#I'm proper northern me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

abouttofillhisshoes · 22 days

Text

We started losing light - M.H x Reader // pt.2

A/N: TW for vomit, please take care of yourselves! I wrote most of this in one go, i'm sorry if there are any spelling/wording mistakes. It gets angsty, lots of yelling bla bla. Adams a cunt in this one. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading once again❤️

wc: 7k

part three

The smell of fresh cut grass permeated the air. You were walking down the beaten pavement path, moss covering most of it, making it quite slippery. For the first time in a long time, you were completely sober.

It had been well over two weeks since the kiss, not having addressed it. There was no need to, since it clearly meant nothing to both of you. It was early march, and you had expected the rain to lay off for a bit. The weather forecast that morning laughed in your face, predicting another week of straight rain. Had that made you think, even for a second ‘hey, maybe it’d be a good idea to bring a coat?’ Of course not.

“What do you think of Hann’s new girl?” Mattys voice broke your train of thought. “She's fit, isn't she? Maybe even too fit for the old man,” he lets out a disgusting cough, and you tell him that maybe it's a sign he should quit smoking.

“Don't be a dickhead, Adams plenty attractive,” you answer, nudging him with your elbow. Matty scoffs as a way to say: Hann? Attractive? Our mate, Adam Hann? You nod, not letting Adam be the butt of yet another one of Mattys deprecating jokes.

“Olivia’s nice, even if she was a total cunt to George,” His eyes lit up at your statement, nodding erratically. “Right?? What was even her problem with him? She was fine with the rest of us, even you, given that you're a girl. Something about him must’ve fucked her off or something.” It's true, she was a total sweetheart to you, even asking where your lipgloss was from.

She was a sight for sore eyes, bleach blonde, waist length hair draping over her shoulders. Blue eyes like the ocean, even if you get lost in them. Ross was convinced she was some sort of call girl, until Adam had shown him the text threads from the dating site they had met on.

You offer him a shrug. The night's events played out in your mind. You had all met at a bar near Adam and Ross’ flat. From the start, she was facing away from George, avoiding looking at him like it was going to kill her if she did. George tried to talk to her, even complimented her shoes (the shoes were ugly), but to no avail. She just wouldn't acknowledge him. He eventually gave up, nursing his drink while making conversation with a very confused Ross.

You continued walking arm in arm, ‘Old Yellow Bricks’ by the Arctic Monkeys blaring through your headphones. It was a miracle neither of you had extensive hearing loss.

All was well, until you felt the first rain drops hit your bare shoulders. You turn to Matty to complain, but you see a sly smile already on his face.

“I hate to tell you ‘told you so’ but-,” You didn't let him finish.

“Please don't do this to me, I'm having a moment of weakness!” you shiver dramatically. The wind wasn't helping your little predicament. You had a tank top on, not very ideal for the harsh British rain that was about to come pouring down.

“Now, be a gentleman and give me your coat.” Matty shakes his head, tugging the coat over himself. You scoff at him.

“You can steal my weed and talk about ‘girls don't roll their own spliffs’ but you wont give me your coat?? Fucking tosser, you are.” You mime his thick northern accent, your fingers forming quotation marks in the air.

“Oh fuck right off! Y’know Hann’s the only one who does that-'' you narrow your eyes at him, cocking your head to the left, “Fine, I said it once. And besides, I'm cold too!”

You pout at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He pretends to think about it, but inevitably shakes his head once again. ‘Fuck you’ you think.

It's not until the rain starts proper pouring down on the two of you that Matty makes you an offer.

“Share the coat? You've officially lost the plot, mate.” You laugh in his face. How would you even fit?? Then again, the coat was insanely big, sized up at least two or three sizes. You could theoretically squeeze into it. Matty and his ‘fashion’ choices.

Deciding to try, Matty takes his right arm out of the coat, letting you into it. It was a tight fit, and it didn't close, but it worked. Your left arm rested on Mattys waist, and his right one rested on yours. He gave your side a light squeeze, laughing at you when you jump.

You felt a familiar warmth at the contact. ‘Stop it’ you thought to yourself. Your attention was quickly pulled to the car driving past. In the pouring rain, a yellow taxi cab had hit a puddle next to the edge of the pavement, dousing you in muddy rainwater.

Matty cursed the car out, letting out a terrifying shriek. Jesus.

He tried to brush as much of the water off as he could, but it was no use.

Watching him struggle made you crack a smile. It was endearing almost, seeing him curse at literal water.

The walk back to Mattys place was rudely interrupted by him booking it down the street halfway home, ripping you out of the confines of the jacket. The rain had let up, so you chased after him. Your boots splashed against the water on the ground, the wind blowing against you. Matty almost tripped on a rogue piece of pavement, making him fall back.

His feeble attempts at getting his keys into the lock before you got to him proved useless. You were fast.

Your head hurts from the running, so you let his bolting away from you slide, as long as he made you a cuppa as an apology. He was mental about his tea, having an entire cupboard dedicated to organizing and storing it.

“You should be on an episode of my strange addiction,” you comment.

Matty made tea like it was his profession, perfectly measuring the water-to-teabag ratio to a T (pun intended). You loved sugar, and you watched him put 3 cubes into yours. He took his with a splash of milk, gross.

The warm liquid soothes the sore throat you knew you’d have tomorrow. Your nose was already clogging up from all the time spent in the rain, trying to get home as soon as possible

“So, am I forgiven?” Matty looks at you from over the top of his red foo fighters mug. Only he would have a red foo fighters mug. You smile and nod at him as he reaches for the remote.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to fucking god Rome, if you fuck this up, I will rip your balls off and have that be my jewelry.” You say through gritted teeth.

You were currently draped across your mate Rome’s sofa. That same Rome who did your crooked aladdin sane tattoo, was now apparently a professional body piercer. But hey, who could turn down a free piercing? Spoiler alert: you probably should have.

The needle tickled your belly button, and you could feel your heart racketing in your chest. And not in a good way. ‘Matty was the good way.’

What the fuck? You pushed the thought away quickly.

You had plenty of piercings in your ears, 5 or so on each side, but this was your first body piercing. I was also your first one done by Rome, tattoo expert and piercer extraordinaire, allegedly.

Matty was sat on the glass coffee table across from the leather sofa, eyeing the needle even more intensely than you were.

A cold disinfectant wipe touched your stomach, making you shudder. Rome said it wouldn't hurt much, but you didn't trust a word that came out of his mouth. He had also told you the tattoo on your hip bone wouldn't hurt a lot, and that was a blatant lie. It was a piercing pain in your hip for about 4 hours straight, so not exactly pain free.

“Just breathe, it’ll be over in a second.” you hear Rome's voice, slightly distorted. The needle pierces your skin. It feels hot, and you can feel your hand squeezing Mattys. The jewelry slipping in causes another flash of hot pain to sear through you. Now it's Mattys voice whispering comforting words into your ear. His presence helps, acting as a sort of psychological painkiller.

Examining your new accessory in the mirror, you let out a content sigh. The green gemstone glimmers in the light, complimenting the red and green of your tattoo. The light of the bathroom blinded you, and you make a mental to let Rome know his lightbulb was brighter than the fucking sun.

Matty was waiting for you in the living room, flicking through channels on the telly. He nods when his eyes meet yours, signaling it was time to go.

The two of you had made it a habit to walk everywhere, neither having enough money to pay for bus or train tickets. The walks had become a constant, the feeling of Mattys coat brushing up against your shoulder was routine.

Sharing headphones once again, today's track was AC/DC’s ‘Back In Black’. Matty wasn't a big fan of AC/DC but that didn't matter, he still let you put it on, even though it had been his turn.

That's something you’d noticed. He wasn't as prissy about the music anymore, simply humming in response to your music choice, even if it was the worst pop trash he had ever heard. Something felt off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. It didn't matter much at the time, it just meant you had more opportunity to listen to whatever you pleased.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Sound was a pub of sorts. Exactly the type of pub you would find someone like Matty in.

Extravagant, loud, and full of life and most importantly, booze. The neon signs all littering the concrete wall gave you a headache.

He had brought everyone here, including Hann’s girlfriend, for a round of drinks.

The queue up until the door had been well stressful, seeing as both you and George were underage. Most pubs let you in without a hitch, but this one was new.

Thankfully, the bouncer didn't even look twice at the both of you, simply waving you through. He did press hand to Adam's chest, and asked him of all people for his I.D. You tried not to giggle as Hann desperately searched his pockets for his wallet. Olivia stood next to him, looking unimpressed.

Matty was already inside, ordering everyone drinks. He might fail his GCSEs, but for some reason, he had everyone's drink order down by heart. Even Olivias. You wonder where he had gotten that information from.

The bass of the music thrummed through your veins, the disco-esque lights flashing all around you. It was full, the poor bartenders overwhelmed with about sixteen people at once shouting their various drink orders at them. You took a sip of your drink, and made your way to the semi-crowded dance floor. Spotting Adam snogging his girl in the corner, you roll your eyes at the sight.

