for her or both?

The skin on skin occurring for the first time in the graveyard when he holds her hand to give her his ring is pretty significant, but it was overshadowed by the even more significant fact that he's just put his ring on her finger. So a bare-hand face touch registers even more for the both of them because he's touched her face before, but only with gloves on.

My Reylo bitches out there will understand my love of a gloves-on-gloves-off runner, I'm sure. Once again, Joel Schumacher and Alexandra Byrne doing me a solid.

◇ I did say we'd be getting more of the ring, and you know what there's even more details forthcoming. The ring is my favorite character, I guess.

It's very, very important to me (as I said in the notes for chapter 1) that this ring be one of his own rings. I really wanted it to be personal to him, something that is part of his every day attire. This way, when he gives it to Christine, while it does stand in the conventional role of the wedding ring in 19th century France as a visible claim of ownership (bride bought and paid for--it was not uncommon for only brides to have wedding rings, so there was no indication of mutual belonging, either), but also subverts and transcends it.

This ring is not one he bought and paid for solely to stake his claim on her, but something he owned already, something that is his own posession, and symbolizes not just that she belongs to him, but that he is entrusting to her and giving her possession of himself and everything that is his, both emotionally and in terms of his worldly goods. In a time when good men of society (like Raoul) for all intents and purposes legally owned their wives, this extra-legal promise of spiritual marriage being sealed by the man giving his property to the woman to keep for her own seems particularly impactful and very stirring to me. It also seems like exactly the type of thing Erik would do, since everything about him exists outside of convention and the rules of society.

This all likely stems from my obsession with old fashioned Anglican wedding vows--which were ironic because in England, too, men legally absorbed all their wives' possessions and were capable of cutting off the wife's access to her own money if he chose to, but read:

"With this ring, I thee wed. This gold and silver I give to thee.

With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow."

And while I can slide that right into my Twilight OC fic where the OC in question was the daughter of an Anglican vicar, I can't do the same with my PotO fic, so I have to sneak in little homages wherever I can.

Also I just cannot get over the idea of Christine wearing what is obviously a man's ring as her wedding band. Every time she looks at it she's going to think first and foremost, not "Ooo, sparkly" but "Mm...dark sexy man..."

◇ "Christine hid the surge of indignation she felt at his use of the epithet, fighting to keep it from breaking into her face, but she couldn't prevent her grip from tightening, harder than she even thought possible of herself."

This is very reminiscent of the moment in the novel when Christine, in a moment of confrontation with Raoul, grips his arm with a strength "no one could have suspected in a creature so frail". This is demonstrative of the power and independence Erik has instilled in Christine by awakening her sexuality and maturity. Interestingly though, I did not write this as an homage to that moment, because I hadn't even read the book yet.

◇ I don't know about you guys, but I love historical fashion. So when I'm reading historical romances written in the modern day, it really gets up my nose when clothing descriptions are fumbled with or glossed over using terminology that sorta sounds old-timey. You might think you're being vague enough to get away with it, but not with me you're not.

   It really takes me out of the mood in historically set smut when it talks about the man just undoing the buttons on her dress and she's not wearing anything underneath. No corset, no stays--no chemise. Hate that shit. Unsexy. (Glares at Julia Quinn)

And on the off chance that she is wearing some foundation garments, they're usually handled all wrong.

So I'm gonna take a self-congratulatory moment to talk about the little clothing things here that I did to make sure we're feeling fully authentic.

Christine undresses in the dormitory and she's described as "loosening" her corset laces, not "unlacing" her corset because corsets of this period didn't need to be fully unlaced to get them off. Really, few corsets after the romantic era did.

Emmy Rossum's corset in the movie is *fine*, as Hollywood corsets go,

but if you want a good idea of what a real, functional corset from the early 1870's would look like this is it.

Note how the shape is slightly different.

