#in fact he know what it is tbh which god bless

[theladyvalkyrieskyeart]

How you gonna have "proshipper DNI" in your profile AND be a Neil Gaiman Stan? Do you not know who this man is? How he's vehemently anti-censorship, even the shit some people would find gross and weird?

Be absolutely serious for once in your life.

#neil gaiman #proship discourse #he would never be anti proship #NEVER #in fact he know what it is tbh which god bless #but if he did knew what it actually is #he would never be against it #fools

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 2

Part 1 2 3

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (dub con, primal play, PIV, rough sex), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: you guys, i dont want to edit the summary from p1 so i wont. also for future me here are the asks i got for this fic [x] [x] [x] which is like 🤯 cos i thought id get 5 notes on this tbh HAHAH originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds

I refused to leave my chambers when I woke.

Not only had I cried myself to sleep, but I had woken with puffy eyes and ended up crying all over again. I was glad that my doting handmaiden was so fiercely loyal to me. Lucy didn't think my weeping childish. She was understanding and eternally on my side. I am immensely grateful for it; I don't know what I would have done without her.

She helped me bathe and dress and eat, then entertained me with gossip from the servants. For a while that was enough.

As the day passed though, my thoughts muddled and left me restless. I could not do anything but obsess over the fact my husband left me after wifing me up.

"Do you think he will come back tonight?" I mutter as I stare blankly at my reflection on the mirror.

Lucy ceases combing my hair and takes my chin in her fingers. Paired with a hand on my shoulder, she silently urges me to straighten my back from my seat. I do just that. She smiles at me through the mirror, "my lady, if you wish it, I will look for him and make him come to you."

I release a breath, "don't be ridiculous."

"I am not being ridiculous," she sets the brush down, "I am being serious."

I feel my throat tighten. My lips quiver but I refuse to break down in tears again. I shake my head rapidly, unwilling to speak, for I knew I would crack if I did.

Lucy frowns in concern then kneels down on my side, grabbing my hand, "my lady, I would die for you."

I screw my eyes shut and break into a whine, "please-"

"I owe you my life," she clasps my hand with hers and brings it to her cheek, "you freed me from my chains. You clothed me, fed me, and showed me kindness none of my masters have ever shown me before," she looks up at me with a solemn expression then repeats, "I would die for you."

I shake my head and lean into her, "live for me, Lucy. I've forgotten what's it was like before you and I don't want to remember."

She kisses my hand and presses her forehead on mine before standing, "I shall do as you command."

She stands behind me and gathers my hair back. She strokes my locks and offers me a smile through the mirror once more. I smile back at her this time around.

The comfort she offers me finally seeps through me as she massages my shoulders.

"I pray the gods will swiftly bless me with a child so that I will have other things to do than await my husband so helplessly and forlorn."

"Well, you said that he pleasured you," Lucy tilts her head, "women who have not been pleasured still bea-

Lucy is cut off by the crashing open of the door. She and I both whip back, hearts in our mouths as we stare at our Lord Clegane, who was staring right back at us.

"What's wrong with you?" he demands. The metal of his armor clanks. I eye the one Lucy tidied to the side, the one I undid the night before, and turn back to him. His brown eyes look at me with such intense accusation.

I feel my hands tremble. I cannot for the life of me find the words to speak. 

What did he even mean? How could he ask me this?

"No one has seen you all day," he says, "have you not left this room once?'

"She 'asn't," Lucy snaps, "milady has been feeling-"

"I wasn't talking to you, wench," the Hound does not turn to her when he says this. His eyes are very much still fixed on me, "I'm talking to my wife."

My wife. I look away. That's right, all that I am now is forfeit to him.

I gasp and turn back when I hear him marching over. Lucy places a protective hand on my shoulder and I find myself cowering into her touch. I clench my jaw and gulp when he stops in front of me.

He gazes upon me for the longest second of my life. He furrows his brows, "what's wrong with your fa-"

I flinch when he reaches out to my cheek.

Instantaneously, Lucy tightens her grip on me and blocks him, and Sandor cuts himself off and recoils before he can even touch my skin. He steps a few paces back then clenches his hand as if he'd gotten burnt.

We both evade each other's gaze. Sandor's eyes finally land on Lucy, "has she been crying?"

Lucy's blood boils. She hisses, "yes," then harshly pronounces, "milord."

Sandor turns away and twitches. He rolls his shoulders back and stretches his hands. He knocks on his chest plate. He looks to no one when he asks, "are you hurt?"

Lucy takes no care in masking her scoff or sigh. I take her arm and she watches me shake my head disapprovingly.

I do not look at anyone when I reply either, "I cannot say I'm not... lord husband."

A thick silence builds in the room within a moment.

When I dare too look at the Hound, he is already looking at me and suddenly speaks, "leave us, wench."

I turn to Lucy. She does not move an inch.

I give her an urging shake, but she is steadfast in her spot. Our Lord Clegane turns to her and grinds his teeth, "you will find I do not make habit of repeating myself."

I shoot up from my seat when Lucy presses forward and quips, "and you will find that I will not allow you to treat milady like this."

"Lucy!" I admonish, yanking her back.

Lucy glares daggers at him as I attempt to pacify and persuade her to leave us. Her eyes do not leave him as I sweep her out the room. I instruct her to walk around the gardens for a while then close the door after.

I press my back against the wooden surface as I look back to the man I was now alone with.

Sandor watches me expectantly. I do not say a word, for I did not know what he wanted to hear.

He finally breaks the silence, "you walk well enough."

I am dumbfounded by his choice of words. I dare not respond when I feel my lips quiver; instead, I nod quickly.

Sandor deeply furrows his brows. He shifts on his spot and chances a step in my direction, "why didn't you come out your room then?"

I lick my lips and shake my head. I turn away from him and mutter, "do I appear like I am in the state to be walking around when I look like this?"

"Like what?" he draws nearer.

I whip my head, "THIS!"

Sandor stops in his tracks. He looks at me, expressionless, "this what?"

I scoff in disbelief, feeling tears immediately soak my face. I whisper, "look at me."

"I am, with both eyes."

"And you see nothing?" I mutter shakily, "feel nothing?'

"Should I feel something?"

My chest sinks; it feels like it's caving in. He might as well gut me and spit on my bones. I turn to my feet and wipe my cheeks, "no. I suppose not."

Sandor curses under his breath. He rips at his collar, suddenly feeling his armour weigh down on him. He feels unbelievably hot. He clears his throat, "it hurts."

I look up at him.

"It hurts the first time, usually," he clarifies, "or in times you're not wet enough." He nods, "you were wet enough."

My entire being burns at his words, at his nonchalance. My face is searing in embarrassment and shame.

I want to scream at him, want to hurtle into him and demand to know why he left me, why he was so removed, but then I find the answers in my head. It dawns on me that he acted carelessly because he didn't care. He didn't want this. He didn't want me. All of it was forced. And so I hold my tongue.

Instead, I calmly explain, "my hurt is not bodily, Sandor."

Sandor's stomach rolls at the sound of his name.

"I was," I turn to space between us, "hurt that you left me. And-" I shake my head as tears rush from my eyes, "I've realized now that it's wrong of me to be."

I put a brave face on in spite of my weeping and hold his stare. The man is as stoic and hard as ever. I scoff at myself for feeling this way.

"Worry no longer, Hound," I open the door, "I will not cause you trouble again."

I step back and make way for him to exit.

He looks at me for what feels like an eternity then marches out the door.

"And have you-"

Lucy and I gasp and turn at once.

"-named it yet, Lady Clegane?"

I chuckle guilty, "Lord Varys."

The man nods to me in regard, "good morrow to you."

I curtsy to him, as does my handmaiden. Lucy lifts her skirt as inconspicuously as possible in hopes to block what was behind her.

Varys catches this and waves his hands, "there be no need for that, my dear. The stray is an obedient one, isn't it?"

I share a look with Lucy before we step back and reveal the dog behind us. Daisy was panting and wagging her tail. She had her front paw bent, for it had been broken and healed that way. I had a maester examine it. In the end, he said it was pointless to put a split because it would not fix her leg and Daisy just kept chewing it anyway.

Daisy closes her mouth and sniffs the man.

"Ah," Varys smiles at the creature, "may I pet it?"

Lucy nods and eagerly explains, "she's Daisy; she is incredibly sweet, milord."

Varys cheerfully scratches the crown of the dog's head.

Though he laughs, my own face contorts into an opposite expression, "please make no note of it to my husband."

Varys looks at me exaggeratedly, as though he was offended.

I continue, "she makes me happy."

"One does not need to be told that to know," he presses his lips together. He links his hands, "I imagine you must be rather heavyhearted since the arrival of your womanly bleeding."

I drop my gaze upon hearing this. The master of whispers truly knew all. Lucy turns to me, then back to him, "milord, it's not proper to mention these things."

Varys measures my reaction before turning to Lucy, "yes. I suppose one such as myself has no business speaking of such things." He raises a finger, "still, if you should ever need assistance with that or your stray, know that my services are available to you, my lady."

I smile at him and nod, "I thank you for it, Lord Varys."

With that, he walks away.

"Do you think he will tell him?" Lucy asks as she grabs my arm.

I sigh and turn Daisy.

I've only had her for few days but she's given me purpose. I named her Daisy because she turned up from a bush of daisies while I read in the gardens. I was shocked, puzzled with how she got there, and a little scared she would bite me. When I noticed her injury, I figured she must be very weak and offered her food. She had my heart the moment she licked my fingers.

It was fate, I figured. I had not read in the gardens since the Hound berated me for it, and she came out of nowhere. When I imagine what would have happened to her if anyone else found her, I dread to think of the fact she could have been struck dead. The gods must have sent her to me, to remedy my sorrow and fill in for the absence of my Hound.

I was meant to save Daisy, and she was meant to save me.

I shake my head, "I'll have someone keep her tonight."

The Hound stops in his tracks when he witnesses what he does from afar. A blazing fury engulfs him as he watches two women walk away. The guard, who was spoken to, ogle their figures as they did.

Sandor laughs under his breath, but of course, nothing about this situation was funny to him.

He immediately charges when the guard is left alone, stupidly attending to an open crate-- he'll fucking bash it into his skull.

The guard goes back to his post and spots the approaching giant. At first, he is unfazed by the Hound but fear quickly finds him when he realizes he was heading straight for him.

He does not speak. The Hound simply grabs him by the chest plate, lifts him up and slams him on to the stone wall. He was angry-- worse, he was irrational.

"Why was she speaking to you?!" he snaps, "what business do you have with her?!"

The guard does not waste a second in spilling his guts, "Lady Clegane paid me to watch her dog!" He sounded like he was about to piss his pants.

"What?!" he seethes.

"The crate! The crate! There's a dog in the crate!" 

Sandor shoves him away and walks toward the crate. Lo and behold, the Hound sees the mutt, fur a light shade of brown, tongue out as it pant, right arm curled up.

He draws his sword.

Lucy and I head back to my chambers after eating supper. Our chattering is abruptly cut when he step in and see the Hound's hulking figure.

To say I am shocked is an understatement. I am terrified. He has not come to my chambers since the day after our wedding night, and now, here he was after Lord Varys confronted me. I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat, "my lord, I-"

"Don't you have one too many dogs now?" he growls.

Lucy is unable to hide the sound that leaves her mouth. My eyes begin to water as trepidation rips up my neck. I whisper, "Sandor."

Sandor flinches. He huffs, "what were you doing with it? You playing dolls with it, girl?"

"I saved her!" I explain with a shaky voice. "I fed her, gave her water-"

"Its leg is broken. You keep it in a crate. It's mercy for me to kill it."

Lucy gasps. My stomach drops and I run up to him, "no. Please. Please, tell me you didn't-"

I start when I see something move on the bed. I let out a shaky breath when a bark echoes in the room. I had never been more relieved to see Daisy than now.

Sandor growls, "OFF!" He marches to the bed and charges at the her. I shriek and grab his arm, holding him back. Of course, I nearly shoot forward for what was my strength against his? Still, he turns back to me and huffs. Daisy jumps down the bed and comes to my side.

Lucy grabs her and leads her to the corner of the room.

I continue to beg, "please, don't kill her. Please, I beg of you."

"You pay the guards to watch the mutt," Sandor yanks his arm away; the action hurts my hand. He seethes, "you're better off selling the bitch to a butcher as pig food."

I wail, "it was only this time! I have kept her with me since before." I drop to my knees, "please, I will ask nothing more of you," hot tears burn down all the way down to my chest. "I beg that you just let her live."

Sandor steps back and looks down at me. I can see how pathetic he thinks I am at this moment, and yet I find myself unable to care.

"You will ask me nothing more, aye?" he scoffs. His lips curl, "don't you want a child?"

My expression drops.

"You would rather save the bitch than have a babe?"

I am unable to speak. 

Why is he doing this to me?

"Well?!" he demands.

I screw my eyes shut when some of his spit sputters to my face. I turn to the floor, "she's been keeping me company in your absence. She's-"

"Ah, so that's why she feels so comfortable on the bed. You sleep with her."

I look up at him, about to explain that she sleeps on the floor and has never done that before. I do not have the chance.

"Well then keep your stray," he scoffs, "and have it fuck a babe into you."

The Hound storms off right after.

He grips his hand and his hilt as he marches away.

He should have killed it, he shouldn't have hesitated. The only reason he did was because it didn't flinch at his sword. The mutt was so dumb it had no fear. It even propped on the crate and tried sniffing the steel. Brainless.

His insides feel like they were boiling.

He knew the little girl would weep if he killed it, yet he didn't and there were tears anyway. He curses loudly. It reverberates in the hall.

He should have killed it.

Now it was too late.

"I see you make friends even with stray cats now, my lady."

I look over my shoulder after the cat I was petting runs off because of the voice. Lord Baelish comes up to me, sparing a quick glance to the orange feline that jumped down the wall. He turns back to me with a smile, "pardon me, Lady Clegane, I did not mean to frighten the kitty."

I shake my head, returning a soft smile. I wrap my arms around myself, still not entirely used to the light fabric and freeness of the dresses I've been wearing lately, "it's alright, my lord. The cats do not like people."

