#so . . . grain of salt all round but anyways

[fulcrum-art-fox]

Okay but also the “I’ll teach you” feels like such an important shift in Mizu’s mindset; especially the way the decision is coupled with leaping out the window away from very likely death like, for this character who has had no great care for their own health all season, as demonstrated by barely going a single episode without being very badly injured, and precious little care for life, so long as they are alive to meet their ends, this choice feels like a very important shift

#obviously I haven’t seen the last two episodes yet #and for me it is very late when I am watching this and I am very tired #so . . . grain of salt all round but anyways #very excited for the next ep #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai spoilers #first watch

[discluded]

I just realized that the porsche in the book was probably like kinn’s type? Cos they initially imagined a korean actor to play it right.. so apo being called to cast is really sus lol

I have never read KPTN and according to people who have, it's better for my brain that I haven't 😂

According to Reliable Sources, apparently Porsche wasn't Kinn's Type™ because Kinn's type is pretty and novel!Porsche wasn't pretty. But Apo is very pretty so obviously that wouldn't work 😁

Okay since I have a minute now:

KinnPorsche Casting: The Lore

First posting (one version) of the casting story for everyone to set the stage. Thanks to @lorddio for helping me find this one again and MileApo Safe Place for translating as always. it's got a very special part that needs highlight 😉

But setting the record straight(ha!) about the basics:

Mile was Kinn's face model, and purportedly many elements of Kinn were based off of Mile's public image (very importantly: wealthy heir to an important Thai family)

In the variations of posts about Mile is Kinn lore I've seen, this was the specific photo that inspired Daemi's Kinn. He reposted it around the same time his casting for KPTS was announced (this was reposted Dec 2020) but if I remember correctly from scrolling back in his feed, it was taken when he was 24-25 years old.

As anon mentioned, and Apo mentioned in the clip above, Daemi chose a Korean actor as the face cast for Porsche.

However, he was contacted and specifically invited to audition for the role of Porsche. According to Apo, he didn't even read for any other characters

Those are the basic public facts we can agree on. But of course there's more going on behind the scenes! There's actually a lot going on here so I'm going to break it down for each actor, starting with Mile because that might set the ground for some of what happened with Apo.

Admittedly some of this is my opinion or interpretation, so take it with a grain of salt and use your own judgment! Again, the above facts are what is probably known and agreed upon.

Casting dates (a clarification)

First of all, there's a couple of confusing things going on with the dates, which I actually didn't highlight in the last post about it, but was exposed by the Facebook posts.

The first Facebook post dated October 1, 2020 talks about how the audition process has started and the first round will go on to October 3. The second post is from October 4 and then lists the dates of the auditions for October 10.

Now, October 10, the "official" audition date is (1) The day Mile and Apo were both fast tracked through auditions and (2) met again. I don't think anyone on the English side of fandom has noticed this or at least publicly talked about this discrepancy so I'm bringing you hot news (that I've been sitting on and not sharing lol)

It is worth pointing out that this is supposedly the photo below is of their first kiss from the auditions, and they're both wearing different clothes, so. I'm guessing the fast tracking was actually for the first round of auditions between Oct 1-3, and then the kiss was Oct 10.

Anyway, they sat next to each other and Apo talked to Mile first, regardless of if it was the same day (likely not, in my opinion)

There's also a couple of different photos of them together at audition.

Notably, in the first they're sat in uh, waiting area chairs. There's a different clip of Apo sitting behind Bible, so I'm guessing this is before Apo talked to Mile and he had noticed Mile while sitting in this area and went to talk to him.

The moved together down the line to the audition room, I think?

where Sprite interviewed them:

Also based on this last photo they switched sitting order at some point while waiting to audition

Mile's casting

So aside from the fact Mile visibly went to auditions, there is a rumor with some basis that Mile was pre-cast as Kinn. Probably soft confirmed by Mile himself.

I'm just going to close the loop on this discrepancy too: I think Mile was an invited audition/casting in the same way Ke Huy Quan was invited to audition for for Waymond Wang. Mile did audition. He was likely get the role because he was so preferentially invited by the authors and was the basis for the character.

Clearly, Ke Huy Quan won an Oscar and Mile won a GQ breakout actor award, so in invited casting, even for seemingly "unimportant" roles, it doesn't speak to an actor deserving or not deserving the role based on of acting skills. Mile also was cast as the main character Bohn in My Engineer in 2017 before turning it down; he clearly has some acting chops and can win lead roles.

In academia, often times internal postings will open for tenure track positions with a preferred candidate in mind; but due to rules these postings are made public and sometimes an outside candidate will blow the preferred candidate out of the water in terms of quality and get hired instead.

Which is to say there could have been another actor that ended up impressing more in auditions as Kinn even with Mile being preferred, or another actor pair that seemed more suited for Kinn and Porsche.

The other thing auditions do is allow for actors to screen test chemistry. So finally, Mile actually going through the casting process allows him to screen test a for a pairing partner. Which brings us to...

Pre-cast Preferred casting rumor credibility: 10/10

Apo's Casting

Play Mastermind.mp3 by Taylor Swift

Once Twice upon a time, the planets and the fates And all the stars aligned You and I ended up in the same room At the same time

Okay if you didn't catch it on the first watch...

Mile, what the heck is that expression. 😂😂😂

Again, Apo was invited to go to casting specifically for Porsche and only for Porsche. Apo has never acted in a BL before going to audition for KPTS, so the question begged who invited him and why?

First of all, Mile has made it clear that he was a fan of Apo's acting work and followed his career after they met in the gym. He's also made it clear he had the world's biggest crush on Apo. Look how excited he was to talk about working with Apo and how handsome he thinks Apo is in January 2021 (like 3 months after they met again!)

If Mile was the preferential Kinn cast and he didn't have an pairing partner, it would make sense to ask him if there were any actors he thought he might work well with.

I'm not entirely convinced Mile engineered for Apo to get cast or anything. Apo's acting career and skills stand on their own and I think their insane screen chemistry speaks volumes about why they were cast. But as for who made the request to Apo's manager ... hm 😏 Maybe we'll find out one day.

Mile Phakphum - Mastermind.mp3 rumor credibility: 6/10

#mile phakphum #apo nattawin #mileapo #kinnporsche #kpts #kinnporsche lore #kinnporsche bts #kinnporsche meta #filmania #old but gold

[heliads]

Theo raeken x fem!reader, theo confessing to reader but being rejected cause of all the stuff he did to the pack

a theo request?? anon god bless i miss him

masterlist

The first thing Stiles Stilinski says upon sprinting down the hallway to stop immediately in front of you, is, “Theo Raeken is going to kill us all again.”

The second thing Stiles tells you, without a single pause after the first nor one word of explanation, is, “And it’s all your fault.”

Stiles is prone to drama. He’s a lovely boy, sure, you’ve been his friend since you were a kid, and you’ve counted on him to save your life from the millions of dangers all living in the home you both call Beacon Hills, but you’ve learned to take pronouncements like these with a grain of salt.

So, instead of losing your mind with worry like you did the first dozen times Stiles approached you with yet another rumor of death and danger, you just smile, put the last of your books in your locker, and shut the door. Once you take a breath or two, you turn to face him at last.

“Good morning, Stiles,” you say pointedly, “How good to see you again. How was your weekend? Oh, you’re spouting off about another crazy theory? So good to hear! I know you’re going to tell it to me nicely, and you definitely won’t try to do something weird like blame me for it. That would be ridiculous, don’t you think?”

Stiles has the grace to look at least a little needled, but he still stands firm. “I’m not kidding, Y/N. We’re about to get hit by Hurricane Theo, Round Two, and when we’re all bloody, broken corpses, I’ll be having the last laugh.”

You frown. “I thought we would all be dead. How can you be laughing if we’re all bloody, broken corpses like you said?”

Stiles waves a hand irritably. “That’s why it would be the last laugh, idiot. I would rub it in your face then immediately pass away. Anyway, you’re not focusing.”

“I am focusing,” you argue, “I have been focusing on Theo Raeken for a while now. We all have.”

Stiles groans. “He’s going to try to topple our pack again, though. Look, I’ve been watching him for a while, and I know it. I can feel it. And I was right about him the first time, right? Even when you all doubted me, I was right. I’m going to be right again.”

As much as you’d like to have some snappy little comeback, you can’t deny that Stiles totally hit the nail on the head with Theo the first time around. Back when Theo Raeken returned to Beacon Hills for the first time in years, everyone in the McCall pack had been more than willing to welcome him with open arms. Only Stiles had second thoughts about the guy, and Stiles was proven right when Theo tried to kill Scott and take over the rest of you.

Now, though, you’re all aware of Theo’s twisted intentions. There’s no doubt in any of your minds that he’s still scheming, but for now, he’s been holding back. Nothing has happened to alert anyone’s suspicions more than usual, yet Stiles seems dead set in his latest theory.

You sigh and start to walk down the hallway, Stiles by your side. “Fine, then. What makes you think he’s going to pick today to attack?”

“Well, it might not be today,” Stiles admits. “Soon, though. This I promise. And I’m not just making stuff up, Y/N. He’s been acting differently. He even talked to me about it.”

You arch a brow. “You let Theo get close enough to talk?”

“Not willingly, but he wouldn’t leave me alone until I did,” Stiles grumbles.

You have to bite back a laugh. You can picture exactly how that conversation went– Stiles doggedly avoiding Theo as long as he could, Theo just a few paces behind until Stiles gave in and let him speak. Stiles hates Theo’s guts, which is understandable, considering Theo tried to murder his best friend, so whatever Theo had to say must have been important to risk Stiles’ wrath.

Now that you’re finally listening, though, Stiles is holding back the crucial information. He really is so dramatic when he wants to be, isn’t he?

You wave your hand irritably. “Alright, then. Get on with it. What did he say?”

Stiles huffs out a breath at getting rushed like this, but his face turns serious soon enough. “Well, that’s the thing. He wasn’t really telling me anything. In fact, the only thing he really did was ask me about you.”

A pause looms between you. You’re no wolf, but you swear you can hear every conversation happening up and down this hall, how the words echo in your head. It’s easier to pick apart everyone else’s idle chatter instead of comprehending what Stiles has just told you.

“He asked about me? That makes no sense. I’m human, Stiles. What would he want with me?”

Stiles swats you on the shoulder. “Hey, as, like, one of the only other humans here, we’ve got to be proud of ourselves. We have value. I don’t know why he asked, though. He didn’t mention pack stuff or anything. He just wanted to know how you were doing, if you were busy after school or something.”

Your eyes widen. “You don’t think he’s trying to kill me after we get out of class or something? What did you tell him?”

“I’m already a step ahead,” Stiles assures you. “I said you were totally busy and we wouldn’t let you near any of his traitorous pack without the rest of us there to keep you safe. He seems kind of put off by that, but he said that he wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“That’s exactly what someone who’s trying to kill me would say,” you point out.

“Tell me about it. I don’t think he’ll try anything today, at least not at school, but be careful, alright? Don’t go anywhere without one of us. I don’t like this.” Stiles says.

You shiver. “I don’t like it either.”

Theo’s attention never ends well. And, when the two of you turn a corner, you glance over your shoulder and see that someone else has taken your spot at your locker. He’s not trying to open it, just leaning against the metal. He raises a hand in greeting when he sees you looking. It’s Theo Raeken, and judging by the proud smile on his face, he knows exactly who you’re talking about.

You can’t focus throughout that class, nor the next. Theo Raeken is dangerous. He played all of you except Stiles like a fiddle the first time he was trying to kill Scott. What’s to stop him from trying to do it again? Or, worse, what’s to stop him from trying to do it to you?

You stop by your locker later that day. You had just managed to put the morning’s incident from your mind, but when you unlock the door to find a note pushed inside, it all comes rushing back. The paper inside carries no threats, but you still feel your blood run cold when you read it.

Meet me outside after the school day ends. T.R.

You show Scott and the others at lunch. None of them like it either. Scott agrees with Stiles in telling you to never go out alone, and certainly not to meet Theo like he asked. This has to be a trap. There’s no way it could be anything else.