George and Ross were off to the side, doing shots with a bridal party of all people. The maid of honor was throwing herself at Ross, and he attempted to fend her off, going on about ‘the missus waiting for him at home’. That sure didn't stop her.

But you couldn't, for the life of you, find Matty. You hated this about him. He just disappeared and it took ages to find him again, and it didn't help that everyone else was either snogging their girlfriend or getting hammered with an entire wedding. Your eyes scan the crowd, and you finally see him.

Him and a girl.

His hair was up in a half up half down sort of style, blonde strands framing his face perfectly. His eyes were lined with blue liner, complimenting the blue nail polish on his fingers. The fingers on the hands that were touching some random girl's arm. A pretty girl's arm.

She was everything in vogue. Absolutely gorgeous black hair fell over her shoulder, framing her face perfectly. A red dress clung to her body, her legs looking a mile long. She was the beauty standard.

You felt jealousy bubble up inside of you, stopping yourself before you could properly feel it.

‘It's Matty’ you thought to yourself ‘he does this all the time, get your shit together’ A deep breath managed to steady you. It wasn't long before he saw you through the crowd of people, a smile spreading into his face when he did. He said something to the girl. The look on his face seemed apologetic. She nodded in understanding, flashing him a smile as he turned around to make his way to you. Did he reject her?

“All this neon is doing my head in,” you gesture at your surroundings, ”can we go outside for a bit?” Matty agrees, commenting on the volume of the music. For some reason, you can't find Adam, and you assume he's off shagging his girlfriend in a bathroom stall somewhere.

The warm air hits you as you step out the back entrance, Matty following close behind. You wedge your wallet in between the door to keep it from locking you out. A lesson learned the hard way. The brick of the wall dug into your back, you wince at the roughness of it.

You pulled out your cigarettes, feeling around for your lighter. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, but Matty was already way ahead of you. He held his lighter up to the cig between your lips. You notice two things. One, his hands are shaking, and two, it's the lighter. That same lighter he had on his the day you met.

Why were his hands shaking? Why did he still have it? Was it even the same one? You check the side of it and sure enough, it had his initials scrawled on it in white ink. You're snapped out of your thoughts when the nicotine hits your system. It calms down your thinking, and you forget about it. It feels like you're forgetting a lot these days.

“Why did you reject her? She was really pretty.” you ask, your eyes not meeting his, instead focusing on the glowing billboard in the distance. Matty frowned at you.

“Yeah, she was, but you know id rather not fuck someone i dont know.” he takes a deep drag of his cigarette. “You know I'm not really like that.”

Matty was a performer, he performed in every aspect in his life. So did you, in a way. With fake displays of confidence and that fucking kiss, you put on a sort of show. So did Matty, honing a distinct air of nonchalance, acting unbothered by everything and everyone.

Those performances were let down when you were around each other. You got to see a side of Matty no one else really saw, not even George, who he had known since he was about 14. He was vulnerable with you, soft even. In turn, he saw your insecurities. Insecurities that ran deep through your bones. Insecurities that were the very essence of your being.

You smoke the rest of your cigarette in silence, leaning against the wall. A gust of wind made you shiver, goosebumps forming on your skin.

The heel of your boot stubs out the butt of your cigarette, and you turn to go back inside. Mattys hand on your arm stopped you, and you felt your breath hitch at the contact.

“Ross just messaged me,” he read the text out loud, the faint blue light illuminating his face. “Adams gone back home to shag Olivia. He said to fuck off until at least 2, and to leave him alone.”

You stare at him for a second before you answer, fuming at Adam for leaving you stranded like that. “Where are we meant to go then? Fucking tosser, leaving us like that” Matty just shrugs, and starts walking around the building to the main entrance. You follow him.

Ross and George are at the front, and George has a tiara on his head. Matty immediately questions his choice of headwear, but he just brushes him off, saying it was a gift from the bride. Her name was Ashley, apparently. Not that it mattered, how the fuck were you gonna get home?

All your questions were answered when George spoke: “We could go to mine? I have a pretty big shed in my garden,” Matty makes a face at the thought of sleeping in someone's garden shed, but then again, it was better than being homeless for the next eight or so hours.

“We could all crash there, it even has a mattress in it.”

The four of you decide to walk the 45 minutes to Georges house, seeing as there werent any busses going in that direction at 11 o’clock at fucking night. Fuck Adam.

George fumbled with the key to the shed for a solid minute before finally getting it open, revealing the interior.

It was littered with boxes stacked on top of various pieces of furniture. You spot an old mattress tucked up against the wall. It looks dirty, and you wonder if sleeping on the floor might prove more hygienic than laying your face on that.

You get to work, moving boxes out of the way to reveal a red leather couch, dusty and grimy from years of storage, and a giant green sofa chair. You lugged your bag onto the chair, calling dibs. Ross groaned, sitting down on the mattress on the floor. It at least came with a blanket (if you could call a duvet without a sheet a blanket).

Matty had gone with the sofa, and was now brushing as much dust off as he could, trying to get it somewhat clean. Neither one of you had any clothes to sleep in, so you opted for just sleeping in your current clothes. You hadn’t thought to bring makeup wipes, so you knew you’d be dealing with a gnarly breakout in the morning. That didn't matter to you at this point, you just wanted to pass out on the chair. You put your hair up in a ponytail, sighing as you look for a surface to put your cellphone on. Matty was stood behind you, shuffling around the sofa, trying to find a place for his giant coat.

Everyone was getting ready to conk out, and George had already gone back to his house. He, of course, had a warm and comfortable bed waiting for him inside a heated house.

You watched Matty as he took his shirt off, your eyes lingering for a beat longer than what was considered ‘platonic’. He had a tattoo that mirrored yours on his left hip bone. “We are kings” it read. You’d laughed at him when he showed it to you, deeming it awfully cheesy, a rose being the backdrop for the words. But nevertheless, he ignored your words. As long as he liked it, you told him.

He had various other small, mostly meaningless tattoos littering his skin. He had let Rome practice a lot on his legs, which proved to be a mistake, given those god-awful tattoos were now going to be stuck on his body forever. It didn't seem to bother him though. He was seemingly happy just helping a friend, even if he did now have a hideous cross tattoo on his left calf.

You had only one tattoo, the Aladdin Sane one, but you were planning on getting more the moment you could afford to not have to go to Rome for it.

‘never again’ you thought.

Matty had settled onto the sofa, and was now reading one of the many books that were stacked in piles in the corners of the shed. He had picked up Joan Didions ‘Slouching toward Bethlehem", scanning the pages intently.

You don't know at what point you fell asleep, but you were woken up by a loud crashing noise. You shoot up, greeted by a stabbing pain in your upper back and shoulder. Fuckkkkk.

The chair had made you fall asleep in a god-awful position, your neck hanging off the edge of it. The source of the noise was, of course, Matty knocking over the once source of light: A metal lamp that was conveniently placed right in the middle of the tiny shed.

He cursed at the lamp, and then at George for deciding to put it there. George couldn’t hear him, since he was comfortably sleeping in his own bed inside of the house. Fuck. him.

Matty looks at you, apologizing for waking you up. Ross was nowhere to be seen, and you assume he’d already left.

Your hand reaches for your back, trying to soothe the pain by rubbing it. It didn't help, and you lay back in defeat.

“What's got you so prissy this morning?” Matty asks, cocking an eyebrow. You shoot him a glare, not in the mood for his comments.

“It’s all Adam's fault! If he hadnt acted like a fucking dickhead and left us stranded just to shag Olivia, I would’ve fallen asleep in my own bed, and not some dusty chair in a shed! A fucking shed!”You were frustrated to say the least, your hands moving erratically around you, showcasing said frustration. “My back is killing me, I cant move, and Ross has fucked off god knows where.” You feel tears well up in your eyes, too embarrassed to look at Matty.

You were tired and in pain. All because Hann couldn't keep his dick in his pants. You mentally flip him off.

“I could give you a massage, if you want,” Matty offered, seeing how the whole night had affected you. “And you're right, Hann’s a total cunt for doing that.” He added, making you break out into a smile at his words. He had that effect on you. You calmed down

He motioned for you to sit down on the floor in front of the leather sofa, and you did. You took off your shirt, feeling a sudden pang of insecurity run through you. You had been half naked in front of Matty loads of times, so why was this different?

The sudden pressure of Mattys rough hands on your shoulder blade made you groan, relieving some of the tightness in your back.

“Thanks mate, you're a legend.” Matty chuckles at your words, humming in response. He goes on for about 10 minutes, All is going great, and your back feels better. That is, until Ross comes rushing through the door. He freezes when he sees you in your bra, shielding his eyes and spinning around to face the door.

“Fuckin hell, why are you naked? And why are Mattys hands on you?” Ross borderline shouts, his voice seeming panicked.