Also worth noting is the fact that i have Christine crawling into bed in her chemise after undressing. The chemise, for anyone who doesn't know, is the basic undergarment throughout basically the whole of modern history, from the medieval period right up to the edwardians. They were a bit like a slip and were essential for keeping your nasty sweat and body oils OFF your good outer clothes and also your first line of defense against corset chafing. Madame Giry is seen in an excellent example of period correct corset and chemise. (And the corset even looks like it kind of fits her) They also doubled as your nightgown unless you were rich. Christine obviously has a proper nightgown, but I figured that she would probably not bother to put that back on for a morning snooze.

Now as an aside, the movie (which is my primary basis for this fic, though I'm bending some things and taking some liberties) begins in 1870. Christine's silhouettes are straight up mid- 1860's. About 1865, if we wanna get specific. Her gala dress is DIRECTLY inspired by this portrait of Empress Elisabeth "Sissi" of Austria, which was painted in 1865. So that's a problem in Canon.

◇ Writing this chapter from Erik's POV for the first time was basically me with the Big Book of Insults for Young Men open beside me and it was so much fun. I loved letting him revel in Christine playing Raoul like

And frankly that was me as well, and I hope all of you.

#when the longing returns #poto fanfiction #authors note #erik x christine #the phantom of the opera #poto 2004

[chimerickat]

Hey, do you have/do any platonic writing for Reader and Kaiba? I’m aro ace so I’m not into romance. (And frankly, Kaiba seems aggressively aro ace to me, but I understand that there are tons of girls with crushes who desperately want that to not be true, so obviously there’s a much larger market for romantic stuff.) But SOMEHOW, over the last year, I’ve developed such a squish (platonic crush) on this disaster of a man.

I just want to be friends. I want to help him make virtual reality games, and slowly grow to be friends because we have shared interests, mutually feel protective of Mokuba, and are both needlessly theatrical. Kaiba would show me the cool stuff he’s working on, and I would be suitably impressed and give good feedback like a sensible person, but also, when Kaiba tells me things like he wants to launch Duel Monsters cards into space so if there are aliens they’ll learn how to play his favorite game, I’m like, “That is ridiculous, but I love ridiculous things because I too am ridiculous. Also, that is a dope idea and you should do it immediately.”

I don’t want to fix him, I just want to largely ignore his past and have adventures and become someone he trusts. And we’ll have a great time helping each other out and problem solving for twenty years or so—at which point the Ener-D Reactor will blow up and ruin everything. I don’t know what you headcanon as happening to Kaiba at that point. Personally, I imagine he ends up being the public scapegoat for all the destruction, is bared from using his technological know-how to help the newly formed Satellite, and is found guilty in a kangaroo court. I can’t bring myself to accept that he would probably be executed, so I say he’s sentenced to live in Satellite for the rest of his days, separated from Mokuba and having lost most of his worldly possessions. (Maybe he owns a house in the area that became Satellite, and he gets to keep it and his cards?) And uh, realistically, that event will be my own downfall as well, because everyone knows I’m his friend, and heck, my name is probably in the documentation for the first Ener-D Reactor somewhere. But let’s be real, I knew from the beginning it was dangerous to befriend Seto Kaiba, and I did it anyway. 🤷‍♀️

Hi! *Waves* Thanks for reaching out! :) I can see an aro-ace reading of Kaiba. (Overall I try to be supportive of headcanons for Kaiba but an aro-ace reading is one that I can vibe with.)

First, I’m going to recommend a fic by someone else because I think it’s more what you’re looking for and I am reading and enjoying.

Acquaintances by JoeyTaylor is a reader insert focused on Kaiba and Mokuba that doesn’t have any romance at all.

Now as to me personally…

How to Trick a Sick CEO is a very short one shot that can be read as the reader being an overly meddlesome best friend. The idea was romantic partner but there’s nothing in the actual text that states that.

Maybe Someday has a reader who is Not Interested in Kaiba romantically. However Kaiba is interested in her so you might not vibe with that.

Here’s a link to all of my Kaiba centric work without any romance at all. It’s not Reader insert stuff though:

I also have some recs by other people if Kaiba centric is stuff you enjoy.

