#it's self care but only in a roundabout way

[old-desert]

Ah yes, hooman Loop

^ early concept

#I don't think much of human Loop designs but if it is on my mind I always think of it as like #that one “Loop gets summoned by the gang” fic on ao3 where tall Loop started shrinking and then just kinda Siffrinifies back #basically yeah I imagine if Loop human then wish craft ran out #Loop's hairstyle is basically Siffrin if they ever brushed their hair #the headcanon behind this is that their time spent as a star made Loop appreciate their old body so #if Loop ever gained back their Siffrin body they'd really want to “preserve” it #it's self care but only in a roundabout way #They're not thinking about it in terms of “looking good” it's about saving their body at its peak condition for the longest time possible #due to trauma and stuff <33 #also yea they definitely own like 1000 creams salves and oils for every part of their body #isat #in stars and time #loop #isat loop #loop isat #isat spoilers #my art #art tag #desert art

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

As Long As No One Knows, Then Nobody Can Care

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader

2.6k words

Warnings: Language, lying/sneaking around, kissing, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, fluff & flirting

You floated up to your bedroom late that night. And the next morning when you came down for breakfast. And while you walked next to your dad through the parking lot.

It had been a perfect evening. After a bit of making out with Roy, he wrapped his arm around you and let you lean on his shoulder for the rest of the movie, unabashedly glancing at you during all the romantic moments that were nothing compared to the look in his eye. After the movie, he walked you to your car, kissing you against the car door and promising to see you at training the next day.

And see you he did. When you followed your dad into the coaches’ office, Roy caught your eye from the changing room, where he stood holding his kit. He offered you that fucking smirk, raising a cool eyebrow at you before slipping his shirt on.

Fuck, he was going to be the death of you.

You spent the morning organizing some paperwork for your dad while the men were on the pitch, pretending that you weren’t thinking about Roy Kent and the way he’d kissed you. Once you finished, you joined your dad on the sidelines, wondering it was obvious that you were struggling more than usual to keep your eyes off of Roy. You smiled as you watched him run up and down the pitch, feeling your heart skip a beat every time you heard his booming voice.

“You alright?” Your dad’s voice interrupted your drooling. “You’ve been actin’ all dreamy all day.”

“Yeah,” you stammered out, quickly averting your eyes to literally any other player on the pitch. “Just fine, Dad.”

That seemed enough for him. For now, at least.

Once training ended for the day, you made your way to the boot room with a question from your dad for the kitman. Finding no kitman and only shoes, you took a moment to lean against a cool wall and close your eyes, trying not to dwell too hard on the image you’d just gotten of Roy wrapped in a towel after a shower. It was always a sight that left you flustered, but now that you knew what kissing the man felt like, the scene was something close to torture.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?”

Roy’s voice had your eyes snapping open. “Nothing,” you lied, both relieved and disappointed to see him fully dressed now. “Heading home, then?”

He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was nearby. “Got that Nike thing,” he reminded you. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, clearly thinking, before opening his mouth again. “Don’t suppose you’d want to come.”

That Nike thing. His Nike photoshoot, for advertisements that would probably follow you all over on billboards and in magazines. But yeah, sure, “that Nike thing”.

“Really?” You couldn’t hide the surprise in your suddenly squeaky voice. You’d hoped Roy would ask you out again, you were desperate for this to be more than just one perfect makeout session during a Nora Ephron movie, but this wasn’t what you expected.

His face was clearly amused as he nodded. “Sure,” he said softly. “Need someone there who’ll tell me if I look fucking stupid. What d’you say?”

What you wanted to say was that he’d never look stupid. What you wanted to say was that you’d go anywhere, do anything, as long as he was there too. But thankfully, you had some semblance of self-control that allowed you to answer, “Sounds fun, Kent.”

It was arranged in quick whispers. You’d meet Roy at his flat, and he’d drive you both to the studio. Afterwards he’d treat you to dinner as a thank you for joining him. Both of you were fighting smiles by the time you’d finished making your plans for the strangest second date you’d ever heard of.

“Don’t feel like you have to dress up for these fashion people,” Roy added before he turned to leave. “Wear what you like.”

A part of you initially thought this was his roundabout way of instructing you to dress up, to not embarrass him in front of the chic photographers and stylists that would no doubt be there. But when you saw the gentleness in his eyes, you realized it was something different. He wanted to make sure you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable or out of place in his world; he wanted you to feel like you belonged there. And damn, if you didn’t want to belong in his world.

After the two of you said goodbye with the tiniest kiss in the world, Roy slipped out of the boot room, taking your gaze with him. A Nike photoshoot with Roy Kent. You were going to a fucking Nike photoshoot with Roy fucking Kent. The thought had you wanting to spin in circles and squeal like a child. Instead, you simply met your dad at the car and half-listened to his chattering all the way home.

Once you were in the privacy of your room, you scoured your closet for the right outfit. You settled on a short, simple dress, one that you usually saved for nights out with friends or dates. After a touch of makeup, you listened carefully at your door for your parents. While jeans could slip by them easily, something like this was a bit more conspicuous.

“You’re all dressed up. Special plans?”

Oh, hell. Why couldn’t your dad catch you last night, when you were in jeans? Why did he have to catch you tonight, with your tiny dress and your hair all done?

“Just going out with the girls,” you lied, lied, lied. “Grab some dinner, maybe hit a club.” You nodded, trying to act nonchalant, like you weren’t sneaking out to see one of his players.

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second. “Alright, love.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, careful not to muss your hair. “Have fun. Make good choices.”

The words your dad had sent you off with since you were a teenager rambled in your head as you drove to Roy’s. He would not like this choice. Lying to your parents, seeing Roy Kent outside of football, letting him kiss you and, if he wanted to, even more than that.

But when Roy greeted you with an impressed “Fuuuuuuuck” and a dizzying kiss, you found that you really liked this choice. A hell of a lot.

Over the years, you’d been to tons of team picture days. You’d seen your dad take photos with fans. You had waved at photographers on game days. You weren’t new to the fame that came with professional football, not by a longshot.

But you’d never dated a professional athlete and gone to a photoshoot with him.

Roy sat still in the makeup chair, eyes on your reflection in the mirror as the makeup artist worked on his already perfect face. You relished the way his gaze roamed your figure, the way he was clearly trying not to smile and make the makeup artist’s job harder. When she pulled out the mascara, Roy narrowed his eyes.

“Do I want to wear fucking mascara?” he called to you playfully.

“You do,” you teased with a wink. “Very hot.”

Roy nodded to the makeup artist. “You heard the woman. Mascara time.”

Watching Roy do his photoshoot was nothing short of entertaining. Lights flashed blindingly as Roy took different poses, looking gorgeous as ever in black Nike trackpants. A young woman kept scurrying up to you, asking if you needed coffee or anything, nodding curtly every time you assured her you were fine. The scene in front of you was enough of a treat. The photographer tried to get the midfielder to smile over and over again, but all Roy would give was a scowl; luckily, Roy Kent looked damn good with a scowl on his face.

“Come on, Roy,” the photographer urged as Roy held a football between his hands and quirked an eyebrow. “One smile.” He glanced over his shoulder at you, perched politely in a chair some assistant had brought you. “For your girl,” he tried.

The corner of Roy’s mouth tugged upward for a fraction of a second before he narrowed his eyes playfully at you. “Do you want to see me fucking smile?” he teased.

Pretending that your face wasn’t on fire at being called Roy’s girl, you shrugged. “Dunno, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. Might be ugly as hell.”

When Roy threw his head back in a surprised laugh, the chuckling photographer started clicking away, capturing the rarest sight of all: Roy Kent’s real smile. Fuck, some part of you hoped they’d use one of those pictures for the ad campaign. But a selfish part of you wished they wouldn’t, so that you could keep his smile all for yourself, locked up in your heart and memories, away from any and all prying eyes.

It was late by the time the photographer shook Roy’s hand and wished you both a good night. Roy took your hand in his with ease, as though he did all the time, and led you out of the studio and back to his car. He paused, hand hovering over your door’s handle, before glancing at you.

“D’you still want to grab some dinner?”

His voice was sharp and gruff, almost as if he was expecting a no, but his eyes were asking you to say yes. It was a pattern you were already beginning to recognize: when he wanted something, when he hoped for something, Roy hardened himself, anticipating rejection and disappointment, the two things you didn’t think you’d ever be able to give him.

“Of course,” you assured him with a small smile. “I really worked up an appetite, sitting there and watching you pose.”

He chuckled and let his shoulders loosen a bit. “Right. Better feed you before you have your dad make me run laps all fucking day.” He took your hand in his. “C’mon.”

With the late hour, the streets weren’t too full, and with Roy keeping his head dipped, no one noticed the Chelsea superstar wandering down the road holding the hand of his manager’s daughter. Still, your heart was pounding. All it would take was one person to recognize either one of you, to snap a photo of Roy and his mystery woman, and all hell would break loose. But feeling Roy squeeze your hand as you turned a corner made you feel like it might be worth it. He might be worth it.

“Anything sound good?” he asked, nodding towards the rows of pubs and restaurants.

Your eyes flickered from spot to spot, wondering how full these places were and how easily Roy would be recognized. Finally, your eyes landed on an unassuming little hot dog cart across the street. Its dull neon sign and tired-looking vendor looked like the perfect opportunity to avoid unwanted attention. With a squeeze to Roy’s hand, you nodded towards it.

He raised his eyebrows at you. “A fucking hot dog?” His mouth widened into a smile. “You’ve spent too much time eating stadium food, you know that?”

“I’d like to not walk into a crowded restaurant with Chelsea’s superstar,” you mumbled as Roy guided you across the street.

“Good point,” he chuckled. He gave a quick nod to the cart vendor. “Whatever she gets, just make it two.”

You quickly gave your order, never letting go of Roy’s hand as he stuffed a few bills into the man’s hand, mumbling something about keeping the change. Hot dogs in your free hands, the two of you wandered down the road a bit until you came across a park. Roy nodded to a nearby bench, secluded and tucked into a dark corner. A tree offered ample covering, letting in only twinkles of starlight and a couple of rays of moonlight. The two of you sat, close enough that your thighs were touching, and began munching on your simple dinner.

“How’s your hot dog?” Roy asked, his mouth half full of food.

Some part of you liked how comfortable he seemed next to you; you wondered if he was like this with all his dates. You sure as hell hoped not. “Good,” you answered after swallowing a particularly large bite. “Although, I’ve gotta say, this might be the weirdest second date I’ve ever been on, Kent.”

He quirked a thick eyebrow at you. “Date? Who said anything about a date?”

The teasing glint in his eye saved you from any sense of humiliation. “Oh, fuck me,” you laughed, throwing your head back.

Roy’s smirk grew as he shouldered you playfully. “Oi, not on the second date, princess.”

