#that i can imagine characters i love that will listen.

[screampied]

i’m obsessed with ur fics and want to live inside your pretty little brain, you just write jjk characters so well 🫠

recently i’ve been thinking about choso having a bad day or something and just wanting to be taken care of, so now you’re nursing him while you jerk him off and he’s a whiny moaning mess and it’s so cute and when he thinks you’re done with him you get on top and ride him and he’s begging you to stop bc he can’t take anymore pleasure :( like i’m sick over this i need him so bad

❤︎ ໋𓈒 pleasing choso after a long day.

warnings. fem! reader, overstim, jerking choso off, pampering choso bc he deserves it, whiney choso, cowgirl, creampıe, praise, mdni + thank u sm !!!

“. . please,” choso would murmur in a frail weak tone, he sounded so drowsy, so needy. he’s barely through the door before he wraps his strong bulky arms around you. you giggle, being squished between his warmth before he buries his face into your neck. he gently runs his tongue against your collarbone before continuing to speak in muffled sentences. “missed you so bad. had a long day ‘n just need to . . need to unwind.”

you smile, stroking his back lovingly. “aw, bad day today, ‘cho?” you’d sweetly reply, feeling him shudder from your touch alone. despite you being so gentle, he was always so incredibly weak around you, including a simple few electric touches from you. “of course baby, i’ll help you.”

“can….you help me um,” and he’s struggling to get the words out. the two of you were finally secluded together in the large spacey bedroom. choso’s laid back, shirtless and heavy heaving breaths depart from his lips every few seconds. the more you stare at him the more he finds it hard to swallow the growing lump in his throat. “can you do the thing? like last time?”

you giggle, glancing at the poking tent in his boxers. “a handjob, baby?”

“…handjob,” he repeats, his eyes softening before a mere whine escapes from his throat. “oh … yeah, that. please,” and his lungs felt so clouded. with a hand running through his hair, he sighs cutely. “yes p-please. i wanna handjob. i’d do it myself but you always do it better, p-princess.”

choso was so cute, the way he was basically putty underneath your hands..

his words always trembled, he wanted you more than anything. he was always like this whenever he came home, so needy each and everytime for nothing more than your simple addicting touch.

“okay,” you’d comply, just a single word that pours from your lips alone was so seductive to him. he could listen to your voice all day. it was his own type of harmony, a song he’d love to listen to every day on repeat if he could.

your voice.

you reach beside him near the black short nightstand, grabbing a lube bottle before making sure to not waste any time.

you could tell by choso’s dilated pupils and his irregular rapid pants that he was growing more and more impatient as the time passed.

“wanna feel you s-so bad,” he whimpers, tensing a little from the way your hand springs out his length, lubricating around his pulsating cock.

you always made sure to be thorough— slicking every inch of him down with the liquid, starting from his swollen tip, then down towards his shaft, then his base. of course, his balls too. whenever you fondled with his fat puffy balls, choso would make such the cutest whines imaginable. “f-fuck, m-more. hurry, princess.”

“baby, don’t rush me,” you tease, sitting right beside him before pressing a sweltering hot kiss against his temple. he whimpers at your touch yet again, the softness of your lips having him in utter shambles. you made sure to have your dominant hand pay close attention towards the head of his dick, the most neglected sensitive spot. he inhales then exhales, gnawing at his lip before dark eyes of his stares up at the idle ceiling fan. “mhm. you’re so pent up, must have had a really rough day, hm?”

“so h-horrible,” he pouts, despite his voice being naturally deep and a bit gruff, the delivery of how whiney he was was just so cute. “i’m just glad i always come home to you. y-you always know how to make me feel better.”

you simper, your hand finally fully wrapping around his base before you start to give him a few solid pumps.

he moans, thickly swallowing the remnants of sweet syrupy spit that remain all in his mouth.

so so good..

you drove him crazy in the right ways possible. choso felt a sudden ringing sensation rigorously vibrate throughout his ears. he felt hot all over, radiating with a staggering high temperature of scorching boiling heat.

the tempo you had with jerking him off was a decent pace at first, gradually fisting his cock with each concise stroke—you occasionally glance up at choso who’s panting up a storm. “. . . . ugh,” he mewls out through gritted teeth, a hand of his own attempting to grab towards yours. “i wanna touch you t-too.”

“no choso,” you sneer, moving his hand away.

oh, the pout that suddenly spreads across his lips was so cute.

he’s giving you puppy dog eyes as if he’s questioning you a perplexed little, ‘huh?’ whilst you’re still stroking him at such a quickening pace, you make sure he keeps his hands to himself. “you wanted me to touch you, not choso, ‘kay? let me do everything, be a good boy for me.”

“i-i’m sorry, sorry,” he mutters in short breaths, finding your tone to be so hot. the twitch he feels in his dick only gets him more aroused. for a split second, you feel a vein that ran down the middle of his shaft pulse against your palm. “you’re right. ‘m gonna let you please me. gonna be a good boy ‘n keep my hands to m-myself.”

you peck a kiss against his hot cheek. “so good for me.”

“p-praise me more, please.” he whines.

“choso,” you giggle, and he was more needier than usual today. his voice grew a bit more high the faster you stroke him—his beefy thigh starts to bounce and bounce before he’s leaning back in pleasure. “you want more praises?”

he nods. “i- i do, your voice ‘s so hot, so s-sexy,” and his breathing abruptly hitches once you give him a sly smile. “not the right word, that was inappropriate— i- i mean, attractive. your voice when you praise me ‘s so attractive, i want more.”

the way he corrects himself from his choice of words was adorable.

whenever you gave choso a handy though, he’d never really last long regardless. choso would usually only last a few good minutes, especially with your hand work, your techniques.. he was simply no match.

“i’ll praise you all day, baby,” you whisper, watching as he’s feeling himself get close. he’s so desperate to touch you. he wants to, to stroke himself with you, wrap his big hand against yours. choso bites his lip in anticipation— feeling how he’s steadily losing composure. immensely, he starts to feel his throat grow dry, the air felt richly thick and he starts to get more and more vocal. “close?”

“uh huh, uh huuh,” he nods, pretty long lashes of his squeezing shut. choso’s about to fall into that trance again, your speed had him losing his mind. in his mouth, he starts to salivate. you’re so steady and precise with your beats and pumps against his cock that he’s about to spiral completely. “princess, ‘m gonna make a mess. you’re gonna make me m-messy again.”