You’re perfectly fine with that plan, but, as it turns out, it’s a little easier said than done. You end up staying a little while after class to ask a teacher a few questions about an upcoming exam, and when you emerge into the empty hallway once more, it occurs to you that you forgot to tell anyone that you were staying after. It’s not that any one of the pack would intentionally abandon you, especially not after the shift in Theo’s attention today, but they all would have assumed that someone else was with you, and left it at that.

Now, you’re wandering the school alone, listening to the sound of your footsteps echo off of the walls and wondering if he’s waiting for you somewhere. Your phone is in your hand, ready to text one of your friends to pick you up, but you don’t live far from school. It won’t take that long to get home, not if you hurry. You’re certain you can avoid him if you try.

Glancing around to make sure he’s not lingering by the door, you set out into the sunlight. Your footsteps are quick, hurrying around corners and down the sidewalk, but, as it turns out, not quick enough. Then again, how could you ever think you could outpace him? You’re human. Theo is a chimera. He could sprint down the length of your neighborhood in the time it takes you to blink.

You wait for the inevitable– claws in your throat, perhaps, or a knife in your back, something Theo-like and unavoidable, but he doesn’t kill you. Not yet. Instead, Theo Raeken walks next to you, tilts his head up to the blue afternoon sky, and says, “It’s a nice day out, isn’t it?”

You blink. Of all the ways you expected this encounter to end, talking to Theo about the weather was just about last on your list. “What?”

Theo shrugs. “It’s warm out. I don’t know.”

He still seems nice, which is weird, obviously. To be honest, this abrupt change in his usual demeanor is freaking you out more than if he’d just been his normal, scheming, threatening self. At least then you wouldn’t be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“What do you want, Theo?” You ask at last. “Are you here to kill me or not?”

Theo glances over at you, looking genuinely surprised. “What are you talking about? I would never kill you. Y/N, I could never hurt you. You know that.”

He’s not entirely wrong. During his attempted toppling of the McCall pack, Scott nearly died, and many of you were injured, but Theo never touched so much as a hair on your head. Truth be told, back when he was still pretending to be good, you liked him a lot. He won you over fast, probably faster than he should have. Still, that was then, and this is now. You’re both on opposite sides of a war, and that sort of gulf cannot be easily crossed by anything. Least of all by you.

“Fine. Are you trying to use me to hurt the pack?”

Theo scoffs. “They’re trying to convince you to see the worst in me. I’m not surprised, to be honest. I’m not here to hurt you, Y/N, not in any way. I’m here because I want to take you on a date.”

You stop walking. This is absurd. You wait for him to start laughing or something, call an end to the joke, but he doesn’t. He just pauses by your side. “What time can I pick you up?” He continues, as if nothing has been said at all.

“Never,” you manage, “We’re not going on a date, Theo.”

He frowns. “Why not? If you’re busy this week, I can wait. It’s fine.”

“No, we can’t reschedule, because it’s not happening. You tried to murder Scott. You’re still trying to take over our pack. Why would I go on a date with you?”

Theo lifts a shoulder. “Because you like me. And don’t try to argue, Y/N, I know you do. You liked me well enough before I started moving forward with my plans.”

This, again, is a little closer to the truth than you’d like to admit. Theo was wonderful before he tried to murder everyone you hold dear. He was charming and funny. He partnered with you in class, he helped you study, he walked home with you after school. He was perfectly lovely until you burst into the Beacon Hills High School library one day to find him standing over Scott’s corpse.

“I might have, but that’s over now, Theo. I can’t love someone who tried to kill my friends. End of story.”

Theo shakes his head, brown hair flying around his eyes, which have taken on a glint almost akin to madness. “That’s the noble thing to do, sure, but you don’t have to be noble. We don’t have to be noble. It’s just you and me, Y/N. We don’t need any of them. Come on, you can’t tell me that you don’t want this.”

He says every word with such certainty that you know he believes it. You understand now why he was able to rally the other chimeras behind him, why even Liam was able to fall for his scheming. Theo is someone you want to believe. Always.

Always, even when you know better. Especially when you know better. You take a subtle step back, then two. “I can’t do this, Theo. Even if I went out with you, I’d be wondering if you were going to stab me in the back the entire time. I can’t trust you.”

His face falls. “But you want this. You want me.”

“I do,” you admit, “but that doesn’t make it right.”

He goes quiet. You wait for him to shout or swear or something like the monster you’ve been hearing so much about, but instead, he just looks towards where you were walking again. “Can I at least walk you home?”

You nod. “You remember where to go?”

“Of course,” he answers simply.

He could just recall where you live because you’re a part of the McCall pack and he needs a target. A second, calmer voice somewhere in the back of your head whispers that maybe, just maybe, it is because of you.

The walk back is quiet, but not terrible. You’re both thinking through a grave number of things. When you finally reach your house, Theo stops and faces you in front of the door. “Just–” he breaks off, then manages to finish it. “Think about it. If I were better, would you think about it?”

You let out a low breath. “Yes, Theo, I would.”

He almost smiles. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Theo,” you whisper back, and watch as he turns and leaves your house once more. 

It will be a long time before you can trust him for sure. You have no doubt that he’s got something else up his sleeve. Theo Raeken doesn’t strike you as the kind to give up easily. But then again, that’s why you’re still thinking of him even after he disappears from sight. Maybe, just maybe, Theo will do good on what he asked of you. Maybe, if he was better, he would come back. Until then, you’ll watch, and you’ll wait, and perhaps one day, you’ll be able to say yes after all.

teen wolf tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#theo raeken #theo raeken imagines #theo raeken x reader #theo raeken oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf theo #teen wolf theo imagines #teen wolf theo x reader #teen wolf theo oneshot

[onenicebugperday]

(TW unsanitary + animal abuse + possible animal death, feel free to ignore this ask if it's too gruesome for your blog, sorry!) do butterflies and moths poop out meconium? there's this tiktok video that was making rounds on reddit a while ago promoting "butterfly milk", where the tiktok OP showed themself making it by "helping a moth out of its cocoon" and squeezing its abdomen over a jar of water until a cream-colored liquid came out.

obviously it's not milk, and i don't really want to post the video so the creator doesn't get any more views, but do you have any clue on what that liquid actually was? the top comment on reddit claimed it was a form of meconium aka a baby's first stool, and that lepidopteran meconium is made out of the remains of its larval stage, but i can't find a source on that so i'm taking that with a huge grain of salt.

would any of this have harmed the moth? would it be able to survive being presumably pulled out of the chrysalid too early?

Yikes! "Helping" a butterfly or moth out of its pupa is a bad idea, and so is squeezing the abdomen directly after it emerges. The chances of doing more harm than good are extremely high, especially if it's not ready to emerge yet. There's a lot that needs to happen immediately after emerging and forcing it or interrupting it is a very bad idea - it could end up deformed or dead - it might be fine, if it was very close to emerging anyway, but there's literally no reason to risk it.

The only exception to "helping" one emerge is (in captive raised specimens only) very gently removing any pieces of stuck pupal casing if they can't remove it themselves, but obviously give it a chance to do it itself first. I have only had to do this once with one of my sphinx moths - she had part of the pupal case stuck to her proboscis.

Yes, the liquid they excrete after emerging is called meconium and yes it's the waste product left behind from metamorphosis. I can't think of a good reason to collect the meconium, let alone forcing it out of the newly emerged bug. They'll easily expel it all on their own.

Referring to the meconium as "milk" and implying that they need help emerging is really bizarre.

#daddy-yankee-official #injured bug #animal abuse #animal cruelty #bug death #the more you know

[innocent-cat]

I love your writing. I have more Percy ideas if you want. You can add as many Vox Machina characters to this as you want but I mainly want Percy. Him and acolyte background reader (they just need to have been a part of some temple, can be whatever class you want) are in that shy, flirty, mutual pining stage. While out at a tavern with everyone someone hits on reader rather brazenly and they just go "I'm sorry, but my faith demands I remain a celibate and solitary life." Meaning no sex or dating. After the guy goes away dejected and everyone is like why didn't you tell us that reader just goes "oh no I can do whatever, but people tend to leave me alone quicker if they think I've taken a vow of chastity." I know it's really specific but the idea of Percy's thought process is adorable.

I love your requests!! thank you.

Percival x Reader

Warnings - Alcohol, Sexual implications

"Moths to a flickering light", Percy x Reader

.·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺༻

After a long, tiring attempt of an adventure and capturing a bounty, Vox Machina decided they wanted to blow it all on a larger tavern tab.

Obviously, who could say no to a tradition so engraved to your ragtag crew that it's expected we do so? So, the whole group went without argue.

You guys should definitely figure out a new way to cope.

Upon entering the only bar left in Emon the group wasn't banned from, the group sat down at a table by a window. 7 seats. You sit on the windowsill built by the table, and Percy lean beside you.

"A round of drinks for the large group of weirdos in the corner, hun."

The wife of the bar owner told her husband, monotone surprisingly cold for someone who looks so bright. Lost the color over the years of a loveless busy marriage hmm?

Well. That sucked. You pitied them, but you couldn't do much. But, you could drink it away and pretend you never saw it.

Pushing off the wall, you decide you actually do want a drink. You walk through the bar, your footsteps light, but every noise drowned out by another within the loud clammy bar.

'Sorry. Excuse me. Oh, I'm so sorry!' You repeated these words as you pushed through people, hoping they'd understand they didn't really need to be standing in the middle of the bar. Chairs please.

"Hey, you mind if I get a beer?" You slid over the charge for the drink, quickly grabbing the frothed drink made for you. Taking a sip, you sigh.

you make a 180, and start walking back to the table you found your favorite scruffy pockpick, Vex'ahlia.

"Hey, what'cha doin without the group?"

"Whatever the hell I want, darling! We have funding that'll last us till the world falls!" She laughs, smiling, leaning, revealing a pile of drink cups on the table already.

"Alllrighhhtt.. you do that, Vex." You scoot pass the girl, likely to pickpocket 7 people by the end of the night.

"Still no drinking for you, Percival? You'd think you'd warm up to the drinking by now, truly." You took a large swig of your drink, sighing after swallowing.

"No, None for me. None of you can think straight, or at all for that matter, when drunk. You'll thank me one day."

'Tight-ass.' You whispered to him, giggling softly.

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, eyebrow raised. He shuts his eyes and he lets a smile peak.

"You know, one day you will get on my last nerve."

"Nah. Definitely gonna be Scanlan who makes you lose it. Speaking of Scanlan, where is he? Is he already balls deep in some random girl?"

"Uegh, likely. Don't get me started on him." Percy brings his hands to his face, fixing his glasses and pushing them farther on his nose ridge.

You let out a laugh, "I personally think he's funnier drunk, but I also think anyone can be funnier drunk, so take it with a grain of salt."

"..I think he's just.. odd." Percy retorted, expressing dislike for the poor habits of the bard.

"Maybe just a little. We all are anyway. Keyleth is an exception though. I wont make fun of her. She's normal."

Percy gave you a weird face before picking up the conversation you lead.

"We are all weird. Some of us less weird."

"You and Pike are definitely the most normal. Pike is our little morality compass, and you're just too polite for your own good. Sometimes you know when to be a dick, though."

Percy laughed.

You finish off your drink, and grab one of the group's table. They can't say no, you live off everyone collectively anyway.

"Ever been romanced, Percy?" You sip off the foamy drink, looking up to him as you did so.

"What? Oh. No, I guess I never had a chance to seek nor fall for sappy relations yet."

"I guess." You groaned out, growing bored of conversing with an garrulous man.

You take another drink out of your mug, and set it to the table, with a Grog, Pike, and Vax all collectively trying to come up with a reason to why it would be a good idea for Grog to take a bite out of one of the mugs.

'Ouuhhhkayyyy i'll ignore them, Percys' got it.'

When you turn around, you're met with a women directly behind you, practically literally breathing down your neck.

"Oh- do I know you?" You lean your body backwards, shifting your weight to the table behind you, your arms stretched to reach the table.

Her hand pushes a hair dangling in front of your eye behind your ear, and leans in to the uncovered ear.

"No, but I'd love to learn more about you, doll."

You shiver. Major bad vibes.

"My faith demands full purity, and celibate or abstention from the acts you're insinuating towards me."

You put one hand to her chest, pushing her off you. She groans and shuttles off.

"Oh, you didn't tell us you had to be deep in the purity thing before?" Pike babbles quickly, probably not understanding herself either.