“Prick,” you mumbled, leaning close and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Eat your fucking hot dog, Kent.”

For once, Roy did as he was told, although his cocky grin remained. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he opened his mouth again. “How’s school?”

“It’s school,” you answered simply. “I go to classes, I see my friends, I do my writing. Boring and normal. Not exactly exciting stuff to someone who plays in the Premier League.”

He shook his head. “When your whole life is this one fucking thing,” he explained slowly, “then normal is pretty fucking interesting.” His soft eyes found yours. “Especially when it’s your normal.”

“My normal is reading fucking books and professors telling me why my writing sucks and having debates with twenty-year-olds who turn their noses up at my opinions in class, only to approach me at a pub that weekend,” you scoffed. “Your normal is playing football in front of sold-out crowds and dating models and doing Nike photoshoots.” You nudged his foot with yours. “You looked good, by the way,” you added. “In your photoshoot.”

Roy took your empty hot dog wrapper and balled it up along with his own. “It’s kind of weird, doing that shit,” he admitted. “But at least the photographer was pretty cool.” He studied your face carefully. “Sorry if he made you uncomfortable,” he added, his voice quickening. “With that whole ‘your girl’ thing.” He cleared his throat.

“It’s fine,” you assured him, your cheeks suddenly hot. “Just the risk I take hanging out with you, I guess.” Another kick to his foot, to assure him that the atmosphere between you was still light and playful.

When you looked at him, his face was hard, but not cold. Thoughtful was perhaps the best way to describe it. “It is a risk,” he said slowly. “Us seeing each other.” As he spoke, he reached out and took your hand, intertwining your fingers together. “But if I’m being fucking honest, it’s a risk I’m glad to be taking with you.”

Oh, hell. Your mouth went completely dry as Roy’s words hit your ears and your heart. In the time you’d known him at the club- and now in private- you never thought of Roy Kent as the romantic type. He had dates, not girlfriends, and when he did have girlfriends, the stunning women tended not to stick around for very long. And while he wasn’t vulgar in the changing room, he wasn’t a prude either. He’d roll his eyes and mumble something about his latest fling and joke about how whoever was questioning him would kill to be in Roy’s place. And you’d sit in the office wishing you could be in some model’s place with Roy. Roy Kent was a player, and it didn’t seem like he wanted the game to end anytime soon.

Yet there he was, his words soft and gentle, his wide eyes asking if you were okay with what he just said. Something that implied that this was a little more than a few stolen kisses and a pair of hot dogs in the park.

“Worth the risk,” you murmured quietly, so quiet he almost didn’t hear you.

But he did hear you. And your words had a small smile appearing on that beautiful face. A smile so perfect you couldn’t resist leaning forward and kissing it.

Taglist:@gee72sstuff@book-of-roses@kissykissymouth@emmy2811 @hart-kinsella @klaine-92@dearvoidgoodnight@misshall14@issieruby@royal-sunflower@kissmekent@veryprairieberry @itswhateveripromise @slaymybreathaway @darkmagazineblaze @larascorneroftheworld @infinetlyforgotten @caught-the-feels @rae4725 @sisinever @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782

#roy kent bright baby blue #Chelsea!Roy #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

[iravinirattu]

ik im late but im playing through kaveh's hangout event and. the haikaveh brainrot is real

since these losers can't do it themselves i am here to offer my translation services ‼️

al haitham you liar. we are in a library using our indoor voices you did NOT hear us.

and even if you did mr. "i hate small talk" why'd u walk over hmm?? hmm??

"dont mind if i ignore you, i've got my earphones in" <- applies to everyone except kaveh

"okay now that i've gotten him distracted tell me what's wrong so i can discreetly fix it"

mans literally sent kaveh away to boost his confidence a bit + find out if he was okay.

"you annoted those books with such long and beautiful notes that eveyone hated lolol anyways check out those shelfs where there's a book with someone appreciating ur notes"

i can't get over how many exceptions al haitham makes for kaveh. he's not heartless and cruel in the way i often see him portrayed... but at the same time his entire demeanor is "i respect you as a person but won't go out of my way to do things for you unless it benefits me"

like he's one of the only characters who isn't super super close with the traveler, at least that's how i see it in the voicelines! he respects them as a friend, would consider doing things for them if they asked, but that's about it really!

but KAVEH. for someone who enjoys a peaceful life and has such a rational and efficient way of working it theoretically makes no sense for him to do all the things he does for kaveh.

like sure "maybe the cheering up kaveh is just to avoid having to deal with him drunk later", but that's too roundabout of a demeanor to be al haitham's style. plus, if he really didn't want to deal with a drunk kaveh, he could just kick him out.

but he doesn't because he cares, and kaveh does not understand that because he has created a vision of what he thinks al haitham is in his head, and in that vision he, kaveh, has no value so why would haitham have him around?? clearly he's got ulterior motives.

and they won't move further until kaveh lets go of that vision, and he can only do that if he truly realises his own worth, and until then haitham's gonna have to keep pushing him towards that from the shadows.

"he overworks himself, it's not healthy. he forgets the practicality of his ideals when he starts something, thinking he can pull through it, but reality hits him halfway. he can keep his ideals, that's fine, but i wish he was a bit more realistic about them."

"and despite all of the above, despite wanting to uphold his artistic integrity, he still puts everyone's needs before his own."

"his approach is too contradictory, and hence people don't see his talent. there are those who's resolve is so brash they are seen as confident and unshakable; and yet he who is more talented than them all falls behind because he's so easy to take advantage of."

al haitham taught me two new words today lol

irascible - someone with a quick temper

paragon - something viewed as a standard

"if he wants things to change he needs to find a balance between compromise and resolve. there is no way to please everyone, but instead of accepting this, he thinks he can nullify it if he takes all the burden instead."

kaveh's altruism stems from his own self-hatred, moreso than his desire to help others. and while doing a good deed puts a smile on his face, the melancholy guilt that trips him when he doesn't is far greater.

"if they are his ideals then i have no right to say anything about them. but he hurts himself so much as a result of that and i wish he would love himself a bit more."

al haitham has a great deal of respect for kaveh, not just as a scholar but as a person. and it's hard watching someone like that dig their own grave, and there's nothing you can do but wait in the sidelines, because they won't believe anything you say.

al haitham is constantly bickering with kaveh to get him to feel a little, challenge his ideals, find a way to make them work without sacrificing himself in return.

"at this poing talking to him is no use, he's convinced himself that his life only has purpose if it's in the hands of others. all people face hardships in life, but he seems to believe he deserves all he gets and more"

and then after kaveh is back he gives him space to talk about things that make him happy, and more importantly, appreciate himself.

how to tell kaveh i want to listen to his silly lil rants without sounding like a sap - al haitham's brain, probably

al haitham knowing all of kaveh's little buttons, and pressing the right ones after determining his mood, so he can show kaveh he loves him but still sound like a bitch.

"you did so well. i am so proud, and i hope you are proud of yourself too."

and sometimes he does click the wrong one, but then immediately goes back on it, becomes soft(er than usual), offers reassurance, changes the topic, and so on

we saw this in the parade of providence event, when kaveh got legitimately upset at one of haitham's remarks and he immediately went into I HAVE UPSET MY BF recovery mode.

and what i love the most in all this is KAVEH'S DUMBASS IS SO OBLIVIOUS TO THIS LMAOOO

but also it's sad because the reason he's oblivious is because he doesn't think he's worth being cared for like that.

haikaveh's whole vibe is "i love you, but i'd much rather you love yourself first" and "i'm your one and only, your only exception, the one you'd break all your rules for" and i love it.

#haikaveh #al haitham #kaveh #kavetham #genshin impact #alhaitham x kaveh #⥽ • chaos and chasms #try denying the allegations now bitches (affectionate) #i shld be al haithams translator fr

[dark-side-blog3]

I feel like if you want to escape the house of lamentation, you have to be REAL careful what method you use.

If you make Leviathan or Asmodeus bored of you— not hate! Just bored, and make them realize they would get more of a reaction from someone else, spending time to show them some prime examples of partners while also showing that when you do try you just can’t compete, and they’re ultimately putting too much effort into a relationship that even if you agree to, you just aren’t going to give them enough… If you bore them, you’ll walk away scot free.

However, boring them won’t work with everyone. Some of them you have to make hate you. Lucifer for example would be able to find contentment in a less than glamorous life with you. So, you need to do your best to just be horrible for his image. Every intimate act is public and you gush over him, lowering your self worth and by extension: his. He can’t be associated with someone who embarrasses him so often when he tries to be nice, in his roundabout way. And you shouldn’t be telling everyone his business!

Mammon is a bit trickier, because he’s got such a tolerance for being bullied, and for cringe, so you can’t embarrass him. But you can nag him on his faults constantly, throw away parts of his hoard with the reasoning that it’s “unsanitary” and trying to “tidy up” his room. Always rat him out to debt collectors, demand he throw away the biohazard’s in his room, discreetly deep clean his car and throw out any trash you find. Don’t be cruel to him, it’ll only make him cling harder despite being unhappy. But make it known that if you are in his space, his things aren’t safe. And he’ll slowly pull away, years at a time. Try to remain friends, knowing full well you won’t be. He’ll find it too weird, given his previous obsession and possessive tendencies to you.

And again: you have to be really, really careful what method you choose. Because if you over or under do it, any of them may just become worse.

For example, it’s best to make Beel feel like you can protect yourself for the most part, and he only needs to step in occasionally. Don’t feed into his delusions, but don’t deny them outright. Let him feel like the best way to help you is to be distant. Because if Beelzebub feels disillusioned with you, you’re not going to have a more obsessed demon.

Beel, if throughly annoyed and no longer enamoured with you, will stop seeing you as this whimsical and cunning human, and will begin to just see you as human. You’re about as special as any other human, about as in need of protection. But that doesn’t change your species. Did those other humans have interests, hobbies, ideology, friends, family, a vision for their life? Maybe. But that never stopped him before.

You were kept alive, like one might keep a pet pig or chicken. And though you can put a ribbon on it, it is what it is in the end. And since you’ve outlived your purpose as anything else: Beelzebub is going to eat you.

#yandere obey me nightbringer #yandere obey me #yandere obey me shall we date #yandere lucifer morningstar #yandere lucifer #yandere mammon #yandere levi #yandere leviathan #yandere asmo #yandere asmodeus #yandere beel #yandere beelzebub #my writing! #reader death #death tw #cannibalism tw #yandere x reader #yandere obey me x reader

[cupcakeshakesnake]

Uhm uh could you info dump about your Portal AU 👉👈 (I definitely do not have ulterior motives and I am definitely not thinking about inserting my OC into the AU hahahaha why would you think that)

I don't know what there is to infodump about so here is a sort of... timeline? Compendium?