“be messy for me then,” you invigorate to him against his ear, playfully licking a stripe near the soft outer shell of his lobe. he shivers at that, so sensitive. again, if it was anything that could be considered as choso kamo’s weakness— it was your voice. “give it to me, c’mon ‘cho.”

he’s so hard, his dick was all slick and wet from the translucent colored lube running down the sides of his hefty shaft.

a shaky breath snatches out of choso’s mouth before his abs tense up.

a hand goes through his hair before he feels the pressure finally hit him. “shit, s-shitttt,” he whines, feeling the area of his frenulum pulse and pulse. he’s seeing pure splotches of white— once his climax comes, it takes merely everything out of him. static shoots out from his ears and he lets off a cute shriek. “a-ah.”

you stare at the mess he’d just paint on himself. a few spurts of his own sticky cum shoots against his tummy, right near his lower abdomen. choso’s eyebrows significantly lower before he lets off a cute, “phew..”

“want more?” you coo, unraveling your hand around his dick before staring at him— he returns your gaze with half-lidded dark eyes.

he nods, panting off a sweet desperate. “yes please.”

choso figured you were gonna stroke him off again, but his eyes briefly widen once you end up up making your way onto his lap. straddling him in such a lewdly titillating way, he gulps. the ringing throughout his ears reverberates louder before you align yourself against the wet tip of his cock.

he was so aroused, so needy, so in love..

being a half curse spirit— he’s never got to fully experience types of pleasure like this.

albeit, he was always grateful to you for being able to show him everything he was missing out on though. with his bottom lip quivering, he gasps once he feels you slowly sinking down onto his length, feeling the warm pool of heat introduce itself to his cock that’s gradually splitting you open.

“oh…..fuck,” he’d groan, and at this particular point, his voice grows a raspy low. hooded eyes stare at you, studying your every move. from fixating his pupils on your hips, your chest, and even your face— he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. “y-you’re gonna ride me?”

“yes baby,” you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a deep sensual kiss. he’s panting, each breath feels like it’s gonna be its last with you. warm tongues tangle and tango amongst each other before you briefly suck on his. a whine pulls from his throat before he feels your hips start to jerk.

abruptly, choso pulls away, whimpering a sweet. “can— can i touch you now at least? please. f-fuck, can’t take it anymore princess.”

“touch me however you’d like, pretty boy,” you’d speak in a hushed tone, licking another long strike against his neck. he was so sensitive, his eyes were practically about to roll all the way back by this point. you’re easing your sloppy cunt down onto his length and his roughly textured hands grab against your hips. choso then spanks your ass, only to give it a mean squeeze afterward just to see you gasp. “like touching me, huh?”

“y-you know i do,” he pouts, feeling the deep stretch. it was so so good— mouth watering, a perfect way to describe his mouth at the feeling of your pussy taking him in in such a sloppy, erotic way. already, you were a bit soaked from earlier, coating his base with a candied gossamer ring of your slick arousal. “my god, my g-goddd.” he throws his head back once you start to move against him.

a few solid rhythmic thrusts and choso kamo was done for.

he stuffs you full of inches, you lean up close to his face to plant your lips against the bridge of his nose— softly smooching against the area where his darkened scar remained. pink wet lips of his quaver from that simple action and his grip against your hips only tightens.

clammy, sweaty hands guide your hips to fuck against him harder before his head leans back. “fuck me, f-fuck me, jus’ fuck me pleaseeee. can’t c-cum, don’t think i can come anymore.”

choso becomes more whiny, his voice starting to strain overtime and you feel your stomach briefly seizing from how deep he’s hitting you.

relentlessly, you’re moving against him so good that not even he can keep up with you. your pussy’s the perfect match for him, fitting nice and snug like a lock fits inside a key.

oh, but the grip..

the grip of your sopping wet cunt against his dick was so appetizing, he only wanted more. more more more, the squelching noises had him feral and by now, with a tight enough grip he’s helping you slam down against his lap. “hah, can’t . . ‘m not gonna cum again, baby, f-fuck. fuck me so good, i—i love you, love you ‘s much.”

“i love you too baby,” you moan yourself, pulling him back into a steamy kiss. his sweetened whines and whimpers pour right into your mouth, ravened strands of his hair sticking against his forehead like glue. choso was drenched in sweat, perspiring such amounts that it makes his skin glisten entirely. “yes you can,” you hum between sultry breaths, coating his entire face with your kisses. you watch as his eyebrows arch and he squeezes against your ass just a bit tighter. he loves the recoil— spanking your ass just to witness and see the jiggle, it had his dick twitching even more. “you can give me one more, know you can, baby.”

“f-fuck, you’re gonna make a mess outta me,” he whimpers. the way you grind against him has him going feral by the second. hot deep breaths wretch from his throat before his head goes back. he leans all the way back, washboard abs flexing and curling up. with a single finger of yours running down his sharp chiseled v-line, he nearly loses it. your touch, his ultimate weakness. “gonna c-cum again, ‘m gonna flood your pussy again, oh fuuuuck.”

with your arms still lazily thrown around him, choso hugs you tightly, pumping further into your gummy walls that clamp him down oh so good before he ends up cumming again. this time, inside. it’s so hot from the inside—your pussy was all toasty, balmy from every crevice of your walls and the addictive hold it has on him. he shoots a long thick rope into you, it comes out into satiny spurts, filling you up to the very brim.

choso’s reaction was so cute, he’s literally speechless, yet his grip against your ass doesn’t even lessen. his face was practically covered with strands of his hair, half lidded eyes and a pussy drunken smile curling against his thin crimson red lips. “i— oh my,” he hiccups, catching his breath for a moment. the entirety of his body felt a plethora of emotions— hot, cold, warm, all of it. for a moment, his eyes meet your gaze before he swallows, reaching down, swirling two fingers against your sloppy cunt. you moan, feeling him gather up a good amount of his own cum that oozes out of your hole before bringing it toward his lips. choso pops his fingers into his mouth, getting a good taste and he moans, still feeling himself deeply buried into your sweet cunt.

so filthy, tasting himself like that with no shame..

“taste okay?” you puff out, watching as he’s got his two digits stuffed all in his mouth. with a cute nod, he pulls you closer towards his broad chest before you slowly pull his fingers out his mouth. “good, because ‘m not done with you yet, baby. wanna see if you can give me one more. can you be a good boy ‘n do that for me?”

“i- i’ll be your good boy,” he pouts, moaning harmonically once your hips start to make haste, picking up again. “wanna be so good for you. promise i’ll give you one more. f-fuck, i love you.”