"Not really.. I'm allowed to do whatever I want. People just leave me alone if I tell them I took a vow of chastity until marriage. Drunks aren't the most romantically interested, per se."

Pike, Vax, and Grog turn back to each other, now conversing on why the Tooth Fairy is very real and very dangerous. What did she do to them? Take the tooth and leave? Uegh.

You pause, figuring out what you're gonna do. You go back to the windowsill, sitting next to the Chaperoning Percy.

"Ever been romanced, 'Vow of chastity'?" Percy mocks your excuse to shake off the women.

"Yeah yeah whatever. I bet you're just jealous I actually have dated people all round' the clock." You looked away from him, rolling your eyes.

"You have?" Percy asks, a bit surprised and just the tiniest pinch of envy in his voice.

"..No." You stifled a laugh looking at the face he was making towards you. He cleared his throat.

"You're a good liar. Maybe it's just your poor drinking habits."

"Probably. I'd never lie this hard otherwise."

"Yeah right, let's all forget the time you tripped Grog purposefully and pretended it was an accident." He scoffed.

"You vowed to me you'd never talk about it again!"

#Percival de rolo #percy de rolo #percy x reader #percival x reader #vox machina #the legend of vox machina #x reader #pike trickfoot #grog strongjaw #vex and vax #tavern #fluff #alcohol #drinking

[seventhdoctor]

Trauma Team Artbook Character Bio Lore

...As gleaned from running artbook scans from 2014 through a sketchy machine translation in the year 2023. I won't post the exact translations for fear of mistranslations ending up reported as fact on wikis and so on, but here's the gist of what Google Translate yields.

CR-S01

Is named Erhard Muller, a fact that already made the rounds in the 2010s

His nationality is also listed as German, though he clearly spent most of his life in America

Most of his backstory isn't anything new compared to in the games, but the artbook does provide a timeline: adopted by Professor Sartre at age 9 after his parents died, enrolled in medical school at age 12 and hailed as the youngest ever to do so, age 13 when Rosalia was adopted, age 16 when the Cumberland Institute incident happened

Erhard and Rose weren't super close siblings, but got along well enough and they had happy lives until the bioterrorism attacked

The government 100% knew Erhard wasn't the culprit when they arrested him - he was the public scapegoat because they couldn't find Albert Sartre, their real person of interest. They never stopped looking for Sartre, and S01's work to reduce his sentence was a quiet compromise for the fact that they, y'know, ruined this kid's life

After learning the truth, S01 is disappointed at his father's betrayal but also chooses to take blame for Sartre's crimes and work off his sentence rather than expose Sartre as the true culprit

Not in-game lore, but according to the concept art section he was nicknamed Chris (CRS) during development. Other people will be funnier about this than I am

Maria Torres

Has the shortest bio and the least amount of new information along with Tomoe, honestly

Born in the slums

Was already at the orphanage at age 10 when Rosalia (age 3) came there

Ended up in rehab of some kind after the orphanage fire

Hank Freebird

Also doesn't have much new compared to the game, sadly

Joined the military out of a sense of justice, left out of disillusionment following John's death and used the medical knowledge he gained in the military to become an orthopedic surgeon (not that this wasn't already implied in the game)

His bio specifically calls him out for being kinda clumsy/goofy. Poor guy

Tomoe Tachibana

Honestly the only thing that's new is a bunch of names, so this is the one time I break my rule and cite a translation directly. TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT, IT'S STILL A MACHINE TRANSLATION

The only daughter of the Tachibana Zaibatsu, a global organization run by a family descended from the leader of the Koga Shinobi Army, Hisayori Tachibana.

Gabriel Cunningham

Nationality is listed as Great Britain. Surprise!

His wife Lisa left him with Joshua and went to her parents' six years before the game because she didn't like his lifestyle

Lisa was willing to get back together if Gabe was ever willing to talk to her properly, but as seen in the game he kept his distance. He and Lisa met occasionally over the next six years, but he never saw Joshua - which is of course why Joshua never recognized him in the game

His decision to go through with the divorce was about acceptance of his failings and a desire to do right by Joshua and Lisa

Naomi Kimishima

NOW WE'RE COOKING WITH BACKSTORY

All right, so that bit in Second Opinion where she took a Savato sample after cutting ties with Delphi and used it to bargain amnesty with Caduceus [Europe in the US version; US in the JP version]? Yeah, apparently she transported that sample by CARRYING IT IN HER OWN BODY for Caduceus to extract

Her fatal condition is a result of that, though it's already implied to be a result of GUILT in the game anyway. It was a sudden development a few years later, followed by Derek's six-month diagnosis

There's also details about her illness! Apparently her specific brand of PGS or whatever involves excess serotonin and dopamine production, which she needs meds to regulate.

It also means she's no longer able to operate on the living, which is why she transitions to forensic medicine as part of her plea deal

[Insert grimace here] I don't want to get too into this because this bit because 1) machine translation fears, 2) even perfectly translated it's not likely to be accurate to actual philosophy/terminology anyway, 3) I'm not a doctor I don't know what I'm talking about…

But the bio then starts talking about pranayama and prana, defining prana as life essence and...saying Naomi lacks it because of her condition and its effect on serotonin? I'm not entirely clear on this and I'm hesitant to say anything for sure; the main thing is that they take her illness and use the concept of prana to connect that to...

Her new ability to hear the dead! Apparently Naomi reads the prana left behind in a corpse and translates it into the person's final words via her phone; the worse the damage to the corpse (e.g., skeletonization), the less prana remains and the weaker the voice she hears is

Whether any of this relates to the Healing Touch is not mentioned. IDK man

Technically this was in S01's bio, but it relates more to Naomi: Jacob Tillman originally wanted Naomi to perform his surgery and keep it secret. Naomi was already unable to perform surgery on living people at that point, though, so S01 was Plan B

Rosalia Rossellini

Admired her big brother Erhard :(

Albert Sartre

Adopted Rosalia to study the virus in her blood (that is, he already knew about it by the time he adopted her in case that's ever a timeline question)

Additional Note

If someone with actual knowledge of Japanese corrects me and anything I've written in here, absolutely believe them over me. I'm not the translation hero anyone still in this fandom in the year 2k23 deserves, I'm just the stopgap until maybe one arrives someday.

#trauma center #trauma team #trauma series #trauma center series #cr-s01 #crs01 #erhard muller #naomi kimishima #tomoe tachibana #hank freebird #maria torres #gabriel cunningham #rosalia rossellini #albert sartre #artbook #man i hope this post works this time #free me from reposting #UPDATE: IT WORKS #THANK GOODNESS

[garfeildfanpage]

CONTROVERSIAL OPINION ALERT 🗣️‼️

Jk anyways hot takes have always been kind of a drama-trigger for tbhk fans generally (though most takes aren’t exactly “hot” they’re either lukewarm or just bad), but most prominently on tbhktwt, which I don’t actively participate in. But I’ve noticed that every time one of those “what’s your unpopular tbhk opinion?” Posts gets popular everyone starts fighting and it’s kindof annoying. Which for a few reasons: they just like to argue when no huge announcements are happening to make sure the fan base stays alive, or someone just has a really bad opinion (ex the toxic nene post).

Now that’s not the point and has nothing to do with what I’m about to say but I thought it’d be a fun intro.

(tldr at end and also more concise points w/o the tired rambling)

Quick side note. I’m being super serious, these are all just opinions I possess but they don’t necessarily exist in a vacuum. I mostly just want to complain about a trope I don’t like, but I’m not die-hard about any of this. So take everything I say with a grain of salt

Mitsuba, Sousuke, and what makes a character interesting

(Mitsukou cameo 2 because staying on topic is hard)

After a while, I started to develop a bit of a dislike of Mitsuba, the fake one specifically

To elaborate: During Sousuke’s introductory arc (and the only one he’s in) despite the trope-y nature of his character, his opening up during the chapters and his pre-canon connection to Kou is what, to me, made me like him more. I personally cannot stand the “cute-boy but actually he’s really mean” archetype, and it really turned me off from him in general. But I continued through it anyway. I thought the subversion of it was nice, not having him on edge and actually have a somewhat heart-to-heart was nice. And then he died whoopsie

I liked the hell of mirrors, like a lot actually. At the beginning I really liked Mitsuba, but as the series went on the traits I disliked started to shine more than the ones I liked. His stoic act around Nene at the very beginning of the hell of mirrors was the peak I strived for, but it basically never appeared again. The gruesome horror of Mitsuba lost my interest as he began to behave more human, I think. Now really all of this just comes down to personal preference. I like subversion, so I liked how Mitsuba was at the very beginning, but I never loved him. And I know that the direction his character took was always going to be the same but some part of me prayed for some kind of miracle.

He’s not human, but he wants to be, and I liked the idea a lot. But I was never able to get invested because almost every time he was in a chapter I wanted to bang my head into a wall. The the sensitivity and tact of Mitsuba isn’t lost, but I feel like a lot of it is lost when he’s around certain characters. His interactions with Nene (with a few exceptions) demonstrates how he could be if he decided to tone it down on occasion, still irritating but y’know, not as much. This falters with Kou in specific though, as he is constantly flip-flopping between defensive and annoying. If he could learn to let his guard down a little, it could really go a long way

Speaking of Kou

They are peers, they knew each other, and now only Kou remembers. Great, love it. Mitsukou, now that’s where it gets a little complicated.

As true equals, I do love them. And I know “the fandom ruined it for me” is a ballshit excuse but it genuinely does this time ‘round, and I can give a few pinpoints.

1. The constant feminization of Mitsuba

Every fandom is guilty of this at some point, and tbhk is no different. Forcible feminization of one (typically smaller or younger) male characters because they act even somewhat effeminate. And I have a right to be upset! It’s my 2nd amendment right or whatever!

2. And in tandem, the over-masculinization of Kou

His ass is fourteen!!! He ain’t buff!!! he probably still squeaks when he gets scared!! Enter that scene where Dipper is singing ABBA in the bathroom and Stan walks in except it’s Kou!!

3. General disregard of canonical characterization

Mitsuba can absolutely handle himself I’m going to kill someone

IMO mitsukou only really works if there’s an underlying understanding that 1. They’re both stupid kids. 2. They’re peers, and wether supernatural or not they are in alot of ways equals. And 3. They’re both deeply flawed.

To add onto that, Kou is indecisive about values. He wants to be an exorcist but has gotten attached to every somewhat sympathetic spirit he’s come in contact with, showing that he’s far too empathetic for the profession. He claims to understand Teru’s view on the undead yet he holds his personal judgment over his brothers consistently, for better or worse (yeah IK hanako is the title character so obviously he has to be good so why would he die but I’m just trying to think about it more literally, y’dig?). Mitsuba (the fake one) is not, and never will be, he isn’t meant to last forever. Sousuke (the dead one) Left everything unresolved, even when trying after death, nothing ever came to any conclusion, not even with his mom.

They work alone, but not yet together. But they can, it’s not too late, if given care and some intense therapy, they could totally be awkward teen romance of the summer. But the cannibalism should probably be talked about b4 that

Overall I think the general populous of Mitsukou could really benefit by trying to understand their dynamics a lil better, but what would I know I’m no yaoiologist

TL;DR (and end notes don’t forget) Basically, I wish he kept the short-lived confidence he gained in the Hell of Mirrors. I wish his cutesy-mean attitude died after as well. I also wish he wasn’t nearly as feminized as he is. (He’s not 4,9 he’s taller than Nene and would most likely be (if he didn’t die, rest in rip) the same height if not taller than Kou). Also his dynamic with Tsukasa makes me uncomfortable, like deeply so, it’s kinda really weird. ALSO(also) I think the constant comparison to Hananene is weird because the same comparison can be made to literally 90% of the other ships, why is no one ever comparing them to Terukane? Or Aoiaoi? Or Sumi6 (actually I completely understand why not sumi6 but they’re literally all human x supernatural no one is special)

Anyway the point I’m attempting to get across (while sleep deprived) is that (to me) Mitsuba as a character just doesn’t tickle my fancy and I tried my best to explain some reasons why. if you don’t agree, that’s perfectly fine! No one is entitled to agree with me.