“Jesus Ross, stop acting like I'm the first half naked girl you've seen in your life,” you start, Mattys laugh interrupting you. “You can turn around, Matty’s just giving me a massage.”

He does turn around, avoiding looking at you. You roll your eyes. Unbelievable.

He grabs his jacket, and leaves as quickly as he came. Matty taps your shoulder, signaling you to get up. You put your shirt back on, and grab your bag from the pile of boxes. Your back still aches, but the massage did help. You tell him as much.

“It's no thing, all good,” He mutters, closing the door of the shed behind him. You now have to figure out how to get ‘round the side of the house without George’s parents seeing you. How would he explain that? “Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, three people slept in the shed last night. Tea?”

Nevertheless, you manage to get out unnoticed, setting off home. The walk was incredibly long, stopping at a wetherspoons along the way to have a piss. It took some bickering with the barista to let you use the bathroom even though you weren't customers. It ended with Matty giving her his number, promising to take her out as a thank you. That same jealousy bubbled up inside of you as he handed her the piece of paper with a wink.

It didn't matter, you decided. It was fluke, you were just tired and angry at Adam for being a massive fucking cunt and leaving you. You swore you’d kill him when you saw him next.

By the time you made it home, it was almost 8:30. Hoping and praying your mother hadn't woken up yet, you slid the window open. Nothing. She was asleep.

Matty helped you up, grabbing you by the sides. His hands lingered for a second too long, squeezing the flesh of your hips. You swore you could see a faint blush spread across his face. No. You were imagining it. He was just red from lifting you. Definitely.

He held out his arms, enveloping you in a warm hug goodbye. You felt like crying. You really didn't want him to leave. The hug lasted what seemed like forever, your hands stroking his back. He somehow sensed this, and held you even tighter.

“I'll pick you up at half ten, alright? Just us.” you liked the sound of that, nodding your head in agreement. “No Adam or Ross to fuck us off, we’ll get hammered and walk around. That sound good?” You nod again, brushing some of his hair out of his face.

This is the first time in a while you'd gotten to properly look at him. You observed his features. Eye bags caressed the skin under his eyes, making him look tired. He was still beautiful, his pale skin glowing in the light of the morning. Brown eyes glazed over and full of sleep pierced yours. You felt like he was looking into your soul. He saw you.

He pulled away, your hand lingering on his arm before returning to your side. He turned around to leave, and every fiber of you wanted to shout after him to stay. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Defeated, you turned around and hopped off the window sill and into your bedroom.

Your bed was calling your name, and you flopped onto it, not bothering to change. You desperately needed a shower, but your body would not move. Sleep took over your body as you settled into the cold sheets of your bed.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in your life, Matty was drunker than you were. Stumbling down the road, cursing at cars driving past for no apparent reason. The half a bottle of vodka already in his system was being washed down by a bottle of red wine, currently sloshing onto his shirt. You weren't completely sober either, but you’re pretty sure you’d never seen Matty this wrecked. Ever.

“I need a piss,” Matty announces, searching your surroundings for the nearest gas station. You weren't quite certain where you were, the darkness of the cloudy night obstructed your view.

You were walking on the side of some highway or other, seeing as there was barely a sliver of pavement to keep you from getting hit by a car. The honking finally made sense.

Matty spots a gas station in the distance, and takes off running down the street in its direction. A drunk Matty was definitely faster than a sober one, you take note, hauling ass after him.

By the time you’d made it inside, Matty was already throwing himself at a traumatized looking gas station attendant, basically climbing over the counter to get to her.

You grab him by the shirt, tugging him backwards. Apologizing profusely, you ask where the bathroom is. The blonde girl points timidly to the sign hanging above a hallway off to the side, labeled ‘Unisex Toilet’. You thank her, before realizing Matty had once again escaped your line of sight and was now yelling at the drink cooler.

“It's absolutely mad, the amount of drinks they offer! That can't be good for the environment!” He slurs his words, making meaningful eye contact with a can of cherry cola.

“Climate change is a real thing you know, don't let the people fool y-” you cut him off, apologizing to the now even more terrified worker, ushering him towards the loo.

“Fuckin hell, what did you do that for?? I was just inquiring on the importance of-” his expression changed drastically “fuckfuckfuck get out my way!” you knew that look. Matty was about to hurl all over you if you didnt move now.

He bolted to the nearest stall, dropping to his knees as the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed made its reappearance in the toilet bowl. Your hands moved to get his hair out of his face. You whisper small ‘oh god’s whilst stroking his hair, knowing throwing vodka up couldn't be pleasant. You weren't sober in the slightest, but you had to pull yourself together to help hi.

Matty had done this for you multiple times, holding your hair whilst talking you through it.

“Jesus Matty, you have got to pace yourself,” you say, your voice having a slightly serious tinge to it. He genuinely worried you.

“Oh fuck off mate, leave me alone.” he spat, the tone of this voice sending a chill down your spine. He had never, in your three years of friendship, spoken to you like that. You gripped his hair tighter, letting out an annoyed sigh, not knowing how to react. He was wasted, but he had been wasted before. Never like this.

“Are you deaf?? I said fuck off!” His words dripped with venom, his voice amplified in the confines of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in shock, letting go of his hair. It falls into his face, obscuring it.

The bathroom stills when he finally stops retching, having emptied the contents of his stomach fully. Time seemed to slow for both you and him, making the room spin.

Suddenly, you hear sobs coming from beneath you. Matty was crying. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckkkkk. What do you do? Comfort him? Leave him alone to cry it out? Definitely not.

You drop down to your knees, trying to get a look at his face. Vomit covered the edges of his mouth, spit dripping down into the toilet. Everything reeked of cheap vodka and cigarettes, but you blocked out the smell.

“Please dont look at me..” you hear, his voice shaking as he brings a hand up to wipe his mouth clean. It gets on his sleeve, but he doesn't seem to care. Your hand finds its way into his hair, massaging his scalp in that way he likes. A whimper leaves his mouth, catching you off guard. Another sob. Tears drip down his face, and he finally turns around to face you.

“Christ Matty, what's gone wrong with you?” you ask, your voice breathy, the alcohol making you hazy. He just shakes his head, bringing his knees up to his chest. His eyes are glued to the floor, too scared to look at you.

“Dont know whats wrong with me,” he starts, finally looking up. He doesn't look you in the eye, instead looking behind you. Past you. “Maybe I had too much to drink, I dunno.” You crack a smile. No shit he had too much to drink.

“Lay off the vodka for a bit, it makes you mad. You almost jumped the poor girl behind the counter.” you laugh, trying to lighten the mood a bit, still too drunk to be put down by Mattys crisis.

“I don't want to get up, I feel so heavy” he slurs, obviously still drunk. “Nah, you know we need to leave, or else they’ll kick us out for trespassing or something. We’ve been in here ‘bout an hour already.” You look at an imaginary watch on your wrist, making him giggle.

His eyes are half closed as he watches you get up from your spot next to him. You use the stall walls for balance, not wanting to come crashing down. Extending a hand to Matty, he pulls himself up with you. The both of you stumble outside of the stall, and you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Jesus, both of you look like you've been through hell.

Your makeup smeared down your face, your lipgloss long gone. Mattys hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction imaginable. There was vomit on his shirt and chin, trailing down his neck. You look at his reflection in disgust, and tell him as much.

He takes his coat off, along with his shirt. He runs his face under cold water, washing any vomit off of it. He stared at himself, his eyes empty. Your voice made him look at you.

“Let's not overdo it like this again, it proper sucked” you knew you sounded like you were joking, but you couldn't be more serious. “I'm still a bit drunk, and I think you are too. Food?”

He nods at you, and takes your bag out of your hands, stuffing his tshirt into it. Putting his coat back on, you can see the skin of his chest peek out from underneath it. You look away, taking the bag back from him. As you emerge out of the loo, you nod in the direction of the girl behind the counter. Matty announces he's run out of cigarettes, and goes to buy more. The girl hands him a pack of parliaments, and he slides a tenner over to her, telling her to keep the change.

The air outside is cool, colder than inside the bathroom. The smell of petrol fills your nostrils and you breathe. “Maccies?” He asks, pointing to the sign across the road. You smile, crossing the road together, desperately needing some grease in your system.

He places both your orders for you, taking the number and sitting down. Your food arrives, looking as good as mcdonalds at 1 in the morning can look. You take a bite out of your food, and reach for your shared fries. Mattys hand is already there, and your fingers brush against each other

You pull your hand back and it feels as if you've been shocked by something. Matty seems as unbothered as ever, munching away at his chicken burger (yes, chicken). You stare at him until he looks up at you, your eyes quickly redirecting to your own food. Everything feels weird. Breathing feels hard as your heart pounds in your chest

You're just drunk, stop it.

“What do you wanna do after?” He says, licking the grease off of his fingers. You can still see his chest, the pale skin a stark contrast to the dark, fluffy material of his coat. His hair was down, covering a large chunk of his face, he desperately needed to cut it. You tell him.