#★vegasbaby. #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader #jjk drabbles #jjk imagines #cw overstim

[lydiimae]

Strains and Stresses

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x !fem reader

Warnings: Light hints at sex, mentions of drinking, the ton being cruel to the reader, Anthony fighting with the reader, old concepts about class and womanhood, a very icky insult thrown at the reader by Anthony, fluffy fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.8k

A.N: Hello my sweet loves <3 I am so sorry I have not updated in a while, I just finished finals so life has been hectic. Also- I got a job FINALLY T-T and, more importantly, the class that I was going to take during the summer fell through so I will have much more time to write! BTW THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLOWERS HOLY \^-^/. You are all so kind to me. Anyway, this is a fic based on a request that you can find here and here. I decided to mix the two, as it is a semi-angsty Ant fic that ends in fluff. I hope you enjoy my darling Anons. For those who have requested a fic, I promise they are coming! I am planning on knocking another one or two out next week, but I wanted to write a Ben fic before as he is a big comfort character for me and I need some of that energy lol. P.S. I listened to the slowed version of Futile Devices while I wrote this, because it is just what I imagine falling in love and loving would feel like. Enjoy <3

You adored working for Lady Danbury, who wouldn't? She is an incredible woman, and so very strong. You admired her, for being so independent. You thought that that would be the life you lead, alone and working out your days as a maid. Then, you met him.

Met would be the wrong word, it was more of... stumbling into him after a young debutante 'accidentally' ran into you. You knew who Anthony Bridgerton was, of course. His reputation preceded him. Many of your friends and fellow maids had spoken of how harsh, how blunt, how much of a rake, the Viscount was.

For you, however, he had never been brash nor cruel, nor had he ever lived up to his reputation. For you, he was kind, gentle, and even sweet. He had placed a steadying hand on your back and met your eyes and you knew it was over.

From then on at every ball Lady Danbury held, you would always follow him to the gardens, stealing kisses in her in-home library, and sharing stolen glances from across the ballroom. After the balls, he would take you to his townhouse and you would both spend hours speaking of your lives, your dreams, your troubles. He was nothing but a gentleman.

You tried your best to ignore the strange warmth that bloomed in your chest when you were with him. In a way, you always knew that you would end up with him. You believed that your lives were intertwined, like a string wrapped around your soul that only stopped tugging when you were near him. It was comforting.

He had expressed his love to you about seven months in, on a Sunday morning in bed. The yellow hue of the morning sunrise made it feel like you were in heaven, his hands running against your sides like you were made from the finest porcelain. He said it easily as if it was the most simple thing he had ever had to do. A simple "I love you." was murmured into your ear before his lips pressed against your forehead. Just as easily came the proposal, more of a promise, right there in the same bed.

It was simple, perhaps even plain, but not to you. To you, it showed he was comfortable enough to express his feelings, and his deepest wants, just to you. It was intimate, the light cascading down upon his skin as if he were a god, bringing out every contour and mark on his body.

After the announcement of your engagement, rumors spread like wildfire. Every house in Mayfair was a spark that made the fire grow, little trails of flame splitting off along the way until the fire was all-consuming. He had warned you that the rumors would be bad, that not many would express their support for the union of a maid and a Viscount. You just did not expect it to be so suffocating.

You found solace in his embrace, as you always did, spending countless nights wrapped in the silk sheets at his townhouse, listening to his whispers of affection and praise until they eased the tears that had spilled down your cheeks.

It went on like this for the three long months leading up to the wedding. You were married in the spring, surrounded by his loved ones as yours had passed long ago. It was small enough to feel the heavy weight of the ton lifted off of your shoulders, if only for a moment.

You honeymooned in Bath, spending time in the hillsides on worn blankets for hours, allowing your skin to be tanned by the sun. When you would go back to the villa you were staying at, you would spend the night wrapped in his bare embrace, relishing in the feeling of his skin upon yours. It was the most calming, loving, and divine three months of your life.

It has been almost eight months since the honeymoon ended. Six months of putting up with the cruel words spoken by members of the ton, of sticking to his side at balls just so you could try and shake the feeling of the many glares sent your way. Six months of learning not only what it is to be a Viscountess, but what it is like to be a noblewoman.

Anthony had spent a month teaching you the proper etiquette that came with being a noblewoman, a lot of it being common sense thanks to Lady Danbury's way of ruling around her home. However, there were some things you found to be too niche to remember. One thing was that a lady could not go out on a walk by herself.

As a maid, walks alone in the gardens of Lady Danbury's estate had become a part of your daily routine. You would often spend countless hours sitting beneath a willow tree flipping pages of a new book or you would walk around the grounds, seeking solace in the fresh air to clear your mind after a particularly hard day. You never snuck out alone, except to see Anthony, and even then you did nothing untoward, which is why it was so hard for you to remember this silly rule. It was one you forgot today, too.

"Thank you, Rose." You hum to your lady's maid as she finishes your hair. She smiles and curtsies in return. "Of course, my lady. You need only ask if you need anything else." She says before she walks out of the room. You sigh, the title the servants address you with will never not feel strange. You adjust your jewels before standing up and walking to the window.

You had been told as you woke that your husband would be in his study today, claiming he must work on the financial affairs, meaning you have the day to yourself. The view from the master bedroom was a gorgeous one, the windows overlooking the entirety of the lands that Aubery Hall encompassed. You smile to yourself, deciding to take a stroll, perhaps even find a spot to enjoy your new book of sonnets Anthony's brother gifted you.

You pluck the book in question off of your bedside table before walking down the grand staircase. The house, other than the footsteps of the servants, is quiet. No one around to stop you from enjoying some time outside, alone. You grab your parasol and open the door, stepping out into the summer air before making your way around the lands of the estate.

Anthony leans back in his desk chair, stretching out his limbs after finishing the last piece of paperwork he has on his desk. He takes a large swig of bourbon before standing up and moving to the window, pulling the curtains open.

He glances out over the sprawling hills of the estates, swirling the copper liquid in his glass as he takes in the view. As his eyes roam, he spots a small figure making their way up one of the hills. At first, he thinks it a servant, probably out to collect fresh flowers for his bedroom upon his wife's request, but when he glances again he sees your parasol. The one he brought back from one of his ventures to France.