Baelish walks in front of me and smiles wider, "they must see you their goddess then."

I shake my head and give a soft chuckle.

"Where is your hound?" he asks.

I stiffen.

He clarifies, "I mean the one with the broken leg."

I release a breath and look out to the view, "I had my handmaiden bathe her."

"Mmm," Baelish looks out to the view with me, "thus why you sought the cats."

A breeze brushes past us.

I do not turn to him, but I know he turns to me. He speaks, "one such as you should not be left alone or unaccompanied."

"Why? Would you hurt me, Lord Baelish?"

He chuckles, "and risk getting mauled by the Hound? I would not."

I watch as a flock of birds fly overhead.

"Other things perhaps," he says.

I do not respond to him.

A moment passes with nothing but looking and silence.

I feel his hot breath when he sighs deeply, "I remember clearly the day I first met you."

Baelish speaks my first name and it's enough to finally make me to turn to him. In truth, my name sounds foreign to me. Who I was has been long overshadowed by Lady Clegane... or, more accurately, the Hound himself.

"You were a vibrant flower. Your fragrance wafted through the room the moment you stepped in," he says, taking one step closer. "Being around you was a privilege; conversing with you, a prize."

I blink at his words, taking in the lines of his face, "and now," I clasp my hands together, "I've withered away, have I?"

His Baelish-blue eyes appear to be solemn. My lips part when he takes my hands in his. He speaks under his breath, "you are more radiant than ever."

I do not move an inch.

"Take heart," he speaks my name again, "hounds are crushed under heels of goddesses."

I pull away from him and shake my head, "do not speak blasphemy with me."

He laughs, bringing his hands behind him, "ever devout and god-fearing." He raises an arm, "shall we part ways by the stables? I will be heading out of the keep."

I debate for a moment. Ultimately, I offer polite smile and decide to agree.

We walk with no sense of urgency. I never knew Petyr to be one for small talk, and so I am surprised that he asks me about my dresses. In truth, I really shouldn't have been.

"Your dresses are Dornish, are they not?" he raises a brow.

"Dornish-like," I clarify, "it was my usual tailor that made my new dresses. I feared if I asked a Dornish tailor for a modest silhouette, I'd be colder than I am now."

We share a soft laugh.

He shrugs, "the style suits you still," he smiles. "Undoubtedly, the Dornes would love to dress you in their more traditional clothing."

I purse my lips and raise my brows, "wouldn't you like that, Petyr?"

He chuckles, slightly in disbelief by the casual referral. He raises his hands, "I said the Dornes. I am not Dornish, my dear."

When we reach the stables, I stop in my tracks, not because we're about to depart, but because his words freeze me in my spot.

"Surely, our Lord Clegane finds it hard to keep his hands off you."

I do my best to stay neutral, to not give myself away. Baelish holds back a smirk.

"Wouldn't you like to know what me and Lord Clegane get up to?"

Baelish laughs, "if I'm being honest, I do."

I roll my eyes at him and nod dismissively, "farewell, my lord."

He nods back with a chuckles, "and you, my lady."

I promptly head to my chambers after this. As I walk on, however, I remember that another day has passed with me not seeing Lord Clegane. I am unsure if it was deliberate or coincidental, but it was the fact either way.

It had been a handful of days since my monthly bleeding passed. I was never a regular bleeder, and when it came this time around, it stayed longer than usual. I was glad with his absence then, in not needing to explain myself to my him. The moment it had finished, however, I expected I would at least see him once.

I did not.

This lead to my decision to be more... seductive.

And, well yes, or course, he yelled at me and told me to have my bitch fuck me instead-- truly, there was a large pit of dread in my stomach because of this, but people say a lot of things in anger, things they don't mean. He could not have meant that.

I rub my belly, willing the dread away.

I refuse to believe he meant that.

I suck in a breath and decide to head to the king's chambers.

Besides, I've been assured over and under that men really like making babies.

My breath hitches when I catch sight of the Hound, guarding the door. I see him do a double take when he spots me, and yet he gazes into space in the end.

"Good evening, my lord," I curtsy at him.

He grunts with exasperation, "what are you doing here?"

"I wanted," I measure my words carefully, "to request you not stay out late tonight."

The man turns his head fully to me, "what?"

I feel my throat itch. I clear my throat, "I was hoping that you come to my chambers before too late."

Sandor shifts in his spot. He eyes me up and down. I feel like I am being burned alive under his gaze.

He looks away and shifts back in place.

I open my mouth but I don't get to speak at all.

"Dog. Dog! Come inside, I-" King Joffrey calls but then ceases when he steps out of the room and sees me. 

I immediately curtsy, "my king. Good evening."

Joffrey raises a brow and demands to know why I'm here, referring to me by the house I was born into.

I offer him a smile, "I wanted to speak to my lord husband, your grace."

His face contorts in deep bewilderment. He opens his mouth and raises a finger, "why would you come h-" he turns to the Hound and stops himself. He breaks into a laugh. He laughs so hard that he clutches his stomach, "oh!" He wheezes, "oh, I've forgotten about that!"

King Joffrey calms down with a sigh. He from to his Kingsguard then to me, eyeing my attire. He chuckles under his breath as his eyes rake me down, "I see your wife has dressed to seduce you, dog." His looks up to my face, "or wouldn't that make you bitch?"

I do not respond for a moment, put on the spot by his malice, but then my wits finally meet me. I curtsy to the king, "I am what my king makes me to be."

Joffrey laughs airily. He shakes his head, "my, dog," he turns to his guard, "I've truly matched you well," he pats his shoulder plate, "too well, in fact."

He then retreats into his chambers, calling out as he did, "you're dismissed, dog. Breed your bitch as you like."

The door slams shut.

I release a breath once the king leaves, clutching my belly as I did so.

Sandor does not move an inch from his spot. He does not look at me.

I begin to get nervous all over again. I try, "husband?"

"You think I'll answer to your whistle just because you're dressed like a whore?"

My face hardens. I look away from him. I mean I expected as much.

I swallow the lump in my throat, "I only wanted to please you-"

He scoffs.

I look back at him, "I will dress more modestly if it is what you'd like."

"I'd like not to see you whoring around."

I am unable to withhold my scoff, "I am what my lord makes me out to be."

The Hound finally spares me a glance. I glare at him as I curtsy, "apologies for the impertinence." I turn on my heels and walk away. My anger and vexation gets the best of me. I cannot help but jeer, "if my dress angers you so, take it off me then."

Sandor shifts on his spot.

I continue down the hall.

His lips curl as he growls lowly, "run."

I do not hear anything but my own grumbling.

"Run, little girl!" he barks, making me jolt and turn back to him with a scowl. The irritation is apparent in my face as I stop at the end of the hall, "what?"

The Hound begins to march over. My heart races as I hear him warn, "run, if you know what's good for you"

I begin to shuffle back.

"I'll tear that shit off your body when I catch you."

I break into a sprint at the sound of his threat.

I don't look back. I heave heavily as I rush down the halls. I don't hear him chasing after me, though once I'm far, I see him treading fast as the times he's dragged me by the arm. My stomach flurries with anxiousness and regret.

When I reach my chambers, I mentally debate whether or not I should lock the door. I gulp at the idea of him breaking it down. I decide I do not want a memory such as that to be branded into my brain.

I gasp when he bursts into the room. I grip my skirts from the edge of the bed where where I sat.

The Hound locks the door before walking over to me. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me down on my belly.

I squeak when he grabs my skirts and rips it all the way up my ribs. He scoffs, "fucking parchment."

I hear him grab something by my vanity. I do not dare to look at him. I proceed to hear him undo his armor and his clothes.

I hear a pop. I yelp when he grabs my smallclothes and yanks them down. I groan into the cushions when I feel his fingers toy with my folds.

"Don' fink you nee' vis," he speaks like something was in his mouth. He pulls his hand away and suddenly the smell of my lavender oil assaults my senses. I hear a squelch. Something is thrown to my side; it's my vial.

I squeak when he grabs my hips. He sighs, "you're ready on your own." We both make noises when he begins to thrust into me. The Hound growls, "little girl likes to be chased."

I am shoved into the cushions. My entire body tenses.

"You want to dress like a whore," he taunts, "I'll fuck you like a whore."

His tempo is brutal and harsh. He does not relent or give me leeway. It's strange and shameful that my body even feels tingles of pleasure.

I cannot help the screams that rip out of my throat. Had I not been faced down on the cushion, I fear that I would have woken the dead.

I call out his name when he hoists my hips up. My toes could no longer touch the floor. He begins moving faster. My hands dig into the sheets. I feel my eyes water.

The Hound howls. He shoves me down and suddenly my feet are on the ground. He plunges deep, it makes my eyes roll back. His thrusts become increasingly irregular and after with a few more slaps, he stops.

I catch my breath, thanking the gods he's shown mercy.

I whine when I feel him pull away. I gulp and shift on my spot. I anticipate his next movements. I hear a rustle. I lift my head up and look back at him, confused by the sight of him tying himself up.

Was... was it done?

"Don't think to have that dress mended, girl," he pants as he grabs something from the floor. I roll on my back, feeling uneasy because of the wetness between my thighs. I watch him unlock the door and slam the door on his way out.

All hells were breaking loose. King's Landing was under attack, the castle was on fire, and Stannis Baratheon was winning.

All the women and children holed up in the queen's retreat chamber spilled out to gods know where.

My mind was racing, yet all I could think was: run, flee, Lucy, Daisy, Hound.

I was already running. I was already fleeing. I was doing both with Lucy in my grip. I had Lucy, but I did not have Daisy.

We were running up to my chambers. I left Daisy there, my poor Daisy. We were fleeing up the stairs in haste, sparing no time to catch a breath.

I had no idea what we were to do. We could bar the door, block it with our bed. Lucy and I could manage it, I think. Was it a good idea? Would it guarantee our safety? There was only one way we'd know.

I quickly open the door and lock it once Lucy and I are inside.

We take a moment to finally catch our breath. Lucy grabs my arms and I grab hers. I can feel her shaking. I rub her skin, "it will be alright. No harm will reach us here."

Lucy shakes her head, "milday, you and me both know that's not true."

My heart shatters when I catch the way her eyes water. "Shhh," I pull her into a hug, "have I ever failed you, Lucy?"

She seals her arms around me and whispers, "no."

"Nothing will happen to us," I rub her back, "I will protect you."

"And I, you," she pulls away, "as will Daisy," she wipes her tears before they fall, "and the 'ound."

We scream when we hear a voice in the room. We press our back against the wall and turn to the bed. A figure is sat on the floor by its side. What was said was, "your mutt is stupid."

Lucy and I clutch each other for dear life. I recognized that voice. I muster the courage to tiptoe towards the figure and breathe out shakily when I confirm the presence, "Sandor?"

The man turns to me as we walk up to him. Sandor had Daisy on his lap. She looked up and blinked at me before closing her eyes. She was being pet a bloody hand and did not mind at all.

"She was jumped on me when I walked in. She looked excited," he turns to Daisy, "stupid bitch. Anyone else would have chopped her up."

I find myself releasing a breath of relief. Here now was Daisy, and Hound. I had nothing left to think about.

I walk up to him, kneeling on his side. He turns to me. I examine his face, dirtied and bloodied, "are you hurt?"

He looks at me for a moment. I watch him slowly raise his hand. He cautiously touches my cheek. I clutch his wrist in my hands. He swipes his thumb on my skin, "save your tears." I didn't even know I shed them. "None of the fuckers got close enough to try."

He draws his hand back. He grunts as he gets to his feet. Daisy moves back, wobbling on her three legs; I move back too.

"Take your valuables," the Hound grunts, "we're fucking leaving."

I pull my head back. I watch the man survey the room.

Lucy runs up to my side and she wipes my cheek with her skirt. She watches the red collect on the fabric and wonders who it belonged to. She wagers it's not from her lord.

I shake my head in confusion as Sandor grabs a satchel and stuffs my jewelry in it, "I don't understand. Aren't you going to fight?"

"Fuck the fight," he quips as he shoves objects down and raids through the drawers and closets.

Lucy finishes wiping my face. I walk off and grab all my hidden pouches of gold. I hand it to Sandor, "what about the king?"

"Fuck the king," he takes the pouches and stuffs it into the bag, "fuck him especially."

Sandor then chucks the satchel to Lucy, who grunts when she catches it.

"The stupid fuck's done nothing but fuck around," he picks up Daisy, propping her front legs on his shoulder, "no good thing's come from that fuck." He takes me by the hand and mumbles, " 'cept for one."

He releases me only to unlock the door and hold me again. He does not let me go until we reach the outside of the keep.

The whole lot was in disarray; dead bodies, debris, and fire littered the scene. He hands me Daisy, and I struggle slightly to carry her, considering she was not a small breed. He walks not too far off and brings a wandering horse over.

It's a wonder we do not encounter anyone on this side of the castle, more so that we find a horse.

Sandor takes Daisy and puts her down before helping me mount the steed. My stomach rolls with how his touch lingered on my thigh once I was on.

Next, he took the satchel from Lucy and handed it to me. He then eyed her when she stepped forward, as if debating whether or not he wanted to bring her along. Before she or I could speak up about it, Sandor is already helping her climb up behind me. Lucy takes the satchel from me and eyes him after. He rolls his eyes.

He picked up Daisy and tried handing her to me. However, she struggled too much and could not fit in my arms, so he cursed and threw her back onto his shoulders. He grabbed the horse's reins and started walking.

"Fucking bitch, fucking wench, fucking horse, fucking war, fucking-"

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane fanfic #the hound #the hound fanfic #sandor clegane x reader #sandor the hound clegane #sandor fluff #sandor x reader #sandor fanfic #sandor clegane smut #sandor clegane fic #sandor clegane x you #sandor clegane fluff #sandor fic #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfic #sandor clegane angst #sandor angst #sandor smut

[unfortunatebrainfarts]

After working with your friendly neighborhood intergalactic space cowboy for quite some time, you've managed to become pretty damn good at understanding the gist of what he means to say

Boothill x reader

A/n: OK SO, first fanfic in like 6 years and it's for an intergalactic space cowboy

Tbh I have no idea why I wrote this, my ipad apps are constantly monitored by the teacher and I really have nothing better to do than go on my notes app and pretend I'm writing notes

HAVE AN AMAZING DAY = I HOPE YOU GET FUCKED BY THE IPC AND ROLL IN YOUR OWN DEBT AND SUFFERING (or something like that)

BLESS YOUR HEART = FUCK YOU

PRAY FOR ME = FUCK ME

LOVELY = FUCK

YOU WONDERFUL PERSON = YOU BITCH

Well ain't you just a sweetheart? = Well you're just a little bitchboy aren'tcha?