“Cut it for me then, as a payment for me coloring yours,” You agree, smiling at the thought.

“I can't exactly go home, my house is too far away and i can't be arsed to pay for a taxi at this hour.” he adds to his previous statement, turning his pockets inside out, showing his lack of funds. Typical Matty, running out of money at the worst possible moment. You had used the last of your cash to pay for your food, leaving about 6 quid in your wallet.

“What about Carolines? That's not far from here.” you suggest, finishing off the last of the fries.

Matty sipped on his cola, calculating the distance, before agreeing and getting up to leave. You take your bag, following closely behind him. Hooking his arm in with yours, you walk along the highway together, flipping off the cars that honked at you. The clouds had cleared, showing the myriad of stars glowing in the sky. You stopped for a second, admiring their beauty before Matty pulled you along. He was never one for admiring nature, always a city boy at heart.

The walk was calm, with Matty walking at your pace, instead of you at his. He hummed the melody to some radiohead. This was the first walk together you had taken in silence. Your boots clicked against the pavement, the sound almost deafening.

Arriving at Carolines, the steps up to the terrace seemed longer than ever. The sofa was still there, though it had been moved, presumably by Ross, closer to the railing. The stars were clear as ever, illuminating Mattys face in a soft blue light. The city below was quiet, most of the lights in the buildings having been turned off.

You steal a glance at Mattys wristwatch. 2:53am. Was it already that late?

You catch him staring at you, his eyes lingering. You felt naked, exposed, despite being more covered up than he was. Mattys gaze didn't let up, so you decided to stare back. Your eyes lock, and you immediately sober up.

“D’you have any weed on you? I fancy a smoke,” he asked, his eyes flicking between yours and your bag. You did, in fact, have a pre rolled spliff in your makeup bag. By the time you’d taken it out, Matty had already taken his lighter out of his jeans pocket. That fucking lighter.

He hands it to you, and you cock your head at him.

“So you don't go begging for my coat again,” he grins, pressing the plastic into your hand. The way he articulated the word begging made you feel warm, flush almost. A blush spread on your cheeks, you could feel it. Matty either didn't notice, or just plain ignored it. Both options made you nervous.

You light the spliff, rotating it to get an even burn. Passing it to Matty, you let him take the first hit. He does, his expression immediately changing to a more relaxed one. ‘He looks fucked out’ you think, observing the way his eyes drooped half closed. His hair fell into his face as he laid down onto your lap, letting his head rest on your thighs.

You take a drag, ashing onto the floor. The ash dwindles on the floor for a second, before going out completely. The two of you take in the glow of the city, slightly obscured by the dark gray railing, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Do you ever feel lost?” The words slip out before you can stop them. Matty moves in your lap, turning so that he could look at you from below. His expression is unreadable. Neutral. It scares you.

“Sometimes, yeah..” his voice is soft, raspy from the smoke. He passes the spliff back to you before speaking further. “But isn't that part of it? The human experience? Feeling lost, I mean.” you can see him picking at his nails, the skin beginning to bleed. His neutral expression is replaced by something else. Worry? Anxiety?

Matty was prone to panic attacks. They didn’t happen often, but they happened. One particular time was in a club downtown. It was Saturday night, and the place was packed to the brim. His hand grabbed yours and the look in his eyes was nothing short of terrified. His breathing was irregular, and you knew he needed to get out, now.

That was one of the first times it happened, but it wasn't the last. You quickly learned how to deal with them. He, like you, never, ever wanted to talk about it immediately after the fact. You knew they happened when he felt trapped. In crowded spaces, in high stress situations. His hand would reach for yours as if it were the anchor to reality.

His hand reached for yours, the coldness of his making you jump slightly. Your heart was beating so fast I couldn't see straight. His eyes met yours, searching for something. Something.

What was that something? What did he want? He squeezed your fingers, playing with the rings on your index and ring. Twisting and turning and taking them off and putting them back on. The feeling made you dizzy.

You stayed like that, his head in your lap until the first signs of dawn hit your skin. The orange glow of the sun makes his eyes appear brighter, his hair looks lighter than it actually was. The blonde highlights were a good idea. This made him appear his age. You were just two kids

Kids on a terrace, watching the sun rise slowly over the city.

Not daring to move, you let yourself relax on the couch. You're tired, you haven't slept all night and you could feel the hangover start to spread its way through your body. You weren't completely present.

You convince yourself the faint “I love you,” you heard just before you drifted off the sleep was a trick of your mind.

What else could it be?

#oh god #i really like this one actually #drunk matty is my fav to write #well except the part where he yells at girlie #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #matty healy x you #matty the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction

80 notes · View notes

celaenaeiln · 7 months

Note

okay so spoiler but

dick beats the fuck out of bruce in batman 138 for drugging and hurting jason and i’m just like “damn you GO dick”

kinda reminds me of someone telling me that above all else, dick is a big brother

but what do you think about that?

OMG OMG OMG FR?!

DUDE I'M SO EXCITED TO READ IT!!!

Dick is chill with Batman on everything but the second someone hurts his family?

He'll tear the world apart.

Titans (2008) Issue #29

What matters to Dick the most in the world is his family. He goes absolutely ballistic when someone hurts them and that includes Bruce. And for all the crap Bruce said to Jason? HE DESERVES IT.

Dick is also fully capable of beating Bruce to bits because like Bruce said

Nighwing (2016)

"Your experiences since you went out on your own have made you more than qualified to be your own international strike force of one."

Actually I want to bring up something about the importance of family and the Roma culture.

For the Romani, there is nothing more important than family. In the medieval ages, they migrated from northern India to all across the lands to all over the world but primarily Europe where they were instantly popular. They were excellent metal-workers and basket makers and in a time when these were the most sought after commodities/talents ever, people were completely taken by them. However local guilds resented this type of competition, so they enforced economic punishments on them in order to monopolize customers.

This time period also experienced a lot of religious activities such as the protestant reformation so there was a lot of religious tension. Considering the Romani's fame and success in things like fortune-telling and how they were from another religion, the Church hated them and feared they would change the minds of "proper christians".

The church and guild worked together to push the Roma out of their society and threw vile stereotypes on them that still last to today. The Romani have been prosecuted for centuries.

Okay, why is this important?

It's partly because of these actions, even though the feeling already existed before, that the Roma culture stresses the importance and value of family. Because for them, it's the Roma vs the whole world. They started forming clusters after the persecution where all those who were Romani would be family. Found family.

Dick, being Roma, takes family extremely seriously. He cherishes them, loves them, and refuses to abandon them. He accepts all their mistakes and success because he loves them for who they are.

Dick is the legendary big brother everyone wants to have.

No matter what happens, he will always protect his family and the good. Even if the threat comes from inside.

So for as much as Dick adores Bruce and loves him with every fiber of his soul, he loves Jason just as much too and there's no way he's just going to let Bruce go for what he did to his baby brother. His baby.

Slay king.

Big Brother Dick's always got everyone's back.

#dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #cl anon asks #thanks for the ask!

169 notes · View notes

misguidedasgardian · 1 year

Text

The Winter Sun (6)

6. New Gods

MASTERLIST

Summary: Are you sure this is what you want?

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoif customs, arranged marriage , AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), talks about sex, might miss some warnings

Wordcount: 3.3k

Notes: I'm sorry for the delay! and I'm so happy you are liking this story! this is new territory for me

“We can have new dresses made for you”, Sara muttered happily as she gave you some of the dresses she didn’t wear anymore, luckily, you had similar physiques.

“I wouldn’t want you to spend unnecessarily for me”, you said, embarrassed, “besides, I have plenty of winter clothing, specially for riding my dragon, it will get here… eventually”

“In two months!”, she fought

“Right…”, you sad, a little embarrassed

“Let’s say… we made them, do you know how to sow?”, you nodded, “great, we will make our own dresses, I bet you know what the ladies in King’s landing are wearing this season”, she winked at you and you giggled.

It was nice having Sara, she was like the sister you never had. This morning she had come to you and you spend most of the morning dressing, fixing your dresses and now, you were starting doing your hair. She had offered to do yours and you offered to do hers

“I don’t know how to do your hair in a targaryen way”, she whispered, as she brushed your silvery strands, “those braids you were wearing when you got here, they were beautiful…”

“How do you fix your hair in the north?”, you asked, with a shine in your eyes. Sara smiled at you

“Like this…”, she made two small braids, and tie them together at the back of your hair, to put order to you hair, but still she left it free, it was simple, yet… meaningful

“Thank you Sara”, you in turn, arranged her hair with thick braids, as a Targaryen would wear, the same day you arrived. You did not know how to braid your own hair but you did know how to braid another’s.

“You look like a northerner”, Sara said happily, looking at you through the mirror, “well, almost, except for the hair”, she giggle and you did as well, you were wearing a gray dress, the color of House Stark, your jewelry, though, necklace, and rings, were all with the Targaryen heraldry, and your silver hair… It was very signature.