He can feel himself getting angry. He had drilled this into your head one too many times, never be anywhere alone, not in public and not on private lands. The servants whisper, and their gossip spreads even faster than the gossip of the bloodthirsty Mamas of the ton. He downs the rest of his bourbon before slamming the glass on his desk. He rounds it and grabs his velvet jacket from its place on the back of his chair, slinging it around his shoulders before stomping out of the room.

You are just about to sit down when you hear the calling of your name from towards the estate. You look over your shoulder, leaning on your closed parasol, to find your husband hurriedly making his way over to where you stand.

At first, you think that something bad might've happened, perhaps he found something in the many documents that was awry, but you know that is not the case from the way he is walking. Stomping, rather. He is angry, furious even, so you try and wrack your mind to find what you have done to make him this angry.

Before you can he is upon you, one of his large hands encircling your wrists and dragging you away from the hill. "Anthony, do not grab me like some sort of brute!" You yelp, trying to tug away from his bruising grip, which he only tightens upon your plea. "I shall grab you however I wish." He snarls, making your eyes widen. "Be quiet until we are inside."

He tugs you along until you are both inside of his study, where he slams the door and locks it. You begin to speak but he quickly interrupts. "Have you any idea of what you could have just done by being out there, Y/N?!" He shouts, making you take several steps back in surprise. "I was only going for a walk." You whisper and he scoffs. "A walk alone, you foolish woman!" He continues, his voice only getting louder.

The insult sends anger through your veins. "You shall not insult your own wife for merely going outside!" You shout back and he narrows his eyes almost dangerously. "I have told you hundreds of times that you are not permitted outside without a proper companion, Y/N! Going against that is indeed foolish as I have hammered it into your head countless times!" He shouts. "I am not foolish! This is all new for me! I-" You start but he is quick to respond.

"New? That is rich! Utterly rich, because to me it has been eleven months! Eight of which you have been here, doing your duties as my Viscountess!" He shouts louder, on the verge of screaming. You press yourself against the wall opposite to him. "Did they not teach you anything in your time as a maid?! You still act like a common whore even though we have fought about this too many times to count! I am tired of it!" He shouts.

Common whore. The title cuts straight through you like a hot knife, the burns making your eyes well up with tears. The title has been used to spite you at every ball, in every gossip letter, and in every whisper you have heard in the last year. It does not hurt coming from them any longer, but from him? From your husband? It feels like he has damaged your very being.

You stand there stunned, watching his mouth move but hearing no words. "You think I am a common whore?" You whisper and he stops, looking at you. You are pressed against the wall, your arms hugging your frame, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. His body language visibly changes from that of an angered husband to a guilty one.

"Y/N I did not mean-" He begins but you shake your head. "You most certainly did mean it, it came out of your mouth!" You sob. "I was angry! I am angry!" He shouts, more in a desperate act now, wishing he could reverse time. "So?!" You shout, your gloved hands pressing into your bare arms. "I have never once insulted you like that! Never once used what has been said about you as a weapon for merely-" You laugh bitterly, shaking your head and looking away. "For merely going outside." You scoff.

He falters and visibly slumps in defeat. "It is foolish, but they will talk, Y/N. You know-" He begins quietly, but again you do not let him finish. "Yes, Anthony. They will talk, they will say the words you have just spoken to me." You say, wiping your eyes. "I forgot, and I know you have drilled every rule into my head but this is not the norm for me." You whisper

"When I was a maid, no, even when I was a little girl, I would go wherever I wished alone. I would pick up food at the market for my family, and take my brother to his job at the factory, and now I cannot even go outside alone? Upon my husband's private lands, no less?" You whisper. "So forgive me, Anthony, for forgetting rules that you and your siblings have grown up abiding by. I am trying to learn and remember them now, after living a very different life." You say, looking at your feet in an attempt to stop the tears. As if not looking at him will somehow ease the sting of his words.

He scoops you into his arms without thinking about it, pressing his forehead to yours. "Y/N, you know I did not mean it." He whispers and you frown, trying to tug away. "No, no. I might've meant it in the moment, and I know I cannot take it back." He amends, his hold on you tightening. Still, you refuse to meet his eyes. "Darling, please look at me. I swear I shall never say anything as cruel as what I did ever again." He whispers, his fingers curling around your chin so he can bring your gaze back to him.

When your eyes meet his he offers a sad smile, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. "It was cruel. No, no. Cruel is too kind of a word, it was vile, for me to utter such a word when speaking of my own wife." He whispers, his hand coming down to your cheek. "I swear to you that I mean it when I say I am sorry, you shall never know how sorry I am for saying something so disgusting to you."

He continues, his thumbs swiping away the tears that have now begun to flow again. "You are the most important thing to me. I have done a terrible job of showing you that today. I shall spend every day trying to ease the pain of my foolish words." He vows, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I know this is hard for you, the rules of society are so... foolishly strict for women and even I cannot imagine how much stress they are adding upon everything else" He murmurs, and you tug at his sleeve, willing him into an embrace.

You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and allow yourself to cry. "Shhh, Y/N. You are perfect, no matter your status." He whispers in your ear, running one of his hands up and down your back as the other rests on your hip. "I am not a good Viscountess, Anthony." You whisper and his grip on you tightens. "Hush. You are the perfect Viscountess, Y/N. The perfect Bridgerton." He promises.

"You have been learning so quick, one slip-up of an utterly foolish rule does not discount the many months where you have been perfect." He whispers, pressing his lips to the side of your head. "Neither do the words of your brutish husband." He teases quietly and your lips turn up a bit. "The gossiping Mamas will find another topic in time, my love. They are merely jealous that their daughters are still stuck without a husband while you are here." He murmurs and you nod.

He pulls back and cups your cheeks, watching your eyes flutter shut. "Better?" He whispers, running his thumbs along your cheekbones. You nod and he sighs in relief, bringing you closer to his chest. "I will never be able to express how sorry I am for saying that to you." He whispers. You smile, leaning into his touch and nodding.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and wipes the remainder of your tears away before pulling back a bit. "We shall have a picnic." He whispers and you open your eyes, laughing. "We do not have to" You giggle and he grins, shaking his head. "Nonsense, we must. I have been cooped up inside all day and I wish to spend time with you, in the sunshine." He hums, pressing his lips to your nose.

An hour later you are both lying down on a lacy blanket, a picnic basket full of sweet treats. Two glasses of wine stand abandoned on the grass, being forgotten in a mess of kisses. Your head is resting on his chest, your hands clasped together over one of his legs. "I love you." He whispers, pressing a kiss to your brow. Your eyes are shut but you smile. "And I love you." You whisper back, falling asleep while bathed in sunlight.