God love him = He was fuckin' underdeveloped as a fetus wasn't he (Something along the lines of 'he's dumb as shit')

"Hm. Seems about right."

To others, your furrowed brows, tense posture, and concentrated gaze at just one singular page of your notebook may make it seem as if whatever was on that page was something life changing. And honestly, they might as well have been right since you were one step closer to understanding what the hell Boothill was spitting out more than half the time.

You recall the first time you were assigned a mission with him — "BLESS YOUR HEART YOU WONDERFUL PERSON," cue you snapping your head towards the gruff voice seeing the cowboy in all his glory easily decimating the dozens of grunts in his vicinity with a toothy grin no less, which you note are very, very sharp.

His long, flowy hair caught your attention. How was it so white and clean even with all the fights you know gets into? Does it ever get yanked? What shampoo does he use?

"Now I don' mind some ooglin', but wouldn't ya say we should keep our eyes on our enemies darlin'?"

His voice snaps you out of your trance and you come to to a shovel nearing your head. You instinctively cover your face with your hands anticipating the pain, the pain which never came since when you put them down, you see that Boohill had already left a bullet in his head.

"Spacin' out at a space cowboy? Ain't that rich."

.

Ignoring the fact that he saved you from having to get facial reconstruction surgery, the reason you almost got a face full of shovel in the first place was because of the ridiculous curse on his synesthesia beacon.

That's why you've been devoted to trying to decode the albeit hilarious, rather inconvenient in a battle things he says. You've tried asking Boothill to write them down, but his handwriting could have him assigned as a doctor in no time so you gave up on that idea quite quickly.

"Whatcha starin' at so intently darlin'?

Your train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the man of the hour mindlessly snatching your notebook right out of your hands. "Aren't you supposed to stop thieves, not act like one," you ask half heartedly. It was nothing less of what you'd expect from Boothill of all people — no, cyborgs??

"Heh, this ain't thievery 's sharin'! Er, what's that one sayin' again... share to care, care to share, sharin' to carin'? Eh whatever ya get what I mean don'tcha sugar?" He retorted, you roll your eyes mentally as he put his focus back onto the notebook. To be honest you were surprised he could even read considering his handwriting was that bad.

As Boothill read each and every one of your 'translations', his grin only grew wider and wider showing the spiky teeth you don't know how are natural but have grown accustomed to seeing. Just then, a burst of unhinged laughter randomly filled the entire lounge room you were sitting in. The weird glances and whispering were already starting but Boothill didn't care, he was Boothill.

Not wanting to be associated with the man at that very moment, you stand up to leave him comically rolling on the floor. However, you couldn't even do that because the moment you stood up, Boothill snatched your leg and dragged it so that you would fall back down. This time, onto the floor with him. "Well ain't you something sweetcheeks, ya got me alll figured out huh?"
.

.

It's been two months. Ever since Boothill realized that you had actually tried to figure out the true meaning behind his words — and actually got them relatively right — he's been using you to spew out insults overtime. Honestly it was like you had become a pokemon, you could just picture it in your head.

BOOTHILL BROUGHT OUT ____

____ USED SWEAR! IT WAS SUPER EFFECTIVE

Either way, it wasn't that bad since though you might be imagining things, it feels as if you've grown ever so slightly closer to the eccentric space cowboy.

You continue to observe boothill and add more and more onto your list of translations, but apparently you fail to notice that he no longer uses any casual pet names like 'darling' or 'sweetcheeks' anymore. At least, not for anyone but you.

#I'm actually gonna krill myself😭 #please ignore any mistakes or awkward parts I wrote this in 30 minutes #you can tell I can't write any southern stuff I literally had to search up 'cowboy insults' and 'how to speak like a cowboy' #li actually writes🤯 #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #boothill hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail

[hyunsvngs]

I have an idea for an a/b/o-adjacent/hybrid au fic?

okay so imagine: bunny hybrid reader who is getting increasingly frustrated by their sexual partners. everyone has heard the phrase ‘fuck like rabbits’ and they are especially tired of it. like yes, it’s true, bunny hybrids have a higher sex drive. and while their partners are always excited about this fact, they always end up disappointed. they all tap out before poor bunny!reader is fulfilled, so this phrase is a blessing and a curse for them. lots of people are interested in fucking them, but none of their encounters are ever what they need.

now cue bunny!changbin with the same problem, except he’s a bit nicer than bunny!reader and always lies to his partners about getting his fill as to not hurt any egos. but he is perpetually blue-balling himself because his partners always get totally fucked out before he’s really fulfilled. and on one hand he’s a little proud because his partners always get off at least, but he’s getting desperate.

they both, separately, confide in kitty!felix who lends a sympathetic ear while secretly plotting how he’s going to help his horny bunnies find each other. and he finally decides that he wouldn’t mind being there to lend a helping hand (he’s tried helping them both tbh but even his high libido can’t compare with them). so we get binlixreader threesome, where the bunnies get to play with felix before fucking each other. felix gets fucked out (of course) and resigns to curling up in a blanket and sipping some water while the bunnies are left to entertain each other.

and it’s going really well because by this point they’re quite comfortable with each other, and both so horny out of their minds that they just want to get on with it. and they are literally just fucking, like desperately riding each other through multiple orgasms and into overstimulation. but they both need it so bad and don’t want to stop. and even though they’re horny animals, binnie is still a gentleman so he has to check in like: “are you good? do you need a break?” and reader is thinking ‘oh no, this is it’ but is like “yeah, I’m fine. do you need a break?” and bin is like “no no, this is so good. like, please tell me when you want to stop but also I can’t imagine stopping right now” and reader is like “oh perfect, same. like don’t push yourself, but also just keep fucking me please”

so felix is just like, there (lol) waiting for them to tire each other out. he takes a nap, eats a snack, has a shower. the bunnies with their crazy low refractory periods probably have less than a minute breaks before they’re on top of each other again. felix eventually just leaves them be until they finally finish, then he comes in and makes them hydrate and quickly wipes them clean. and both of them are insatiable for another reason now, because they’re super sleepy and fucked out. so they whine and beg for felix to cuddle them and he’s like “oh my god, you’re both so needy” but does end up wedged between them while he coaxes them into eating snacks and pets their floppy ears. and he’s like “that was hot, but you two need to learn some self-control. do you know what time it is?” and they’re both like “mh-hm, m’okay, kisses please” 

and felix sighs and just decides to let his bunnies rest while he handles all the aftercare. which sort of ties into actual animal behavior, because cats view themselves as the dominant one when they groom other animals but rabbits view themselves as the dominant one when they’re being groomed. but anyway, felix continues to take care of his bunnies whenever they need him and they are also happy to dote on him when he needs a bit of love

anyway, byyyye (🌨️ anonnie)

HOLY FUCK

#juno’s asks ♡ #🌨️ anon 💌 #asks: changlix

[lustlovehart]

Summary: [Angst] The balladeer watches as you receive an electro vision right in front of his eyes.

A/n: I love him, but felt like he should be sad on his birthday tbh <3. (The bonus is a bit happier though so enjoy that all you want.)

Warnings: Mostly pure angst, but some possessiveness in him, not to the point of being yandere though.

---

Your fingers tremble as you look at the man in front of you, his face typically adorning an expression of scorn a vast majority of the time. You’ve gotten use to the look, others feared it, you used to as well, but eventually time passed on and you’d grown accustomed to all sides of him, perhaps not all, only the ones he was willing to show you. However as you look at him now, the mask he wears on his breathtaking features, make you loose your breath.

He had no emotion, none that could be seen at least.

Your hands griped tighter onto the purple glass ball that had floated in front of you. You tried your best to stay composed but the stiffness of your joints had made it obvious.

"Kuni-"

He turns away, something he never does. You’ve never witnessed him not look at you, to the point of growing accustomed to his watching eyes. His body continues to get smaller and smaller as he walks further and further away from you. Unbeknownst to you, the puppet had turned his figure away in order for your eyes to not gaze upon his crumbling composure, the exact thing that led him to not be worthy in the eyes of god, no… the eyes of his mother.

No matter how hard he himself tried to deny it, he understood his feelings for you were the wretched thing called ‘love’, which is why he lets himself gaze at you with such an emotion in his hollowed chest. In fact, thats all he can feel when he’s around you. Yet as of this moment, he no longer knows how he should feel.

The scene of you, would typically make his heart race in way that seemed unhealthy for the regular being, yet, the image of you, holding the vision his mother had ruling over, struck a chord with him. He feels, grief. If he was still the way he was before he met you, he’s sure he would’ve ended you right where you stood, jealousy filling his veins full of unfiltered anguish at the thought of a mere mortal being chosen by Celestia as an potential candidate to ascending like his mother.

But, this is you, not some random stranger, not a random mortal beneath him. It was you who was chosen by a higher power.

You walk closer behind, even through his fake skin, he can feel the warmth of your very human body, transferring to his puppet one. But even with the fluttering feeling you gave him, he could not help the words dripping with venom spill from his lips.

"Give it up. Do you believe your grandiose belief of ambition reached the heavens? Do not forget, I am the only one you truly need in this cruel world."

In your eyes he can clearly tell the shock you held for his sudden change in deamonur. A complete 180 to the way he was just prior moments ago.

"What...?"

"Did you not hear me the first time? You dont need that so called 'blessing', for you already have me, its foolish to believe you need anything other than me. Am I not capable enough? Am I...." his words seem to catch themself in his throat, like he was holding back as to not further embarrass himself, yet the words make it out in the end.

"Am I not enough for you too...?" His hues dont make contact with, almost as if he was the young puppet he once was again.

You only stare at him, not understanding the underlying message of his words. The silence was deafening, yet as it continued, he could only sigh before walking away.

"At least be with me, [Name], even if you were the one who's worthiness was recognized, I want you to still care for me the way no one else had stayed." His words faded away with the wind though quiet, they were still there.

[Bonus]

In the dead of night, your eyes are trained on the dim candlelight in the room. Despite its unsure flame, it still stayed lit as it wavered. Similar to the man who laid beside you.

You couldnt remember his words anymore, but even then you doubt youd understand the context. His arms are tightly wrapped around you waist as you laid still, despite his unique trait of not needing to breathe, it still felt as if he was inhaling you as much as he could.

"Kuni, just what did you mean by 'too'...?" Despite your words being barely a whisper, it seems his mechanical ears still heard what you had said.

"That doesnt really matter anymore. All that matters is that you dont become the forth of it all."

"What does that even mean... I swear you need to start making sense for once..."

---

This was made while I was like half asleep during class, so if it isnt too good please dont blame me you guys.

#genshin x reader #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x reader #wanderer angst #wanderer x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #vesperwrites

[dilucsfav]

Saw that you were writing for re!! Can i request re4 leon with shy reader? Reader usually gets flustered over little things like remembering what they like and small compliments! Reader also likes to cling onto his arm even while cuddling!! (yk how buffed his arm is who wouldnt want to)

YES YES YES. oh my god ive never written for leon before but how about start with my good old fashioned favorite (and hopefully you guys like it too) random hcs & scenarios :)

yes, i know how buffed his arm is. i would gladly hold it, too.

please dont hate on me if hes not very canon LMFAOOO, like i said ive never written for him before so hopefully these are alright ahh!

once again, another request i could not WAIT to write😭

enjoy!! :))) make sure to take time for yourself today, you deserve it!

Leon Kennedy RE4 hcs & scenarios with a shy!reader!

warning(s): the usual nsfw that i put in these, yall know the drill

before you two even got together it took a LONG time for him to confess (lord almighty knows the reader wouldnt do it for this hot fucking man with the absolute godly DUMPTRUCK he was blessed with)

^^ because leon may be tough & a fighter, hes also cheesey as fucking hell. making the worst jokes, a tease, etc.

your shy reactions from his jokes made him think you didnt appreciate them, even though you just didnt know how to respond😭, that meant it took a while before he was actually like-

"... Uhm, we should go... get a steak together, yeah? Just you and me?"

^^while nervously sweating n shit cuz hes scared he'll freak you out because of how shy you are

surprisingly to him, though, of course you said yes! just... maybe not as smoothly as he hoped. his awkward ass just kinda saying "cool," while youre twiddling with your fingers and its just a little awkward silence that he tries to relieve with a little chuckle 😭😭😭

honestly, though, you two hit it off just fine when you finally got together!

Leon is a very busy man, though, so being with you 24/7 was out of the question- it was simply impossible :(

Especially if you two were living together, and he had to go on missions, you often felt very alone & sad. Days (most of the time, weeks) of distress, worry, & crying, wondering if Leon was okay and assuming the worst happened to him.

By the time he returns, though, you are wrapped around him like a magnet. You would give him such gentle care, often wrapping your arms around his arm, your fingers clinging onto his upper arm just like glue

^^especiallyyy when you two are in public. when you meet some of leon's friends, you often cowered shyly just behind him with your hands on his arm. He wasnt bothered by it, in fact, he LOVES it because it shows your trust & how comfortable you are around him, which took a very long time for him to gain :)

leon often compliments your eyes. omg.

^^ he would hold you cheek & tilt your face, examining your eyes with a gentle smile.