Most of it is the same as canon Portal 2, except GLaDOS and Wheatley are androids.

The AU starts when GLaDOS - disconnected from the main chassis and connected instead to a potato battery - and Chell fall into old aperture. They discover Cave Johnson, not deceased as was widely believed but rather locked underground in android form along with an outdated maintenance system for Aperture. Inspired by this fic, to be specific. (I call him an android for convenience but technically he may count as a cyborg. Haven't really delved into that. He's not "alive" in the fully human sense, though.)

They need the data stored in Cave to get through some parts of Old Aperture, so they begrudgingly take him along. Most of the cables coming out of his neck and wrists used to be connected to a now obsolete surveillance/maintenance system, and are now haphazardly rolled up around him. His power cable is connected to another potato battery (which he usually keeps in his pocket).

Like other Aperture "personality constructs", Cave can "remain functional in apocalyptic, low power environments of as few as 1.1 volts", but it has its limitations - as is the case with GLaDOS, using too much energy can get him knocked out.

Cave's endgoal here is to end his own life, which he can't do on his own due to several failsafe measures built into him (such as being unable to unplug himself from the system in the first place, and as a result being stuck underground). He still keeps up his cheery, eccentric (and far from sane) attitude, but with an added hint of cynicism and roundabout self-deprecation. Decades of mulling over his life underground has led him to have some regrets about certain decisions, although he would never speak any of it out loud to anyone. Personality-wise, some inspirations were taken from the robot Cave in Aperture Desk Job.

In one possible ending for the story (which I haven't mentioned before but have had in mind for some time), they enter a newer part of Aperture where the emancipation grills do not have the data that lets Cave enter without being disintegrated. Here he acknowledges that Chell and GLaDOS have no more need of him and voluntarily walks into the emancipation grill.

Here's an excerpt from my notes.

"These emancipation grills were built in my time. They're not calibrated to accomodate-" GLaDOS gestures towards Johnson. "- him. We'll need to find a way to hack into the-" "Hey hey hey- don't bother. I'm gonna be level with you. You don't need me anymore." "Elaborate." "The stuff built here on out's brand new. I don't even have the code for it. Sure, you needed me to get through the old facility, but I think I'm gonna head out now." "…Is that so." "My time is up, I can feel it. I'm not going to heaven, no sir. Was never much of a religions guy anyway. But know this, lady," the former CEO turns to Chell. "I want to see you make it out alive. This facility I built, it swallows you up. Don't get me wrong, it's the best damn science facility on this earth and I couldn't be more proud of it, but you stay here too long and- well." He shrugs, cables dangling from and wrapped around him like ropes. "It's pretty much my destiny to die down here, but you, kid, you get out there. You go up to the surface and see the daylight. Caroline, take care of the facility. Oh, and her." "Yes sir Mr Johnson…" "Oh and beat that moron's ass for me." They go through the fizzler, leaving him behind - there is a sound that makes Chell turn back, only to see some particles evaporating. GLaDOS doesn't turn back. "Goodbye sir."

#snake got an ask #anonymous #writing #portal 2 #cave johnson #glados #android cave johnson #portal 2 au #snake's text post

[prettyboykatsuki]

everytime i read the manga im reminded of why i love bkg and ultimately his very roundabout but utterly sincere way of handling things is really my favorite thing about him ever and the entire cultural festival arc and scene really highlights it for me.

like i dont think the anime gives a clear enough translation of what bkg is actually trying to convey. and how deeply sincere he really is. while his whole class is putting on the concert almost as an apology to u.a. - bakugou says that doing something like this is nothing but self gratification.

the class thinks that bkg saying "people like that don't deserve my courtesy," he's referring to them but he's actually referring to the rest of the school. what he's actually saying is that 1a doesn't owe anyone an apology because it's not like they asked to be put in those situations.

its a very bakugou way to handle it - but his whole point is that if they're going to do it, they ought to be the fucking best at it. better than everyone. he's saying lets put on a show that doesn't let them talk shit about us as a class ever, and he means as a class which is such a huge sign of his growth. bakugou only agrees to join them after everyone commits to that and he doesn't do it for himself because he really doesn't get anything out of it. he just cares about his class and has his own, very bkg way of dealing with frustration.

his whole thing is that if their sincerity can't reach everyone, then fuck everything else, we have to do such a good job that no one can even think to talk to shit about us again. we have to prove ourselves. and it's such an integral moment for his character but also as a one of those honorary leads in 1a. like im just so fond of him for it

#aristotle.txt #fang.meta #a.manga #this scene... i love you bakugou

[halfetirosie]

Character Ask meme- Edmond

@xenole I hope you know that you opened the floodgates, and this was going to be even longer but I forced myself to stop before I went fully off-the-rails...

♡♡♡Edmond♡♡♡

First impression

Believe it or not, my first impression of Edmond actually wasn’t good! I was like, “Damn, he’s pretty, but he’s such an asshole!” He seemed stuck-up at best and unnecessarily mean to Eiden at worst. I felt a wee bit better about him when he told Yakumo that the knights that bothered his village were being punished, but I still didn’t like him very much.

Impression now

*Deep inhale*

EVERYDAY I REPENT FOR MY PAST ACTIONS!!!!

I LOVE EDMOND AND WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HIM!!!!!

Yo. The GAP MOE. He acts all cold and professional at work, but then we find out that he’s sensitive??? And addicted to sugar??? (Literally a sweetheart!) And he’s basically an otaku that reads erotic book series in his spare time??? (SO DAMN RELATABLE????)

And it is so easy to misunderstand him if you’re only looking at the surface level. Like, yes, his general speech patterns are very rough and blunt, but that’s only because of his upbringing in nobility. He holds himself to a higher standard, but is incredibly humble.

No, really; let’s take a moment to really look at that noble upbringing of his. Aster makes it very clear that many (if not most) of the nobles of Klein are stupid, greedy, and/or corrupt in some capacity—they don’t really care about the common people. Edmond grew up surrounded by that, along with their insane amount of ettiquette, customs, and roundabout ways of speaking. It would’ve been TOO EASY for him to turn out to be a self-absorbed snob, too.

But he isn’t!!! Against all odds, Edmond grew up to be an upright man with a strong sense of justice and concern for civilians. He takes noblesse oblige seriously. He works hard everyday in everything he does; and he does A LOT. Like, A LOT a lot. His full-time job as Vice Captain, plus Clan duties, plus household duties (so that his mother doesn’t have to do any of it, even though she says she can). 

It’s no wonder, then, that he’s so goddamn repressed!!!

Sure, he’s a tsundere. But that’s only out of habit (and shyness), rather an actual reflection of his desires. He’s used to stifling that part of himself. He’s used to treating lust as shameful, because he’s afraid of lacking discipline; he doesn’t want to be like all the other trashy nobles in high society.

But through all of his intimacy rooms, Edmond is accepting himself more and more—his sexuality, his essence/magic, and his feelings. While he’s still the strict and hardworking Vice Captain, he’s finding more balance in his life.

Favorite moment

So hard to pic only one!!!

During the White Dat event, Edmond makes his awful dad-joke and looks so proud of himself, it makes me feel so endeared I can barely handle it!!!

The Tranquil Cloud intimacy rooms also hold a special place in my heart. In them, there’s a moment where Edmond deliberately slows his steps so Eiden can walk next to him. Later on in the day, Eiden accidentally finds out that Edmond was following a very specific tip from a certain book:

CUTEEEEEEE!!!! It reminds me of when you're a young kid looking up online "how to know if my crush likes me" or "how to get your crush to like you back" XD!!!

Of course, when Edmond sees Eiden reading that page (which he’d bookmarked and even underlined), he gets very embarrassed. But Eiden is very impressed, moved, and (as per usual) turned on. XD

Idea for a story

It won’t be coming out anytime soon, because there are different stories I have to work on first, but I have started on an Edmond fic! In it, while Edmond is off investigating a drug ring, he ends up raiding a greenhouse filled with plants and animals that were used to make the drugs. After the animals are inspected, those without abnormalities are released back into the wild; however, one of them returns and keeps following Edmond around! Thus, Edmond gets reverse-adopted and gains his own animal friend!

Unpopular opinion

Idk if this is an unpopular opinion or not, but I NEED more of the Edmond intimacy rooms to lean in to BDSM territory!!!

Don’t get me wrong; I absolutely ADORE the romance-heavy rooms. And there have been some rooms that feature light over-stimulation, but other than that? That one fingering scene that had Lord/Knight role-play and then (blessedly) the Elite Instructor Edmond R2 with light bondage and spanking.

But it’s not enough!!!

Come on, devs! You can’t just have Eiden point out that Ed “likes a little pain” in the first sex scene they have, and then do barely ANYTHING with it! I want to see Edmond completely lose his head! I want him to completely let go! I want him to forget his own name, dammit!!!

Favorite relationship

I love it when Yakumo is inflicted with Edmond!!! XD Edmond ruining everything he touches by drowning it in sugar, while Yakumo desperately attempts to stay calm…>:)

More seriously, Edmond’s relationship with Eiden is TOP TIER. With every event he’s featured in, all of the intimacy rooms show him falling deeper and deeper in love. It's the sweetest thing ever!!!!

Favorite headcanon

Mama’s Boy Edmond! I like to imagine that Ed’s mom (who, from what we’ve seen, is super cool) will give him completely unsolicited relationship advice, in typical mom-fashion! Like, the two of them will be causally eating lunch, and out of nowhere she’ll say something like “You know, Edmond dear, the more often someone sees you, the more fond they'll be of you. If the Grand Sorcerer sees your face every day, it’ll be easier to seduce him!” And Ed would practically shriek “Mother! How could you say something so scandalous?!?!” But then later that same day he’ll be sure to swing by Aster's mansion, an be sure to walk by Eiden's room…

#nu carnival #nu: carnival #nu carnival edmond

[aroaceleovaldez]

while i’m thinking of it- a niche underrated theme thing in the first series that I’m absolutely OBSESSED with is Percy’s love interests representing the sort of different paths he could have gone down, and him choosing Annabeth is him choosing the balance between the two worlds he’s living between - the truest sense of being demi-god.

Rachel represented him ignoring his godly side and burying himself in mortal life, avoiding the divine side of his family and self and everything that comes with it. No prophecies or destinies, just Simple Mortal Worries.

Calypso was the idealistic side of the divine - magical servants, a beautiful island, lost to time and forgetting his duties and destinies. Spending the rest of his days in a paradise with a kind soul who understands his struggles with the gods but not to the point of hostility. The epitome of the fantastical and living without a care in the world.