How divine it feels to be loved by Anthony Bridgerton.

#bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x female reader #fluff #cutie pie anthony #bridgerton angst #light angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #angst with fluff #anthony bridgerton angst #meanie anthony #imagine #angst imagine #fluff imagine

[evergreenfields]

In Another Life

Hurt, no comfort, angst, I’m ready to break my own heart.

Your flatmate is dating Soap and he’s everything you want.

Pairing: Soap x your female flatmate, one sided female reader x Soap, Captain Price x reader.

CW: MDNI! low self esteem, character death (spoiler, not explicit), catcalling, voyeurism, masturbation, PIV sex.

A/n: I hella projected lol. Reader is broken.

——

Soap is dating your flatmate.

Most men that your flatmate brought home were wet wipes, but this guy was some kind of special forces. His eyes were electric blue and he had the thickest eyelashes, he went by Johnny but he also went by Soap, you never learned why. You had to mentally pinch yourself while staring at him, he was everything you wanted in a partner. You hated the creamy mess in your underwear when you were in his company.

He was muscled and shaped like an upside down triangle, you had to look away when he would pop out from their room in the night. Muttering “sorry ‘scuse me” as you squeeze past the narrow corridor, ignoring the rumble of his “no no, I’m taking up all the room, lass.”

You caught his thighs and bulge in his compression shorts when he left for a run in the morning. Later, your flatmate traipsed into the kitchen muttering “I can hardly walk after last night, let alone run!”

You laugh and slap her arm playfully as you leave the room. You’re an expert at that now. That’s not to say you were never happy for her, but your phone was currently not blowing up with your latest dating app matches.

——

On the off chance Soap arrived when you were coming out of the shower, he only ever looked at your eyes and quickly got out of your way. He only had eyes for your flatmate. You got to your room and stood in front of the mirror and wondered what your flatmate and other women had that you didn’t.

——

Soap was full of energy, ready for a laugh but very protective. You would listen from your room when he dropped her off late at night after a raucous night out on the town.

“Call me tomorrow, alright?” His voice is muffled.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Just call me when you wake up. You look like you need a lie in tomorrow. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

Tomorrow morning comes and Soap is early with a bag of food from a brunch spot nearby, he even brought you a coffee too. You thank him too much, maybe it wasn’t the coffee you were thanking him for.

——

Your flatmate and Soap came home late one night absolutely drunk out of their minds, they wobbled through the front door trying to dance to a song playing on his phone. They see you and it’s like they have heart eyes.

“Y/n, it’s y/n, THE GOAT!” Your roommate yells.

“The GOAT!” Soap hollers.

They both flop into the sofa either side of you. They’re too drunk to notice your teary eyes. You pushed the soggy tissue into your sleeve.

A dance tune starts up and before you can even recognise it, Soap bounces up with hands held out towards you both.

Your roommate grabs one hand.

You’re next.

You take Soap’s hand and you arc off the sofa, he’s strong.

You’re pressed up against his side. He’s hard, large and warm, you try not to enjoy the bodily contact as you all boogie to the song. You start to smile until you remember he isn’t yours.

——

“It’s only 2 days but I’m so excited,” she talks about her friend’s wedding in the south of France, “I’m wearing this dress” she flicks through her phone gallery “and Johnny is going to wear a kilt!” Muscled calves, big smile and rugged hands clasped at his front, Johnny looked like a million bucks.

“I love it, you’ll match!” You managed to squeeze out. You imagine the memories they’ll make and photos they’ll take. That night you have a 2nd date, you are excited by the fact he has asked you out again. It filled you with something resembling happiness.

You are meant to meet at a station out of town but you couldn’t find him at the small station and the path towards the car park was unlit and dodgy. When your date found you, he was annoyed that he had to pay for parking. He kept throwing red flags at you.

But still you slept with him because you wanted to feel touched and desired. You regretted it and then you had to take the train home later that night because he “had an early start to work tomorrow.” You wrapped your jacket around yourself to keep out some of the cold, trying not to be annoyed that he didn’t even attempt to make you orgasm or show any aftercare. You delete his number from your phone.

Later that weekend, the duo arrived home.

“We bought you back some chocolate!” Your flatmate says, Johnny swings his bag off his back, he passes it to you with 2 hands like it's a bar of gold. It could have been, with the way you looked at it.

“Aww guys you didn’t have to.” Your mouth is dry.

“Johnny found it, I didn’t know you were a sea salt and caramel fan!”

You put the chocolate in a drawer because you didn’t want to get used to tastes you couldn’t indulge in.

——

“He’s a prick, forget about him.” Your flatmate says pointedly about a new guy you were dating.

“Oi who’s a prick?” Soap walks into the kitchen, taking your flatmate’s waist in his hand.

“No one-” you turn away.

“A fuck boy that y/n isn’t seeing any more.” Your flat mate sounds proud by what wasn’t her decision.

“He isn’t a fuck boy.” You know you’ll regret clarifying the point, “we didn’t fuck, so he’s not. He’s just a prick.” You and the conversation. Soap whistles.

Later that night when you’re washing the dishes, Soap approaches you.

“Listen, forget about that guy,” he says low, you’d follow that voice anywhere.

“Thanks.” You squeak quietly.

“You will find what you're looking for, keep pushing and you’ll look back on this shite with a smile, maybe a misty eye, ey?” He bends forward to catch your eyes as you were trying to avoid them.

He smiles, you smile. He leaves, you remain.

The suds disappear and you turn off the tap, left in silence.

That night, they have muted sex, you hear their attempts at muffling moans and stifling strained grunts. You hear the bed frame squeak on the last hardest thrusts, then silence for a while. You imagine they feel warm, tingly and flushed, chests heaving. Eventually you hear footsteps come and go from the bathroom, the toilet flush going and the door shuts again. You wait for your heart rate to stabilise and your heart ache to subside.

——

“We’re going to the pub, wanna join us? Johnny’s friends are going to be there.” Your flatmate asks you.

You wonder if they’re as hot, funny and protective. You tell yourself you’re just going along for a chat, but part of you hopes it leads to something more; you put the hopeless in hopeless romantic. Put yourself out there, that’s what everyone says.

You wear a nice outfit that makes you feel pretty, your confidence isn’t abundant but you’re feeling yourself.

You arrive at the pub, you meet them, you chat, you drink, you leave.