Sorry if bad grammar I,m moments away from death Uauuughhh ninja out

#hot cheese #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #kou minamoto #minamoto kou #mitsuba sousuke #sousuke mitsuba #I’m going to eat a tire

[summervale]

「The Hound and The Vulture 」

Part 3

Third person reader-insert! The Hound and his traveling companion chance spending the night at a farmhouse. “There was only one bed” trope but one with the most begrudging, resentful pairing ever.

Contains: Reluctant pining, grinding, teasing, mature situations

Tags: @lunnybunny12

The man the Hound had met on the road said there was a village ahead. The man had lied. To call it a village was a lie in the name of the Seven; it was scarce more than three shacks and an inn that stank of rot and mildew. Even the long-abandoned inn they’d found on the road had been nicer, and more accommodating, too.

“We don’t want the likes of you here,” said the innkeeper to the Hound. She was a short round woman who bristled at the sight of the travelers. “Don’t think I don’t know who you are. Begone from here.”

The vulture had tried to argue for a room to no avail. She was feverish and the Hound’s wound was hot to the touch. They needed beds and hearty food and a roof over their heads, even if just for one night. She knew the Hound wasn’t like to stay in one spot anyway. All they asked was a brief reprieve from the winds of winter that grew colder by the night. There was no respite to be found at the inn, though, and the travelers were all but forced back through the door by a greasy farmer with a crudely sharpened hoe.

Outside, dirty children ran barefoot through the mud, some of them naked. They chased chickens and lobbed rocks at one another. They only stopped long enough to gawk at the Hound, some of them whispering and giggling to one another. One young girl cried and ran at the sight of him, another was so brash as to blatantly point and laugh. Had they not been children, the woman would have gladly hurled a rock their way and scattered them like crows. The Hound, however, didn’t pay them any mind. I suppose he’s used to the looks and the comments, she thought as they unhitched their horses. People are unkind.

She’d come to find that in truth, the Hound—Sandor—wasn’t really all that bad of a man. Excuses could not be made for what he’d done in the past, though she took the stories she’d heard with a grain of salt. She didn’t know him in the past. She knew him as the man whose life she’d saved beneath an elm tree, and who had saved her life in turn. She knew him as the man that laid beside her at night so she might be a little warmer, and who she’d heard humming The Bear and the Maiden Fair while watering his horse when he didn’t know she was near.

“What do we do now?” she wondered out loud when they left the stable. The sun was high in the sky and felt good on her face, but the fair weather would only last so long. It would be night soon, and the night would be long and cold. And gods forbid it went more than a day or two without rain.

With one quick movement, the Hound was ahorse. “Keep riding,” he told her. “Nothing else we can do.”

We could burn this miserable hovel to the ground, she thought when she mounted up. Not that there’s anything worth taking here anyway. They were better off without the licey furs and straw mattresses that undoubtedly reeked of drunkard’s piss anyways, or so she told herself.

They avoided main roads and followed side paths and game trails. For a while they followed a flat and even stretch of land along the river; a ride that was actually pleasant. The sun seemed to melt away their fevers and there was plenty of fresh water and forage for the horses, and though they glimpsed the occasional fisherfolk, no one bothered them.

When they stopped to let the horses drink, the woman knelt beside the river and washed her face with the cool water. “When was the last time you bathed?” she asked of him. The water dripped down her wrists to her forearms and elbows, brisk and refreshing despite the chill. Had she not feared falling ill from the cold, she’d have leapt headlong into the river and bathed herself.

The Hound just frowned at her. For some reason the idea of him cramming himself into a copper bathtub made her laugh, at which he just shook his head. She mulled over that as she dried her face. It was a funny thought until she imagined it just a little too hard. The steam from the bath, the water in his hair, his scarred chest wet with soap and water…the thought of touching him…her hands trailing down his chest, down his stomach, down…

“The fuck are you looking at?”

Her mind had wandered too far. She’d just been kneeling there looking out across the river, vacant as could be. It took a moment for words to find her. “The boat,” she lied at last. No other explanation came to mind. All that came to mind was the Hound in a bath of copper.

He just grunted. “Let’s go then.”

An hour or two before evenfall they came across three hanged men in a tree. Northmen, by the looks of it. She wondered who they’d been hanged by and what they’d been hanged for. Her eyes watched them swaying above as the pair of riders passed beneath.

One of the hanged men was particularly large, and the hempen rope from which he hung was frayed with the strain of his weight. “Think you could fit his boots?” she asked absently.

“I’m not climbing a tree for some fucking boots,” he growled.

She shrugged. “I’ll climb it. I like climbing, and I’m good at it. I could cut him down quick as could be.” Before finding the Hound, she’d chanced to sleep in trees a handful of times. Chancing a night balancing on the branches was better than chancing a ravaging from wolves and men alike on the ground.

Stranger slowed to a halt as the Hound looked up. He raised an eyebrow at her, shifting his gaze from the woman to the hanged man and back to the woman. He considered it. “Leave ‘em be,” he said at last, and they rode on.

An hour passed, and then another. They shared blackberries and a skin of boiled water without ever dismounting. The closer it got to evening the more the sky darkened, the ever-present threat of rain rearing its ugly head. When the winds picked up, the pair discussed where they’d shelter for the night, or if they’d even bother stopping at all. If it wasn’t for the horses’ sake, they’d likely just sleep in the saddle more often than not.

The first sign of civilization came in the form of a low cobblestone wall along the road, then a small bridge for crossing a stream. Ahead, a farmhouse loomed on a hill above a field of wheat, sallow and brown. And in that field was a man and a boy and a cart. The Hound and the vulture slowed to watch as the man struggled fruitlessly to free the cart of the rut in which it had become stuck. He was thin as a rail and so short that at first she had thought he was a woman, til he turned enough for a beard of bushy black curls to be seen. The boy was no better; built like his father but barely older than six or seven years old.

“Come on,” said the Hound. She thought he meant to lead them away from the farm, but he turned Stranger towards the man in the field. “Let’s see what we can do.”

He’s helping someone? Does he plan to kill the man? She followed behind him wordlessly.

When the farmer saw them coming—which was not hard considering the size of Sandor Clegane—he warily waved them over. “Hallo!” he called out. “Hallo there!”

“Stuck?” The Hound reined up beside the man and the boy, though when the boy caught sight of the Hound’s face, he hid behind his father’s legs.

“Stuck as can be,” nodded the man. “You’re a big man, might be that you can help me get it out?”

The woman and the Hound both eyed the house on the hill at the same time. They thought the same thing. “You alone? Just the two of you?” the Hound asked.

The small man’s brow furrowed warily. “Aye,” he conceded. “Used to have a wife, but a chill took her. Used to have a horse, but some outlaws took him. It’s just me and the boy. We don’t want for no trouble.”

“That your house?”

“That’s my house.”

“You got room for two?”

“For how long?”

The woman watched in silence as the two men went back and forth until the Hound glanced over his shoulder at her. When she realized she was waiting for an answer, she said, “A night? Maybe two?” When the Hound nodded in agreement, she silently applauded herself for saying the right thing.

The small man considered it, mulling over the option. “Two nights,” he said, “if you can help me get the cart loose. And if you’re to eat my food, your wife here will do the cooking for all four of us.”

Your wife, she thought, careful to show no sign of a smile. The Hound’s wife.

“Deal.” The Hound dismounted Stranger and passed the reigns to the woman—who was now his wife, apparently—as he made for the cart. She stayed ahorse on her own gelding, situated between the chestnut mare and Stranger, where she could be ready if they needed to bolt.

There was no need to run. Sandor freed the cart in a minute’s time, barely breaking a sweat. He was the antithesis of the meek little farmer, and where the farmer had worked for a day’s time to no avail, Sandor freed it in moments.

Red faced, the farmer had led them back to the farmhouse. “There’s a mattress in the loft,” he said, motioning above. “It’s no featherbed but it’ll do.”

A mattress in a loft! She’d expected him to put them on the floor in the cellar and want them to be grateful for it. “Thank you for the hospitality,” she said with a polite nod of her head.

The small man eyed her up and down—the look of a man who had obviously interacted with few women since his wife died. She wrinkled her nose.

The Hound seemed as excited by the idea of ale as she did by the idea of a bed. The farmer poured a flagon of ale for the two men and sent the woman off to cook.

There was a full barrel of potatoes in the loft, along with half a sack of turnips, three-quarters of a crate of carrots, a small burlap bag of salt, and two sacks of flour. She wondered if he intended to make it through the winter on the meager selection. Still, she returned with an armful of ingredients and promised a stew.

The looks from the farmer continued nearly the entirety of the time she spent cooking. He stood too close, and smiled too much, and undressed her with his eyes in a way that was not new to her but irritating nonetheless.

“Pretty thing, your wife,” said the farmer to the Hound.

The Hound took a pause. “She is, ain’t she?”

He thinks I’m pretty? She turned to look at him so quickly that she almost dropped the wooden spoon into the kettle. He’s playing a part, she reminded herself, and turned her back on him again as quick as she’d looked at him.

“Not often you see fair ladies out on this road…” started the farmer. “I’m sure many a man would pay for a turn at her.

“Aye,” said the Hound, “can’t be too careful out there. I took the hand of the last man who tried to touch her.”

Suddenly the farmer took a great interest in discussing the autumn’s turnip crop. There was no more talk of her beauty. He’s playing a part. It’s not real, he’s playing a part, she told herself again and again. But he plays it so well.

She’d never seen a man eat so fast. Not the farmer, but the Hound. She’d served the stew in trenchers of hard bread and poured ale for the three of them, and the farmer had been kind enough to share a roasted chicken with his guests. His sudden generosity was no doubt fueled by the fear he may lose a hand, but food was food and a warm bed awaited. She watched the Hound eat with growing affection, toying with the idea of the Hound as an actual husband, not just a make-believe husband. An idea that would never come to fruition, of course; he was not like to take a wife, much less take her specifically as a wife. But still, it was a nice thought, and nicer still than listening to the farmer drone on and on and one about turnips and wheat yields and ale production.

By the time the stew was done and the table was cleared, the Hound had finished two trenchers of stew and three tankards of ale. When she could stomach the mewling farmer no longer, she put her hand on the Hound’s shoulder and said, “I’m going to sleep. Join me when you’re ready, husband.” She smiled at him on the word “husband” and watched something flash in his eyes. She didn’t know whether it was annoyance or amusement, but it made her smile all the more.

“I’m ready now,” said the Hound, much to her surprise. “I’ll join you.”

“Thank you again for your hospitality,” she told the farmer with a polite nod, though he said nothing. She climbed the ladder to the loft, with the Hound at her heels.

“Seven hells,” he said when he saw the space above.

She frowned. It was the nicest place they’d stayed in…in…she’d lost track of how long it had been. “What are you complaining about?” asked the woman in a hushed tone.

“There’s no room,” he hissed. He wasn’t wrong; near every inch of the loft was taken up by barrels and crates and sacks of who-knows-what. The straw mattress had been tossed into a corner, with crates barricading the side that was not against the wall.

“Yes…? What’s the problem?” her fingers worked at unfastening her cloak, and when it was undone she laid it on top of one of the many crates. “I for one wasn’t expecting Highgarden, were you?”

He frowned, fumbling with the strap of his breastplate. “Fuck Highgarden.”

“Do you want some help?” Usually he slept in his armor, uncomfortable as that must be, so it was new to see him removing it.

He opened his mouth to say something, but her hands found the strap before he could speak, and he stopped short. He stood there, uncomfortably silent, as she undid the straps for him. The Hound smelled of ale and man and horse, but she’d grown used to it. She backed away once everything had been unbuckled and left him to remove it himself.

“Do you want the side near the wall or the…other wall...?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled. “It’s all the fuckin’ same anyway.”

She shrugged and took the side by the actual wall. By the time he was finished with his armor, she was warm beneath the furs and wondering at what point in her life a straw mattress had become the height of luxury. It wasn’t until he hesitated above her that she realized why he cared about the cramped space of the loft so much. He doesn’t want to lay with me. It hurt more than she expected to accept that the nights he’d laid by her had only been so the little woman didn’t freeze to death.