Nico represented fully embracing divine heritage, and the brutality and hardships that come with being a demigod. Death, pain, loss, crushed childhood idealizations. Accepting that the fantastical isn’t always kind and losing touch with mortality - Nico spends most of his time pre-BoO away from both camps, he’s the King of Ghosts, and he has no fully mortal connections. It’s also important to note how much Nico is in play, particularly in direct contrast to Annabeth, in TLO. Nico is the one to give Percy the Curse of Achilles (literally making him functionally semi-immortal, which is in-part why he’s offered immortality specifically in the first place). When Percy is in the Styx seeing the vision of being with Annabeth at the lake and reaches out to her, Nico is the one to grab his hand and pull him from the river (Ideals of demigod life [Annabeth at CHB] versus the reality of where they currently are [Nico in the Underworld]). Nico arrives with (notably entirely undead & divine) reinforcements to the Battle for Manhattan which helps turn the tide. Nico is there when Percy is offered immortality, but when Percy denies it, he looks to Annabeth.

Annabeth represents striking the balance between divine and mortal - fighting wars, going to college. Growing up at camp and moving back home in a land beyond the (Greek) gods. Making amends with both your godly and mortal parents. When Percy picks Annabeth, he’s picking equilibrium between the different lives he’s living, not honing in on a specific aspect of it and neglecting the rest. Also, particularly in TLO and contrasting with Nico, there’s a bit element of trust and loyalty - Nico has complex loyalties to Percy, where even breaking Percy’s trust was done in a roundabout way of trying to protect him and ensure he wouldn’t be harmed either by Hades or in battle. Annabeth’s loyalty is simple and Percy not only trusts her fully, but Annabeth trusts him in turn without question, taking a poisoned knife for him despite not knowing if it would even harm him or not. Both absolutely put their lives on the line for Percy, but there’s a give and take, gains and sacrifices (Nico seeking information and reinforcements, Annabeth just straight up getting poisoned/stabbed). Also, notably, the scenarios surrounding those moments again reflects the extremes versus balances of how they integrate the mortal and divine together (Nico seeking knowledge about his family & memories [mortal] from his father [divine] vs Annabeth getting stabbed [mortal] with a poisoned [divine] knife) - again an extreme/disharmony versus simplicity and unity/balance. 

#pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #not gonna tag the other two cause most of the in-depth comparing and contrasting is the other two #there's also some elements of this theme with Reyna in SoN but it's significantly less and I only half-count Reyna as a Percy love interest #cause it's not really a major part of their dynamic together at all #but yeah i have a LOT of thoughts about this analysis and that theme of striking unity between two worlds throughout the first series #seriously though why isn't there more stuff re: Percy's vision of Annabeth in the Styx and Nico being the one to pull him out of the river #AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO SEES THE POTENTIAL IMAGERY THERE. PLEASE- #analysis #meta #long post //

[zara2148]

Interesting Bits from Midnight Mass’s scripts

So I mentioned being a nerd who actually compared the final episodes with the available scripts for Midnight Mass episodes (episodes 3, 4, 5, and 7). One point that jumped out at me was how it more obvious that Riley wasn’t just tolerating Father Paul’s company in AA meetings in the original scripts.

That through line IS still there in the final product, I just think it’s not as obvious and many walk out of the series thinking Riley is only tolerating him or dislikes him the whole time. (deep sigh)

The two cut/altered scenes I have to point to for that are from episode 3.

This first scene survives in an altered form, as the scene we IMMEDIATELY cut to after Hassan brings up his concerns about bibles in school to Bev and everyone, and Bev manages to regain control of the whole situation and is even applauded for wanting to help the children understand miracles.

... like, really kind of strange of Riley, a staunch atheist and someone critical of the church and organized religion, to leap so fast to Paul’s defense against the childhood friend he’s reconnecting with/potentially falling back in love with. Unless we assume that yes, he’s come to like and trust Paul as a person.

(my guess is this scene was trimmed down because we are kind of being TOLD what to think about Paul, versus drawing our own conclusions about him).

Then there’s later in the episode, where the script has Riley speak more casually to Father Paul as he walks in for the meeting than in the episode, where he enters the rec center silently.

A certain level of comfort with Paul is being projected there. A vibe of “You have got to hear the latest shit that Bev is pulling now.” Gossipy housewives the both of them.

There’s also the brief, blink-and-you-miss it mention in this scene that Riley has been talking to Paul more than once a week during AA when Paul urges him to not give such a pat answer to Joe (this part is in the finished episode, I just find it easier to screencap the script).

Speaking of... this bit was cut from the AA trio scene after Riley tells Joe it’s enough he showed up:

From context, it reads very much that Paul is saying he and Riley are friends, rather than suggesting that Riley and Joe will be/are friends. Like you could read that into it and I think it is a part of it (Paul just wants Riley to be surrounded with friends, guys), but it reads more to me that Paul is saying he wanted to push for and challenge Riley to be his best self as a friend with his “that’s bullshit” speech.

But I think the most obvious moment of “Oh, Riley isn’t just talking with Father Paul to fulfill a parole requirement and is hesitant to speak with him otherwise” that survived to the final cut is in episode 4, after Riley’s spent a while comforting Erin about her abortion and Joe’s death has more or less been handled.

Like... he didn’t have to ask that question. He could have just talked about his feelings surrounding this event or not even brought up Erin’s miscarriage at all in the meeting. It’s a very personal thing to share, even with a priest acting as a therapist. 

He’s not doing this for Erin’s sake, it’s not a roundabout way to get the priest to go comfort his religious friend as he’s quick to dissuade Paul from that. Riley brought up this topic to get his own emotions about it out.

And he wanted to hear what Paul thought you should do in that situation. He trusted that perhaps, he might have a better idea than Riley himself did.

And of course, it’s a twist of the knife that not long after this emotional honesty, he catches Paul in a pretty significant lie.

(Also, the sheer number of points I can gesture to as evidence that Paul ALSO very much cared about Riley could really be its own series of posts... and it might need to be, since it does seem to get missed/overlooked as an element of his character. It’s a twisted bromance and I love it so.)

#midnight mass spoilers #midnight mass #priley #might as well tag that though this isn't romantic #long post #it wasn't supposed to be long lulz #riley flynn #john pruitt #father paul hill #let's see how much attention this gets before i consider doing more

[amuseoffyre]

Mulling on the way Stede and Ed have both learned to talk around their desires and wishes, whether as a defence mechanism or because past experience has made them cautious about expressing themselves. This has led them to have very different ways of saying what they need in very carefully constructed way and sometimes, missing what the other is saying entirely.

Since it got long, I'll show mercy :)

I've written before about the way Stede leans into the passive voice in season one. He doesn't directly express an opinion, coming at it from the side so he can't be blamed if it's a bad suggestion.

A prime example is when he tries to dissuade Ed from going to the party by describing how bad it'll be (from his perspective) or when Ed's considering leaving and instead of asking him to stay, he says Ed doesn't need to rush off and "we're all enjoying your company".

Based on his past experience, it's no small wonder, when his every suggestion to his father was shot down with scorn and disdain. His likes and interests were mocked relentlessly and constantly criticised. Even Mary shouted at him about the ship which - he thought - was his idea of the best future for him with his family. For him, expressing how he's feeling is something that can be weaponised against him.

He not only hides his feelings, but when he's feeling especially bad, he hides himself as well. He leaves situations when he's distressed or unhappy: leaving his family, hiding in his cabin in 1x01, retreating in the party in 1x05, going back to the ship in 1x08, returning home in 1x09.

The one time he does express himself verbally to Ed, before the academy, he's mid-retreat to the ship. He's angry and upset and insulted by Calico Jack and is taking himself elsewhere, but Ed stops him and says he should stay.

And this is where I chew on their communication mismatches, because Stede has been sitting and sitting and sitting all day, all the negative stuff building, stoked by Jack's cheerfully applied passive aggression and manipulation. He's been smiling through it for Ed's sake and when he loses his temper, he falls into the same pattern of not being direct. He doesn't point the finger at Jack for his behaviour, which has been the trigger the whole time. He tells Ed "I don't like who you are around this guy", his focus being 'this guy' who has caused this change in Ed's behaviour.

But Ed hears it as something being wrong with him specifically. He doesn't hear that it's Jack's influence of behaviour. His own self-esteem is so brittle, he immediately takes this as being fully his fault and when he's given the choice to stay with Stede or go with Jack, he leaves and says "You were always going to see what I am."

This not only cements Stede's conviction that saying what he thinks aloud will get a negative response (in this case, Ed leaving), but also solidifies the fact that Ed is fully convinced that Stede would eventually come to dislike him as much as Ed dislikes himself. Neither of them said what the other thinks they said, but because it's informed by their own trauma and issues, they radically misinterpret the other's meaning.

Like Stede, Ed edges around directness as much as he possibly can. Given what we've seen of the people from his past, it's clear that honesty and earnestness are subject to mockery at best and, at worst, the thing he cares about will be taken away from him.

Instead, to avoid the risk of that, he tends to drop hints, make roundabout suggestions, uses metaphors and allegories, and tries to nudge people to understanding what he means/wants.

He doesn't want to leave but doesn't know if he's welcome to stay, so he just makes noises that he's thinking about moving on so an invitation will be extended. He doesn't care about the invitation to the party, but maybe, pfft, not like he's bothered, but they could go. Whatever.

If it does get to a point where he's upset he - like Stede - will try to remove himself from a situation and hide away. It happens in 1x06 during the fuckery, 1x10 inside the pillow fort, 2x04 at Mary and Anne's.

It's very telling that the times he does let his guard down a bit, it's when someone goes after him. He and Stede have their most direct conversations when Ed is hiding under a yellow blanket, even if Stede is still bemused by the 'doggy heaven' metaphor.

A lot of the time they're both like ships passing in the night when it comes to communicating because they're both trying so hard not to show too much vulnerability. It's there on the beach at the naval academy when Stede tries to deflect Ed from China by pointing out "it's quite far". It's there in Ed's fishing metaphor which has so many layers and Stede has no idea wtf is going on because he has none of the context.

Stede has learned to be more direct in S2, so much more so that he actually expresses his feelings and emotions aloud for the first time. He talks about it with Lucius, Zheng and Anne, even before he and Ed have their breakthrough in 1x04 when, at Anne and Mary's, Stede frankly and directly explains himself to Ed and it helps them get back on an even keel.

Ed isn't quite there yet, though, and this is why the fall out in 1x07 comes out of nowhere for Stede because he's missing a lot of the information that Ed has threaded into the metaphor.

He knows Ed doesn't want to be a pirate, but the subtext all through the fisherman conversation is like they're having two different conversations. Stede is being so much more direct by pointing out that Ed is panicking and offering options, but Ed is deflecting as a defence again.

What's lovely is that by the final scene, they're sort of getting to the same page. Awkwardly, tripping each other up a bit on the way, but they're getting there, realising there's a lot more to each other than they had understood before. The entire exchange has so much layered into it.