Nothing about the evening was bad, his team were really nice, all huge and charming in their own ways. Their Captain was a greyhound with an intense gaze that seemed to follow you. Gaz’s girlfriend arrived and you thought you heard some rumblings about Ghost being pushed to date.

The Captain was receptive to you, leaning in to listen, you thought you saw him glance at your lips and legs. He helped you off the tall stool you were sitting on, taking you by your waist to help you down. You know not to push, men hated when women pushed. Well, they hated when you pushed. And you didn’t want to make anything awkward between you and your flatmate. So you left without asking for his phone number or a date, but he hugged you tightly and held your gaze for longer than you thought usual.

When all three of you got home, your flatmate shouted at the top of her lungs “you and the Captain huh?! Practically undressing each other with your eyes!” You laugh and immediately feel your ears going red. You were stoked that someone else noticed because you thought it was all in your head, as it usually was.

You didn’t notice Soap put a hand out to stop her.

“Babe. Babe-” he says “don’t go there.”

Your heart tightens. Your flatmate puts her hands on her hips, confused and a little offended as if to say ‘I know what I saw.’

“It ain’t like that, the Captain is… Price is… Look, he’s married to the job.” Brows knitted, the jovial spirit replaced with seriousness, “we don’t sit around and talk about it but he ain’t the type to mess around.”

You play it off “we were just talking, it’s not a big deal.”

It hurts when Soap says “good, because he’s a lifer.”

You close the door to your bedroom and mull Soap’s words in your tormented mind. The fuzziness you felt replaced by emptiness.

Part of you willed it to be wrong, that you were the woman to pull the Captain out of his self fulfilling and self imposed prophecy. You almost laughed at your audacity.

“I can’t even get a text back, why would he be interested?” You stare at the ceiling, the alcohol left your system and the room was uncomfortably still.

——

“You like tha’, lass?” you hear Soap rasp, you’re not sure if he’s taking her from behind or if he’s on top of her. The faint slaps, skin on skin, indicate it’s either doggy or the standing position your flatmate had once whispered about. The loud moans indicate it’s good.

You don’t breathe. You just listen.

“Oh god, Johnny please!” Your flatmate whines, the force of his thrusts evident in her stuttering voice.

You close your eyes and see yourself with Soap under you, knees folded under his bulging arms, hips pistoning into you with ferocious need. You argue with yourself but then you quickly surrender and slip your hand into your knickers. You draw tight circles on your clit while your eyes burn with tears unfallen. Undiluted shame and need fills you. You breathe sharply through your nose and then hold your breath, staying as quiet as possible. Both of your hearts raced, thumping against your ribs.

“Tha’s it,” you hear his muffled voice grunt. You imagine his massive hand grasping your breast, your hand follows. Their bed frame groans but yours is silent. Your flatmate’s voice gets higher in pitch and she comes loudly, he grunts, swears, the mattress squeaks. You push two fingers into yourself and quickly find your spongy spot, electricity rolls through you.

You come undone shakily and silently, tears springing immediately from your eyes as you ride the wave of your orgasm. Your hand clasps across your mouth as you try to stem the noise of your sobs. You feel disgusted and disgusting. You wipe your eyes with your sleeves. You check your phone, no text from him. You manage to fall into a restless sleep.

——

One night, you and your flatmate encountered an asshole at the station.

“Nice bit of skirt, that.” He leers at your flatmate.

“Fuck off, you prick!” You shout back without breaking stride, not caring he was bigger than you. This confidence was new to you. Or was it anger?

When you arrived at the music venue, your flatmate told Soap what happened, you couldn’t hear them as the music was loud and you were at the bar. You could see the look of concern and regret on his face. He stormed over to you and he pulled you into a bear hug.

“Thanks for taking care of her,” he says to your temple. He releases you but keeps his arm around your shoulder as you wait at the bar, his weight is comforting and protective. He then helps you carry the drinks over.

He adds “I’m sorry Gaz and Cap couldn’t make it, paperwork.” You’d heard that one before but this time you gave yourself the benefit of believing it.

During the gig was a slow acoustic song that hit a little too close to home so you snuck out to the toilet to wait it out.

But you could still hear the music as you leaned against the stall and picked at your nails, doing breathing exercises you’d read about, through your tears.

——

You began to feel like the only man in your life. You even treated yourself to a massage because the touch deprivation reached a fever pitch.

You scroll through the website trying to find an available masseuse. Their headshots were small but you were on the lookout for a man with a thick neck and prominent traps, you knew the silhouette you were looking for. Your masseuse didn’t have a Mohawk but he was close enough that when you closed your eyes, his hands, his pressure and weight became Johnny’s.

——

You were invited again to a party with the squad, moods were good but there were hints of them being away for an extended mission. While you heeded what Soap said about Price, you wanted to know it from the horse's mouth. You bantered with the Captain, and he bantered back, at first. It turned to flirting and you playfully slapped his bicep, joking that you could drink him under the table, knowing well enough that you couldn’t. You ignored the looks from Gaz and Ghost - it’s like they knew something you didn’t. And they did.

You found yourself outside with Price. He’d asked only you to come outside, you felt giddy at the prospect of him wanting to be alone with you. He was smoking a cigar, you stared at the lit end, hoping it revealed some kind of secret you could finally be privy to.

It was cold outside, bitterly cold.

“You’re a lovely girl, y/n, you’re, smart, pretty, ballsy,” he says, almost to himself. You’re immediately familiar with the tone. What came next would hurt. Your breathing quickens and there’s a pit in your stomach.

“I’m not in a place where I can give you what you want, what you deserve, darlin’.”

The alcohol seemed to dissipate from your system. Rejection was one hell of a way to sober up. You look down at your shoes and chew your lip to stop it from trembling.

You knew better than to beg, to make compromises, to ask for a chance. Nothing would convince him. Maybe another woman could. But not me. So you turned to humour because it was safer than being vulnerable.

With wet eyes and a wobbly voice that you couldn’t hide, you say “so you think I’m pretty?”

He hits you with a look that you’ll never forget.

“In another life-“ he quietly began.

You cut him off, agreeing, “in another life.”

You both went indoors and you summoned a smile from the deepest recesses of your being. You left early that night.

——

It was with bated breath that you left your room ready for your date. You were in a beautiful outfit that did wonders for your confidence. You spun around a few times in the mirror.

Johnny was at the foot of the stairs and he looked at you with his big blue eyes, you’re sure you saw his pupils grow. Your phone buzzed but you ignored it because you enjoyed being under his gaze.