^^ "Pretty thing, you are. But you already know that, now, don't you, (Y/N)?"

guys guys i personally hc this but when you guys are in public and its super crowded areas he would lead and put his hand behind him, moving his fingers to catch your attention so you can hold his hand & he can lead you through the crowd sjhdjasdjk

^^I personally hate how overwhelming crowds can be, & Leon knows how shy and timid you can be. We love our sweet boy🫶

his favorite place to hold you while you two are kissing is the side of you neck baebhjafsbjsbjkj OR LIKE JUST UNDER YOUR JAWLINE YESSS YOU ALL KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT!!!!!

also, when leon returns home after an incredibly exhausting mission, you are the first person he wants to see, no question about it. despite all the dangers and traumatic things he's seen on his missions, he trusts & loves you enough to feel safe in your arms.

he is a fucking DORK, makes the shittiest jokes and youve just learned to love them <3

his favorite cereal strikes me as either being frosted mini wheats or rice krispies? i could be wrong though tbh

THATS SO FUCKING RANDOM IM SORRY YOU GUYS LMFAO

speaking of food, he would spoil you ROTTEN with your favorites snacks, meals, drinks, anything you desire. and he'd remember every little detail about your favorite foods, least favorites, etc.

^^ OMG FLOWERS TO! he’s definitely a gift giver no doubt

i think he'd like your arms & tummy a lot though :) i can see him give so so so many little tummy kisses and shoulder kisses and wrist kisses and ahhHAHDHAH

you still get a little shy around him from his compliments & how much physical attention you get & he finds it adorable🥲

nsfw:

speaking of physical attention🌝

favorite sex position? fucking missionary. one hundred fucking percent.

god damn.

GOD DAMN.

especially with you two, its such a loving & trusting & pure relationship, it would be so intimate and ahahdjksahj

kissing through the. whole. thing.

also he'd be so sore & tired all the time from missions, he would get so flushed & feel so loved because you'd kiss the parts that hurt him & his scars & you would rub his muscles and djkasjbdasjdnkj

^^ as would he kiss your scars & any place you are insecure about <3

nah yall.... sex with him for the first time- HELP ME HE WOULD;

"Can I--, put... here... inside you, (Y/N), can I..."

STOP IT WOULD BE SO CUTE BUT SO FUNNY 😭😭

^^ in all seriousness though, it did take a few times for you two to be truly comfortable. At first it was very shy, but shit as time moved on? it was still intimate but FUCKING DAMN IT GOT HOTTER

when he has news he has to leave for a mission? he'd fuck you into oblivion until youre just sick & tired of sex (should i write a fanfic of that, somebody pls request it if so-)

hes such a dork, sometimes he makes sex so funny that it wouldnt even be uncomfortable or awkward, just straight up funny

sex would be pretty vanilla unless you asked otherwise. i think he'd take both of your hands and hold them above your head tho🌝🌝

^^you would get super nervous & embarrassed and your hands would try to cover yourself up, or cover your mouth or face from how hot you felt-- he fixed that RIGHT away and from then on he made sure he could hear all your pretty sounds

"Babe, you feel so, so fucking good... you keep your hands right up there, you hear me?"

^^ WHILE HES JUST DESTROYING YOU AND FUCK

yes, i did say it would be intimate. but did i ever say it wouldnt be rough? absolutely not.

^^bed shaking, the LOUDEST fucking noises coming from both of you guys because i just KNOW this man hits all the good fucking spots.

i say fuck a lot but thats just cuz i want leon to fu-

anyways.

#leon kennedy #re4 leon #re4 #leon x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil leon #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fandom #resident evil headcanons #leon kennedy headcanons #leon headcanons #leon scott kennedy x reader

[abnormallyo-a-k]

I can't stop thinking about this recent episode. We have no idea where Sparrow is, Larks freaking out over that as well. Normal is so not okay and finally gets that moment to just let it out- and God bless Scary for doing her best and giving an amazing speech to him.

But then it's just- ripped out from under him in a instant. He's sitting there dealing with the fact that his father sacrificed the world for his son and daughter, like a good father would tbh (like that saying of 'A hero would sacrifice you for the world, but a villain would sacrifice the world for you'), and dealing with the fact that he thinks that Sparrow to some degree blames him.

That he'll never live up to what Sparrow wants, that he'll never fit the person his dad sacrificed the world for. And he doesn't know, that even if Sparrow isn't proud of him- he loves him. That deep of a parental love that you would doom an entire world for your kid? That doesn't go away just because that kid is so open and vulnerable and not a normal kid like you want him to. That love and urge to protect is there.

Even if the pride isn't. Which sucks, and my heart bleeds for this kid. He wants to make his dad happy and proud. He wants to do good. Yet he's convinced he can only do bad.

And then that same sentiment is damn near shoved down his throat. "Sparrow" having an actual talk with him, sitting him down and talking like they should have so so long ago. Only for Willy to make himself known, fucking Normal over more. The two talks he's had with his "dad" weren't him. First Lark, now Willy. By the time Sparrow actually talks to him, Normal is going to be too far gone.

He won't be able to trust anything, not himself, not his dad, not the truth or lies. This single instance is going to ruin Normals mental state further. Anything that was salvageable from it is gone, he had Willy force "you are the problem, this is all on you" down his throat. The ultimate truth that, no matter what his friends say, he isn't the glue. He's the match melting the glue. He's the flame of a candle that's been burning far too long and gone unwatched.

The wax has all melted, the fire is spreading, and it's going to be an uncontrollable flame.

That flame is going to burn him to the ground before his friends, his uncle, his father can put him out.

#dndads s2 #dungeons and daddies #normal oak #normally oak swallows garcia #dndads #dndads spoilers #sparrow oak #sparrow oak garcia #willy stampler #lark oak #lark oak garcia

[nyxnephilim]

Time for a bit of FFXIV speculation :

I realize that a bulk of FFXIV players have already completed the whole of the story arc ( probably more than one time ) so please don't hold it against this 🌱 while I think-out-loud about my feelings towards the story so far even if I'm still experiencing ARR.

( also pls no spoilers, but I appreciate encouragement and assurance my questions will get answered. Lol )

Somethings have been picking at my brain since I encountered them. One of which is when the Amal'Jaa are surprised we do not fall to tempering stating our "soul must belong to another" and then Ifrit himself says that while he can see we do not already serve a primal that the paragons warned the Primals about the godless-blessed one's aborrent existence. Does that mean that while we may or may not be tempered by a primal we are controlled/ guided by some 'other' thing outside the paragons or the 12. If we are being Guided/controlled by what we don't quite understand but is big enough or strong enough for the paragons & primals to worry about —- should we be worried about its overall motive & can it truly be benevolent and omniscient with that much power? Does it seek to follow through with its own agenda regardless of the plight of others.

The reason I say this is because of another encounter that seems to stick in my mind. A point in which Y'stola chastises Merlwyb for breaking the treaty with the Kolbolds. She basically says and has a solid point (that I had already thought of before this scene) when she tells Merlwyb that this constant war with the Kobolds was of her own doing in letting Lominsans break the treaty. The kolbolds are just defending themselves. Or course there is an a back and forth that ensues but the point being both Merlwyb and the Kobolds are doing what they believe to be right for justice sake and for the sake & safety of their people.

I extrapolated this further. What makes us, the scions, so sure that what WE are doing is right? Because a giant crystal says so? We kill gods/primals and move against another society that perhaps (outside of their military) could possibly be wanting freedom and peace like those of Eorzea do. What of the Garlemald society? They can't be all military. Its not hard to believe that there are some suffering at our hands because of what their military decided to do, not them. I guess essentially what I'm saying is, how are we so certain we are not falsely lead to believe what we do is just and right when what we do is kill gods/primals, murder tribes on sight because of who they are and pushing our agenda on them. There is point where there is a kobold says that those of their community at war with us do not represent the whole of their society. … and I hear that the crafting questline with the different tribes show us that not all of the their race want to fight. So is it hard to reason that perhaps not all Ishgardians hate dragons? That not all dragons hate the elezen. That not all Garleans follow their military and that perhaps what we perceive as right may only be a perspective of one cosmologic being with enough power to have us believe in what they want?

on top of the fact that the Ascians say ' if we knew more, that we wouldn't be fighting with them.... that we would basically understand’ ... leaves me feeling 🤯

What the hell is going on? I know mother crystal is our main guide... but tbh I'm feeling pretty sus about things and honestly the motives of Hydaelyn. I realize they are presenting her as a mothering ‘goddess’ but I’ve always been the type of kid to ask “why”

The answer of ‘just because’ … ‘because I said so’….. ‘because this is how it’s always been done’ ….. ‘because I’m the boss’…..

Has NEVER sat well with me. As a kid or now. With my parents, with teachers, with management or upper level bosses. I need to know the why, the motives, the implications or consequences, the benefits. I need this information because the end does not always justify the means. Especially if on a core level I disagree with it and feel there is an alternate route.

That probably says more about me then I intended but yeah… lol

... anyhow.... thank you for letting me just babble on about the beginning of this ( I'm sure to be ) wild ride we all know and love called FFXIV.

:::: Newbie rant over ::::

#ffxiv #🌱sprout #a realm reborn #ff14 ffxiv #newgamer #lore speculation #ARR #New to FFXIV #🌱 #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #first time FFXIV #ffxiv new player #new to gaming #new to MMOs

[sandcobangevent]

Sherlock & Co. Flash Bang Project - "Of Tango and Spinning Thoughts"

This is a writing part of our Sherlock & Co. Flash Bang Project - mine, @voilaammayi​, and @morguhimechan. Check out the end of this post or go to their profile to see the awesome art they’ve created as the complementary part of the project. Enjoy!

the prompt: He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He picked up the phone and read the text.

Of Tango and Spinning Thoughts

Sherlock was yet to fully acknowledge the fact that Watson would probably never stop to astonish him.

He was rather proud to say that he - colloquially speaking - has worked Watson out. By now he learned most of his routine and habits. For example, Sherlock knew that for breakfast he liked to eat toast with jam, occasionally with honey or cottage cheese. So a sugar bomb, if it was matched with a coffee that he usually bought out in the neighbourhood. The doctor claimed those walks were to clear his head and get a positive attitude for a day, Sherlock! To which the detective used to reply that if not for the Patreon people, all this positivity would soon become despair at the state of your wallet, Watson. But then he never complained, when he was given biscuits from the cafe.

He also got to understand Watson’s texting etiquette, although it took him some time. The Internet was a vast and useful space, but text chats? They posed a real challenge. Half of the people acted there completely differently than they were in reality. The second half insisted on using slang, abbreviations, truly weird interpunction, and God knows what else far more frequently than Sherlock found it necessary or appropriate, really. All that, with its variety and unsaid rules or meanings that he was still learning to decipher, usually got him pretty tired pretty quickly.

Thankfully, both Watson and Mariana were rather consistent and truthful in the way they were communicating on the internet, so eventually Sherlock got a hold of it.

Watson was quite similar online as he was in the flesh - many jokes and changing topics. Using the damn abbreviations, but always explained them every time Sherlock asked him what in heavens does tbh nvm man lol or other absurd things mean. Almost every sentence in a separate message, as if to visualise how the next and next thought popped out in his mind, prompted by the previous one and impatient to get out. Sometimes his texting stopped in the middle because he had to do something else and then forgot to finish. From time to time he had a phase when he was sending emojis rather excessively and - to Sherlock’s worry - using a whole variety of them. Other than those relatively understandable ones, every else with a meaning that seemingly only Watson had in mind, Mariana too baffled by them on a regular basis.

Speaking about Mariana, sometimes Sherlock had an irresistible urge to leave everything he was doing at the moment and go thank her. She was so clear and straightforward in her messages, using just punctuation marks combined instead of emojis. Dots at the end of most sentences and usually commas where they belonged. A beautiful example of effectiveness and intelligibility in the detective’s opinion.

Sherlock himself has taken over only two of the internet habits yet. First, voice messages which were a blessing in knowing that he would be heard correctly, intonation other way completely lost in this so-called modern way of talking that was texting. And second, gifs. At first, he almost caused a war on Baker Street, when he said the word aloud with a letter j instead of g. Watson went on a half-hour rant about how pronouncing it other than gif is immoral and inhuman. Sherlock argued that the inventor of the thing itself called it jif so he too would do as such. The fight was yet to be decided, for now forbidden to continue by Mariana. She wisely didn’t choose a side.

Anyway, Sherlock found gifs brilliant. Certain communicate in captions at the bottom joined by a certain visual reaction. Quick and clear. By now he had a whole folder in his app gallery of thoroughly chosen gifs for particular occasions. Sometimes, when he had no energy to bring his thoughts into words but needed to get a longer message through, he just sent gif sets containing the meaning as a whole.

Watson claimed it was hypocrisy if Sherlock were using gifs instead of words and then complain about using emojis. Sherlock said in response, that Watson is nowhere as consistent in using emojis in terms of their meaning as Sherlock is with gifs.

All this knowledge gained and yet he still became a victim of online texting. Well, after a bit of thought he had to admit, it was less a texting thing and more a matter of his naivety and curiosity, let it be damned. Although there was always a safe option of just saying that Watson and his mischievous schemes were to blame. Because when one day Sherlock saw messages popping on on his phone’s screen and about trains of all things, he just jumped right in.

John H. Watson: Hey sherlock 

John H. Watson: Sherlock mate

John H. Watson: Do you know what time it is??

John H. Watson: Yep that’s right sun is shining birds are singing and all that

John H. Watson: So are you ready to hear your train fact of the day from your personal source john watson md?

John H. Watson: Bet you don’t know this one!!!!

John H. Watson: Did you know the longest UK train station name is Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwlllantysiliogogogoch

John H. Watson: Don’t ask me to say it

You: Yes, I did.

You: You missed an “I” on the “Illlanty”

You: It is quite an amusing fact though, I must say.

John H. Watson: You have no idea how long that took me to type

John H. Watson: Actually made me chuckle that one!!

John H. Watson: Anyway

John H. Watson: Now I have your attention

You: What is that supposed to mean?

John H. Watson: Sherlock Holmes, I do believe it is your time to do the washing up

You: Bugger…

That way Sherlock ended up in the kitchen, elbow-deep in the sink. It was truly awful, touching all the wetness and sliminess there, and he would ditch the task immediately if it weren’t for the fact, that Watson was already washing the dishes five times more frequently than him - precisely because Watson knew how much Sherlock hated it, so the detective had the decency to do it at least once from time to time as a show of gratitude.

He had to come to the kitchen also because when he ghosted next messages from Watson, the doctor showed up at Sherlock’s door personally to walk him to the sink and gave him both a dish soap and a sponge courteously, as it was some treasure, saying:

- Your crown jewels, my lord.