Stede: so we're innkeepers now? Ed: I thought we could give it a go. Unless you're having second thoughts. Stede: I'm not. Ed: It's a bit of a shithole. Stede: It's a fixer-upper. Good bones.

On one hand, it's about the building and oh the symbolism of him wanting to make a place where people choose to stay with him is aaaaaa.

On the other hand, it's both about Ed himself and their relationship. Ed couching his meaning in metaphors again and this time, Stede picks up the meaning, even if he doesn't fully get all the nuances of it. (also teehehehe 'good bones'. I bet there are)

They're working their way towards better communication, a little bit at a time. They've both had their lowest ebb, run in panic, and learned from it. There's still a lot of trauma and defence mechanisms to unpick, but they're getting there.

Now if Stede could stop bottling up his trauma and hiding them in his wine-cellar of the things, that'd be great.

#ofmd #ofmd meta #ed teach #blackbeard #stede bonnet #adopt our crew

[boywifesammy]

imagine repressed & closeted transfem dean who never figures it out. imagine the sheer amount of guilt, fear, self-hatred and disgust he’d feel at what he is. big, clunky, dangerous. he takes comfort in his power, but it makes him feel sick. when he looks into the mirror and sees his hard edges, his body feels like it’s trying to rip open from the inside, yet he has no idea why.

dean plays his father’s wife until he dies. he takes care of sam and raises him as if he’s his own son. he’s a housewife in everything but reality. he desperately wants family, desperately wants to nurture, but his body isn’t built for that.

he’s taught by john and the world that he has to be strong. he has to be a man. he can never show emotion, because it’ll only be a weakness, and weakness is deadly. dean can never have a family because his body is wrong and he can never love like a woman because he cannot be weak.

so dean holds tight to those little moments of female connection with sam and his father like a dirty secret. he lays in bed at night and pretends he doesn’t think about being softer and lovelier. he stares at himself in motel mirrors until it makes him sick. he builds muscle and crops his hair short because this thing inside of him terrifies the hell out of him and he has to do anything to keep it at bay.

women comment on his looks a lot. when he’s young, they call him pretty, beautiful, gorgeous. they compliment his soft green eyes and plush lips and spattering of freckles. secretly, dean loves it. it makes that thing inside of him flare up in joy, which is why he knows that this is dangerous, and not something to be indulged. he stays up at night obsessing. shaves every morning and runs his fingers over his soft cheeks, flutters his long eye lashes, tries to find the soft edges of his cheekbones.

this thing is slowly eating away at him. the closer he gets to it the more volatile he feels. he jerks off under the blankets with a hand over his mouth to stifle the gasping, whimpery sounds he makes. the sound of his own voice scares him. his throat chokes up when a guy hits on him and john gives him a glare. one time he puts a finger up his ass and comes so hard that he sees stars, not because of the stimulation, but just from the idea of being wet and slick and pliant between his legs.

dean loves women and it makes him feel sick to the very core. he wishes that he loved women in a normal way. instead, he sees their curvy bodies and an awful, disgusting mixture of greed-lust-jealousy rocks through him. it’s all a strange, roundabout way of wrecking himself, because it’s extremely easy to play the role they want him to play, but god if it doesn’t hurt like hell.

dean loves fucking women. he’s desperate in bed but he’s always sure to be gentle with his thrusts. it makes him feel less disgusting. he likes shoving his face into a chick’s pussy, eating her out until she’s dripping, or nuzzling into the crook of her neck as he fucks her wet cunt. he likes listening to their gasping whines and moans. the feeling of it all makes his teeth clench with guilt; her cunt on his dick, his strong thighs, the way she keeps moaning his name. but it’s so easy to pretend in moments like these.

dean puts his face into her hair, and smells her citrus shampoo as she wails out cries. he doesn’t imagine being her, but he focuses on her noises, on the softness of her body and the wetness of her pussy. he always cums silently, his entire body quivering and shaking, because he’s too scared of the noise that’d come out of his mouth if he opened it.

when rhonda hurley makes him wear her panties, he nearly throws up on her carpet from how hard his heart is beating. they’re silky on his dick. rhonda calls him pretty, beautiful, she strokes at his flaccid penis through the panties and kisses messy lines up his belly. dean is hard and shivering by the end of her teasing, leaking through the panties and flushed from head to toe.

rhonda is both the best fuck that dean ever has and his worst fears coming to life. she calls him good girl as he fucks her. it ends embarrassingly early. when dean cums, it’s with a gasping cry of her name and a girly little keen that haunts his nightmares. he doesn’t remember ever cumming so hard in his life. he shook with aftershocks for minutes after, dazed and disgusted with himself.

rhonda gives dean her number. he never calls her back. after dean leaves that town, he burns the panties and stops shaving his stubble so short. memories of rhonda make him angry. he sinks into hunting and drinks until he’s cross-eyed. dean takes solace in the horror of violence. he bathes himself in that disgust and he feels right at home in the middle of it.

sometimes, dean can’t sleep at night from how sick he feels. he tries to figure out why, but he can’t place the reason. it eats him up inside. makes him feel like a monster. he thinks that he may just be a disgusting freak of a man.

as dean gets older the comments about him getting pretty melt away. he knows he’s objectively extremely attractive, in a male model sort of way, but it doesn’t match up with the images in his head.

the thoughts get more and more humiliating as time goes on. he’s not a twink anymore and he can’t be fantasizing about being fem, but he can’t stop it. he stays up at night itching in his own skin, brutally aware that he’d look hideous and disgusting in anything girly. his body is too big and bulky. he’s a freak for being into that sort of thing.

dean eventually admits to himself that he might be a little gay. he keeps it on the dl, visits gay bars when they hit more liberal cities, and doesn’t ever repeat the same place. he likes being dressed up and bent over. he chalks it all up to a crossdressing fetish, and while that’s humiliating and sickening, it’s easier than having to deal with whatever it is that’s going on with him.

dean aches inside perpetually because he is flawed. he wants to hold his child in his arms and wear dresses and flirt shamelessly with men. he knows he’s a freak for it but he’s accepted that he’s going to perpetually live with this pain.

he gets older and older and the dysphoria gets so fucking bad that he can’t even look in the mirror anymore, but it doesn’t matter at this point. he’s completely disconnected himself from his body. he’s a sick, perverted freak in the body of a man and none of it feels right. he uses his body like a tool, a weapon, and he purposefully keeps it masculine and well-toned to push back any illusions that he’s anything but a man.

and sometimes, he’ll go to gay bars and let himself get railed to incoherence. he’ll drive three towns over while sam’s asleep and put on his makeup in an alleyway nearby. he always looks for men bigger than him. men who’ll call him pretty and beautiful and treat his ass like a cunt.

and if he’s lucky, maybe they’ll let some other words slip. maybe they’ll call him babygirl or darling or play with his pecs like tits as they pound him deep. and sometimes, if he’s really lucky, he’ll get to wear something pink and lacy. sheer panties. a bralet. stockings or a necklace.

he always cums in the first few minutes on those nights. he doesn’t mind being fucked until the other guy finishes, as long as he keeps calling him a good girl for taking it.

dean always throws up in the club bathroom afterwards. he spends hours wiping off all the makeup from his face and sleeps in the impala for the night. he gives himself another wipe the morning after and tells sam that he was out with a one night stand. it technically isn’t a lie.

one time, sam makes a joke about dean being a woman. he pushes. he calls him a pretty lady, and dean is horrified when his eyes wet a bit at it. he can’t take it. he starts the fight, but sam wins it. he pins dean down and starts to yell at him. then he sees that dean is crying. he isn’t making any noise or shaking, but his cheeks are wet.

don’t, is all he says. it hurts like hell to get out. sam seems confused, but he doesn’t question it. he doesn’t make the joke again. dean forgets about the whole thing and pretends he doesn’t feel the weird looks sam sends him sometimes.

dean dies like that, alone and angry, in a body that’s all hard edges and grief and hatred.

he’s the same in heaven. he can’t imagine being any other way. he doesn’t even know what he wants, what would make him happy. most days, he’s happy with driving his impala aimlessly, drinking while watching sunsets and tuning into the world around him. thinking, and thinking, and thinking. about rhonda hurley and her satin panties and his father and the soft, warm thing buried inside of him.

dean doesn’t know why he feels sick inside when he looks at himself, but he’s too broken to ever figure it out. the only thing that he knows is that he doesn’t feel guilt the same in heaven. that means that when he has those strange dreams of warm kisses, strong arms around his tiny waist, and the warm, beating heat of his child’s heart against his own pillowed chest, he can spend some time in bed in the morning trying to recollect the memories without hating himself for it.

#oc #supernatural #spn meta #transfem dean winchester #mtf dean winchester #sam winchester #character analysis #trans headcanon #me ramblibg incoherently again about tbe nuance and intricacy of trans winchesters #this ended up WAYYY longer than i intended #but god my heart HURTS just thinking about her #transfem dean is so uniquely devastating she tears me up inside #i use he/him prns for her here because it works better with context #and she never actually comes to terms with her gender #but god i love her to bits she’s my little girlie

[esta-elavaris]

Part Sixteen [3,495 words] ~ James Norrington/OC

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Page breaks by cafekitsune.

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - *Part Sixteen*

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @teawithshakespeare @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm

There was fuck all chance of her sleeping that night. Theo felt like she was going mad, Groves' words reeling through her mind over and over – joining with more than one of Elizabeth's many remarks to her over the last few weeks. You're allowing yourself to be defeated.

Did the fact that it bother her so much make it true?

She hoped not. Being one who took things lying down had never been her. She wasn't that pathetic. She wasn't that weak. But what else did anybody here actually expect her to do? Crawl on her hands and knees after a man who had humiliated her? One who was in love with somebody else? And what difference did it even make to her, anyway? Why did she even care? She'd been a bloody idiot for letting herself feel anything towards him to begin with, the way everything had shaken out had been a good thing. Hadn't it?

Waking up in lands that shouldn't exist didn't just happen accidentally. It wasn't like when she'd mistakenly walked into the wrong classroom during her school days. It took a lot for it to happen, and that meant it had to happen for a reason. What sort of power, what sort of force, would send her here just so she could have a cup of tea with Elizabeth Swann, get herself embarrassed, and wander home again?

The sad and terrible truth of the matter was that she had to be here for a reason. And there was a small, even more sad and terrible, possibility that it was something to do with him. The one she'd bonded with, and the one who was destined to meet a fate that, whatever her opinion of him was now, he did not deserve.

But that only made her feel worse – because sod that. If something…something conscious and coherent had sent her here, and if it had done so in order to offer her up as a consolation prize to a prick who had made it very clear that he didn't even like her…fuck that. Fuck that entirely.

God, but she felt like she was going mad. Never in her life had she been claustrophobic, but on that night she was getting there. A thick layer of clouds hid the mood and kept all of the heat and humidity from the day packed atop them, which did little to help the feeling of being an animal jammed into a cage and prodded at with sticks to see what funny reaction she might have next.