All the cold colors made you look almost ethereal, different from what you used to wear though, different… not precisely bad.

You hoped Cregan would like it.

Sara took your hand and led you through the Winterfell’s passages and hallways, down one floor and to the first one, and you walked to the main hall, which served as a meeting room, former throne room, and dining hall.

You heard Cregan speaking inside the room, he seemed angry, and commanding.

“If she does, the ceremony won’t be big, all the lords and ladies, the most important ones, are here. Let's do it in three days' time, with a small banquet after, we are in autumn, we can’t splurge this far into winter… besides… we don’t even know if she is sure to continue with this engagement”, and then you entered, and all those present, the maester, the master at arms, all those who worked in Winterfell, Lords and Ladies of other houses, all turned to look at you. Dressed in Stark gray, your hair arranged like a proper lady of the North.

Cregan stark looked at you wide eyed

“I see her pretty determined”, muttered the Lady Bolton, and Cregan seemed to come out of his estupor

“Your Grace… you look… fine”, he finished, and even though if it was a strange compliment, you felt nervous all the same, playing with the rings on your fingers

“Thank you my lord”

“We were discussing the ceremony”, he said, “it should be held in the next few days, although, if you want to invite people from kings landing they will take time to arrive…”

“I don’t think they will want to make the journey”, you answered sadly, “we should do as you please”, you said with a shy smile

“Maybe it’s not what you’d expect, but the celebration won’t be as great as a princess’ should be”, he said in a warning tone.

“You are right, my lord, we are too close to winter, only a few guests and one dinner should be enough to celebrate our union”, you said and he seemed genuinely surprised. But then he only nodded

“very well”

“I would like to send ravens to notify members of my family, but that is enough, one to king’s landing, one to Dragonstone and the other to Driftmark”, you said confidently

“I’ll see to it, my lady”. Said the old maester with a shy smile, you nodded and thanked him.

If he didn't want to marry you, he would have said something, right?

He was not the same man you remembered from five years ago, it was true, you didn’t expect him to be, but… he was cold… he was rough, he… looked at you like this weakling, like this rachitic pup that would not last the week

But if he didn’t want to marry you, he would have said so, right?

With that thought, they let you use the library to write your messages.

They were three of them, all three the same.

“I, princess (Y/N) of houses Targaryen and Stokeworth, will wed Lord Cregan of House Stark at the end of the week, as it pleases King Viserys, the ceremony will take place in The God’s wood, under the traditions of the Old Gods in Winterfell”, it was brief and communicative

You sealed them with your personal seal, and gave them to the maester, a nice old man with kind eyes. Maester Celwyn, was his name

All three ravens flied south, two of them flew slightly East. They took three days to arrive at their destination, at almost the same time.

The one in Dragonstone was received with a cup of wine and by the hand of Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince.

He frowned when reading the news of your own hand and letter, he would recognize it everywhere. He never showed it, but he always kept a close eye on you, no matter where he was, or what he was doing, he always had eyes on you. Maids, servants, Kingsguards. He personally, hurt by looking at you, you had his brother’s eyes, but… you were the only thing he had left of him.

So you escaped the Keep and threw yourself at the arms of Cregan Stark, it could have been worse. They could have betrothed you to that one-eyed cunt, those were his thoughts, you had successfully escaped him, but, so far? He should have betrothed you to Jace, or even Lucerys… but he had his own daughters to take care of…

Either way, he tried to recreate in his mind what his brother would have thought about this, would he approve of the union? He knew his brother held great respect for the North and its people, especially the Starks, he believed them to be the most honorable family in the realms so… perhaps…

Or the sheep had walked willingly towards the jaws of the wolf?

Were you more sheep than you were dragon?

He had yet to see that.

He drank the last of his wine in his cup and then went to find her wife, Rhaenyra, he found her with her sons in their High Valyrian lessons, she looked at them approvingly as Luke, Jace and now Joffrey learned.

“We have received a letter from the North”, he sang. Rhaenyra looked at him interested

“Really?”

“From your little cousin”

“(Y/N)?”, she asked

“She is betrothed to Stark, set to be married before the week’s end”

“To Cregan Stark?”, she asked. this caught her sons’ attention

“Our aunt is set to marry Stark?”, asked Jace, a smile on his face

“Apparently, it was the King’s idea”, he muttered

“My father can barely speak, this is the Queen’s work”, she said bitterly

“perhaps”

“She wants the North under her wing”, she said

“My niece is no Green”, he said with warning in his voice

“She is not for us either”, said Rhaenyra, “when the time comes, will she convince Cregan to support us?”, she asked.

“This is not about what is going to happen then”, cut Daemon

“Are we going?”, asked Jace, “to the ceremony?”

“We could never make it, not with the youngest”, said Daemon

“Send us, Luke and I”

“I don’t think it’s proper”, said Rhaenyra

“Don’t think it’s proper?”, asked Daemon

“Let’s just send a gift”, she suggested with a tight lip smile. And that was the end of it.

In Driftmark however, the letter went straight into Rhaenys’ hands.

She read it with kind eyes and a shy smile. The union was perfect, the Starks will protect you properly, and care for you. You had your dragon if you ever wanted to get out of the cold North, and they will make great allies.

She was certain your father would have approved of the union.

Lord Cregan Stark was an honorable man, poor man a widower, he needed someone kind hearted like you, with your shyness and your blushes and your smiles, you were going to do him good.

“Let’s send them a barrel of our finest wine”, suggested Corlys, “she is going to need as much dragonfire as she could drink, that poor girl is going to freeze up there!”, he laughed

“The wolf will keep her warm”, she said with a knowing smirk

“Or perhaps he will devour her whole”, he said back, and Rhaenys laughed as he shared knowing looks with her husband in front of the fire.

“We will send her gifts”, he said confidently.

“I have something better in mind”, she said gently, giving him a look.

Rhaenys had a very close relationship with her cousin, they were kindred spirits, and had so many things in common. Rhaenys was older than Aegon and he looked up at her when they were young he followed her around like a lost puppy, and then when they were older they became friends.

The distance was the only thing separating Rhaenys from being close to you. She had tried, unknown to you, to make you her guard, but Queen Alicent, and before her, Viserys, had gently refused her, claiming that your father would have preferred you to stay in the Keep. She knew they were wrong.

So you fled as far as you could, away from your family, up there, all alone.

And now… the third raven.

Never arrived at King's Landing, nobody knows what happened to him.

Perhaps it was fate, perhaps it was the Gods, you would have thought that it was your father himself from the heavens who intercepted the raven and made him lose his way.

If it had arrived… Perhaps you would have never married Cregan.

But it didn’t.

Only the Raven of Stark, accepting the proposal and dictating you will marry soon, that only arrived.

It was also miraculous that the letter was not intercepted by Aemond, and it arrived safely at the hands of Otto Hightower.

He smiled, pleased.

The North was his, and he didn’t even need to move a finger.

He had sent Aemond to Oldtown to see his brother, to distract him, he could not have his grandson messing this up, he could not have that. That girl was not for him, she had no allies, no money, no real connections. Nothing

He was good only to sell away, like cattle.

Your house sigil was a sheep was it not?

The Queen twisted her lips in disgust at the response of Cregan, he did not speak of you returning to King’s Landing, which meant the wolf had sunk their teeth on you and they would not let go.

If she was the one to have a dragon she would have flown it North and dragged you back, make the wolf come south to marry you, but leaving you alone there, it was improper. You went there, a young lady, alone. Perhaps the wolf had already bedded you.

It should have been Aemond

The Queen bit her nails, worried.

Her father had promised he was the one to break the news to Aemond, but it was her who lied to him, who promised him to her. And she couldn’t deliver.

Aemond wanted her so much, it scared her. She had heard of that deep infatuating Targaryen men could feel, but she never thought one of her sons could be the cruel heir to that dark inheritance.

She shook her head

She was going to find her son a nice girl to marry, an heiress from a great house, pure, and a devout follower to the Gods. She nodded, sipping on her cup of wine, that was the right path. The gods guided her North for a reason.

Days passed slowly in Winterfell, and you had barely seen Cregan.

Sara was the one to introduce you to the population of the castle, people who lived and served there.

People seemed weary of you, looking at you like the stranger you truly were to them. You had always heard that Northerners were weary of strangers, mistrustful. And it was proven to be true.

You were supposed to be the future Lady of Winterfell, their lady, how could you make them trust you?

You guessed that being kind and patient, you wanted to prove to Cregan he had made the right choice.

Also, you were distracted with something else… your things had not arrived yet, you thought they hadn't even left King’s Landing… so… Sara and you were determined to make your wedding dress and as the tradition dictates, your maiden cape.

You weren’t sure that the cape was a part of the Northerners traditions, but you hoped so.