In the end, of course, Watson caved in and after letting out a dramatic sigh he pushed himself off the countertop where he was leaning and joined Sherlock at the sink. To keep the balance, as Watson phrased it, he denied actually washing the dishes and agreed to just dry them with a kitchen cloth, their fingers brushing while passing the plates.

He also couldn’t resist taking onto a cupped hand some of the foam that had gathered in one of the pots from the dish soap, and splashing Sherlock with it. The opalescent, bubbly, and - to the detective’s distress - wet thing all over his dark curls. All over the place, too, to be honest, because it escalated into a full-blown battle for a minute or two. Watson was glowing with victory afterward, no matter the sheer amounts of dish soap on his clothes.

(Sherlock just couldn’t bring himself to touch the slimy contents of the sink longer than necessary, so he took the almost full bottle of dish soap as his weapon. Well, let’s say it wasn’t so full anymore.)

Watson went to the bathroom to bring them some towels while murmuring to himself something along the lines That’s exactly how it ends, you ask him to clean and there is only more to clean afterward - but at the same time, his laugh still heard across the flat even though he was a few rooms away.

Mariana eyed them in a very suspicious manner for a long moment of silence, when they had no other option than to knock on the Baker Street 221A’s door later that day and ask if she would lend them some more dish soap, so Sherlock could actually finish washing those bloody dishes. She looked rather intimidating with hands on her hips and a raised brow.

- And what have you done with the one I bought you just yesterday…?

There was a bit of emptiness in the boys’s minds when they looked briefly at themselves, hopefully getting their stories aligned in some telepathic way, for the sake of their crumbling dignity. Then they said at the same time:

- Watson started a fight.

- Archie ate it.

Sherlock opened his mouth looking almost insulted. Watson elbowed him under the ribs. Mariana raised the second brow, too.

- No soy una idiota, boys.

All that was the reason why the next night’s events looked the way they did.

It was late and Sherlock didn’t feel particularly tired. No, quite the opposite. Energy came to him from nowhere around midnight and settled rather comfortably in his body, so he had no choice but to use it in some way. It was not unusual, actually, that’s the way it was his whole life. His mind is uneasy and with a whole plethora of thoughts to keep yourself busy with. Many threads that once started, then wait to be analysed and brought to a conclusion. But simultaneously, his interest in things coming one moment and gone the other, each next thought more fascinating than its predecessor. Always looking for more, craving for something new or unusual that could keep his mind entertained.

So it was bound to happen - both periods of unbearable boredom and excessive activity. In the first case, when everything around seemed almost painfully mundane and his brain was burning out on itself, trying to find anything worth his attention. And the second one, when there was even too much to do, too urgent and compelling, so he stayed up at weird hours at night, completely absorbed with whatever it was that interested him this time.

Tonight it was violin. In the depths of the internet the other day he found music of Antonio Agri, some Argentinian musician, that filled his head completely for now and refused to leave it. So here he was, practising Los mareados at three am. He drew the bow across the strings, sounds of tango filling his room - probably seeping through doors and windows, into the flat and outside, onto Baker Street.

But then, just when he was about to play the trickiest part, his phone buzzed. And again, and once more. And it continued to, every dozen seconds, no matter how Sherlock tried to ignore it and get back to his violin. He didn’t have to check to know who it was, texting him this late at night. Watson probably didn’t like a live performance of Argentinian music when he was sleeping.

It didn’t stop after a few minutes, the buzzing more insistent in Sherlock’s ears than his own music. If he reached out for the phone to look at its screen, he was expecting to see some caps-locked messages scolding him for making sure no one in the building would never lend them an egg when needed, as Watson liked to phrase it. Maybe, if Watson was more sleepy than pissed, something closer to Sherlock my dearest roommate and companion I know music is the greatest gift and it must be lovely to play but will you please shut up.

Sherlock actually had a whole catalogue of messages like that in his memory (and on text chat with Watson), so he allowed himself to not check out this one. He went back to playing, and after a while his phone went silent and his room once again filled with nothing else than violin.

It took him some time, but finally, he was satisfied with the effects and decided it was enough for today. He could finally go to sleep, unbothered by pent-up energy. He changed his clothes and got ready to go to bed. But while burying under the covers he forgot himself and checked the phone.

Suddenly he felt uneasy again, what he was seeing not the thing he had expected. There was twenty or so unread texts from Watson, the list so long that the whole of it wasn’t visible on a lock screen. And in those that were, Sherlock couldn’t find a word about violin.

John H. Watson: Okay mate you’re not gonna believe it

John H. Watson: The train we took last time, right?

John H. Watson: The one to Chessington

John H. Watson: For the case

John H. Watson: Did you know that the same station where we got off is where seven bodies were found in the last three years?

John H. Watson: Seven Sherlock!

This was where the notification box ended, more text available if he unlocked the phone. He hesitated for a second, suspicion rising. What if Watson was baiting him again? He would open the chat, curious about the supposed train crime, and then boom!, as Watson would exclaim if it was him saying it, Sherlock would be caught by an accusing message, scolding him for not doing his laundry or something.

His scepticism was abruptly interrupted by an incoming text from Mariana.

Mrs. Hudson: Gracias a Dios you finally stopped playing or I would come upstairs and confiscate that violin of yours.

Mrs. Hudson: Performances appreciated but in the daytime, please!

Mrs. Hudson: Go rest, Sherlock. Good night :))

You: Noted. Good night mrs. Hudson.

Her texts took up the place on screen from Watson’s, but not from Sherlock’s thoughts. His curiosity won.

John H. Watson: How come people still want to even step foot on the platform

John H. Watson: No way to know if where you’re standing just now isn’t a place of somebody’s death

John H. Watson: You could stand where somebody bled out and have no idea

John H. Watson: How do they even get those blood stains off the pavement

John H. Watson: Sake the bloody thing is harder to wash than cranberry

John H. Watson: And I know a thing or two about washing off cranberry cause it was the only ice cream flavour I liked when I was eight

John H. Watson: Half of my clothes had cranberry stains and my mother almost crossed me out of her will cause I wouldn’t stop eating them

John H. Watson: Oh wait

John H. Watson: Oh the thing I just did

John H. Watson: Wrote I mean

John H. Watson: Saying “the bloody thing” when I was talking about literal blood a second earlier

John H. Watson: Heh

John H. Watson: Sorry it wasn’t intentional

John H. Watson: But you have to admit it is a good one

John H. Watson: Eh good old wordplay

John H. Watson: So unappreciated in this cruel modern world

John H. Watson: Anyway

John H. Watson: So that train yeah?

John H. Watson: Did you know that every one of those people was found with an unused train ticket for a Plymouth-Cardiff ride

John H. Watson: That’s on the whole other end of a country!!!!

John H. Watson: Every one of them I repeat

John H. Watson: A ticket that was never used and dead the same day it was bought

Texts ended. Nothing like So what do we reckon? or Well? Are you interested mate? to follow up on the case description. Because, maybe interrupted by a few digressions and unbidden thoughts of Watson’s, it was practically a case he was offering Sherlock. But it all felt unfinished, weirdly suspended. The weirdest of it all was a bubble at the bottom of the chat, insinuating Watson was still writing something, even though almost twenty minutes passed since he sent the last message.

He gave it all a few seconds of his mind insight.

After that, despite all his intelligence he suddenly felt very stupid.

He rushed out of his room, leaving the phone and warm, welcoming bed behind. All this urgency he had to abandon the moment he stepped a foot outside the door because if he woke up Archie with his frantic moving through the flat, he wouldn’t hear the end of it (or of Archie’s alarmed barking). Watson would eagerly add the dog’s turmoil to Sherlock’s list of things why neighbours hate them.

Sherlock didn’t know it yet, but at the same time, John was lying on his bed - eyes open but lights not on. His sheets were somewhere on the floor, he wasn’t sure on which side. He was still too hot anyway but had no actual energy to get up and open a window to let some cool night air into his room. Even less energy, since the violin music stopped playing and there was nothing else anymore to keep him from his own thoughts.

The story behind it all was as old as time. Well, not really, but it sounded good that way. It wasn’t even as old as John himself, since most of his life he was blissfully free from PTSD and its nightmares. Funny thing, he considered many worries before joining the army, but not ever that this bloody illness would get him. Was it an illness or a disorder? Rather a disorder, he thought after a moment. He should finally accept that it wasn’t going anywhere and will stay with him for a long time - till the end of time, probably - and just go to therapy. Get some meds or his brain fixed, anything really. But the thought was heavy and with a responsibility. He knew it’d be good for him in the end, but he wasn’t quite ready.

He considered it safer to deal with one existential crisis at a time. First, he had to deal with coming back to the country from Ukraine. Getting sacked from the army. ‘Sake, becoming a criminal in a technical sense. And still, nothing compared to dealing with being blown up, hospital convalescence, and the knowledge that there are scars on his body that would stay there forever. Itching every time he woke up from a bloody nightmare like this.

Secondly, he dealt with the matter of where he’d even live and what he was gonna do with his life. It was all a bit of a coincidence, really. But in the end and all things considered? Sherlock and Mariana, this whole thing they three created, were the best thing that ever happened to him. That’s it, nothing else needed to be said.

So the third thing was getting used to that. That he had a stable life - as much as it could be phrased like that, considering what they did for a living - and that it was good. With a purpose, relatively safe, and filled with warmth. Baker Street felt so warm. Sometimes he was still learning to feel comfortable with that, to acknowledge it all. He smiled every time.

Then yeah, the fourth thing could be dealing with PTSD and all his past on therapy. In a while. Just not know, when everything was more or less okay. Let the monsters sleep for a bit more.

But John wasn’t sleeping. He woke up with a gasp and just sat on a bed for a moment. Details of the nightmare already fading, but a bad feeling connected to it not going to leave his mind until further notice, thank you very much. When his breath calmed down and heart stopped racing, he tried to collect his thoughts. Yes, the dreams were still disruptive to his nights, but by now he got quite used to them. Sometimes there was one that was leaving him particularly shattered, but mostly they were just… inconvenient. Causing him to be tired the next day because of not getting enough sleep. Or so he told himself, but that was not something John would officially admit.

Right now he knew two things - that he was not gonna fall asleep again and that he had to distract himself immediately to not go down some very unpleasant spiral of thoughts. He also realised that there was music in the air. Sherlock was not sleeping, too, and playing the violin. How could he not hear it the last fifteen minutes? He knew the answer - the question was rather rhetorical, don’t mind him - but John didn’t dwell on it and instead focused on listening. The melody was somehow familiar.

He reached out for his phone, not exactly sure why. He had no way of checking what the music was even if he’d like to. But thankfully his phone had endless means of distraction. Soon he found out it wasn’t working - he could scroll Instagram as much as he wanted to, but at some point, his mind repeatedly stopped paying attention to what was on the screen and went back to the nightmare - even though it was a complete blur by now - and all the other things that was making him anxious. Prompted by the dream coming to the surface.

He needed someone else to distract him. Another person determining the topic of his thoughts. Just somebody to talk to, please. For a moment he fought with himself, laying on the mattress again and staring at the ceiling.

Music was still playing in the flat. Sherlock was still not asleep. His phone was somewhere near, probably, and John’s still in his head. But it was three in the morning.

John tried keeping down all the worries for a moment and got himself together. He researched for a bit, jumping from one Wikipedia article to another and making a stop at a news site - to at least be able to message Sherlock something that was of interest if he were to bother him this late at night. 

He opened the text chat and started typing.

Soon about twenty messages or so were sent. He wasn’t thinking about how much he wrote, busy with getting words out of his head and onto a screen. Truly distracting himself for a few minutes. Then he watched his phone expectantly, waiting for a replying bubble to appear. A moment passed, then a second one. Nothing happened, his texts didn’t show the read marks. The violin was still playing.

He sighed, a bit disappointed but mostly just tired. He couldn’t blame Sherlock, honestly. It was the middle of the night and the detective wanted to have some privacy and time for himself. Not that Sherlock was equally polite but that was a thing for another day. Anyway, he was probably so caught up in playing, as usual, that he had no idea what was even going on around him. Someone could break into the flat and he would just turn a page of the music sheet.

John smiled, no matter all things. Sherlock was just something else. The most brilliant and bizarre person he has and will ever met bit in the podcast intro was not far-fetched. Also the most infuriating at times but God help anybody that would try somehow taking Sherlock from his life. He was a doctor, he knew how to heal bones. But a soldier, too, so he also knew how to break them. 

There was tapping on the floor panels and John realised, first a bit spooked, that Archie entered the room through a gap in the unclosed door. He slowly came to the foot of the bed and made a noise, something similar to sneezing.

- Oh, come here.

He crouched down and lifted the dog. ‘Sake, he forgot how heavy it was. He would never admit it but Sherlock might have been right in saying Archie was a little fat.

- You sensed I was upset, huh? Good boy. This time I will let you sleep on my bed. But don’t get used to it, alright?

Who was he fooling, he would let him sleep on the bed anytime the dear creature would want to.

And so they were lying together, Archie next to John’s ribs. John wondered if Archie acknowledged feeling his heartbeat, just as now he acknowledged feeling the dog’s. He smiled again and scratched him behind the ears. He decided to not think about the nightmare again - although he was sure he didn’t have much say in the matter - and instead try to decipher what Sherlock was playing. There was absolute certainty we wouldn’t get it, but it occupied his mind at least.

He hadn’t realised that, but he started drifting off to sleep. And he probably would completely, if the music didn’t stop abruptly. He needed a second to orient himself. When he realised what happened, the hint of disappointment appeared again, but it didn’t have time to settle, because the door to his room creaked the tiniest bit.

John guessed it was Sherlock and held his breath. Without any particular reason, he felt heat crawling up his neck. 'Sake, why was he embarrassed? There was no shame in his nightmares, besides Sherlock already knew about it all. Get yourself together, man. Yeah, no, the heat was still there.

After a moment passed, he heard knocking. Huh, Sherlock was not one to knock.

- Can I come in, Watson?

His voice was so hesitant that John almost forgot about his embarrassment, he was so taken aback. Sherlock and shyness, who would have thought?

- Yeah.