First, she tried to remedy it by getting out of the bed – sprawling out atop the covers, so they were just one less thing weighing down upon her. It didn't work. Neither did opening the windows, or pacing around, or even shirking off her nightgown and donning her clothes from home instead, in an effort to feel somewhat more like herself. Her true self.

Pulling the nightgown back on over them, she raked a hand through her hair, which had long since escaped its plait in all of her activity, and leaned out of the window, staring out at the night, and the coast.

She needed to get out of this house.

James could not find rest. For he had taken Elizabeth's advice – and it had worked. Rather too well. Lying abed that night, he closed his eyes and did all he could to bat out whatever prior plans he had, even going so far as to banish considerations as to what he would have for breakfast the next morning.

It was not easy advice to follow not only for reasons relating to practicality, either, for he couldn't help but wonder if her words had been a roundabout way of rejecting what he knew she must suspect he intended to ask her ere long. But he shoved that away too, and forced himself through the blasted visualisations she'd suggested.

In the first (and he chose the first because it was the easiest) he obeyed Miss Byrne's request to the letter. He kept his distance, he did not speak to her, and she was no longer there – either off to Ireland as she promised, or tucked off with Groves in some corner or another with a blush and a smile on her face. How the rest of the exercise would go should have been clear to him then, based on how the latter of those two prospects made his lip curl.

But the rest of it didn't bring him great distaste. There was just the small matter of the fact that it didn't bring him as much excitement and joy as it once had. The…the satisfaction of having secured a good match, insofar as it checked another box on the list he had that reflected the quality of his life, yes. Alarmingly, though, that was all. Even the knowledge that Elizabeth was a fine and beautiful woman remained, but it did not help. For did she not deserve a man who felt nauseatingly giddy at the prospect of marrying her? As he had, although he'd never had admitted it, only months prior?

When he opened his eyes, he scowled at the ceiling of his bedroom. And he did not proceed to the second bout of play-pretend. Mostly because he had no wish to face what it might foretell.

But sleep would not come.

How long he lay there, he did not know – he only knew that the more time ticked on, the more restless he felt, realising there was no possible way for him to get comfortable. That in itself was infuriating, too, for he was a man of the Royal Navy. Finding it difficult to sleep was not a problem he faced, because he had spent years all but training himself to find rest wherever and whenever he could find it.

This newest problem was a microcosm of greater perils.

Get up.

Shooting up where he'd sprawled atop his bed, he looked about the room. For the voice that had murmured those two words to him was not his own. It was…it was that of a woman. Deep and low, but feminine all the same. But Hattie was abed, no other sound had come from about the house, and there was no possible explanation for it.

Heavens, he truly was losing his mind, and he wondered ruefully to himself if the witch rumours regarding Miss Byrne weren't true after all. But even that joke, and even though it had only been thought to himself, felt cruel after what had transpired between them so recently.

Unease soon overtook the guilt, though, along with a sense of urgency he couldn't place. That he truly should get up – and more than that, he should go out. He tried to return to how he'd reclined before, but found he could not, for the moment he lay back, the urgency increased tenfold, until it had him rolling from the bed and looking for his civilian clothing.

A walk. Perhaps a walk would help. Only to prove to himself that he really was being ridiculous.

Stepping out into the night barely ten minutes later, dressed in his seldom-used civilian clothing, so that any who spotted him might not recognise him and therefore might not speak to him, James allowed his feet to take him wherever they wished to.

As they did so, his mind did the same – towards the line of thinking he'd so steadfastly avoided while in his bed. The other route he might take. Despite the fact that it seemed quite closed off to him now. Despite the fact that it was absurd. Despite the fact that it would have his father turning in his grave, that it made no sense from a logical standpoint, and that he'd resisted the notion so furiously for so long that it took a trudge through the wilds in the wee small hours of the morning for him to even admit that it was tempting.

But all logic, and all denial (for he was at least not so simpleminded that he did not see it for what it was) clouded in comparison to how the prospect seized at his chest. Much his earlier plans had, before Theodora. Before her teasing, and her beauty, and her jokes, and her stubbornness, and her fierce intelligence.

He stepped out of the tree line and realised then just where it was he'd so unwittingly walked to. The small, private beach that the serving classes of Port Royal liked to frequent – and keep hidden from their masters, for the most part. The beach itself was hemmed in by two steep rocky shores, around five or six feet in height at their shallowest portions, curling around the water there in the shape of an open horseshoe, and it was on one of those shores he stood now, affording him a view of the entire beach.

And of the figure swimming in the water.

Now, he wasn't sure she was not a witch. It took a moment of blinking, but it was indeed Theodora Byrne – what little moonlight managed to pierce the thick clouds catching her hair and casting it in shades of deep blood red, and black, at different intervals, where it was scraped back and plastered to her head and neck. What were the chances that he should find her here, like this, as she plagued his very thoughts?

What little light there was illuminated something else, though. Something that had that feeling in his chest he'd utterly refused to label replaced by something far more pressing. Terror.

She could not see it, not from where she swam, and not from her position in the water, the waves bobbing up and down all about her, but a large dark dorsal fin cut through the waves not fifty full feet from where she swam. And it seemed in no hurry to swim away.

Unknowingly, she was swimming with a shark. A very large shark. A tiger shark, if he had to guess. Although he had no wish to.

"Miss Byrne," he called out.

The terror had not had a chance to reach his voice, and he was thankful for that. Stopping, she began to tread water, squinting about her, until she finally spotted him where he stood. She was just close enough that he could see her lips thin, and she smoothed her hair back and called back.

"Leave me alone, Captain."

She made to start swimming again, but he could not allow that. She could not splash. He only hoped she had not done too much of it already. Hurrying to the very edge of the rocks, he leaned out, hoping if he got close enough she might see the urgency on his face.

"Theodora!" his voice was ragged, but it got her attention. "Swim to me."

Outrage filled her expression, and so he continued firmly – desperately – before she could retort.

"Carefully. Do not splash."

In all his life, he had never seen someone's face pale so dramatically, so swiftly. She understood his meaning immediately.

"Are you jo-"

Her head turned a little to the right, and he shouted.

"No! Do not turn. Swim. Swim to me," he extended an arm, as if he would be able to reach far enough to pluck her out of the water.

He did his utmost to use the very same tone he utilised when issuing stern orders to his men – the difference being when he doled out those, his voice did not shake.

For an extended stretch of time – mere seconds that felt like lifetimes – she stared at him, wide-eyed in shock. It was an expression he mirrored, that much he knew, and there was no possible trying not to disguise his horror, not when it ran deep into his bones like this. He knew then that her mind was screaming at her body to push through terror and comply. It was a feeling he knew fine well, from his early days as a soldier. But then, the vaguest hint of a splash sounded behind her, something within her snapped, and she swam.

The fin followed. Fifty feet became forty, and far too quickly at that. Clinging uselessly to the rocks beneath his hands, James watched in terror, the blood draining from his face. He was no stranger to misfortune, nor to danger, nor grief. He had lost men in battle, he had seen the people of Port Royal face all manner of accidents and injury, and yes, even death. And, whatever the rumours were, he was far from unfeeling. Each one pained him.

But nothing – nothing compared to this.

Only her eyes betrayed the true extent of her fear, for while her face was utterly white, she kept control of what she could, funnelling air purposefully in through her nose and out through her mouth, as like to drive off panic than to keep herself moving. All the while, she stared at him, and his outstretched arm.

He could not simply watch. He could not. Refusing to deliberate, for it was not worth deliberation, he shrugged his coat off and tossed it aside – it would only impede him – and the boots followed, for they would do so too. Then, he eased his legs over the edge, and turned, lowering himself slowly down over the stony ledge with his arms, turning one last time before he let go, so that he could take note of where the shark was.

In the water, Theodora's eyes widened.

"No—no! Don't you da-"

However her sentence ended was lost on him, muffled by the water as he slipped into it as seamlessly as he could, body pin-straight to minimise any splashing. The water was cold, but he felt it little and cared even less. It was, however, also black as tar as he plunged beneath the surface, slowly opening one eye and then the other, to minimise the sting and return his sight to him as quickly at possible. That troubled him more. It took only one kick, then another, to surface.

With two in the water, it might consider itself outmatched and leave in search of easier prey. That was the best-case scenario, but he had little control over whether it would happen. What he could control, was his place between it and Theodora.

She was closer when he surfaced, but still out of arm's reach. Face chalk-white, she swam towards him in a breaststroke that was smooth despite how she trembled. The fin was still there behind her – far enough away that one quick lunge wouldn't have her within biting distance, but still far too close for comfort, moving in a slow, lazy circle to take stock of how the situation had changed.

"Go back," she insisted, her voice shaking as much as the rest of her. "Go back now."

James scoffed, and began to swim towards her.

The shore was too far away. If they turned to it, and to more shallow waters, it might sense its prey would soon be lost and act accordingly. No, they would have to reach the rocky shelf, and then climb out. With any luck, it would think they would soon be cornered, and then they would be gone.

So long as the fin remained above the water, that was good. So long as it was there, he knew where it was. He'd have no chance of spotting the beast if he had to stick is face below the waves to look there, not on a night as dark as this. James treaded water the moment he was near enough, and with Theodora's next stroke forward, he clamped a hand about her arm and dragged her towards him, and then behind him, making sure to stay facing the direction she'd come from.

With his left arm out, palm firmly at her back so he knew where she was, he began to swim backwards, kicking his legs as firmly as he could without disturbing the water, his right arm out to the other side to aid him. Beneath his hand, her back shook and gave away the erratic nature of her breathing. Nearer and nearer it drew, until he felt his own limbs threaten to tremble, and he was certain that if it was any closer at all, he'd be able to feel its snout at his legs.

The fin, the size of which he could finally judge at this proximity – much to his dread, for it was a hefty monster indeed, the dorsal fin alone easily bigger than his head – swept to the left and he jolted, ready to reposition himself between it and the woman swimming to his side. But then it rounded again, circling back to face them…and the fin disappeared beneath the water.

He must've made a noise, although he couldn't say what that noise was in his heightened state, and through the hammering of his heart. Without asking what was wrong, Theodora picked up speed, and James followed suit; the hand at her back remained there, but the other began to grope at his belt beneath the water, in search of his knife. It hindered him for only a moment, bobbing, and getting a mouthful of saltwater for his efforts, but then it was in hand.

Every time a wave slapped at him, he braced himself for something more – a stronger, more deadly force to barrel out at him from beneath it. His back met rock, and rather than turning, he sidled leftwards and caged in Theodora with his body.

"Climb," he ordered raggedly.