And Sara had said that yes, you were to make one, your maiden cape, and Cregan was supposed to give you one back. A bridal cape.

You'd decided to make yours with Targaryen colors, black, red and gold. As a farewell to your house, in hopes of avoiding Aemond you had sunk yourself in embroidering lessons, so you had become quite good at it. Right now you were sewing red dragons into the black fabric. Perhaps you’d add a green one, the color of the Stokeworths

Sara and you were interrupted by a commotion outside, you didn’t quite understand what it was, until a guard reached your door, and announced you had a visitor, and you couldn’t understand who that might be.

Until you reached the main hall, and you only had to look at her back, and her hair to know who that was

“Aunt Rhaenys?”, you called eyes filled with happy tears. She turned around and smiled warmly at you

“Hello my sweet girl”, she greeted and you jumped into her embrace. She held you tightly against her, her hand caressing your back.

“You came! you didn’t have to…”

“As soon as I saw the letter”, she cradled your face in her hands as she looked at you, “someone should give you away, right?”, she said gently, and you nodded enthusiastically

“I will be honored if that person is you”, you said honestly, you loved your aunt so much… well… technically she was first cousin to your father, but it was your dear aunt.

“Let’s walk darling”, she suggested, and with an excited nod, you took her to the God’s wood, where you could be alone. She, as you did, looked around the trees and found it beautiful

“Have you been to Winterfell before?”, you asked, and she nodded

“A couple of times, many years ago”, she whispered, you nodded. you both sat by the heart tree, in one of his thick branches

“My sweet niece, are you sure this is what you want?”, she asked, and you, without even questioning, nodded enthusiastically

“I like the North, I like it here, this is what uncle Viserys had wanted”, you muttered, “the council had the idea to betrothe me to Lord Stark, and, I know him since I was ten”, you muttered, and she smiled warmly

“I’m glad, it is a good match, he will take care of you”, she said with a shy smile, arranging a wild lock of hair behind your ear

“I’m going to be happy”, you assured her, even though Cregan was not in it yet, you knew he was going to melt eventually.And she nodded, believing it

“You know what to expect, right?”, she asked, changing the subject, “of your wedding night?”, she asked then

“I’m supposed to give myself up to Cregan”, you muttered shyly, “he is supposed to give me his seed and I’m supposed to give him heirs”, she sighed

“Not the shit the Septas teach you”, she chided, and you blushed scandalously and shook your head. “The real thing…”

“I heard some maids talking about it…back in King’s Landing”

“Sex”, she said

“Sex…”, you whispered, “one of them said she had done it with a stable boy and his…”

“Penis”

“Was big and it hurt so much, he made her bleed”, you told her

“In the first time it will be blood”, she said gently, “and it will hurt, but… if he is gentle it won’t hurt that much, if he is gentle and giving it will give you great pleasure”, she explained, you nodded, not quite convinced. She leaned in and pushed you gently, making you smile, “sex is a great way to a man’s heart”, she whispered in your ear, “it will make him and most importantly, it will make you happy”, she said like it was the greatest secret of all

“sounds really nice”, you admitted, with cheeks red of embarrassment

“remember what I’m telling you”, she muttered with a complicit smile, “sex is the safest and quickest way to a man’s heart”

“Do you think he’ll… like me?”, you asked wide eyed, and worried.

“Oh honey”, she whispered, “he had no obligation to say yes, he did for a reason, and trust me, he wouldn’t have if you didn’t look like this”, she said, winking, and you smiled widely.

You both shared a comfortable minute in silence, your wedding was set to be in two days time, lords and ladies already arriving from far corners of the North, you had met so many people you couldn’t quite remember all of their names.

But Cregan Stark himself appeared in the God’s Wood, certainly looking for the last visit who came in a dragon, certainly scaring, again, all of his people. Who weren’t used to the flying creatures as the population of King’s Landing.

“Princess Rhaenys”, he greeted, and your dear aunt nodded

“Lord Cregan Stark”

“We were not expecting you”, he said seriously

“I received the letter from my naive, it was not an invitation but certainly, I had to make the journey to be with her the day of her wedding, wouldn’t you think?”, she asked, and he, with a new found respect on his eyes, nodded, his eyes wouldn’t leave hers

“I agree, the family of my bride should be there for her”, he said and then his eyes found you and a hint of a smile on his lips, “I’m glad she has at least one of the members of her family, shall we expect Lord Corlys?”

“No, just me”, she said

“We will have a room prepared”, he said firmly. It was like the faceoff of two alpha, an alpha wolf, and an alpha dragon. And it looked like they respected each other

“I know it isn’t customary for a woman to be a part of the Old Gods marriage ceremony, but I, as the closest kin, her aunt, I will give her away”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way”, he said firmly, “the old gods do not discriminate, kin is kin, blood is blood”

“Good”, she said.

You were glad to have your aunt there.

taglist!

@severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker @lyannesworld @arujee

#misguidedwinter #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house stark #cregan x reader #cregan #cregan stark #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader

825 notes · View notes

max1461 · 2 days

Text

I had a dream last night that I ran for president. In the Democratic primary I won California, Alaska, "Washington" (which was directly north of California) and another state whose name I don't remember because it doesn't actually exist, but it was east of Washington along California's northern border (you have to imagine the two of them shaped approximately like triangles, making up an approximate square directly to CA's north).

There was a brief moment when I was in the lead. I knew it wouldn't last, but I remember capitalizing on the opportunity to proudly tell my parents "I'm the front-runner in the race for president of the United States!". Again, this was supposedly the primary, but I recall the electoral map showing blue for the establishment Democrat, red for the Republican candidate (Trump I think), and yellow for me. So maybe it was the national election; I think this is just one of those dream inconsistencies.

Anyway, for whatever reason me and most of my campaign staff were down in a cave. We didn't have internet access anymore, so I was relying on my campaign manager (who was above ground) to clue me in to what was going on. We were in an upper chamber of the cave, and there had been some kind of near-disaster in a lower chamber where the fire department had to come and rescue a bunch of people who were trapped. I don't remember if any of them were part of my campaign staff. Anyway, as the establishment Democrat took the lead, I remember talking on the phone—a big, thick, 90s-style cellphone—with my campaign manager about what I should do. Should I give some sort of statement to the press about it? Should I congratulate the winner on Twitter? He said no, no, don't worry about it; everyone knows you're down in a cave and don't have service, so they can't possibly expect that.

I have no idea why we were in a cave, if it was intentional or we were stuck there. I guess we were just in a cave!

Anyway, then disaster struck! One of my staffers found a bunch of people in need of rescue in our (upper) chamber of the cave! Now, this wasn't as dire as the earlier rescue. These people were much easier to get to. They were like, sort of hanging upside-down from a horizontally suspended rope, like clothes on a clothes line, basically. I don't know how they got that way but they were in a dire state from hanging upside-down for some long. Some of my staffers insisted they could rescue the people themselves (I think they were worried that calling in the fire department again would be viewed as wasteful and damage my campaign). They managed to get some of the people down from the clothes line. I asked my campaign manager what to do (I was still on the phone with him) and he was like "no, call the fire department!". So he put me through to the fire department and I told them what was going on.

You have to understand throughout these events that I'm like, me. I have no idea how to run an electoral campaign, I'm 100% relying on my campaign manager for every cue, and I'm really nervous about figuring out the proper etiquette for everything. When I was asking him about whether I should congratulate the winner on Twitter you have to imagine it in this sort of tone. Like, first day on the job, nervous "I'm following your lead here" energy. And when I get on the phone with the fire department I'm super awkward (I've never called them before!) and as I'm explaining the situation I'm thinking like "good, good, that was normal, I sound normal to the fire department right now".

Anyway then they come down into the cave and start rescuing people. I get back on the phone with my campaign manager and he tells me confidently "look, here's what we do: on Monday you're gonna give a press conference. You'll announce that your bid for the presidency is over, congratulate the winners, and reiterate your policy positions." I don't remember what else he said about it, but basically this was the most graceful way to end the campaign and keep my political career strong. I was a popular candidate with lots of youth support and energy behind me, so it was gonna be easy to parley that into later success. Now, I didn't want a further political career—this campaign was 100% a one-off—but I agreed the press conference would be a good idea. Unfortunately that would mean I had to write a speech by Monday, which was annoying.

Anyway, the establishment Democrat won in the end, and turns out it was Obama.

Then I woke up.