Apparently his voice wasn’t great either, great. He cleared his throat when Sherlock was slowly opening the door. John felt his eyes, scanning him up and down. He also suddenly realised that we went to sleep without a pyjama top, his Jaws-themed t-shirt crumpled on the floor. He frantically reached out for it and pulled it over his head, noticing Sherlock’s eyes hadn’t left him, instead watching as he was putting his arms through the sleeves. The heat reached his cheeks.

A moment of silence passed.

- I’m an awful detective, Watson.

In that simple way they both understood the shared knowledge of John’s nightmare, his text’s flood, Sherlock playing, the end of it and why was he now standing in the doorway.

John felt he was melting inside a bit. A huff escaped him, along with a small chuckle.

- Don’t be silly, mate.

At this moment Sherlock felt relief filling him whole. He couldn’t help but let his face act on its own accord, his brows lifting and eyes narrowing because of the smile that appeared on his face. He started playing with the fingers of his right hand. Watson seemed relatively okay, despite his ignorance. There was no harm done because of how long he let himself be occupied with the violin.

They stood like that, not really doing anything, just looking at each other. Watson’s eyes glowed almost unnoticeably in the faint yellow light that seeped through the window from the street. Sherlock felt quite enamoured by that. Didn’t notice Archie on the bed, who was now asking for lost attention by climbing onto Watson’s lap. So that’s why it was so easy to get through the flat in silence, the main disruptor was already here.

It was Watson who spoke up first:

- Could do with one of those pressure hugs, though.

- Oh. Oh, certainly.

So Sherlock sat on the bed next to Watson, their feet on the ground. Watson smiled at him and Sherlock put his arms around him. One reaching further, across the doctor’s back to his shoulder, and the second only as far as somewhere between his chest and abdomen. Archie started licking it. Sherlock winced a bit but didn’t do anything else. He was rewarded with Watson’s hand on his own. Warm spread from there through his skin.

There was silence again, this time more comfortable. Just their breaths and sometimes a faint noise from the street. Watson’s head landed in the space between the end of Sherlock’s jaw and his collarbone, the man’s hair tickling his cheek. He wouldn’t complain, because thanks to that Watson wasn’t feeling nor seeing Sherlock’s ears, red by now. Or at least he hoped so.

There were some unfamiliar thoughts, forming in his mind over the weeks that passed by, caused by situations like this. But pleasant. Warm ones and accompanied by remembrance of Watson’s smiles. Sherlock was slowly realising that he noticed new things about the man and that they made him feel in a new way about his companion. About John.

He didn’t dwell on those thoughts, leaving them for when he would be ready to understand them. And ready for the consequences. But it all made his head spin.

Suddenly Watson spoke again:

- What was it that you were playing? It sounds familiar.

- I highly doubt it is in your range of interest. More of the classic side of things. It’s the music of Antonio Agri, an Argentinean violinist. I found out about him this morning.

Watson just laughed quietly.

- Ah, so Los Mareados, then. Now I remember.

Sherlock opened his mouth. Then closed and opened them again.

- I did a presentation about him in high school - Watson added, smiling. - Each one of us had to choose a musician from a different country. I picked a name at random in some book from the library.

Yes, he would never stop astonishing him.

- I’m sorry, John.

Watson squeezed his hand.

- That’s fine, Sherlock.

Mareado meant faint in English, as Mariana told Sherlock. But also giddy, feeling like everything is spinning around. With his eyes closed, remembrance of the violin sounds, and mind empty for this short moment, he found all those meanings quite suitable.

#submission #sherlock and co #sherlock & co #flashbang event #sherlock homes #john watson #mariana ametxazurra

[rosysugarr]

Hi guys! Once again continuing my habit of only posting at 3 AM when I'm laying awake and feeling anxious about nothing. I've been considering making a return, but tbh, I haven't because like. Mostly, I've realized that the way modern online fandom tends to act about things lately has put me in a super fucking unhealthy mindset? Like. I am still working to untangle my brain from my year of twitter, but tumblr honestly hasn't helped with it that much lately. The fact that I hesitate to talk about anything new I enjoy because "what if it's secretly been mass canceled and no one is supposed to like it and I just don't know yet and everyone thinks I'm a bad person" is kind of really fucking bad! I should be able to like things! And talk about them! So anyway I'm mostly just trying to work on that now, like. Fixing my brain. Which is also why when I AM on here, I'm usually on my sideblog for jojo, bc. Yknow. On a dedicated fandom sideblog people are less likely to be shocked and come at you for liking a thing.

Anyway I saw the clip of Tommy revealing that he's bicurious and honestly that is THE funniest fucking possible punchline to his behavior the past several years. Good for him. God bless.

Oh hey while I'm here, who is everybody? Idk if I'm gonna resume checking my dash regularly or anything, BUT. I assume a lot of screennames have changed since the last time I was here. So, role call, who are yall? Just so I don't struggle to figure out who anyone is.

#rosychatter

[firstkanaphans]

I have some thoughts on your post of aye being out-of-character. Tbh, while it was airing, i thought the same. OS2 Aye didn't feel like eclipse Aye. Where's the understanding, where's the "putting akk before himself", where is the aye that gave akk enough space to come to terms with his sexuality and loved him and held him throughout that journey? I was quite dissapointed when the first ep aired because eclipse was such a dear show to me. But then, a while later, I remember reading someone's take on ourskyy2!Aye. They said that aye didn't really change. He has always been a gremline to akk since the eclipse. And he still is. And akk has always been pouty and sensitive, just hid it well. Akk and aye have always had communication issues and that was one of their biggest and most prominent differences. They still do have similar communications issues in ourskyy2. We see a difference in the eclipse and ourskyy2 because (my take) during the course of events in the eclipse, aye had some kind of understanding of akk's situation thus it was easier to be so understanding and give him the space he needed. Boyfriends is new territory for the both of them and obviously they're going take some time to adjust and understand eo through the change. But because they are akkayan, because they care about each other enough to put the other before themselves, because they love each other, they will find their way out of this; as they always have. They are still the same akk and aye. Just the grounds of their relationship has changed. That's all.

I've not been as articulate as I would like to be so a lost might've gotten missed. This is not to say your thoughts were wrong. I truly have not seen a single person who's understood these characters more. I love reading your work because it genuinely feels like something the character would actually do. I just hope to provide a different perspective and would love to hear your thoughts 😙

Oh, I totally agree that Aye has always been a gremlin and will always be a gremlin. That’s his personality. He’s annoying—god bless him for it. The issue is that we know for a fact this wasn’t just a communication break-down because Akk is very upfront about how Aye’s actions are making him feel. He explicitly admits his concerns to Aye—what you’re doing makes me feel like you don’t love me—and Aye chooses to ignore him, which is not something canon Aye would ever do. Aye has always been pushy and annoying, but he has never been cruel.

I do agree, though, that it will take them some time to figure out how to be boyfriends outside of the oppressive walls of Suppalo and that could certainly lead to arguments and misunderstandings. I just don’t think that was the case in Our Skyy. Aye knew what he was doing was hurting Akk and yet he did it anyway and I just can’t believe that canon Aye, who cried every single time Akk did, would continue such a ruse when it was causing his partner pain.

I think the reason this whole plot irks me so much is that it was such an easy fix. Instead of making Aye pretend that he forgot Akk’s birthday entirely, simply make him pretend that he had other plans and couldn’t spend the day with him. Then Akk would be sad and disappointed, but he wouldn’t be distraught.

I just…imagine the person you love most in the world and then imagine them forgetting your birthday. I personally don’t think the surprise makes up for the pain and I think that years later, what I would remember most would be the disappointment. But maybe Akk is different.

Regardless, I appreciate your input! Like I said in my last ask, people are meant to interpret media in different ways and I’m a firm believer that everyone is entitled to their own opinion as long as they aren’t being mean to others about it. Our Skyy 2 just didn’t hit right for me, but I still enjoyed seeing Akk and Aye together again. I’m certainly not complaining about what we got because there were some absolutely fantastic moments that I think about still. I just personally prefer to look at it as The Eclipse fanfiction rather than something that is a part of canon.

#asks #the eclipse #akkayan #our skyy 2

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

hello I’d love to hear about natsu. do you have any thoughts abt what he was like before we (and lucy) meet him in fairy tail? like with growing up in the guild and all that

You were the first one in here but I literally had to let your ask marinate in my head longer to answer it properly lol.

So we don't know much about Natsu's childhood, whether it be pre-guild with Igneel or pre- main story when he joined the guild apart from a spare handful of moments and facts, these being:

Makarov was evidently the one to find him.

That god forsaken scene of the others laughin at him for not being able to read.

His moments with Gildarts as a kid

Macao being a teacher to him at some point who taught him to use his fire other than to burn things ( hello Natsu vs Erigor )

Finding and raising Happy with his bestie Lisanna

He never officially formed a team with anyone in the guild before the main story.

I think I might be missing a spare few but you get the idea.

For a main character we know scarcely little about him. His thoughts, his views. Zero. Which honestly for such a long running series is so odd to not even get a peek at what's goin on in his head.

There's nothing absolutely solid about his past that we can get to use to dig into his head. Save for the fact that he loves his friends and his family.

Across the board for a lot of his moments in his past we know he's got a lotta love to give. He loves his Dad, he loves Happy, he loves his guild. But just because you have something doesn't mean you know how to work with it.

He loves Igneel. Igneel disappeared. And that forced him into a denial of his dad being dead so strong that up until present in the main story he still desperately searches for him even when the other slayers had accepted it. ( And i'm almost sure he got laughed at for over the years. Can you imagine? Saying your looking for a dragon in a dragonless world?)

He loves his friends. But I think after that damning moment (which honestly I think is a moment really early is his joining the guild. Like he hadn't gotten to know em 100% yet) of them laughing at him he clams up about certain things.

Any moment of vulnerability he could have with them down the line is tossed out to avoid something like that happening down the line.

Lisanna (lisanna, lisanna ilu. I should draw u more.) was a blessing in that she was working on getting those walls down and she was close! Then her incident happened and he clammed up again even fucking harder than before!

Man this is such a long winded way to answer your question but I think growing up in the guild for Natsu, I think as much as he loves everyone- and he does! He loves em all! Even the mfers who piss him off sometimes- I think even though he was there with everyone he didn't feel as though he could open up (or well risk opening up tbh) to them. So he played along to make things in general easier going forward. (Whether intentional or not is up in the air)

So whatever perceptions everyone had of him he rolled with it. He's a lil bit dumb, he's loud, he's inattentive, etc. He doesn't deny what's said about him. Hell he might even play it up. He just doesn't do anything to break the perception as time went on. And since no one really dug like Lisanna did there was no reason to break it.

So he grew up in the guild as the happy go lucky loner. Nothin more and supposedly, nothing less.

#fairy tail #talking to the firebird #bro..... #bro just listen to me man #i KNOW what natsu's meant to be #he is supposed to be ur average happy action anime protag #i know this so badly #but what he could've been haunts me #bcus what little is known about him plus his actions at times dont match up to what others in universe say about him #its interestin to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee #plus what i said about him bein there with everyone but no one rlly lookin deeper into him #thats not a dig at the other characters! #everyones got their baggage at issues so them not lookin closer to him when he seems fine while their dealin with their own things is neat! #cause friends aint gonna know every heartache bout each other alotta times and the same with family! #u can be there with ppl u love and not know how to open up! #which i think wouldve been a super cool character flaw for natsu to have bcus he cares and tries to help in his own ways but simultaneously #REFUSES to open up about himself and how he feels and still keeps himself at a distance from everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #its interesting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[horrorbats]

“Suffer.”

- self projection (slightly) post for toby , literally had the shittiest day ever. title is based off get scared.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: self harm, suicidal tendencies, suicide attempts, cannibalism mention once, abuse mentions (physically, mentally and physically). and family issues. Also a tad bit of self mutilation. (yeah. you can tell i do not feel fucking well right now). Gore ? js overall sad, violent shit tbh.

he likes get scared. definitely, and specifically that ‘suffer’ song or even ‘second guessing’. (COUGH don’t you dare forget the sun COUGH.)

he likes suffer due to all of the stupid shit he’s ever been through. “I’ve skinned my teeth for the last time,” he did. he doesn’t put up with no man or woman’s bullshit besides slendermans, he put up with his dads bs for however many years. “And if you really wanna save me now, you better bring your guns and fucking take me out,” man is a violent deviant on the run, working for an entity just because he had a shitty background. He is STRONG. He is totally convinced you cannot stop him at all, especially because of his strength, pace + CIPA.

“Cut you open and make you sick, suffer, suffer, suffer, suffer like I did.” he wants people to feel how much he’s mentally hurt. How hurt he is from all the bullying and abuse he suffered through. He hurts people because he’s hurt aswell, he can’t be fixed — he’s a broken doll that’s beyond repair, even if he still has strains of sanity left and feelings he can still feel.

Having BPD isn’t the greatest thing (one of my friends having it aswell), due to the fact he can’t feel pain from his CIPA he’ll mutilate his self a little, just because he was ‘blessed’ with immortality by Slender Man. He wants himself to feel pain, physical pain. Not just mentally. “I’m broken, second guessing is only keeping me alive.”

FUCK. oh my god this man definitely has tried to kill himself MULTIPLE times, just to see if Slender Man has given up on him — which IT hasn’t. In the mansion he definitely stays in his room most of the time if he has a day off or isn’t busy with missions, fucking hates going outside his room because he knows he’ll just get made fun of. “You look down on me, so casually,”

He’s violent, yes. But towards victims and himself — if he did ever have a romantic partner (such as Clockwork, who I believe hates Slender Man – so she isn’t under his control.) he’d try treat them like a normal person, as if he isn’t some killing machine. He’d love them like a dog, he’s so desperate for some love due to the fact the people who were supposed to love him and give him physical affection; didn’t. And he’d always be careful with you, since with his dad it was always stepping on eggshells around him. ONE wrong move, and he was grabbed.

If he’s in an episode (specifically the more violent ones.) he’d become more violent with his kills, to such of covering himself in the blood whilst laughing manically, sometimes can lead to him being cannibalistic in senses, chewing their skin or just cutting them open to drink the blood. Sort of like the death of Collin Gray in Jennifer’s Body.