“Look at you! He’s a lucky lad!”

“Wait, let me see!” Your flatmate's voice came from the kitchen.

Your phone buzzed again. You pull it out to see a stream of texts from your date.

“Oh you look gorgeous, girl!” You barely hear your flatmate. Blood rushes to your ears.

You read out the text message.

“Sorry can’t make it, hungover lol.” You sound distant, as if it wasn’t related to you.

“Fucking prick.” Soap says with no hesitation.

“Y/n…. Babe.” Your flatmate pulls you into a hug but you’re limp and embarrassed.

“Fuck it, I’m going out anyway!” You exclaim, pretending to be okay you practically rush out of the door.

The door shuts behind you. You want to cry but you squeeze your eyes shut and start to walk towards the station. You don’t last long, your vision is wet and nose runny. You end up at a riverside cafe, watching the world go by without you. What a shitty year, you tell yourself.

——

You hear a hushed conversation a week before Soap is due to leave for a few weeks. You kept your headphones on and nodded at them when you walked past, giving them privacy.

You wish you could be in someone’s inner circle, but instead you were grateful you could float around theirs. You put a mental reminder in to take your flatmate to dinner while Soap was away and to keep her from watching the news.

——

“Turn it down!” You yell at your flatmate while you go to answer the door, the radio is on blast while you both cook.

Through the peephole you see the unmistakable beard of Captain Price.

“Oh John, hi!” You can’t hide that you’re happy to see him. But then you notice his grave expression.

“Hi love, sorry to come by unannounced,” he’s standing straighter and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is your flatmate around?”

“Yeh, come in.” Your stomach drops. You didn’t need to call out, your flatmate is already by the door.

“No,” she recognises the look.

“I’m so sorry, love.” Price says quietly.

“Oh god no!” She cries out and sobs, her entire body shakes.

You put your arms around her but your eyes are on Price, wet and unflinching, waiting for the confirmation of the news.

His blue eyes are overcast and tired, he nods and looks down.

“We’ll have to take you onto base if you wish to go through matters,” Price says quietly. You helped your flatmate get her coat on, understanding that you couldn’t go with her.

Price dropped her home later that night, you plated up some food for her but she couldn’t eat. You hugged each other on the sofa until one of you fell asleep first.

It felt like Soap would be bursting through the door with his infectious energy at any moment, but the silence was deafening.

——

You weren’t invited to the funeral as it was behind closed doors. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, you went from crying to intense panic attacks to bouts of guilt. You missed him, you missed his presence. You thought about the way his eyes would light up when you suggested shots at the pub, how he’d walked you both home and how safe you felt. Sure he wasn’t holding your hand but for a moment, you felt wanted, taken care of and significant. You felt terrible for mourning someone else’s partner so deeply and intimately.

Price came by a few times in the next few months, sometimes you were home, sometimes you weren’t. When your flatmate finally came out of her room, her eyes red and complexion weak, she would walk around the house like an apparition.

“I can’t do this without him!” She would plead, “I miss him so much.” You rubbed her back, silently wiping your tears, telling her you were sorry, over and over.

“John came by today, he sends his best.” She says.

“Bless him,” you say quietly, trying not to read too much into it, because all the meaning you longed for wouldn’t come.

“You never told me what happened with you both that night.” She asks, brows knitted in concern for you while her heart was shattered.

“Soap was right about him.” You said, “and that’s okay.” You breathed, hoping the more you said it the more you would believe it.

——

‘What cannot be said will be wept’ you read the quote over and over, you’d seen it online and it immediately brought Price into your mind.

His visits became less frequent, but he came by again to check in with your flatmate. He looked like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and you wanted nothing more than to pull him into an embrace and comfort him.

“Come in, she just got in the shower, want a tea while you wait?”

It had been 6 months since the news.

“How are you holding up?” Price asked.

“M’okay, trying to be there for her as best I can.”

“I know it isn’t easy for you either.” He said, “you’re doing good by her, you’re a good friend.”

Guilt and shame rushes through your system, you didn’t feel like a good friend.

“He was so good to her-” you start to sob, hands across your mouth, willing it to stay inside so you never have to confront how you really felt about him.

You’re surprised to be suddenly in his embrace. John consumes you, you’re completely surrounded by him. You grip his jacket, afraid to let go. His right hand rubbed your shoulder blades and his left hand held onto your waist tightly.

“I’m sorry love,” he whispered, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t good to you.”

“You don’t have to apologise for anything John, you haven’t done anything wrong.” You sounded throaty.

“I made you believe in something I couldn’t give you.” His voice is quiet, you feel it against his chest.

“In another life,” you manage to sob his phrase back to him, he can feel you inhaling hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Another life.” He says back, kissing your head.

“Take care of yourself, John” you say with a ragged voice looking straight into his eyes. You grab your bag and push past him out of the door. You can still see his sad eyes in your mind.

Immediately you regret leaving while he was still available and present. But then you think if he wanted to say more he’d have done so. Life is choices, he made his choice. And I wasn’t one of them. Your legs take you away from him, into the bitter cold.

#cod fanfic #captain price x female reader #captain price x y/n #captain price x you #john price x female reader #john price x y/n #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #codfanfic

[txttletale]

(Other than the really weird bit about "Male presenting Doctor") what were your thoughts about the specials?

pretty mixed bag, pretty messy, but good overall. i think they were very obviously a nostalgia trip for people around my age lol and it worked! i loved seeing tennant and tate back onscreen together, their chemistry hasn't aged a bit, and honestly just watching doctor who that wasn't written by chris chibnall was a breath of fresh air. they weren't boring, like seasons 11 and 12 were, and they didn't go too far off the other end into nonsense like flux did. characters want things again! the show can let itself just be silly! i was literally cheering out loud when donna and the doctor were just saying random scifi gobbledegook at each other for like a solid several minutes during the star beast.