He laid on his back, staring up at the rafters with one arm behind his head. Wind whistled occasionally against the thin boards of the farmhouse, but the draft wasn’t unbearable. When he shifted, she could feel his shoulder against her back. He doesn’t want you, she told herself, remembering the image of him in the copper tub. Her eyelids were heavy, her body was warm. He is not yours, she thought when she remembered the dream of him climbing on top of her. Her thoughts were melting away slowly as sleep took hold of her. He is not your husband, her own voice whispered in her mind. Not even when he called you pretty, not even when he defends you. He is playing a role, and you are a stupid girl.

The world was completely black, but there were arms around her. Thick arms, so thick with muscle that she would not have been able to get her hands all the way around one if she’d tried. She didn’t try, though; she was warm and comfortable and tired, so tired. How long had she slept? An hour? More? A man’s chest was at her back, too, warm and solid and rising and falling with every breath.

There was something hard pressed against her lower region.

Sandor, she realized, still more asleep than awake. Perhaps she was so tired that she’d taken leave of her senses entirely, but she couldn’t help but press her waist back against his. A chill went through her body when he stifled a groan into her hair. The deep groan was enough to leave her pushing back against him again, suddenly needing the friction, the pressure, the heat of him against her. She couldn’t suppress a soft moan of her own when felt the solid length twitch against her.

His hand curled into a fist as he gripped her hip beneath the furs. Without thinking, she gently pulled his hand away from her side. Instead, she moved it up to her breast, letting his fingers drag along her body as she moved painstakingly slow. Behind her, the beast of a man growled, and she could feel him ever so slightly rutting against her, moving his hips back and forth. His hand that was not beneath her pillow toyed with her breast, though he dared not slip his hand beneath her smallclothes.

The pressure was building, the heat was building, and she wanted him. She lazily draped one leg back over his so she could better grind against him. “Gods,” she murmured into her pillow when she felt him pressing against her core through both of their clothing. He placed his hips flush with her and pushed against her harder. His fingers dug into her soft flesh. He ran his hands along her body as they moved against one another beneath the furs in the dark of the night, each wanting to explore the other but neither bold enough to make that final move.

“Please,” she found herself murmuring, “please…”

He murmured a curse into her hair, his breathing ragged as his hips worked against hers in the darkness. Undress me, she wanted to beg him, do as you please with me, do anything. Again, she whimpered as the wetness between her legs dampened her thighs, her body begging to be touched.  She could feel the way his cock throbbed against her and knew that he wanted her too. She loved the way he felt against her—all of him—huge and solid and warm. She wanted more than anything for him to lay claim to her, to be his…

He stopped without warning. Sandor loosened his grip on her and pulled his hands away, rolling onto his back. For a moment she thought he might do something, but moments of silence passed in the darkness. Finally she rolled over onto her side. “Why d—”

“Go back to sleep.” He stopped her before she could start. His voice was cold as the night. Surely this couldn’t be the same man who had been touching her moments before, who had wanted her, who had cursed her and held her.  

Why did he stop? It didn’t make any sense. Had she done something wrong? A thought occurred to her. “Did you—”

“No. Go the fuck to sleep.” He rolled onto his side—the wounded side—turning his back to her. All she could do was lay there and listen to his breathing. What had happened? For a moment he had been Sandor Clegane, and she had wanted him more than anything in the world, more than anyone had ever wanted anything. But in the dark silence of the night he was the Hound again. She may as well have been alone. She turned her back to him as he had to her and waited for sleep that she knew would never come to find her.

#sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #smut #game of thrones fic #the hound #mywriting

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

Okay i have a very silly question

who would win in a fight? Canon Shiro, canon Kuron, ps8 Kuron or c&ai Kuron? Whether or not weapons are allowed is up to you

You could propably throw in shrödinger au Shiro to the mix but i kinda doubt this guy would really fight the others........

Ohhh this is good question!!! Ok listen, truth to be told i am kinda shit at analyzing fight skills and just physical fights in general. Literally every fight scene i see i am like "ok why cant we shoot at the problem? I am pretty sure a hidden sniper can take them out, a bullet in the head is still a bullet in the head". I understand this doesnt make for cinema and cool scenes At All not to mention sometimes they do give good answers (immortality of homunculi in fmab, no guns in atla) but still. Not to mention i feel like fights dont have definate winner. Skills matter!! A lot!!! Especially in competitions with rules!! However other factors can change the outcome and often people skilled at one thing may not be skilled at other. Fighter could be tired or sick or anything. This is especially true for unofficial fights. So please take this with a grain of salt

So i personally feel like c&ai!Kuron has the highest chances of winning, it is because-

1) the years he has on all of them. Like Shiro become such an excellent fighter in 1 hell year of fighting in galra empire, now imagine the training he'll get of 6 hell years of fighting in the yeehaw sector.

2) He fights dirty. Very very dirty. Now i do think all Shiros and all Kurons are willing to fight dirty if situation calls for it, however c&ai!Kuron has learnt several tricks from fighting and surviving people who would do anything to win and survive and he would use them

3) He has gun and training from Lance and he wont hesitate, bitch!

However i doubt he'll actually would seriously fight the others. He's chill and he's not fighting them to survive so he probably wont, like possibly take in a few punches, go down in first round, be like "Oh noo you beat meee" and just outta there and get himself a drink.

Canon!Shiro and Canon!Kuron i believe are equals in fighting skill (also i am subscribing to the headcanon/theory by either @/headspacedad or @/void-tiger (i am so sorry i do not know who made it😭😭) that Kuron was holding back against Keith and still fighting against Haggar cause no fucking way his twink ass won.) Therefore i feel they'll have equal chances and would prove to be a challege for each other as well as c&ai!Kuron. If we are talking about Haggar taking control of Kuron than Shiro would win.

Ps8!Kuron is not winning this but he will fight with unadulterated rage. He just got his body back and just relearned how to write again. He is getting into cage matches to get better (horrible decision made while a breakdown really) git his ass kicked and then kicked ass but it would take a while before he reaches his former self's skill level.

Sr!Shiro is also definately NOT winning this. All the others are like super cool badass fighter with training and skill that they still remember despite their circumstances. Sr!Shiro? That man is literally Just Some Guy™. At best you can expect martial arts training he may have done as a kid but other than that? Nah, they'll chew him alive

Anyway thanks for asking!!!!

#empty answers #post s8 au #stolen identity au #c&ai au #thanks for asking!!!! #Yeah these are just my thought how it will go #But still

[little-peril-stories]

Whumptober 2023, Day 26: "You look awful."

Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

Read at your own risk! They're only snippets of a larger story, with no resolution that will be posted online anytime soon; they are being posted out of order; and the characters don't have names. Enjoy!

Contents: prison camp, forced labour, infected wounds, bullying, humiliation, taunting, restraints, all the delicious things

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 2150 || Approx reading time: 9 mins

"You look awful."

Teaser: The heat was cruel, not just to him, of course, but to all who toiled beneath it. The back of his neck, his face, and his arms all stung as salty sweat and flecks of dirt ground into his sunburnt skin.

“Whichever road I take, I’ll be incurring someone's wrath.”

Thoughts had all but faded into silence.

Dull buzzing filled the scholar’s mind, the only thing he could coax himself to produce. That he used to read—and write—academic texts, to spend hours poring over books and filling his mind with all the wondrous knowledge he could get his hands on, was nothing now but a sick joke.

He wasn’t like her. She’d loved working outside. It was who she was—a girl of sunlight, of green leaves, of fresh air, bracing wind, fragrant rain, pollen and petals, wings and feathers and earth and sky. He’d never understood, but he loved her for it. He loved her. He loved her. Always had. Still did. Always would.

You killed her.

I didn’t.

You killed him.

I did it for her.

You deserve this.

Did he? Under her blazing sun, more exhausted than he’d ever been, with callouses on his fingers and chains on his feet, he wasn’t certain anymore.

The heat was cruel, not just to him, of course, but to all who toiled beneath it. The back of his neck, his face, and his arms all stung as salty sweat and flecks of dirt ground into his sunburnt skin.

That discomfort was nothing, of course, compared to the wounds on his chest.

Insisting to himself the pain was not so terrible, he kept his eyes on the ground. If he didn’t keep his gaze trained on the task at hand, it would fall on the hostile glares that followed him everywhere he went. If the eye contact didn’t set off another round of taunts, jeers, and retribution for a crime he had not committed…well, then it would still remind him of how thoroughly meaningless his life had become.

The cuts were festering; he was certain of it. Instead of healing as they should, the letters throbbed red-hot, infection encouraged not only by a knife that must have been teeming with filth but also by the grains of black powder rubbed into the broken skin—like salt in the wound but infinitely worse, for it did not merely burn. It stained.

And every time he looked down at his own skin, he was forced to reckon with what he was—visible now to anyone else who knew where to look.

Water, soap—no use. He wasn’t convinced that even magic, if he met a healer who might be willing to put their hands on him, would scour away the gruesome art piece on his chest.

He blinked and kept moving. That was all he could do. If he stopped, everyone would look at him, prisoners and guards alike. The prisoners would simply sneer their insults and threats—in fact, they would anyway. But if the guards grew impatient, they might grow angry. And if the guards grew angry, they might grow violent.

He didn’t need any more pain, nor any more marks on his skin.

But the sun was beating down, hot as the hateful stares of everyone around him, and the air was heavy and humid, and his bones were so weary and his muscles ached as they never had before, and the letters, they burned—

“Get up,” the nearest guard said, and the scholar realized he had dropped to his knees.

Gods, if he lifted that whip—

“I told you to get up.”

All too cognizant of the laughter drifting in fragments around him and only getting louder, the scholar stood.

“Keep. Digging.”

Nodding, the scholar did.

Whether or not he deserved it no longer seemed relevant. Whether or not he would survive it—far more pressing.

“What’s the matter, professor?” someone howled. “Not feeling good?”

He clenched his jaw and didn’t look up.

“Bit sore, Book Boy? Getting tired?”

Ignoring them, he knew, was the only solution, the only weapon he had. They’d clobber him on a good day, even if he wasn’t on the verge of collapse—and they knew it.

The taunts ebbed and flowed in time with the rotation of the patrolling guards—when those braided-leather whips got too close, the others were quiet. As the guards walked on, though…

“Gonna keep saying you didn’t do it, are you?”

“When we get to do round two?”

“Come on, thought you were a big, powerful guy. Killed a soldier, didn’t you? I wanna see how strong you are. When’s my turn to have a go?”

“Yeah, you better hide that ugly face, coward.”

“Still got nothing to say? How’s about—”

“Gods. You look awful.”

The scholar froze.

No. That voice—it couldn’t be—

As taken by surprise as he was, apparently, the guards started barking orders at the inmates. Someone shoved the scholar back to his knees, but this time, everyone else knelt, too.

He was here.

He was here.

Guards were stammering out questions, wondering why the prince had come—to this, of all places, to this stinking pit of the unredeemable, the vile, and the depraved.

“I’m here for him.” The scholar didn’t need to look up from the dirt where he’d  been digging in straight lines for hours to prepare for the construction of a new road. He knew the prince was waving a lazy hand toward him.

He had also known this day would come: that his stint as a labourer would end, his supposed reprieve from the reality that he was a murderer—that, at the end of the day, murderers had to die.

A few whoops and jibes rose from somewhere around him, but a guard roared for silence, and the command was obeyed.

“Been busy making friends, I see.” The prince was before him, staring down with pitiless amusement. “How terribly unlike you.”

The scholar swallowed and did not speak.

“Come on, now. Didn’t we used to be friends? Speak. Have you been making acquaintance with the other killers and traitors?”

The scholar didn’t move, and still he said nothing.

“Hmm.” The prince sighed softly, rampant disgust in the quiet exhale. “And here I thought you were such a grand coward.” He lowered his voice. “That’s the story I heard, anyway. Murdering the weak and defenceless, and whatnot.”

The scholar’s face burned.

“Disobeying an order from your prince, however? That’s new. You’ve changed. Didn’t I ask you a question?”

The scholar didn’t raise his head—merely stared at the grime and blood crusted underneath his nails and tried not to think of how they were the dirtiest they’d ever been. He tried not to think of the eyes, far too many, that were fixed on his back. He tried not to think of the man who stood before him and how his hands had been the ones to hold her prisoner, and his words the ones to obliterate the scholar’s reputation. And he tried with every fibre being not to dwell on his inevitable exodus from the hell of the camp, or on what reason could impel the prince to summon him into fresh misery.