If you like my writing, I’m definitely open to writing a reader insert for Kaiba where the relationship is best friends. :)

ALSO, if you’re open to fics where the romance is Not the plot but rather a background that you can ignore, I would like to try to sell you on A Handful Of Bullet Shells. We are 50k into the story and you have to squint real hard for any romance. It’s more about the relationship developing between Kaiba and the reader ( who is working on one of his games). Right now they’ve gotten to a point where they’re friendly (and I don’t mean wink wink friendly). Eventually there will be romance but it’s not going to be the focus. (Disclaimer: I try to sell this fic because I think it’s my best work when it comes to Kaiba’s characterization but I also feel the lack of romance due to that makes it less popular.)

Also, Virtual Remains is a thriller and based on my current plans you can skip the last chapter because that’s the only place any hint of romance will show its face. (I’m not even there yet. I just don’t see any romance featuring in this until like the very very end and even skipped the romance tag because of it.)

Posting this publicly because my followers may have other platonic Kaiba recs?

[littlewomenpodcast]

Jo actually says "You can't sit with us"

hahaha Jo actually said so

“If she goes I shan’t, and if I don’t, Laurie won’t like it, and it will be very rude, after he invited only us, to go and drag in Amy. I should think she’d hate to poke herself where she isn’t wanted,” said Jo crossly, for she disliked the trouble of overseeing a fidgety child when she wanted to enjoy herself.

Her tone and manner angered Amy, who began to put her boots on, saying, in her most aggravating way, “I shall go. Meg says I may, and if I pay for myself, Laurie hasn’t anything to do with it.”

“You can’t sit with us, for our seats are reserved, and you mustn’t sit alone, so Laurie will give you his place, and that will spoil our pleasure. Or he’ll get another seat for you, and that isn’t proper when you weren’t asked. You shan’t stir a step, so you may just stay where you are,” scolded Jo, crosser than ever, having just pricked her finger in her hurry.

Little Women / Jo meets Apollyon

@gwynbleidd1269 @the-other-art-blog @thatscarletflycatcher

@princessarisa

...............

I thought that was kinda funny.

But Jo and Amy never argue over Laurie in a romantic sense

and this is 10 years later as we can see Jo does not envy Amy for marrying Laurie, Jo envies Amy and Laurie because they are in love and happy together and when Jo reads the letters she got from Fritz she is missing him and even says to Marmee, she wants to try all kinds of love.

“It is so beautiful to be loved as Laurie loves me. He isn’t sentimental, doesn’t say much about it, but I see and feel it in all he says and does, and it makes me so happy and so humble that I don’t seem to be the same girl I was. I never knew how good and generous and tender he was till now, for he lets me read his heart, and I find it full of noble impulses and hopes and purposes, and am so proud to know it’s mine. He says he feels as if he ‘could make a prosperous voyage now with me aboard as mate, and lots of love for ballast’. I pray he may, and try to be all he believes me, for I love my gallant captain with all my heart and soul and might, and never will desert him, while God lets us be together. Oh, Mother, I never knew how much like heaven this world could be, when two people love and live for one another!”

“And that’s our cool, reserved, and worldly Amy! Truly, love does work miracles. How very, very happy they must be!” and Jo laid the rustling sheets together with a careful hand, as one might shut the covers of a lovely romance, which holds the reader fast till the end comes, and he finds himself alone in the workaday world again.

By-and-by Jo roamed away upstairs, for it was rainy, and she could not walk. A restless spirit possessed her, and the old feeling came again, not bitter as it once was, but a sorrowfully patient wonder why one sister should have all she asked, the other nothing.

Little Women / All alone

.....

this is 100 % the same as in LMA's diary marking she wrote after her sister May got married, Louisa wrote how she envied May's and her husband's happiness.

#little women #little women podcast #jo march #amy march #laurie lawrence #friedrich bhaer #may alcott #louisa may alcott #Youtube