She obeyed without question, knowing that the situation was too serious to bicker. Thank God. The rocky wall did not make for easy climbing, its ledges too shallow to offer helpful hand and footholds, but she made progress all the same, James reaching blindly behind him to push her upwards and discern her progress, their circumstances too serious for him to afford blushes to propriety when his hands blindly met the smooth, toned flesh of her thighs and calves.

Especially when, at his next kick, his foot struck something solid. In response, the water before him rippled in a way it had not before – a way that was not natural, indicating disturbance below the surface. Water ceased dripping down upon his head, and he knew Theodora had cleared the climb. That, at least, offered relief.

"Grab my hand, James! Grab my hand!" she was screaming down at him.

He looked up and saw her leaning entirely over the ledge from the waist down, arm outstretched to him, eyes wide and desperate. If his heart pounded in his chest anymore, he'd surely have a heart attack. Forcing control upon his breathing, he was already debating whether it would be safe to switch the knife from his right hand to his left, when a splash sounded behind him, and a terrible, gaping and jagged maw was surfacing up through the water and heading straight at him.

Its mistake, had it been capable of reason, was that. For there was no water to slow down his arm. Lashing out with the knife, James slashed strongly and blindly both at its snout. The first slash made little difference, but the returning one he dug in deeper, and aborted the beast's attack at the last possible moment. A hot sensation ran down his arm, but he knew not whether it was his blood or that of the shark's. If the former, he had little time left in this water. It was a miracle he'd survived thus far.

Before it could recover, he spun, and Theodora's hands were grabbing his, clamping around his forearm as he grasped her own. She hadn't backed up an inch when it lunged. With his other hand, he wedged the knife between his teeth, stomach churning at the taste of blood and saltwater as it dripped between his teeth, and yanked himself up, assisted by her tireless, and surprisingly strong pulling.

One more haul – on his part, and on hers – had him clearing the edge, and they fell onto the rocky ground in a tangle of limbs and sodden clothing. The water over the ledge went quiet, as if it had never contained anything at all.

A/N: :^) - no, WAIT…. ~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~~~\o/~~~~~

Listen, if you know me AT ALL, you know how hard it was for me to keep this under my hat without making any dumb jokes or giving the game away with any hints. (Save for one shark meme that popped up by chance on my dash the other day, because that was just too funny and too perfect.) For months. Especially to the friends I've made through fic writing, who read this. I thought I was going to explode. Fucking hell.

Anyway, my party trick is being able to recite the Indianapolis speech from Jaws perfectly from memory and it shows.

#ctw #catch the wind #ftt #fallen through time esta-elavaris #james/theodora #james x theodora #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #potcfic #james norrington fanfiction #james norrington fanfic #james norrington x oc #james norrington/oc

[sadtonight]

"Did you know that I love chocolate very very much?"

Summary: You are chocoholic, eating chocolate goods everyday! What does your boyfriend think about it though?

Characters: vice dorm leaders (including Ruggie, excluding Ortho)

Warnings: excessive consumption of chocolate, reader is gender neutral, established romantic relationships;

Side notes: oh nooo totally not self indulgent ha ha. Also damn I'm hungry now someone send something sweet please.

Trey

— at first glance, you choosing every pastry and dessert that has chocolate in it each time you came to unbirthday parties or similar gatherings wasn't something that caught Trey's attention due to everyone's unique preferences in food. His friend and dorm mate Cater would rather eat savory things than sweet anyways;

— it was thanks to the closer inspection and your frequent attendance that green haired realised that you ate abnormally high amount of chocolate than a normal person would. You were the only one at the table who wolfed down on chocolate covered strawberries, moist chocolate cupcakes, chocolate crinkle cookies and caramel cheesecake brownies with such raw vigor;

— Trey contemplated whether he should tell you something or let it be, since he would be lying if he didn't find the fact that you enjoyed his cooking and baking so flattering, and besides it wasn't really his business. However you were his partner and he cared about your health (and the health of your teeth specifically) so just stalling around the issue seemed off;

— he approached you in private, and tried to bring up the question in a roundabout way, testing the waters. It's safe to say that you had a productive conversation which resulted in Trey gifting you a set of tooth brushes every month and lots of freshly baked chocolate goods of your choice weekly;

— those included chocolate and vanilla marble, chocolate zucchini and double chocolate loaf cakes and even more diverse variety of cookies that are easy to pack and give. In turn you had to cut down of eating chocolate bars. By providing you home-cooked sweets, Trey could look after your health by adding healthy ingredients, and also watch your eyes lit up even brighter each time he greets you with a deliciously smelling paper bag.

Ruggie

— duh, of course Ruggie noticed your habits of eating sweets here and there. You always shared with him after all, shi shi shi~

— it was great being your boyfriend. If you gave him something that had small expiration date, he would gobble it down on the spot alongside you. But if it was in a secure package? Expect it to be delivered to the slums, straight to children's arms. Despite you never settings foot into the settlement, you were not solely known as hyena boy's partner but also as "the sweetest" person among the locals;

— Riggie fully realised the gravity of the situation when Leona complained in passing that the boy was on a date with you not long ago because he "reeked of that sugary stench". Second year ignored lion's words and carried on with his duties up until he met you again that day. You reminded him of the remark when you offered him a chocolate pop which he took with uncertainty;

— "You really have a craving for chocolate, huh?" Ruggie noted out loud, making you look up from your treat to meet his eyes. For a moment you assumed that he was fed up with constantly eating sweets but upon seeing your reaction the boy quickly explained that he loved your edible gifts and he was just thinking how cute you were for having sweet tooth;

— starting from that day, Ruggie made it his responsibility to subtly feed you healthier snacks and desserts as acts of "repayment" (as well as occasional chocolate donuts of course). There are tons of fruits that you will find tasty, trust him on that! Having enough cash to afford so much chocolate goodies is not bad at all, just don't go overboard okay? Hyena boy is worried~

Jade

— it was hard not to notice your infatuation with chocolate when all that you ordered in Mostro Lounge had the sweet ingredient in it. Right at this moment you were enjoying molten chocolate lava cake with a warm beverage that Jade made himself;

— thanks to your regular consumption of chocolate bars and snacks while hanging out, eelmer felt way more comfortable with eating in your presence prior to you getting into intimate relationship;

— you two could be seen eating same brand of chocolate bar simultaneously: before the classes, during breaks and lunch times, after flight lessons etc. To the point where Azul and Floyd grew tired of seeing both of you frequently eat chocolate ice cream together and giggle stupidly in the secluded area of the restaurant;

— unlike others, it never crossed Jade's mind to divert your attention from the chocolate obsession. He was captivated by mushrooms and you had no problem with that so why would the male ruin your fun? No, rather he encouraged and spoiled you in various ways;

— if Azul was giving him hard time at work, you can expect to get your desired desserts free of charge or reduced in price. Surely his dear twin brother wouldn't mind if he had taken a few dozens of chocolate chip cookies from the secret stash as a compensation for breaking one of Jade's bottle terrariums?

— all in all, eelmer took great pleasure in just observing you from afar, taking you not noticing some leftover chocolate cream on the sides of your lips as a cue to steal a kiss from you.

Jamil

— Jamil would have never guessed that he would feel so comfortable with another person. You always carried some special serenity that helped to relax ever so slightly, elevate the pressure that he was so used to bear, at least for a while;

— that's why he didn't pay close attention to your habits; just being aware of the fact that you happen to snack on sweets every now and then, mostly not meddling with your sugar loving nature. Provided you didn't eat desserts instead of actual meals and Kalim not taking up your practice obviously;

— the realization of your chocolate addiction took place before the vending machine, when Jamil was buying snacks for himself as well as you, since you agreed to attend his basketball practice and he thought that you would appreciate some sweet goodies to nibble on while watching him;

— it was puzzling how it only took Jamil about two minutes to figure out that you would most likely enjoy something with chocolate. Why did you like chocolate so much in the first place?

— unlike a good portion of his peers from him homeland, chocolate craze never sticked with Jamil. Sure it ...tasted interesting, unusual even. In the end of the day he preferred his country's pastries and desserts, save for maamoul and stuffed dates;

— he reminisced a little more until deciding on purchasing some sweets from Scalding Sands later. Jamil would be quite happy if you showed the same delight you have for chocolate. Maybe you could take liking to tahini halva, lgeimat, sfouf and other tasty things. It certainly wouldn't hurt to try, besides he can always hand them to Kalim under the guise of goodwill or eat them himself as a treat.

Rook

— why, le chasseur d'amour was aware of your proclivity for chocolate on the second day of his extensive observation which took place prior to your mutual love confessions exchange!

— Rook would, unbeknown to you, oversee from the other end of the cafeteria how chocolate souffle was being polished off the white plate with such enthusiastic. How lovely! The sight of you indulging in délicieux dessert was truly making him feel sweetness in his mouth (because he would kiss you after you are finished with your chocolate snacks);

— since huntsman was your boyfriend he took it upon himself to look after his beloved. Expect to be embraced from behind and pushed away from vending machines every time you happen to desire additional chocolate bar;

— oh but of course it does not mean he deprives you from your needs for chocolate treats. Actually, blond male had taken a considerable amount of his time in order to learn how to make proper chocolate figures. He actively encourages you to partake with him so you could bond together. Like making chocolate flowers and animals;

— Rook initially made chocolate himself and put paper strips with poems or words of encouragement and adoration into his presents, but had to stop due to you straight up eating the whole thing without checking if there was anything inside. First time it happened it took male by the great surprise, which was extremely rare;

Lilia

— patently Lilia does not, in fact, know of healty eating. So when he grasped your chocoholism, rather then keeping your obsession at bay he endorsed you but the teasing became more prevalent and nonstop. You couldn't open pocky box without your bat boyfriend coming from nowhere, in readiness to play a pocky game. The results were evident from the start: he always won and got his smooch yet anticipated your zeal each time he pretended to either to withdraw or lose;

— another way of teasing was feeding you. If you were eating desserts, he would wrestle the cutlery out your hands and feed you himself. Same happed when you ate sweets much to your embarrassment, as Lilia did that only in public and just a bit less in private;

— at some point he was planning to make you home made chocolate treats but thanks to Diasomnia's collective efforts was stopped in time;

— instead the bat opted to purchase different varieties of chocolate bars from all over Twisted Wonderland while he was taking journeys alone. The bars sometimes included fruit and berries, however most of times they contained unusual ingredients and combinations like vegetables and herbs. Lilia especially loved dark chocolate with bell peppers or white chocolate with oak bark!

— genuinely supportive of your habits unlike basically everyone surrounding him, so it's Lilia's adoptive sons job to check their guardian and his partner's health and wellbeing.

#twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #jade leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #rook hunt x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; shirou

requested by ; 🐜 anon (14/06/23) [1/2]

fandom(s) ; brand new animal

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; shirou ogami

outline ; “🐜 anon because i love BNA and 100% wasnt the person to recommend it whaaaat.... .