“Gonna get yours, pervert,” someone hissed, and this time, nobody told them to be silent.

The prince chucked as if he’d heard. “No matter. Get up. You’re coming with me.”

Muscles long used to obeying orders—he had devoted his whole life to this royal family, until that fateful day—twitched in the desire to do as they were told. The scholar bid them to be still.

Something sharp and stinging slashed over the scholar’s back, and he gasped at the fresh, searing pain.

“You know you’re coming back with me whether you like it or not,” the prince said. The scholar took a dim measure of satisfaction in the surprise colouring the prince’s voice. “Now get on your feet before I have someone assist you.”

The scholar knew everyone watched him still—now, not simply because they expected him to be thoroughly humiliated by the prince who’d sent him away in chains, but also to see if the commander-killer were as audacious as he spent so much time pretending to be.

There was no question in his mind that the prince would make good on his threat to order one of his men to assist him in rising from the ground, nor that the manner of assistance would be less than gentle. Without a doubt, the scholar would be hauled away from the camp no matter what he chose. And wherever he went, the whispers would follow, wouldn’t they?

Finally, the scholar raised his head until he met the prince’s gaze.

The summer-lush grass, soon to be dead and torn from the earth, was crushed beneath his knees; the earth under it pressed back, rigid and unyielding in the heat. Above, dotted with distance birds of prey soaking up the sun’s warmth, the sky was a sleek, brilliant blue. Before him, the prince waited, the silk of his jacket waving in the breeze. “Well, well. After all this time, look who’s grown a spine.”

He nodded toward one of the royal guards he had brought with him, and the scholar was wrestled to his feet—not before one of them cuffed him on the side of his head for his recalcitrance, which sent his cracked, near-useless glasses askew. He didn’t know why he bothered wearing them anymore; being able to see or not made little difference. They could throw him around, shackle him, and do as they pleased—and they had.

The scholar gave a strangled cry as a guard accidentally nudged the wounds on his chest. At the sound, the prince’s eyes narrowed. “So you haven’t lost your voice entirely, then. What’s wrong with you?”

When the scholar didn’t answer, the prince jerked his head at his guards again, and a rough hand tore at his shirt, pulling just enough to reveal the glistening, inflamed skin. At the sight, the prince cursed, then chuckled.

“I suppose that answers my question,” he said, glancing around at the inmates still kneeling and waiting for permission to return to work. “It doesn’t appear you’ve made any friends here at all.”

Without warning, he stepped forward, for the first time putting his hands on the scholar himself, eliciting a gasp when he touched one of the seeping wounds. “Murderer,” he read, revealing the word, “and pervert? Gods, seems like you’ve made yourself a charming set of enemies, in fact.” He shifted his hand upward and forced the scholar to look up from the ground. “There’s no question about what you are, is there?”

The scholar tried to move his head, to look away. His effort only earned him another blow to the back of his head.

“Answer me,” the prince said softly, tightening his grip just enough that the scholar’s jaw began to ache.

The scholar forced out, “I know what I am.”

Silence coated the land around them.

“Yes,” said the prince, smiling now, “as do I. A failure.” Snickers rolled through the kneeling inmates. “And if you, in fact, have not accepted that to be true…you will soon.” He tilted the scholar’s face from side to side, let go and plucked at the filthy shirt. “Any other delightful decorations I should be aware of? Any more injuries, before I take you back?”

“Just hurry,” the scholar said, “just get on with it and let me die already.” He was tired, so tired. From the work. From the infection. From the guilt. From wondering of where she had gone after she fled. From the constant, cutting terror of what might happen if she were found again.

Someone ordered him to show some respect, a laughable suggestion if he’d ever heard one, and the strike that landed sent him reeling. Chained now, he hit the ground hard, writhing in the dirt where he’d been toiling mere minutes before.

“Oh,” said the prince. “You think you’re going to your execution, do you?”

He turned, giving orders to his royal guards and to the ones who patrolled the camp, not another glance or word spared for the scholar. One of the iron-gripped soldiers wrenched him to his feet yet again and informed him that if he didn’t walk, he’d be dragged away, and that it was his choice. To himself, the scholar laughed, for choice had become an entirely foreign entity.

This fact was something no one else seemed to understand, for when he’d been loaded into a wagon, the prince addressed him again. His eyes roamed over the shackles, the magic-suppressing bands, the limp way the scholar’s shirt hung off his shoulder to reveal the cursed black letters on his skin. “If only,” he said, “you’d made the right choice, perhaps we wouldn’t be here.”

“I would do it again,” the scholar said. If the choice had been to help her escape or to let her be caught and subject her to the prince’s whims instead, what choice had ever existed at all?

Pearly teeth flashed as the door closed. “Well, you say that now, old friend. But we shall see.”

Previous | Masterlist | Next

#whumptober2023 #no.26 #lyric #“Sometimes I get so tired I don’t even know myself.” #Working to exhaustion #“You look awful.” #oc #original content #fic #tw prison camp #tw forced labour #tw prison labour #tw infected wounds #tw bullying #tw humiliation #tw taunting #tw restraints

[simp999]

A New Home Ch. 20

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.6k

A/N: Why did I put so much effort into his tentacles, I don't even like the color yellow. Anyways, get ready to dislike Emperor :)

Back to the Start! Previous Next

“You’ve done well in advancing past the preliminary round. Strive harder to fight me.”

You noticed the way all of the inklings around you seemed to cower at the king’s voice, he sure knew how to control a crowd. Most of the blue team shuddered at the sight. You looked back to see Rider’s uneasy smile, as well as the way Stealth quivered on the spot.

‘So this is the absolute king.’

You refuse to let him sway you, staring him down with a look of determination written across your face. He seems entertaining. You two lock eyes for a solid few seconds, and you don’t even consider blinking until he’s got his eyes somewhere else. You look away from him to see how your teammates are doing, only getting reminded of how awesome they are when you see Leo with a bright smile, no doubts in his mind. Tasha’s analysing anything she can about Emperor, and Milo’s smile is much more focused. They intend on battling the Monarch team and winning, and nothing can stop them. 

Except for you of course, if you so choose to go easy on your opponents. But who are you to disrespect your teammates? It’s not like you have much of a choice, so going all in is the only thing you can do now.

“We’ve got lots of training to do, gang.”

You state, just loud enough for your teammates to hear. Tasha gives a curt nod, Milo a smile, and Leo punches his right hand into his left in front of him, letting out a “Hell yeah!”

The crowd begins to disperse when the first teams to battle are called up.

[Team Yellow-Green VS Team Cardigan!]

Your determined expression immediately turns into one of slight irritation, desperately wanting to shake your head and facepalm. You had forgotten about that annoying team.

[And Team Gloves VS Retro Gamer Team!]

Gloves and Rider announce how they’re going to crush their opponents, and fight about who’s gonna win the championship. The two battles will be happening at the same time, so you’ll have to decide who to watch. Leo makes his way over to follow behind Gloves, starting up a quick convo before the battle to get Gloves pumped. Huh, it looks like they’re fans of each other. Milo does a half-jog to keep up with Leo, not wanting to let him off on his own. Who knows what that dork will do without supervision. He'd probably jump the railing to go and join Gloves’ battle if nobody was there with him. Tasha walks over to trail behind Rider, wanting to see how his battle goes down. May as well go with Tasha to split up evenly.

You end up beside Rider after he slows his walking speed to match yours.

“I better see you in battle soon.”

You knew that was his way of saying ‘don’t lose’.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You figure that this is the best time to slip in a hint, “Don’t be going easy on any opponents, now.” 

Get em’, Rider. The Cardigan team deserves it.

The battles go by quickly, and it seems like Rider took your words with a grain of salt. Though, he did become more relentless as soon as Team Cardigan’s identities were revealed. Rider and Gloves meet up after their wins, and get at each other's throats with some "playful" banter.

You stand with your arms crossed, almost wishing you got to see a battle between the two teams. Your attention is redirected to a team you’d love to see in action, if only it weren’t for their future miserable defeat. Aloha drops down to stretch a bit, hyping himself up for his upcoming battle. The blue team is still surprised to see the S4 actually working together.

“Thooough grouping together suuucks.”

…They still have terrible chemistry. That’s probably the main reason they weren’t able to win against Emperor, all trying to do their own thing and refusing to cooperate. No team is at their strongest if they can’t manage to work together.

After Goggles pulls a dish of dango out of nowhere and offers it to the S4, Skull tells the blue team that he wants to battle them, despite Emperor’s Team being here. How sweet, it seems he’s starting to warm up. The S4 is off to their first match, Rider trailing behind to go watch. Goggles wants to join too, but Specs reminds him of their battle. You’re about to follow your team, who’s following Rider, but you hang back for a sec to save Inkfall from getting his shirt dirty. You smoothly grab the dango from Goggles’ hand before it touches Inkfall, walking off while munching on it, without a word.

‘This stuff’s actually pretty good. I should’ve gotten some for the squad.’

Inkfall noticed the way you saved him from a messy situation, but decided to berate Goggles for nearly getting him dirty. Just as planned, the manga goes on as usual.

The S4’s battle goes on seemingly without any problems, but your trained eye can see much more than the average cephalopod. Army tried executing the plans from his manual alone, which proved futile without cooperating teammates. 

Aloha was still quite laid back, and didn’t function too well with the way Army was always bickering with him. 

‘Army doesn’t see that Aloha does his best when he’s chill. It may not look like he’s trying hard, but he’s much smoother with his agility when he’s comfortable.’

You lean on the railing, shifting feet because they were getting tired. The opponent is too slow to hit Aloha, so the party squid easily manages to dodge, but ends up nearly bumping into Mask.

“Waaaatch it, idiooot!”

You shake your head at the poor cooperation. Skull never missed a shot, but he didn’t shoot at times that he should have. He’s so used to Aviator nailing the opponents before Skull even bothers to attack, so it must have been weird working with new teammates.

Mask held back and used his sub weapons as usual, but it wasn’t nearly as effective when the whole team was doing other stuff. Usually, it worked best when Desi would throw toxic mist to slow down the opponent, then Mask would finish them off quickly with two perfectly aimed burst bombs.

The match still ends as expected, the S4 managing just under 75% of the stage. You’re glad they won, but the happiness quickly dies down, knowing how bad of a hit they’re about to take. There’s no avoiding the outcome, but it still sucks to see such skilled and respectable people get demolished. You recollect your thoughts, making your way out of Deca tower to meet up with the rest of the gang. 

Goggles enthusiastically congratulates the S4 on their win, and you stay farther away. Aloha isn’t paying attention to Goggles at all, only looking for you. When he does spot you, it’s almost like when a puppy is reunited with its owner. You could’ve sworn that he’d be wagging his tail if he had one.

“Hey, hey~ you saw my sweet moves, right?!”

You inwardly debate if you should tell him the truth about how badly they work together, or just let him be happy. 

Well, his dreams are about to get completely crushed, so you should put him in a good mood while it lasts. You put your hand out for a fist bump and point out one of the times he did a cool backflip while dodging some ink, splatting an opponent at the same time.

“You are lying. Not entirely, but you believe that we could battle better.”

Yet Army sees right through you once again. For the weakest of the S4, he's pretty sharp. Your smile drops and you look away dully, with a slight furrow in your brow. 

“...’Cause I know for a fact that you guys have the potential to be over one-hundred times stronger than this. You just don’t work well together. Being strong isn’t all there is to a team, you need to trust each other, too.”

The blue team had walked away a while back, and your teammates take their place, hearing you out. They saw it too. Of course, their clear bias for their idols fogged up the fact that they can be stronger, but your teammates aren’t stupid. Two of them, at least. Leo tilts his head in question, he still has much to learn. He really is like his idol.

“So, what do you expect us to do, then?”

“Lose, probably.”

Skull wasn’t expecting that response. Most people avoid talking to him altogether, but saying something like that? That’s pretty bold… Had it not been coming from you. You’re no longer at the ‘Unreachable idol + lowly fan’ phase, you’re now acquaintances. And you won’t sugar-coat it. Even your teammates behind you are shocked at how you ‘disrespected’ their idols, almost forgetting that you’re just as big of a fan, if not more, than they are.

“That’s not something you can fix overnight. Hours upon hours of training together might help that, but it’s completely useless if you guys simply don’t get along.” 