This scene. If you’re freaked out saying “why didn’t you warn me!” I did <3. Also one of the more sadder deaths since he didn’t deserve it :(. (i also had a crush on him as a kid so i was in tears)

Uhhh, yeah. So he’d most likely have deep scars on his forearms, with old stitching in. He self harms and will stitch it back up, he likes doing it, makes him feel like he’s frankenstein somewhat with the stitching. He does it when everyone else is asleep, and probably has gotten so carried away he had done it deep enough to go to the bone. He’s also broken bones as a part of harming himself, aswell. It’s amazing what you can do with CIPA.

HEAVILY suicidal, and anti social. Speaks to no one besides Eyeless Jack most likely, hc Jack to be like a nurse for the mansion, so half of the time Toby is hanging out with Jack because he might feel woozy from the loss of blood, or just the fact he’s hurt himself too much. Trusts Jack with his whole life.

#Spotify #creepypasta #ticci toby #ticci toby creepypasta #toby erin rogers #creepypasta headcannons #ticci toby headcanons #creepypasta ticci toby #ticci toby kinnie #creepypasta scenarios #tw gore #tw sad shit #idk man #headcanons #jennifer’s body

[cat3ch1sm]

requests are back therefore iiii am baaaaccckk!!!

i have decided i would like a lil sum sum both angst/hurt but obviously ending happy because i am weak without it 🤪snarky bamf girlfriend has gone missing how very dare she. she begged to leave to go shopping because she love’s watari she does but he can’t….shop bless his heart (and she enjoys nature as well cause ya know fresh air takes away sadness at least that’s what my therapist said 😌☝️) L is freaking out but not but is cause he does have feelings and is like “i regret being in a relationship” only because he’s worried to all hell. if you do like during task force don’t wanna tell you how to write cause duh but i would not mind if it’s more like a character study of L as each member interacts with him (insert tries~~ to) and help with the ongoing situation. i dunno i kinda see obviously golden retriever himbo matsuda being the one uncomfortable with the fact that L is still so stoic. would L lash out? i dunno sure. you’re probably wondering whomst would take snarky girlfriend and howst did they know about her? just a random dude and i think that’s what pisses L off its not anyone with a vendetta just some random sicko. she comes back obviously and once again you can decide that part because i did not think that far 😌😊. anywhoooooooo welcome back literally take a sabbatical if needed. with that being said take as long as you want with this request cause yes ✨tdlrrrr: girlfriend gone, L freaking out, task force struggling to help, girlfriend come back, literally cannot go anywhere ever again and tbh can’t leave L’s sight 🫡 God bless bestie soldier

🐸| hey girl queen pussy boss glad to see u in my reqs again😏

Why did he even let you leave?

L had never let you go out without someone keeping tabs on you at all times- usually him. Of course, nobody on the outside knew he was L, but it was just to be on the safe side. Regardless. You'd been gone for over five hours with no follow-up.

Hell. He knew he should have just stuck that tracking chip on your shoelace when he had the chance.

He really shouldn't have cared. There were far more important things to tend to, obviously. L was in the middle of the Kira investigation, for god's sake, working with just six other people, one of which he was almost completely sure was the internationally feared murderer himself. That was what should have been on his mind. And anyways, you were an adult. You were intelligent and resourceful and every bit as capable as he. If harm befell you, L had very little doubt that you wouldn't be able to make your way out. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself that what was going on around him was significantly more pressing, something in him just wouldn't accept that. There was an annoying nagging in the back of his mind reminding him that you still weren't back.

L really couldn't stand you leaving to begin with. What did you need to go shopping for Watari for, anyway? The man looked just fine in his professional attire, L thought. But you had insisted that Watari needed more up-to-date clothing and a wider selection of outfits in general, and L, knowing it would be useless to argue with you, had simply let you leave. But it couldn't possibly take that long to buy clothes for a man three times your age, right? Then again, L wouldn't know. He'd never even set foot in a shopping center- his trusty white shirt and blue jeans had served him just fine for years. Why had he even gotten in a relationship to begin with? If he had never met you, he wouldn't have to feel this way. That would have been much more preferable.

Oh, please. He didn't mean a word of that and it was impossible to convince himself that he did. L knew he was really starting to panic if he was thinking like this.

The members of the task force themselves also seemed to notice your absence despite them not knowing you very well. The loss of the atmosphere of arrogance and lack of sarcastic remarks was not missed by anyone- which prompted the most eager (and the most tone-deaf) member of the group, Matsuda, to ask about your extended absence.

"Hey, L- I mean, Ryuzaki?" Matsuda carefully stepped towards the detective, whose blank expression was beginning to falter. "You know, Y/N's been gone a while... do you think everything's okay?"

So even Matsuda had noticed, L realized. That didn't seem good- but he was determined to keep it together, and he definitely didn't feel like talking about it with Matsuda.

"She's fine," L replied, a little too sharply, and Matsuda backed up a bit. "That's unimportant right now. How close are we to formulating a plan to infiltrate Yotsuba directly?"

"Oh- yeah. My bad." Matsuda scurried away, leaving L to mull over your whereabouts. Assuming shopping wasn't supposed to take this long as he'd suspected, there were several possibilities. Perhaps you'd been taken was one he was a bit concerned about- you didn't look very strong at first glance, and of course most people would consider you quite attractive. But L more doubted this than didn't- you weren't an inexperienced fighter, and you were more than capable of fighting off anyone that approached you the wrong way.

Next thought- maybe there had been a situation at the shop you'd gone to? Maybe someone had burst through the door with a gun and held everyone hostage- but L didn't think that was likely, either. Japan was so strict about who could have a gun that it was almost impossible for a regular citizen to obtain one- and definitely not someone crazy enough to hold a bunch of people hostage. Third scenario.

Okay, removing all ideas of foul play- there were lots of potential reasons why you weren't back yet that didn't involve you getting kidnapped or killed. Maybe you just ran into a friend at the store and stuck around with them to catch up. Maybe traffic was just bad- it had been drizzling all day, anyway. He knew you had a penchant for things like trees and birds- perhaps you had just stopped at a nearby park or something.

Wait- what if you'd run into someone else? A new person? Someone who wasn't so... reclusive. Quirky. Reserved. Odd. L wouldn't be surprised if you had just found someone you fancied more- someone like you had tons of options, more than L cared to admit at the moment. Maybe you'd wanted to get away from him for once and accepted a date request from this other person. Maybe you'd found them fun, fascinating, attractive. Someone like that would probably be much appreciated by you when all you did was spend time with L and his... personality.

L decided to stop himself there. He was going to worry himself into a frenzy if he kept that up. No, next.

Maybe Watari's wardrobe actually did need updating- and badly, for you to be gone this long. When was the last time L had seen the elderly man out of that stately suit and hat, anyway...?

"Ryuzaki?"

L snapped out of his thoughts and slowly spun around in his chair to face Detective Yagami, who was eyeing L with a furrowed brow. "Is everything alright? You seem to be in a bit of a trance..."

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." L averted his eyes and waved his hand dismissively, turning back around before Soichiro saw his normally calm visage waver. Unfortunately, Soichiro's son stood right beside his father; L could feel Light's eyes burning into the back of his head.

"Dad's right; you seem a little off," Light added, stepping around L's chair so that he could see L's face. "We're making pretty good progress with Yotsuba, if that's what you're worried about- we've got a couple of leads-"

"That's good." L interrupted, and Light cocked his head at the detective, a little put off. "Keep it up."

Light turned around and began to wander back over to the rest of the task force, watching L's back from the corner of his eye. When he was face-to-face with his colleagues again, he brought up L's unusual demeanor, lowering his voice. "I know this might not be a great time, but have you all noticed anything a little odd about Ryuzaki today?"

Soichiro nodded in agreement. "Yes, I have... he seems a bit- dare I say- distracted." He kept his voice barely audible as to not attract the attention of the enigmatic detective just a few feet away from where the group was huddled.

"I noticed it too; it's unlike him," Aizawa added in a businesslike tone. "Although I'd rather stay on task than discuss Ryuzaki, it's honestly unsettling..."

"He must be very much so if we can tell," Light decided. "I mean, Ryuzaki obviously hides a lot under the surface- so if we can see it, something must be really bothering him."

"I know, right?" Matsuda exhaled, seeming relieved that he hadn't been the only one that had noticed L's unusual behavior. "I even went and asked him about it."

"Straight out?" Soichiro looked startled. "Matsuda, good grief."

"No, no- not straight straight out," Matsuda hurriedly amended, shaking his head wildly. "I just asked him about Y/N, and he kind of snapped at me and I came back over here," he explained quickly.

Light snapped his fingers, coming to a realization. "Of course- Y/N is what's worrying him. Have you noticed how long it's been since we've heard from her? Ryuzaki must be fretting over her whereabouts."

Soichiro turned to Light, an understanding expression on his face as he thought over this. "Right. We already know the two of them have... a relationship of sorts, so it's only natural for someone to be concerned- especially someone like Ryuzaki."

"I can't imagine why he'd be very worried about her," Aizawa scoffed. "Y/N seems more than capable to me."

"Still, he's worried. Normal human emotions!" Matsuda announced triumphantly, throwing his arms into the air.

The other three men collectively facepalmed.

Matsuda dropped his arms, puzzled. "Wha-?" Confusedly, he turned around- and was met with the startling sight of Ryuzaki's wide eyes staring right back at him.

"Agh!" Matsuda instantly whirled back around and squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment as the other task force members glared at him, annoyed.

"Again- good grief, Matsuda," Soichiro snapped under his breath, and Matsuda dared to open his eyes a smidge to give the older man a sheepish smile.

"My bad, Chief..."

Luckily for the group, Ryuzaki didn't budge from his chair, instead having turned back around to fidget aimlessly with the mouse of his computer. Of course, the lack of reprimand for the group being off task was not lost on the men, who goggled in shock at Ryuzaki and then Matsuda, who seemed just as appalled as everyone else.

"Uh- why didn't he get mad again?" Aizawa asked, brow furrowed.

"Beats me..." Matsuda glanced one more time at Ryuzaki before turning to face the others with wide eyes. "Okay, he's totally freaking out about Y/N, right? He has to be."

"I guess that's the only conclusion," Light agreed, looking uncertain. "But if the guy running this whole operation is distracted, what are we supposed to do to help?"

"Ah, you're right- that may be a problem," Soichiro affirmed nervously. "But this is Ryuzaki- I'm really at a loss for what to do here."

The group stood in thoughtful silence for a couple of minutes, wondering how to fix this problem.

Matsuda suddenly snapped his head up. "Hey, let's cheer him up!" he suggested gleefully, making sure to keep his voice hushed this time.

The rest of the task force reacted accordingly to this idea.

"Huh?"

"What?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on- you heard me," Matsuda enthused, his expression brightening. "If we can make him feel better, he won't be distracted, and we can get things going again!"

"Sounds like a pipe dream," Aizawa jutted in scornfully.

"Not if we pull it off."

"And the chance of that is...?" Light prompted sarcastically before folding his arms across his chest and letting out an exasperated breath. "I really think we ought to just leave him be. Y/N will be back soon, more than likely, and he'll be just fine."

"Still," Matsuda insisted. "We're just being nice! And it's super weird seeing Ryuzaki like this, anyway... so why not?"

"And how would you suggest we go about that, Matsuda?" Soichiro queried, his tone skeptical as well.

Matsuda eyed both Yagamis curiously. "You've never cheered anybody up before when they're down? Just tell him that there's nothing to worry about- but in a lot more words than that."

"Okay, Matsuda, quick reminder that this is Ryuzaki." Aizawa arched a brow dubiously.

"Yeah, well, Ryuzaki or not, he's still a human being."

"But do we know that for sure?" Now both eyebrows were raised.

"Okay, okay." Light held up two hands, silencing the two men. "You know what, Matsuda? We'll try it, just to humor you. But if this doesn't go as planned..."

"Thanks, Light! Don't worry, it'll be fine- come on, guys!" Matsuda, apparently having no qualms at all, began strolling right towards Ryuzaki, leaving the other men no choice but to follow him.

"I hope he knows what he's doing," Soichiro murmured beneath his breath.

"With Matsuda? It's kind of a gamble," Light told his father as the group approached L, who turned around upon hearing the men behind him. Seeming a little caught off guard, L cocked his head at them, eyeing each in turn. "Is something the matter?"

Light, Soichiro, and Aizawa all awkwardly mumbled different things in unison, the general idea being that Matsuda was the one who forced them over here. Matsuda, however, paid no mind to the others and flashed a somewhat pitiful smile at L, who blinked in confusion.

"Actually- we were wondering-"

"You were wondering," Aizawa interjected sharply.

Matsuda huffed. "Okay, I was mostly wondering- but they were too- if you were doing okay?"

L continued to look confused. "Doing okay?"

"Like, uh, we were wondering if you were feeling alright. If something was wrong?" Matsuda sputtered, chuckling awkwardly after every few words, the task force behind him grimacing as L glanced towards them.

"I am alright. Thank you for asking. Now wh-"

"But are you really, though?" Matsuda cut him off abruptly, wringing his hands nervously. "I- what I mean is-"

Finally, Light, seeing that if they allowed Matsuda to go on he would say the wrong thing, interrupted Matsuda himself. "To be honest, we've noticed that your behavior has been a little out of the ordinary since Y/N left a while ago. To put it simply, we're curious as to if she is the reason for this."

Matsuda sent Light a grateful look as Light stepped back slightly with a wince. Meanwhile, L just watched the group, apparently waiting for the next person to talk.

"Of course, we don't mean to be invasive," Soichiro clarified, deciding to help the pair that had just spoken. "We'd just like to know if you need us to do anything." Aizawa, not knowing how to add on, just affirmed Soichiro's words with a firm nod.

L sighed, seeming exasperated, and the entire task force collectively cringed, hoping their words hadn't come off the wrong way.

"If you must know..." L finally spun around, his gaze not meeting anyone else's. "I am a bit concerned as to where Y/N may be right now. There's no need to walk on eggshells- you all are already aware that we have a bit of a relationship, so please, don't look so nervous."

Nobody relaxed.