Shirou Ogami relationship and smut hcs?

also i accidentally typed shitou Ogami for a second there 😭”

warning(s) ; canon typical references to violence/discrimination/etc

it takes a long time for shirou to trust someone enough to get close to them — like of course he cares for all beastmen and will protect them but that doesn’t mean he’s close to them by default, he’s actually incredibly guarded and private

so this would only ever work on a basis of acquaintances -> friends -> lovers — and it would be a lengthy process to move from one step to the next

or, in other words: he’s not someone who rushes into things so any sort of relationship progression with him is going to be slow and steady at the best of times

but even once you are in a relationship with him, things aren’t exactly cut and dry

he’s protective over you, of course, and will always keep an eye (or, more aptly, nose) out for you to make sure that you’re safe when you’re away from him

he makes sure that you take care of yourself — whether that’s resting and eating enough, taking any medications you need or keeping you from overworking yourself (depending on what your habits are)

like he’ll start off by gruffly reminding you to take a break or rest or eat, and if that doesn’t work he’ll pick you up and do everything shy of actively forcing you to do some self care

will lend you his coat if you mention being cold, but it’s always in a sort of dismissive way — though he does appreciate the sight of you wearing his clothes, even if he doesn’t show it

not very big on physical affection and can get overwhelmed by it if you’re too forward — prefers to show his love through acts of service instead

he’ll substitute cuddling for breakfast in bed, or replace public kissing with date nights spent on rooftops discussing history and the stars

the furthest he’ll go with physical affection in public is a peck on the lips or a kiss on the back of your hand — in private he’s a bit more affectionate but not by much

flusters under praise and genuine compliments but will occasionally praise/compliment you in return in a roundabout casual way — e.g. ‘good job’, ‘not bad’ or ‘nice shirt, when did you buy it?’

has a possessive/territorial streak and will intimidate the hell out of anyone who tries to flirt with you — especially if they’re human — but will vehemently deny any and all accusations of jealousy

has an excellent memory and keeps track of things like anniversaries and birthdays with ease — but he also makes sure that you keep on top of things like medication and appointments when you’re due for them (be that something minor like a checkup or hay-fever, or something more significant like physiotherapy or painkillers)

loves hearing you talk about your passions/interests/hobbies and will quietly listen and ask questions where appropriate — but even if you’re not talking to him, you can catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye

if you’re the type of partner who steals his clothes (a hermit crab, basically) then he’ll quickly become accustomed to it and will even set aside some of his shirts and jumpers for you to wear — namely so that you stop ‘borrowing’ his work clothes

if you joke about being in the world’s largest age gap relationship then he’ll just shake his head and sigh — you’re not wrong but he’s not going to encourage you with a proper response

though they’re not as frequent as they used to be, shirou does occasionally suffer from nightmares — reliving the last few days he spent in nirvasyl as well as how he died and the lives he took in the aftermath

this is the only time you’ll see him cry and you’re the only person who gets to see him be vulnerable in this way — he won’t seek you out for comfort but he won’t push you away if you try to give it to him (just don’t bring it up afterwards as he’d rather not think about it)

doesn’t talk about his past often but he will teach you innocent things like dances, songs and how to prepare some of the dishes he grew up with — things that aren’t linked to the fall but instead the cultural core of nirvasyl

doesn’t explicitly tell anyone that he’s in a relationship because he prefers to keep his private and professional lives separate, but michiru, gem, melissa and mayor rose all know you — with michiru in particular always asking about you and teasing shirou about being ‘whipped’ for you

if you’re a beastman like him then he constantly worries about your safety — especially if you travel outside of anima city

he’s all too aware of the dangers faced by your kind and, unlike him, you’re very much so mortal and at risk of losing your life to an anti beastman group — and he can’t imagine losing you so soon

in his more animalistic form he’s much worse at hiding his emotions and will give some not-so-subtle tells that he’s happy to see you — namely wagging his tail (no matter how much he tries to stop it)

he’s a living space heater so sharing a bed is only really viable in the winter because otherwise there is a really good chance that you’ll overheat — especially since he does somewhat cling to you in his sleep and has a strong enough grip that there is little to no chance of you getting out before he wakes up

usually just calls you by your name over any sort of pet name — unless he’s introducing you to someone else at which point you’ll gain a suffix denoting your relationship (e.g. ‘this is (name), my —‘)

so partner if you’re dating (he finds girlfriend and boyfriend to be a bit childish)

fiancé/fiancée if you’re engaged

wife/husband/spouse if you’re married

but yeah that’s the closest you’ll get because he isn’t really the type to use cutesy nicknames with his spouse

#sleepingdeath #🐜 anon #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #bna fluff #bna x reader #brand new animal fluff #brand new animal x reader #shirou ogami x reader #shirou ogami fluff

[nordleuchten]

@nicobutnot wrote:

Do you know any accurate books about laurens, Lafayette or hamilton?

I am sorry that it took me so long to answer your question, but I thought that it might be more appropriate to turn this answer into a proper post, because that way I can elaborate a bit more and other people, who might have the same question, might see this as well.

I am no expert when it comes to good books about Laurens and Hamilton – so whoever knows more, please feel free to add to this post. With regards to La Fayette, the answer depends a bit on what you are looking for.

General Books:

Hero of two Worlds by Mike Duncan and Lafayette by Harlow Giles Unger are good and comprehensive overviews about La Fayette’s life from cradle to grave. Unger has a few more information and Duncan gives better sources and is more neutral, if you were to ask me, but both books are good starting points.

Then there also the books written by Louis Gottschalk – he was and likely still is *the* authority on La Fayette. He published a multi-volume work detailing his life as well as numerous papers and books about smaller, more specific aspects. He was also one of the driving forces behind the publication of La Fayette’s letters and papers.

Books that still give a general overview but also bring a new perspective/focus on a specific topic:

In this very roundabout named category, I can recommend For Liberty and Glory by James R. Gaines (one of my personal favourites), a book about La Fayette’s and Washington’s relationship, and their different approaches to Revolution. I can also recommend The Marquis – Lafayette Reconsidered by Laura Auricchio for a fresh and new perspective.

Niche books:

In Lafayette in Two Worlds by Lloyd S. Kramer we have a wonderful contextualization of La Fayette role in politics, especially during the time of the French Revolution, his self-presentation, and a careful analysis of the image he crafted for himself.

Lafayette: Prisoner of State by Paul S. Spalding takes an in-depth look into La Fayette’s time imprisoned by Prussia and Austria during the French Revolution.

General Layette in Wittmoldt by Alfons Galotte has never been translated into English as far as I know but if you can read German; it is a wonderful reflection on La Fayette’s time in exile in Danish-Holstein. The book does not only sheds light on the La Fayette family but also on the people around them, the political and social world their were moving in and how people perceived them.

I hope I could help with that aspect and happy reading! :-)

#nicobutnot #marquis de lafayette #la fayette #french history #american history #american revolution #french revolution #history #books #resources

[muzaktomyears]

Of the many attractive girls who hung around the Casbah, one in particular caught John's eye. She was an elfin blonde with a tense, wounded look, whom he nicknamed Bubbles, for lack of a proper introduction and because it so unsuited her. In fact, all the guys had noticed her watching them. While not a beautiful girl, she was catlike and intense, in a mysterious kind of way. She also was eager to meet them. "It must have been all over my face that I fancied John," recalls Bubbles, whose real name is Dot Rhone, "but once it became clear he had a girlfriend, I lost interest." Instead, she approached Paul with game determination, pretending to be faint in order to get him outside, where they could be by themselves.

Once alone, an "immediate attraction" developed between them. Paul discovered in Dot a person who hardly fit the profile of the other girls at the Casbah. She had grown up in a better section of Liverpool called Childwell, around the corner from Brian Epstein, the Beatles' future manager. But "it might have been two different worlds," Dot says, her humble situation being anything unlike Epstein's glaringly "posh" circumstances. "I didn't have a normal childhood. My dad was an alcoholic; he never hung on to any money. And the only reason we lived in that neighborhood was because a sickly aunt left the house to my mother." A year younger than Paul, Dot had gone to Liverpool Institute High School, "the girls' school across the road from the Inny", but had left in June, taking a clerk's job at the Dale Street branch of District Bank in order to support her family. Paul, she believes, was attracted by how needy and impressionable she was, which put her under his sway; she found him "adorably handsome, opinionated," and loaded with confidence. "He came from the first family I'd ever known that cared about each other so much," Dot says. "Everyone would gather around the piano, while Jim played songs like 'You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby', and sometimes [he] would sing with Paul and Mike." At a deeper level, they undoubtedly recognized the loneliness in each other's lives, each absent a parent - in her case because of addiction. [...]

As 1959 drew to a close, the boys spent more time with girlfriends than with one another. John and Cynthia, according to friends closest to the couple, were "besotted with each other". For his part, Paul stopped playing the field and settled down with Dot Rhone. As a couple, they had an appealingly unthreatening air. They discovered each other to be solicitous and sensual, gentle and clumsy, with Paul at times taking on a paternal and sympathetic role. Once, at a friend's house, Dot happened to mention that she'd been standing all day and he began to massage her feet, stroking them as though they were precious pets. And yet, at the time the gesture felt almost preposterous.

Eventually Paul's attention grew relentless, almost disparaging. His simple gregariousness turned uncompromising and willful. Paul was immensely charming, but there was a darker side. He had a need - Dot believes a compulsion - to control every situation. As John had done with Cynthia, he began to pick out her clothes, redesign her makeup. Dot remembers how much it pleased Paul to stand beside her and study her appearance, then, in a roundabout way, critique the way she looked - and suggest how to improve upon it. On one occasion, he insisted that she have her hair done and produced money to pay for it. Not wanting to displease him, Dot went off to the beauty parlor. "Unfortunately, they did [my hair] in a terrible-looking beehive", she says. "Paul was furious when he saw it. He told me to go home and not to call him until it grew out again."

She detected other changes in Paul that proved equally disagreeable. He had an almost stuffy, explosive air of self-importance, with his simple superiority, cool poise, and weatherproof rightness. He scorned any sign of self-confidence in her. And Dot, pricked by love, submitted. As a rule, she did not impose her will on him, certainly never when they were among friends. She would sit quietly and smile tensely for entire evening at the Jacaranda while Paul and John discussed music. If Paul glared, she would freeze like a rabbit. "We weren't allowed to open our mouths", Dot says of her and Cynthia's attendance at these nightly discussions. "They'd talk all night, and we just listened."

The Beatles: The Biography, Bob Spitz (2005)

#the dot quotes are from an author interview in 1998 #poor dot! #also v interesting that this is how she saw it looking back... #give me all the terrible teenage paul content tbh #dot rhone #paul mccartney