You glance back at Tasha, then Milo, and Leo,

“You need a family that would kill and die for you, and you need to bring the same if not more to the table.”

Next part

June.1.23

#x reader #fanfic #splatoon manga #splatoon manga x reader #splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splatoon manga rider #splatoon manga mask #splatoon manga aloha #splatoon manga goggles #coroika #splatoon manga emperor #splatoon emperor #splatoon manga prince #splatoon manga edging jr #splatoon manga n-pacer #coroika emperor

[cloveroctobers]

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🎃 — 6. Joe

A/N: because the love I have for Raymond is consistently growing and it’s Scorpio szn (his szn) so why not? Although I’m not sure if Joe fits into the Scorpio vibe…those that care what do you think? Anyways he’s on the list so here’s this *GASPS* short thing and I can’t wait to see him (mainly) next season!

PROMPT is from HERE + I’m using: A notices B’s porch light off, so A knocks on the door anyway to pull them out of their boredom to persuade B to come join the fun.

Side note: slight crossover between two other shows: “The Bold Type,” + “Fire Country,” but not overly the focus in this piece. So don’t come at me if you’re questioning why they’re tagged :)

*GIF BELONGS TO: @kamala-khan + PHOTO DOES NOT BELONG TO ME!

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Ever since Briar moved out to the New England area it’s been difficult to get her besties to visit with them still living in New York City. Working for Scarlet magazine was a big part of not only Briar’s childhood dream but career journey that brought Briar to this big change in her life.

Perhaps Briar was still getting adjusted as life carried on but in different places now. Originally the girls planned to come up this weekend to have a spooky bake session + movie marathon and would head back that next afternoon.

However things didn’t go as planned with: Jane’s old Danish fling decided to surprise her back in the states after she took her lengthy trip of seeing the world. Briar wasn’t sure if a serious relationship is what Jane needed right now but Jane claims it was only her having fun…leaving Briar to take that with a grain of salt. Then Kat decided to last minute turn down the trip to dive even deeper into her own magazine, “Don’t Turn Away,” which was of course exciting to see and Briar was no doubt proud of her friend but Briar couldn’t believe that Kat was officially the workaholic out of the four friends. It was even sweet for Adena, Kat’s girlfriend, to consider traveling to spend the day with Briar but she encouraged Adena to watch over Kat and push her to take breaks every now and then so she wouldn’t get burnt out. Lastly there was Sutton who switched up to head down to upstate New York to the new cabin her and Richard purchased…which concluded with Briar placing them all on block for the next twenty-four hours.

Sure it was petty but it’s not like the group didn’t plan this two weeks ago and yes things come up…yet it sucked being kicked to the curb like this. Gas prices were also out of control but none of them bothered to use that excuse and well at least they were honest with pushing Briar to the side! Briar didn’t have to sulk at her new Cape home and could get herself up and out into the city of Wellsbury if she really wanted to. The thing is she just wanted to have a night in with her girls, especially when Briar’s been looking forward to seeing them all after she switched career paths.

So…there she is in the solitude of her home lounging on a couch “watching” some crappy horror film, scowling at that one character who plummets to the ground after being chased by a serial killer.

There’s a knock at the door and Briar has to drag her eyes away from her phone to glance towards the windows that she shielded hours ago. Sighing she guesses it must be some more teenagers doing another round of ding dong ditch, since she was the new person in town and it was fun to pick on the new resident here apparently. Padding through the rest of the scattered “oddly,” placed furniture in the living room—Briar’s uppity mother’s words FYI, she finds her way to the front door. Standing a little on her fuzzy sock covered toes, she peeks through the peep hole after flicking her porch lights back on, to see no other than Joe Mohan waiting on her front porch.

Briar doesn’t wipe the nonchalant expression on her face as she pulls the door open, “Joseph, hello.”

Joe’s lips twitch at the formality Briar kept up with when greeting him, “I thought we classified each other as friends not acquaintances. What’s with the ‘Joseph,’ Ms. Briar?”

Briar sighs as she leans against the doorway of her home.

“That bad of a night huh?”

“Oh you have no idea.”

“Well your lack of lights told me to come over and check so I’m here,” Joe holds his arms out with a smile, “And you look like you can use a pick me up…so you should hang out with me.”

Briar and joe lived across the street from each other, while Joe had a ranch that was pushed back from the road, Briar also had her esquestrian property with cape architecture that was actually closer to the road and a roomy pumpkin filled front porch. They were friendly with Briar heading into the blue farm every Wednesday and Friday due to it being her longer days at work, from there they sparked up light hearted but teasing conversations.

She became the newest talk of the town, unwarranted and she liked to keep to herself just a bit to get adjusted better. Did that mean some labeled her as standoffish? So be it. It was something her mother often criticized her for when change came Briar’s way, that she didn’t have to retreat into her shell and that she needed to take things by it’s horns. Maybe subconsciously that’s why she was attempting to raise some goats? It’s a shame that the way your relationship is built from your parent(s) can still haunt you into your adulthood.

“hang with you and the horses you mean?”

Joe notices the shudder radiating off Briar’s frame and shakes his head. He knows the whole story about her at thirteen and on a horse back in the summer at Martha’s Vineyard. That resulted in eight stitches and a dark scar from her chin bone down to where the underside of her tongue rests. It wasn’t as noticeable despite the horrible laser treatments she endured as a kid; unless you were really trying to pick apart her story and if Briar didn’t have make-up covering the scar.

“Nah, what kinda guy do you think I am?”

“The kind that tried to get me on one at that fair last weekend? when you know that was solely for the children.”

Joe was only joking, he wouldn’t push past Briar’s boundaries.

“Oh my mistake, I thought you started middle school already.”

“Ha-ha,” briar playfully rolls her eyes.

Joe lightly taps Briar’s forearm, “c’mon, what else better do you have to do? Halloween is right around the corner, come out and celebrate.”

“I never took you for one to enjoy spooky season.” Briar tilts her head to the side then turns her hooded eyes into slits, “I feel like you’re more of a New Year’s Eve kinda guy.”

“Really? I don’t give fall guy season?”

“Joseph!” Briar almost crinkles her nose as if she’s appalled, “Don’t tell me you like pumpkin and chai lattes?”

“I’m actually more of a hazelnut, chestnut, or go for a praline vibe.” Joe shrugs his shoulders.

“Ah so a winter girl.” Briar lifts her chin almost in approval, “I can now smell the wreath’s from your pores and see the uggs on your feet.”

Joe scoffs and holds his hand out awaiting Briar’s grasp, “so what do you say?”

“I’d say…as long as there’s no horses and you give me a glimpse of the itinerary for the night, I just might.” She keeps her arms folded.

Joe hums, “don’t have time for all the deets but I can guarantee you’ll have some fun.”

“Fun as that mark on your eye?”

“What do you mean? That’s part of my costume.”

“You’re not wearing a costume, Joseph.” Briar scans the bearded man, wondering just how he injured himself this time.

“I…could be.” Joe challenges the woman with the Pearl clips in her hair.

“Well am I dressed appropriately for this undercover mission of fun?” Briar slaps her hands down by her thighs, “Otherwise I’d have to change and take a shot of liquid courage to get through the night.”

Joe says, “you always look great…and I don’t want to wait another hour for you to be ready. The event has already started by the way. So come on, get your keys and ID just in case they decide to make sure you’re not part of gen-z.”

“Whatever you say, baby boomer.” She winks at Joe before disappearing back inside while the man just sent a mocking smile at her back.

They arrive at what appears to be this abandoned brick building with Joe and a few of his friends that Briar’s meeting for the first time. They’re a friendly group that Briar’s heard a little about but it’s good to put the names to the faces and that they welcomed her with pretty much open arms. It was a contrast to the others in town that were more nosy than getting to actually know Briar. However she’s handled worse attitudes in Brooklyn and Manhattan.

“Don’t tell me we’re going haunted exploring,” Briar says to Joe as they walk side by side through the scarce parking lot.

He laughs, “hell no, that’s more Jake’s lane and none of us would actually be here if that was the destination tonight, believe me. You’re in good hands.” He causally tosses an arm across Briar’s shoulders.

Which she glances at but makes no move to pluck his hand off. It actually felt comforting as they made their way through the breezy night together. As the group stand at the large door, they wait for a section of it to slide sideways revealing a beaming red light that shines over their bodies.

Briar still wasn’t sure if she liked this but Joe’s friends seem to get more excited after?

Soon they’re welcomed into the building which smells like cold air and moss, followed by two figures dressed in all black.

“What in the American horror story?” Briar mutters, which is not unheard by the group who let out snickers.

The voice that echoes off the eerily silent hallway, comes from the figure on the left who’s wearing a plague mask, “ladies and gentlemen, those of you who are ready to put those bones to work, I suggest you say your goodbyes now.”

Suddenly alarms go off with the blaring of red lights illuminating their frames. Briar won’t lie and say that she didn’t clasp both hands across Joe’s waist at that, brown eyes peering around this narrow entryway. She also picked up on the sound of the main door locking behind them.

“Come along,” the feminine voice in the black Victorian poof dress speaks, “we shall see how far those shells above thee bones can take it.”

“Take what,” one of Joe’s other friends, Bode is clearly finding enjoyment in this as he bites back a laugh while his girlfriend, Gabriela slaps his arm.

“The shed,” both speakers say at the same time as the floor beneath them all begins to glide them backwards and their group forward.

“Whoa!” Joe wobbles and steadies himself, “they’re really in tune with their roles.”

Abruptly the track stops at a set of stairs that lead downwards into the abyss.

“Welcome to the resurrection,” the feminine doll face raises her lace gloved hands while the plague man stomps his cane into the floor.

Just as they say this, unexpectedly chains slink down from above their heads while a gush of air almost knocks the group back but some unseen force keeps them upright. Devices are clamped down over their heads, making them immediately grip onto it in bewilderment.

“Please select a Halloween genre.” A menacing voice states, making Briar realize that she along with the rest had headphones on now.

“How do we uh…pick?” Jake asks but the hosts no longer say a word.

Briar presses on the top of the headphones, which light up orange while going over specific sections. A pop tune with a haunting theme fills her ears, making Briar’s wide eyes turn to see the rest of the groups slowly turning from a red hue to orange. With that the entryway to the stairs steam with blue smoke, signaling their cue to enter as the plague man and the doll faced woman side step to let the group through.

“This is pretty cool! I’ll admit. Creepy as hell but cool,” Briar can almost hear Joe saying as if he was speaking to her directly through the headphones and over her briefly lowered music.

Briar nods, guard still up as they all creep their way down the stairs and into what looks like a huge club scene with some attendees dancing in costumes and others in simple night out attire.

“I’m getting drunk! Bye!” Gabriela shouts into their ears, dancing through the crowd while pulling Bode along and right to the bar.

Briar and Joe both share a smile as they turn to each other. She wastes no time twirling around him then and begins to dance to her own tune in her ears. Joe keeps his hands together as he watches Briar let free, throughly enjoying seeing a grin on her face.

When she stops in front of Joe, she poses and waves her fingers encouraging Joe to show her what he’s got. She’s seen joe break out into some moves before when he thought nobody was watching and it was the funniest thing how he got embarrassed about it.

The man can move to a beat okay and if a dance battle was what he was asking for tonight, then who was Briar to stop that from happening?

After all it was all in good fun and what was the harm in that?

Joe tried to play it off like he was too cool for school but briar noticed his headphones flicking dim and back to Orange, almost as if the song changed and Briar didn’t miss the way Joe clenched his eyes closed.

Which made Briar smirk.

His song had to be playing and when he busted out doing his own version of the Wednesday Addams dance, which definitely caught Briar off guard! She couldn’t help but to jump in alongside of Joe but she managed to keep a blank expression on her face much better than Joe did.

They were more in sync than they realized once they whipped back to be face to face, Briar raised their hands up into the air together before a smile broke onto Joe’s face which the woman couldn’t help to match as their hands lowered. Briar lets out a laugh, resting her head against Joe’s chest and he wraps his arms back around her, hugging her close as they found joy in the night.

He figures Briar could at least consider him a friend now, bearing in mind that they just went into a whole dance routine in public together. Not to mention she felt just right in his arms and the moment was cheered on, they noticed as the crowd around them watched leaving Joe and Briar to bow at their unknown audience.