"I appreciate your concern, but really, it's unnecessary," L insisted. "I'm just a little worried. Everything is fine."

"Can't be if we can tell something's wrong," Matsuda countered, and L's probing gaze instantly shot up to look at him. Matsuda faltered some before continuing on. "Well, I mean, you never show any emotions ever, so... I mean..."

L arched a brow, but his response wasn't what Matsuda expected. "Excellent deduction."

"Well, I'm sure she'll be back soon," Light chimed in, a little weirded out by the whole situation, but trying to be reassuring anyway. "Y/N certainly isn't helpless- I'm not suspecting any foul play, so I hope that's not what you're worried about."

The words sounded strange coming from Light's mouth- Ryuzaki, worried about someone? His thoughts on humanity as a whole were pretty straightforward: trust nobody, they're only "cunning monsters," so forth. But it seemed L didn't feel that way about everyone.

"I agree," Soichiro added, sounding tentative. "It's probably traffic or something similar that's keeping her. I'm sure there isn't any need to worry."

L didn't reply to either Yagami, only looking up at them with just a hint of uncertainty on his face. "Mm... do you think so?"

"To be honest, you never know with women." Aizawa shrugged flippantly, trying to lighten the mood some. "They say they'll be back in an hour and you don't see them for five, they say 'fine' when they actually want you dead, all of that. Y/N's probably still... what was she doing?... shopping or something. Wouldn't be surprised if she just wanted to 'look around' a little more- and apparently, that's not a slow process with them."

Now L actually looked lost. Meanwhile, the other task force members slowly lifted their gazes towards Aizawa, equally questioning expressions on their faces.

"Uh... thanks for the information... I guess?" Matsuda squinted at his coworker, bewildered.

Aizawa pursed his lips unapologetically. "I tried."

Matsuda blinked before turning back to L. "Okay- so why exactly are you so worried? What do you think might have happened?" He spun around to face Light. "Hey, Light, you have a girlfriend- what would you be worried about besides for foul play?"

Light's expression dulled at the mention of Misa Amane. "Can't say I'd be worried," he answered listlessly. "When she isn't with me and she's out in public, she has a couple of bodyguards with her a lot of the time."

Matsuda coughed awkwardly. "Uh, yeah, right. Uh- well, if you don't mind, Light, if Misa-Misa was my girlfriend, I'd be worried that she'd find somebody else to be with!" He laughed nervously, putting a hand behind his head. "I mean, it would just seem like she had a bunch of other, way better options for a boyfriend." He looked back down at Ryuzaki, who blinked up at Matsuda with an odd expression. "Maybe you're worried about something similar? That she ran off with a random guy or something?"

L was silent for a few seconds before responding. "...maybe. But if that were true, I'd be more worried about foul play than Y/N deciding to leave with no warning. That would be out of character."

"Huh- I guess you're right; that would be kinda weird." Matsuda stuck out his lower lip in thought.

Now Soichiro spoke up. "Forgive me if this is offensive, but... knowing you, I'd expect you had something like a tracking device on her- honesty, I'm a little bit surprised you don't."

"Yes, I know, and normally I would," L sighed. "However, I was specifically asked not to, so I refrained..."

"It's okay," Aizawa offered. "I mean, it's a lot better than you doing it anyway and her finding out later."

L nodded halfheartedly.

"If you're really concerned, Ryuzaki, you could let us go out and try to look for her," Matsuda suggested helpfully. "Especially since we're sort of way off task already..."

"A search? Now?" Light queried, eyeing Matsuda skeptically.

"Yeah? Why not? It's not like we'll be able to focus now, anyway." Matsuda shrugged casually.

"Now isn't the best time," Soichiro interjected, siding with his son as usual. "Of course, this is still the Kira investigation..."

"Actually, I'm with Matsuda on this one- for once," Aizawa cut in. "We won't be able to really do our best work if Y/N's on our minds. It'd be best if we just went out and got her already."

"Didn't we establish that Y/N is perfectly capable of handling herself?" Light countered. "She'll come back when she comes back. There's more important things at hand."

"My son is right," Soichiro affirmed. "Matsuda- please think twice before dragging us all somewhere next time..."

"But, chief- you guys agreed to help cheer up Ryuzaki so we could get back on task!" Matsuda protested. "Of course, sir, no disrespect."

"Cheer me up?" L glanced up at Matsuda questioningly.

"Yeah, this was a team decision," Aizawa challenged. "If we hadn't come over here, we would have just spent the whole time wondering about Ryuzaki."

"You could have just asked me-" L tried to cut in.

"Are my father and I the only ones capable of focusing on the task at hand?" Light demanded, his tone growing agitated and the atmosphere tense. "Why are we worrying about an issue that will just resolve itself?"

"What if- but what if it didn't?" Matsuda sputtered, a little caught off guard at the change in Light's normally cool demeanor. "There's always the risk that-"

"Again," Soichiro interrupted, his voice still calm, "Y/N can tend to herself. We've already eliminated the possibility of these 'risks.'"

The discussion quickly began to devolve into chaos, the task force members at odds and L unable to get in a single word.

"But there's still a chance-"

"Y/N can take care of herself!"

"There's nothing wrong with making sure."

"It isn't like we're gonna get anything done at this point!"

"You realize this isn't an everyday investigation, right?"

"Everyone, please-"

"You're doing nothing but drowning everybody out at this point!"

"I don't see why you're so against this idea!"

"I could say the same for you!"

"Please-"

"Hey."

Everyone stopped in their tracks, the room suddenly silent as your voice echoed through the room. Casually, you made your way towards the others, arms full of shopping bags and oblivious to the chaos that had just ceased.

"Hello, everyone- what did I miss?" You looked around the room, your eyes coming to a stop at the task force still in their arguing stances, your boyfriend shrouded by their silhouettes.

You arched a brow. "Okay, why is everyone looking at me like that?'

#why did this take so long #wheezing rn #pls i hope u like this im begging #ryuzaki x reader #l x reader #ryuzaki x you #you x ryuzaki #l x you #you x l #reader x l #light yagami x reader #light yagami #l lawliet x reader #reader x ryuzaki #lawlight #l lawliet x you #reader x l lawliet #task force is trying their best okay #death note #anime #snarky bamf gf supremacy

[butimjustaliar]

currently watching red white and royal blue despite the fact that i was initially very put off by the 30y/o cast, anyways, i think the casting works for the most part since their age isnt specified so i'm just kind of pretending they're 30 and it works out, but i think for some scenes it just literally doesnt work AT ALL.

anyways here's a list of scenes that (dont) work when pretending the characters are thirty instead of twenty (sorry i might have gotten less and less constructive the further i got)

the wedding: absolutely, the fact that their frontal lobes are supposed to befully developed makes this ten times funnier

staging photos and interview: absolutely, they arent sassy bc they are young and dont know any better, they are fully aware of what they are doing

broom closted of children's hospital: ehhhh, hard no, why are you awkwardky scrambling around on the floor??? you are not hormonal teens, get yourself together. also Alex being upset about sth so small is kind of giving frontal lobe not developed & insecure

new years party: neutral territory, dont have too many feeling about that

kiss at new years, specifically their facial expressions and body language: what inspired this list. frankly, horrible. they kiss with henry scrunching up his shoulders like he's trying to hide the fact he has a neck and alex not even touching him???? it looks like a bad kiss, and tbh at 30 i'd hope to kiss better than that ngl. replaying the scene and omg it's horrible. would make significantly more sense with younger actors bc what is this

Alex talking to Nora after the kiss: again, i think this isnt too bad, his outfit is truly horrendous, the concept of data analyst and dating henry's friend makes more sense when they are older anyway bc otherwise there'd be an age gap somewhere. dialogue wonky, bc her monologue about the signs he missed about himself, ooof. or maybe i'm just overestimating how self aware 30 year olds are

meeting prime minister and such: perfectly valid. hilarious.

(why are they suddenly making out, i'm ace, be considerate and fucking stop, jesus christ always with these horny people)

(post) make out (talk): fine ig

dinner in paris: yuppppp, works amazingly.

why tf are they being horny again? did i mention i'm ace? wtf is this stop petting each other what the hell i truly dont understand physical affaction

alex talking to his mom: hmmm, dont know, it's kind of weird to have a 30 year old that involved in his moms life. the discussion is kind of giving teen discussing with parent but also maybe i'm wrong and also i dont have that much experience with being son of the president

alex in texas: dressed like baseball dad. yes. regardless, the dialogue (their texts) is HORRENDOUS WHOA. PLS STOP.

wow they are desperately making out again. is it rlly like that when u're not ace? jesus

also zahra finding henry in the closet is fucking hilarious omg. comedy gold. top tier.

LITTLE LORD FUCKLEROY

coming out to mom: very cute, but calling it badky written and unrealistic bc my mum would never hold me in her arms like that and i'm bitter.

holiday: love it. horrible karaoke, and before you say it, i'm talking simoutanliously simultaneously (god bless auto correct) not good enough to be great but also not bad enough to be entertaining. flavourless.

alex has more boobs than i have which is very affirming for my non existent gender, thanks for the community service, i appreciate it

wow is henry trying to drown himself? bc same

12/10 for relatability regarding not being able to handle people showing any kind of affection

henry on a royal walk post break up: urghhhh, no. who tf realizes the momarchy is stupid at thirty. yeah better late than never but no fuck the monarchy

post break up fight and make up in britain: pretty valid ig, works for all ages i suppose. god i hate henry's accent it's horrendous on a galactical scale

MY LIFE IS THE CROWN, AND YOURS IS POLITICS, AND I WILL NOT TRADE ONE PRISON FOR ANOTHER.

hating the museum voice over. it's very oddly mixed. not an artistic choice i'd make personally

delted this paragraph earlier but i rlly need to get this off my chest, i personally think the actors are very unattractive. no idea why. not a bad thing, but it's been rlly bugging me, bc i feel like they are meant to be attractive, and i see them fitting beauty standards, but i've been thinking maybe they look unattractive bc they tried to make them look younger

THIS MOVIE IS ABOUT AN REVENGE OUTING??? god is not blessing america.

public statement: urghh, tentive no, but i think it's just badly written. again, hating the voice over. what is it with this movie and horrible voice overs?

also their call is giving soap opra why are they acting like they haven't seen each other in two years and thought the other died goodness gracious

meeting, playing piano, chatting: norrrr, dont like it, honestly if you're an unhappy royal in your thirties literally just leave em behind it's not that hard? be a little sure of urself you're not 15 anymore and you haven't been in a long time (in my humble opinion ftfteen should be one of the greatest periods of doubt for a person. all that teenage angst)

british accent so goofy i cant believe that's how initially learned english

talking to some royal highness guy: yeah no, again, any self respecting person with a fully developed frontal lobe would drop the f bomb and leave ("fuck you grandpa, i dont care about the nation, i wanna fuck love this handsome lad. goodbye, farewell, old man")

crowds forming: plot fots better for a coming of age movie, not one about thirty year old dudes

election: fine ig

also the election is soo not that plot relevant, what's the point showing the result? what a whack ass plot point just to then have them go to alex' childhood home? what the hell

in conclusion: very cute movie, horrible writing kind of, but definitely some good moments in there. choice of actors definitely odd, bad in a lot of expected ways, but also not that bad ig. wouldn't rewatch, but would definitely watch compilations of it on youtube bc comedy (it's why i watched it in the first place!)

#red white and royal blue #red white & royal blue #hostmblr #rambles

[msookyspooky]

SPOOKY OH MY GOD!!! I FUCKING LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! OHMY FUCKING AAAAA🤯

LOOK JILL NEEDS TO WATCH HER FUCKING MOUTH!! HER KICK TO BILLY WHILE HE WAS DOWN WAS SO UNCALLED FOR JDJDJSDH😤😭

STU STANDING ON SNEAKY BUSINESS!! TAKING YOUR EYES OFF OF STU IS WILD. DEWEY SHOULD OF KNOW THAT!! ONCE A SNEAKY BITCH ALWAYS A SNEAKY BITCH!! (Judy had it coming ngl)

LIKE DEWEY LET Y/N SPEAK ADSJFISUD IF WE All could drop the weapons and have a nice chat over some tea things would be sorted. jfdiujfd I can't believe y/n is being dragged away while Jill is still talking shit like they aren't gonna go through her phone…

tbh, when y/n was saying how they were alive in 2 but everyone thought she was crazy and now blaming her for knowing LIKE- Gale being mad y/n "ruined her career" when SHE STARTED TO RUIN Y/NS NAME IN HER BOOK IS BEYOND ME

Honestly, this was worth the wait!! You're so fucking amazing!!! I love you!! You deserve the fucking world!! Your writing is honestly a blessing!! YOU'RE SO FUCKING TALENTED OHMY I LOVE YOU💕💕

I FUCKING LOVE YOU FINNY🖤🖤🖤

Gale would though. I think it got deleted but I pointed out how Gale is just a 'good' version of Jill. Both of them even have the same MBTI personality type. Fame hungry, ruthless, self centered, ambitious, charming, confident, one sided. To Gale, JUST LIKE IN SCREAM 1996 TO SID, she's just 'telling the story as she sees it/facts'. Oh but since we didn't let you put us in prison for a fabricated story with only half the facts we're the bad guy huh? Yeah okay. 😒😒😒

Dewey is just too hurt to listen which even though he's a dummy (ilh tho) I can't blame him. I mean, imagine someone you trusted with anything and everything who you treated like a little sister after your sister was murdered...Hiding the murderers and defending them + YN always being accused of helping them and he defended her like "How dare you she would never!" just to see in his eyes (BC HE AIN'T LISTENING) that they were right about YN. I'd probably be the same as him at that moment even if he isn't understanding all the facts because we couldn't explain to him like we could Randy and even Randy was understandably hurt and angry at us. Billy and Stu killed their friends/Dewey's sister and ruined their lives.

LMFAO Stu just army crawling when Jill started calling YN a monster and everyone was emotionally invested/distracted. Probably playing spy music in his head.

YN is better than me cause I cannot say I wouldn't tell Stu to shoot Jill in the head or do it myself and take the risk of dying or prison ♡ If I'm going down; you're going down too! Look what you started you lil pos? 😠

#faf 13 spoilers