39 notes · View notes

darkelfguy · 3 months

Note

hi! i was wondering what mods you're using in your screenshots? they look so gorgeous that you've made me want to play morrowind again haha

Thanks, I'm glad they're giving you the Morrowind itch! I do actually have a list of graphical mods I use, covering everything from shaders to texture replacers, UI improvements, animations, and sounds. It's not a proper modding guide per say (and there are links included to actual instructional modding guides in the list), but it covers most of the visual elements I use in my screenshots. That said, that list doesn't include any location or landscape mods, so real quick, here's a few of the common ones I use in my screenshots: Landscape Mods: Spines of Madness Azura Coast Redone Rocky West Gash - BCOM Rocky West Gash - Aggressively Compatible Rocky West Gash - Devilish Rocky West Gash (I use this one) Markgran Forest - (Alternative: Another Markgran Forest) Bal'laku - The Lonely Towers Strider Burial OAAB Grazelands OAAB - The Ashen Divide OAAB - Foyada Mamaea The Mountain of Fear Graht Morrowind Swamp Trees

Major Location and Landmark Mods: Tall Dungeons The Beacons of Mamaea The Great Hive of Baan Binif Memento Mori Telvanni Sea Beacon OAAB Tel Raloran The Beacon of St. Rilms Salothran Beacon Fort Ghostmoth The Telvanni Ward Keepers The Slavers Spire The Great Seawall of Vivec Gates of Ascadia Ald Gash - A Redoran Lighthouse RR Mod Series - Telvanni Lighthouse Tel Vos Hla Odai Caldera Priory Thickle-Lo Grove Draggle-Tail Shack Arnchenzel - Dwemer Underwater House Location Overhauls: OAAB Shipwrecks OAAB Tel Mora Tethered Tel Branora Caldera Governors Manor Redone Balmora Temple Redone Finding the Erabenimsun Ashlander Camp OAAB Market Baar Dau - Ministry of Truth The Ashlanders OAAB Seyda Neen - Damp Little Squat URH - Khuul and URH - Ald Velothi Cozy Caldera Cozy Ald'ruhn Hla Oad Grim Khuul and Enchanted Ald Velothi Mystical and Religious Maar Gan (alternatively Maar Gan - Town of Pilgrimage) Galen's Quest for Truth The Northern Strongholds RR Mod Series - Ghostgate Fortress Corprusarium - Sorrow Heart of Tel Fyr Marandus Rebuilt Town Additions: Dagon Fel Mill Redux Dagon Fel Lighthouse Vivec Lighthouse The Ebonheart Lighthouse Telvanni Lighthouse in Sadrith Mora The cool Khuul Lighthouse Shipyards of Vvardenfell Balmora Docks District Sload and Slavers

I'm almost certainly missing a few, and that list doesn't include quest or dungeon mods for the most part, but that's most of the major ones I've featured. I'll have to make a proper new list covering content mods at some point.

#Morrowind #Morrowind Mods #q&a

54 notes · View notes

mchiti · 3 months

Text

It's past 1 am and I can't sleep so I want to share on here something that is really bugging me lately and it's happening in Italy. There's this really fascist mayor of a city in northern Italy who has basically shut down all Mosques in the city because she says they are unauthorized.

The "Mosques" we're talking about are Islamic centers organised as best as Muslims can, under the worst situations given we never manage to have proper Mosques (I live in Milan, which is a big city, and we don't even have a proper Mosque either. There was a project to build one but was shut down by the government so...)

The 23rd of December, the Muslim community of this city decided to take the streets and protest, and the mayor went crying on television on how this was a provocation because it was done right before Christmas. And one thing that really makes me cry, like real tears down my face I'm not even joking, is seeing the images of people protesting weaving little italian flags as to say "we're here, we're also italians, we just want a place to pray" how is that enough to ask...really...how. Italians don't even deserve those flags wallahi.

If you see the Mosque I attend with my family...that's nothing for it to be called a Mosque. It's a converted little villa our Islamic center bought with everyone's efforts around 20 years ago. And that's the nicest you can get, otherwise it's garages, basements...I'm soooo tired. Like we're here and we pay your taxes, the least you can give us is the dignity to have a place to come together. All this bitch of a mayor can say is "this is a victory for legality...no to places were hate is preached" soooo that's your islamophobia showing lmao. That's your problem. You can give your muslim citizens "legal" places to pray if you really wanted, but you don't want to because it feeds your propaganda. I'm so fucking sick of this country you have no idea

#can italy burn im not joking #italy #islamophobia #maybe we're gonna get one this year....maybe....after like 30 years of asking for it....Idk I'm not positive about this anymore #and we all did pay it's not like it comes for free lol and they still cry about it

55 notes · View notes

ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes · 6 months

Text

The Phoenix and the Crow

part twenty-six

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral

el's thoughts: i'm absolutely heartbroken that we won't be getting a spin off or sab s3... but also insanely grateful for the content creators out there who continue to share their talents with us <3

masterlist

Y/N felt like she and Kaz had become twin soldiers, marching on, pretending they were fine, hiding their wounds and bruises from the rest of the crew.

It took two more days of travel to reach the cliffs that overlooked Djerholm, but the going was easier as they moved south and toward the coast. The weather warmed, the ground thawed, and she began to see signs of spring. Y/N knew what the city looked like, having been before on quick missions. The docks were still crowded with ships, but it’s tidy streets marched to the water in orderly fashion, and the houses were painted in such colors- red, blue, yellow, pink- as if in defiance of the wild white land and the long winters this far north. Even the warehouses by the quay were wrought in cheerful colors. It looked like the city was made by fairies from her children’s books, everything was candy-hued and in its proper place.

“Cannon,” said Jesper.

Y/N turned and glanced up to where the Ice Court stood like a great white sentinel on a massive cliff overlooking the harbor.

Kaz squinted up at the big guns pointed out at the bay. “I’ve broken into banks, warehouses, mansions, museums, vaults, a rare book library, and once the bedchamber of a visiting Kaelish diplomat whose wife had a passion for emeralds. But I’ve never had a cannon shot at me.”

“There’s something to be said for novelty,” offered Jesper.

Y/N pressed her lips together, “Let’s say it’s not fun. I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Those guns are there to stop invading armadas,” Jesper said confidently. “Good luck hitting a skinny little schooner cutting through the waves bound for fortune and glory.”

“I’ll quote you on that when a cannonball lands in my lap,” said Nina.

They slipped easily into the traffic of travelers and traders where the cliff road met the northern road that led to Upper Djerholm. The upper town was a rambling extension of the city below, a sprawling collection of shops, markets, and inns that served the guards and staff who worked at the Ice Court as well as visitors.

Signs of Hringkalla celebrations were everywhere. The shops had created displays of pepper cookies baked in the shape of wolves, some handing like ornaments from large, twisting trees, and the bridge spanning the river gorge had been festooned with ribbons in Fjerdan silver. One way into the Ice Court and one way out. Would they cross this bridge as victors tomorrow?

“What are they?” Wylan asked, pausing in front of a peddler’s cart laden with wreaths made of the same twisting branches and silver ribbons.

“Ash trees,” replied Matthias. “Sacred to Djel.”

“There’s supposed to be one in the middle of the White Island,” said Y/N, ignoring the harsh glare the Fjerdan threw her way. Her voice was low and hard, the toll of their journey evidently forcing her back into her usual role as a soldier.

“It’s where the druskelle gather for the listening ceremony,” Nina continued.

Kaz tapped his walking stick on the ground as he stood beside the Inferni, leaning closer to her ever-so slightly. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

“The ash is sustained by the spirit of Djel,” said Matthias. “It’s where we may best hear his voice.”

“Kaz’s eyes flickered. “Not what I asked. Why isn’t it on our plans?”

“Because it’s the holiest place in all of Fjerda and not essential to our mission.”

“I say what’s essential. Anything else you decided to leave out in your great wisdom?”

“The Ice Court is a vast structure,” Matthias said, turning away. “I can’t label every crack and corner.”

“Then let’s hope nothing is lurking in those corners,” Kaz replied.

“Here?” Jesper complained, peering into the dank main room of the run-down tavern. The whole place stank of garlic and fish.

Kaz gave a significant glance upward and said, “Terrace.”

“What’s a gestinge?” Inej wondered aloud as she read the welcome sign.

“It means ‘paradise’,” said Matthias. Even he looked skeptical.

Y/N helped secure them a table on the tavern’s rooftop terrace. It was mostly empty, the weather still too cold to attract many patrons. Or maybe they’d been scared away by the food- herring in rancid oil, stale black bread, and some kind of butter that looked distinctly mossy.

Jesper looked down at his plate and moaned. “Kaz, if you want me dead, I prefer a bullet to poison.”

Nina scrunched her nose. “When I don’t want to eat, you know there’s a problem.”

“We’re here for the view, not the food.” Kaz spoke from beside Y/N.

She mously picked at her piece of bread, nibbling on it slowly. She had to agree with the others, the food was terrible, but it still wasn’t the worst she had had to eat before.

“We’re going to start looking conspicuous soon,” said Nina. “This isn’t the kind of place people like to linger.”

“Maybe they don’t have anyone to take to jail,” suggested Wylan.

“There’s always someone to take to jail,” Kaz replied, then bobbed his chin toward the road. “Look.”

A boxy wagon was rolling to a stop at the guardhouse. Its roof and high sides were covered in black canvas, and it was drawn by four stout horses. The door at the back was heavy iron, bolted and padlocked.