Turning to Joe’s friends, they appear with spooky cocktails with Eve handing off one of each to the pair, which they all cheers to with more laughter.

“Who knew all it took was to bring Briar out on the town with us to get Joe on the dance floor?” Gabriela tells.

Briar peeks up at Joe who sends her a wink with his lips at the rim of the glass.

Briar nudges his shoulder, “Ah, what are friends for?”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Continue along with my October anthology prompts here.

#queued #october prompts #fall prompts #ginny and georgia #joe ginny and Georgia #raymond ablack #ginny and Georgia netflix #Spotify #the bold type #fire country

[meat-wentz]

I would love to hear your stories from your time as a dark fashion blogger >:3 !!!

omg so the era of being a dark fashion blogger mostly spanned from 2011-2013 for me. the key was that i had established myself around 2010-2011 in a group of really big photography blogs so my mutuals were powerful. it was very, how do i say, like teenager-y, like early olivia bee and petra collins and tavi gevinson type photography and aesthetics (very big emphasis on olivia bee), pics of kissing and pillow forts and twinkle lights and skateboarding and swimming pools, and hair illuminated by the sun which was this sort of very youth fueled aesthetic that you might clock as something that later became a huge phenomenon that has a chokehold on millennials still blogging. anyways, i made my switch into fashion after i graduated high school, and by that time a few of my mutuals had become tag curators, so instead of algorithm-based assortments of posts under discovery tags, they were hand selected blog features. i kept up every day with new fashion spreads, editorials, runways from all over the world to keep my blog up to date and current, and was constantly featured in the fashion tag so i amassed about 10,000 followers. during this time period, i was also going to college and independent-ish for the first time so i started partying hardcore and my music scene kind of revolved around dark electronic music and we worshipped at the altar of alice glass, we were effie stonem-kinnies to the highest degree, smoking cigarettes and covered in glitter and smudged eyeliner. the only color lipstick i wore was black and i would also scrounge all my allowance money for new clothes which were essentially black basics and hooded leather bombers and velvet shoes and shit with silver hardware especially spikes. this was also a huge time for casual bdsm porn blogging so that was a huge inspiration for a lot of us to get into more bondage based fashion and sex-inspired looks like latex and leather and rope, and it was reflected in a lot of high fashion at the time as well. jeffrey campbell and the blondes and alexander mcqueen were like the blueprints, all we wanted were litas, literally all we wanted were litas. we blogged almost exclusively about party drugs, wanting to die, fashion, and music. this was also a time for taking requests on tumblr and since i was the most popular blog in my friend group, we would usually host requests on my blog, like the first time i did ketamine, was extremely documented by anons asking for pics of four way kisses, tit pics (with my friends covering my boobs with their hands), stripping, etc. we would also well document any wounds we got, like knee scrapes, bite bruises, cigarette burns etc. anon hate was OFF THE CHARTS, especially as i got more and more depressed and only wanted to use my very public blog as an outlet and people did not give a shit about me, they only gave a shit about my posts, so they'd constantly be telling me to shut the fuck up and blog, and also because the very same people i was blogging about personal turmoil with WERE LOOKING AT MY BLOG AND THEN FIGHTING WITH ME ABOUT MY POSTS IRL. it was extremely fucking messy, but also probably my most notable time as a blogger. if you ever see a pic of a white dude's chest covered in stickers that made the rounds on tumblr about ten years ago that's my ex. also one time i blogged about an upcoming model so much that we ended up hooking up. the teenagers followed me and i cried on the floor and i'm still friends with some of the members on facebook as well as the former editorial director of tumblr.

i just wanna express none of this was glamorous, i had a lot of fun but was very unsafe and out to passively harm myself, please take my reminiscing with a grain of salt i have friends from this era who are still some of my best friends and some of the best people i have ever known so i have A LOT of great memories with them, but on the whole this was the most depressive period in my entire life and i dropped out of college and started a twitter account so i was clearly unwell.

#beetleluvr2000 #ask #cw drugs #cw depression #cw mental illness

[chaifootsteps]

So I'm the anon that sent the ask about Viv popping in on a YouTuber's Livestream and uh... I got a problem. You see, I was surprised when you didn't know what I meant cuz i admittedly assumed everyone knew about it and we weren't talking about it cuz it had been years. That was my mistake, tho tbf something like that should have made the rounds and if it was anyone other than Vivziepop they probably would have been cancelled. But anyway my problem is that I can't find any evidence. I actually think the YouTuber may have deleted their chanel cuz I can't find them for shit. So unfortunately you're going to have to take what I say with a grain of salt but if anyone knows what I'm talking about feel free to add to this.

To correct myself, the YouTuber was talking about the voice actors controversy wayyy back when it was first revealed that some of them weren't coming back. I need to emphasize that the YouTuber was being polite about all this, and their big criticism was that Viv should have handled things better and that there overall was a lack of proper communication on her part.

At that point Viv dropped on stream and said something among the lines of "we're all very stressed this is a difficult time for everybody" not even acknowledging what the YouTuber said. After that all the comments were accusing the YouTuber of being heartless etc and they deleted the stream. Sometime later they made a video talking about the harassment they recieved

Oh god...I think I actually do remember hearing something about that, but it was also just around the time my rose-colored Vivzie glasses were starting to crack and I was trying to avoid anything to do with the VA controversy, to focus on other things.

If anyone else knows what Anon is talking about, please let me know.

#Anonymous #vivziepop critical #vivziepop #actual blog post

[bsaka7]

ranking running fuel that i've tried so far

Maurten gel 100/caf 100 . this stuff is crazy like I did NOT believe the guy when he told me he only took 3 gels during a marathon and at my pace that is not feasable but like. Best gel I've tried. Mild flavor, good (more solid but not really) consistency, and both an immidiate and a lasting energy boost.

Maurten gel 160. again perfect combo of flavor, consistency, and boost, but no caffeine. I've only tried this 1x otherwise it might be No1. Only major L is these r both PRICY.

Gu (w/ caf or w/out). Gu is the first sports gel I did cuz my dad does them and I don't mind them tbh. I like the flavor variety though I'm not the hugest fan of some of them... Consistency doesn't usually bother me. 100cal so a little smaller than the no caf maurten. I feel like they have a good energy hit to them... Classic for a reason?

Random chew I got given at my last race. I don't usually like chews but this one kept me from cramping and tasted good. I think it was a european brand. Tougher than other chews I had but in a good way. This is really unhelpful isn't it. Might convince me to try some more chews if I can, you know, find them. Also I got mad bored with my gels on my long run today even though they were all different flavors.

Hammer Nutrition gel. I remember really liking the flavor - maybe it was huckleberry? - but then I couldn't find it again and then I gave up. Other than that, I must have thought it was about the same

Gu Rocktane. I've only done this one once (during my marathon) and I think it was the green one. Seemed good? All these caffeine ones I never know if I'm quite using right but they don't bother me as long as I don't have a crazy amount. Only 1 or max 2 with caf if I mess up what I bring anyway.

Science in Sport gel. GOOD OTHER THAN THE ORANGE FLAVOR. I HATE THE ORANGE FLAVOR. I thought I hated these but I'd just tried orange first and unfortunatly I have like 3more orange flavor bc i bought a BOX. my current ranking is pineapple, apple, berry (?), probably every flavor I've never tried, and then orange. I also really don't like the consistency but it's fine. Tolerable. Probably the best if I had to take one without water?

Honey stinger chews. I feel like i liked these and they were a good size and not too much chewing. Good for slower intake?? I didn't feel like they did much except make me look forward to having a little round chewy thing.

Honey stinger stroopwafel. I love a stroopwafel but I don't really know why they are an energy thing. The taste is great. Probably #1 on this list in taste. However there are CRUMBS. I hate chewing things with crumbs WHILE RUNNING because I'm convinced I'm going to inhale and choke.

Applesauce? Like the kids ones? I actually kind of loved the flavor and got a little boost but it didn't feel like it lasted. I also don't LOVE the consistency while running. Almost a little too liquid?

Cliff bar. I like a cliff bar and they don't have the crumb issue. But also they are a cliff bar... They are so heavy. But they'll do in a pinch. I actually miss cliff bars...

Candy rings this guy I was running with shared. Too sweet and I had to chew. Bonus would be they are super cheap. Maybe if I was running way further I'd eat more candy.

Honey stinger gel. I've only done this one once and I was convinced it did nothing. I think i also thought it was too sweet. This was like, two years ago take this with a grain of salt.

Nature valley bar. Only when desperate. I don't want to choke to death. Probably my go-to granola bar otherwise tho. Good before or after.

Turron bar. HORRIBLE. not only mediocre on taste but also i was convinced I was going to inhale almond bits and die. Why a nut candy bar was marketed for sports... I don't know. So. Much. Chewing. I didn't know what this was before trying to eat it while running. L.

#I need to find another running store the last one had like. Nothing #Clearly I haven't tried that many brands... I just kinda try whatever #As a kid i was obsessed with the gu jelly beans but I've never had them while running #I usually do my first gel at like mile 7-8 and then try to do every 3-4 mi after that. So today I ran 21mi and did 4 #Idk. I'm not that good at nutrition while running I think but I'm not that BAD at it either #But I also used to be able to run like 30min after eating and I can't do that anymore so maybe I'll get more sensitive #I also neeeeeed to get more chews or smth cuz today was the first time I was like wow i am actually kinda tired of these. #But it's cuz i rlly don't like the SIS ones and I had three of those #Tetrapod runs #Posts for NO ONE #Well actually posts cuz i had caffeine at like 3pm and now can't sleep

[not-another-robin]

Hmm I don't have a lot of alfred hcs but I do have my aroace alfred hc

What's your favorite alfred hc?

AROACE ALFRED IS SO GOOD!!! Especially cause I find him (in my blorbo brain so take it with a grain of salt) as a great example of not needing romantic love to live an extremely fulfilling life. He has his family!! And his work!! And his kid's hero work!! And his passions!! He's literally thriving

As for some of my personal fave HCs, I've said a lot of them before but I'm more than happy to elaborate:

He is wholeheartedly a father figure to the OG JL. In my universe almost all of them are Patently Fatherless (J'onn & Shay have no family anymore, John's dad passed away, Wally's dad left him, Diana just never had one lol) and he is more than happy to fill that role for them. He visits Central City for Flash Appreciation Day. He helps Diana host feasts for holidays she misses from Themyscira. He goes to hockey games with John. He shares his favorite literature with Shayera. He plays chess with J'onn weekly. He just checks in on all of them!! He gets to know them very well and can read them just like he does Bruce. They ALL miss Alfred when they're off earth for too long. He's the team dad dammit!!!

Alfred was an especially brilliant caretaker to young Bruce because 1) their autism lines up and 2) he learned how to Deal With That from his mom and what not to do from his dad. He always encouraged Bruce to share his hyperfixation research with him because he knows what it's like to be ignored. He shares tricks his mom taught him to deal with overstimulation. He articulates social plans and protocols to Bruce very clearly because that's what he needs as well. Aside from being good at taking care of Bruce, they also just have a very special connection because of how similar their autism is! The dead silence in the manor after a party absolutely SINGS, they unwind by reading in the same room and not having to talk. There's childhood photos of each of them that exactly line up: them around kindergarten age looking unbelievably excited at the great British Library, generations apart. They have!!!! Same Guy Syndrome!!! And I saw that with the utmost reverence and love.

This is a new one: animals love Alfred. He doesn't know why. He's mostly indifferent to them but he is an animal MAGNET. When the manor is empty all the pets will follow him around like an entourage. He was, and continues to be, the only one Ace would take orders from while being trained. Batcow only has eyes for two people: Damian and Alfred.

Another one I haven't shared: Alfred dragged Bruce kicking and screaming to piano lessons as a kid. Thomas and Martha were not the driving force behind this it was all Alfred. He just thinks its a gentleman's skill and Bruce MUST know an instrument to be a well rounded individual dammit. Fast forward to when Bruce has his own kids: Bruce makes them learn piano, but it's not him dragging them. Noooo he has a job to do, Alfred is the one who has to get Dick down from the rafters to see Mrs.Henshaw. Just a giant circle of spite.

Anyway thank you for asking!!!!!

#narspeaking #alfred pennyworth #headcanons #enjoy the boy #long post