Kaz reached into his coat pocket. “Here,” he said and handed Jesper a slender book with an elaborate cover.

“Are we going to read to each other?”

“Just flip it open to the back.” Jesper opened the book and peered at the last page, puzzled. “So?”

“Hold it up so we don’t have to look at your ugly face.”

“My face has character. Besides- oh!”

“An excellent read, isn’t it?”

“Who knew I had such a taste for literature?”

Jesper passed it to Wylan, who took it tentatively. “What does it say?”

“Just look,” smiled Jesper.

Wylan frowned and held it up, then he grinned. “Where did you get this?’

Matthias had his turn and released a surprised grunt.

“It’s called a backless book,” said Kaz as Y/N took the volume from Inej and held it up.

She peered through. To the barmaid and the other patrons on the terrace, it looked like they were handing a book around, discussing some interesting passage. Instead Y/N had a close view of the gatehouse and the wagon parked in front of it. She lowered the book and looked at Kaz, a proud smirk gracing her lips. “Clever.”

He nodded and turned his head quickly, but not before she could notice the light red painting his cheeks.

“Four guards,” she said, nodding towards Matthias confirming what he had shared before.

“They’re the first line of deffence,” said Matthias. “They’ll check paperwork and confirm identities, flag anyone they think requires closer scrutiny. By this time tomorrow the line going through the gates will be full of Hringkalla guests and backed up all the way to the gorge.”

“By then we’ll be inside,” Kaz said.

They continued discussing the schedule of the wagons as Y/N lifted the backless book again. The wagon driverwore a gray uniform similar to the ones worn by the guards at the gate but absent any sash or decoration. He swung down from his seat and came around to unlock the iron door.

“Saints,” Y/N said as the door swung open. Ten prisoners were seated along benches that ran the wagon’s length, their wrists and feet shackled, black sacks over their heads. She felt the group’s apprehension rise. Only Kaz seemed unfazed.

“Hooded, chained, and shackled?” said Jesper. “You’re sure we can’t go in as entertainers?”

“We go in as we are,” said Kaz, “as criminals.”

~*~

taglist: @katherinereid @littlecat21 @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @brekkers-desigirl @clunaes @wonderland2425 @bookloverfilmoholic @karensirkobabes @bookworm-center @el-de-phi @so-get-this-sammy

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagines #ellora.writes

69 notes · View notes

tanoraqui · 1 year

Text

I COMPLETELY FORGOT A VERY IMPORTANT PART OF CROWNLESS (the Young Aragorn show that lives in my, and apparently many of your, hearts): Each season opens with the framing device of middle-aged Sam Gamgee sitting by the fire in Bag End, telling his kids stories about the King. If you don’t have a (historical inaccuracy-excusing) narrative frame in a Middle Earth story, wtf are you even doing?

Also, the theme song in my mind is "All That Is Gold Does Not Glitter" by Clamavi de Profundis, but I'm open to some other group doing their own arrangement of the poem.

so, key elements of season 3 (s1 and 2 here):

A couple times in s2, including notably in the season finale?, Rohirrim were involved…so at the very end of that season, King Thengel invited Aragorn to come serve in his court/armed forces. That’s right, it’s time for UNMITIGATED HORSE GIRL!ARAGORN HOURS!

(confession: I could be persuaded to combine s2 and s3, with some elements of s3 going into s4)

(and clarification: Aragorn isn't deliberately using a false name, but he's also not presenting himself as anything more than a random northern Dúnedain ranger, son of nobody in particular.)

The show starts to shift in this season: in addition to/in place of some monster of the week episodes, we get political drama of the week, and more ongoing plotlines. Also, I realized it’s as much ‘location of the week’ as ‘monster of the week’—that continues, centered around Rohan (which means we’ll retread some locations from s2)

First trip to Minas Tirith, on some diplomatic excursion!

fun canon LotR info: Thengel, Theoden's father, was a total Gondor stan - he lived there from his teens until he had to come home to take up the crown, he married a woman from Lossarnach, as King of Rohan he spoke Sindarin and Westernesse and not Rohirric...

so I'm gonna say that teenage Theoden is kind of resentful of that? He was born in Lossarnach, came to Rohan at age 5...but Rohan is his home and he loves it, and he wonders if his father is too enamored of Gondor to be the best king of Rohan. He's skeptical of Thengel recruiting this random Ranger to be a captain of the Riders. On the flip side, Aragorn is SO COOL, and superb with horses. and Theoden wants to be him when he grows up. It's hard, being a teenager and a prince, with 4 sisters. It's hard and nobody understands

Sauruman is there for an episode, being genuinely helpful but his vibes are faintly rancid. He's about to start building up Isengard as an armed power. If the season finale involves something like a proper battle again, he might pitch in.

Halbarad and Dúnawen might actually stay in Ithilien? Or they come along to Rohan but they just join the Riders without getting involved in court stuff at all. Aragorn is going to start doing more things on his own. They presumably have their own B/C-plot character arcs btw, I just don't know what

Roddis definitely stayed behind in Ithilien/Gondor. New in the cast, however, not from quite the start but maybe like ep7/22, or the midseason onward? Is a perfectly normal human woman with dark hair and grey eyes...

Arwen. It's Arwen.

Aragorn: Why are you here? Arwen: I am the daughter of Elrond Half-Elven. My grandparents include the Evening Star, White-Winged Elwing, and Galadriel, student of Melian who on separate occasions told both Fëanor and Eonwë to fuck off. Everyone who met her agrees that I look just like my great-great-grandmother Lúthien Tinúviel. The distant echo of the Doom of the Exiles runs in my veins, as do the Songs of Lúthien and the Light of a Silmaril. I know the weight of Fate when it settles on my shoulders like a mantle, as it did when you called me 'Tinúviel' beneath Imladris's twilit trees—but the Choice of the Peredhel remains mine and mine alone. So I have come, Elessar, Isildur's heir, to see if I actually like you. Arwen: Curiosity. Aragorn: [vividly remembering how in s1 his mom said, "She's way out of your league" and Elrond said, "You won't get married until you're king." (Aragorn: "...married to your daughter?" Elrond: "To anyone. Period.")] Aragorn: Cool. Curiosity is cool. I'm gonna be so normal about this.

(Spoilers: he was not entirely normal about this.)

(Spoilers: they super do like each other, though)

Idk what the backup rangers are doing overall, but I do want Aragorn and Dúnawen to still have some sort of romantic Thing in s2, maybe off and on again, as Aragorn thought Arwen wasn't interested and was trying not to just be moping about it... Then Arwen arrives and Aragorn is So Conflicted for like 1 episode, before Dúnawen comes to him like, "Aragorn, I love you as a friend and comrade-in-arms and I love you as my chieftain and king-to-be, and I could probably love you as a wife if we really tried...but you clearly have not just a crush but some sort of Destiny thing with Lady Arwen, so I'm going to go back to Ithilien for a bit, maybe get drunk and laid with a handsome barmaid, and get over you. While I'm gone, you should try, like, talking to her."

A thing that Aragorn and Arwen...do bond over, but more it's there to demonstrate their compatibility to the audience, is: ...So, we (the writers/producers) don't have the rights to The Silmarillion, right, just The Lord of the Rings and its Appendices, and The Hobbit. These do periodically namedrop people, however, with dashes of elaboration mostly in the Appendices...and Aragorn is established from the start to be a bit of a history nerd, because that's what happens when you're raised by Elrond...so periodically, Aragorn and his friends will be in a Situation and Aragorn will whisper, like, "This is just like when [Fëanor/Túrin/Tar-Minastir/etc...]—" and Halbarad or Dúnawen hisses, "Does that actually help us right now?" and Aragorn will say, "Sure!" and start doing something that Silmarillion nerds can recognize is inspired by whatever the person in question did in a similar situation (note: sometimes Aragorn deliberately does the opposite of what the historical figure did, and it works much better.) The writers very carefully do not explicitly reference anything not explicitly in the permitted texts. If they need/get to elaborate on a historical figure, they'll toe a careful line of Silmarillion canon and blatantly made-up things.

That happened more in s1, when the show needed to make good with the old fans, but also in s2. Aragorn remains the only one referencing this stuff. Then in s3, he and Arwen are...let's say captured by bandits, and Arwen murmurs in his ear, "I have an idea. You know in the Lay of Lúthien..." Aragorn's eyes widen. "Beren and Lúthien or Beren and Finrod?" Arwen: "Finrod." Aragorn nods, and they proceed to bullshit their way out of being captive with flawless teamwork and yes-and-ing (and maybe fight a wolf on their way out, just to be thorough).

No idea what this season finale is. Like I said, you could probably weave parts of most of this season into s2 and s4? But that would ruin the "a different significant geographical area every season" thing we've got going on.

[s4 here!]

#aragorn #arwen #theoden #lotr #lord of the rings #ficlet #fanfiction #my fic

159 notes · View notes