the structure of the specials kind of baffles me. i love wild blue yonder--i think it's definitively the best of the specials as a standalone, it's absolutely fantastic, creepy and atmospheric and bringing things around to RTD's strength, which is well-written characters interacting with each other and letting good actors just act. but at the same time i dont understand why it exists? it feels like...idk. imagine if you watched the star wars original trilogy but instead of the empire strikes back the middle film was just a feature length film about luke and han surviving on an ice planet with no reference to anything that happens in the last film except the two characters' relationship. and then the next film was still return of the jedi, unchanged. it felt like that

i liked all the weird campy silliness of the star beast and the giggle, and they were both very fun! neil patrick harris gave a fantastic performance, there are a lot of very memorable sequences from the giggle, but it's very very all over the place. so many threads get kind of picked up and go nowhere. the toymaker's haunted house dimension goes nowhere. RTD's eyerolling social media commetnary goes nowhere (thank god tbh but yknow im illustrating something here). even the toymaker kind of goes nowhere, after ncuti gatwa shows up he's bascially an afterthought who loses by dropping a ball. obvious parallels to david tennant's first episode with that ball scene could be made, but just... aren't. it feels like load-bearing sectikons of the plot and themes were cut out to make room for a backdoor pilot for the stupid fucking UNIT spinoff

oh and it goes without saying i fucking hate all the UNIT wank in the star beast and the giggle. i hope space nine eleven 2 happens to their stupid fucking avengers tower i cannot stand kate stewart who is constantly a murderous bonehead (in the giggle alone she gets two pepole killed by not listening to the doctor and assuming that this teleporting godlike entity could be restrainted by Two Guys) who is both in and out of universe just a boring nepo baby with no merit of her own

um. i still dont know what happened with the regeneration. i think the implication is that when david tennant dies hell time travel back to become ncuti gatwa inside himself--at least the rehab dialogue seems to make that implication. but it's not really explained or explored? baffling. i do think that fourteen getting to settle down and live a peaceful life with his friends is cute.

oh yeah and the ask said other than that but goddd there was some good stuff in the star beast and honestly with the state of the UK media i will take any perspective on trans people that includes baseline human erespect but some of those lines made me cringe so bad. anyway overall i am cautiously optimistic for the future of the show--oh ncuti was fucking great did i mention that i instantly bnought him as the doctor he owned the scene, the moment he was there it was clear he was the protagonist, and i liked the church on ruby road well enough too--i am cautiously optimistic but i worry that a big UNIT-shaped tumor will devour huge chunks of it and it'll be annoying. also russel t davies is like 60 and i just dont want to hear what he has to say about twitter so im not looking forward to dot and bubble

#ask #doctor who

[chaifootsteps]

making myself sad but can you imagine how powerful it would be if Moxxie and Millie saw how confused and shook up the full moon deal left Blitzo and they like, actually listened to him and validated him?

like if he explained when he made the deal and how he was getting shot at and Stolas not only didn't care but pushed him into agreeing so Blitzo could get him off the phone, then went into an X rated rant while Blitzo was in danger

and Moxxie suddenly remembers how Stolas was still going when he went back to the house even though Blitzo obviously wasn't on the phone anymore. and how Blitzo always seemed to have to pysche himself up before visiting Stolas once a month

then he explains how Stolas gave him the crystal but whenever Blitzo got mad at how he'd been treated Stolas would either do nothing to change the behavior (after Ozzie's) or denied it and blamed Blitzo completely for not immediately jumping to love him (full moon, probably)

and Moxxie and Millie realize what they've been treating so lightly and as an advantage of their business has been something Blitzo has been compartmentalizing to deal with this entire time and been forced into to keep the lights on.

and for all Blitzo's flaws they both look at one another, take one of his hands and look him in the eye before saying "you didn't deserve how he treated you"

and Blitzo just crumples because all along Stolas has validated his worst fear - that all he's good for is sex - then turned around and demanded an intimacy and love from him that he desperately wants to feel with someone, but he's never felt anything but used and dirty with Stolas. but now finally someone is listening to him. he doesn't have to feel crazy and alone anymore

for a show that loves to strut itself around like it wants to talk 'about abuse' it sure avoids having any discussions about the effects of it - and who gets away with it most effectively - instead it's just 'look, character is sad and cries'

but you just know what we're gonna get is Millie "the prince is the boss' boyfriiienddddd!' and Moxxie 'calls Stolas Highness constantly and is happy to rescue him twice without ever being thanked' just shaming Blitzo and grouping Stolas in with the people Blitzo hurt before, as though they're remotely the same thing

probably accompanied with the most aggravating cut rate version of 'I won't say I'm in love' where M&M are the greek chorus going 'so what if he treated you like a sex toy? get over it!' ever

Gloriously cruel of you to fill our heads with such beautiful, tearjerking visions of what could have been, then smack us collectively with that fat serving of reality, Anon. 11/10.

#Anonymous #viv stuff #video reply #stolitz critical #helluva boss critical #actual blog post

[davidtennantgenderenvy]

As i approach the end of finals week, I’m taking a moment to reflect on all of the absolutely CRAZY things that have happened during my roller coaster of a sophomore year of college!

This is of course, going to go down in the history books as The David Tennant year. What started as a silly little reawakened special interest in my favorite actor has somehow opened doors for me that I never could have imagined. Writing a two hour video essay about this man is NOT how I thought I’d be spending last semester, but not only did it become one of the proudest creative projects of my entire life and connected me with so many amazing internet buddies, but it was also invaluable in helping me come to terms with my queerness and come out to my friends and family. Thanks to a silly little short about David’s BAFTA outfit, he KNOWS I EXIST NOW, which is still so wild. And finally, he inspired me to write my most ambitious piece of music to date, my 8 month labor of love Crowley’s Lament, which put to the test basically everything I’ve learned about music and performing and has been received so beautifully by you guys.

This year wasn’t all about him, though! I finally got to make my collegiate stage debut in my first opera, and Iolanthe ended up being the dream role I never knew I needed- an endearing and inspiring character that was such a fulfilling challenge for an actor and singer to play. I learned loads of challenging classical, musical theatre, and pop rock music this year, listened to a ton of new albums (Will Wood might be one of the most incredible musical discoveries of my life?), and learned a ton about music theory and history. One of my favorite classes this year was Film and TV music analysis, and I got to apply my knowledge by composing the score for one of my Discord mutuals’ short films! I turned 20 and on the same day got to perform in an original musical for my friend’s composition recital. I took part in my first ever crew assignment, had two of my pieces performed at Project 21 concerts (one with a full band!), and my original Fullmetal Alchemist song Even Into Hell was choreographed for a collaboration with the school of dance, which brought my piece to such gorgeous emotional life.

I’ve gotten closer to friends old and new, and just when I’d accepted that romance probably wasn’t in the cards for me any time soon, I met (well, started DM-ing), the most amazing person through the most unexpected set of circumstances (that honestly deserves its own video sometime in the future). My brilliant internet friend-turned-parter Merlin @elsinore-and-inverness has brought so much light and joy into my life, and I can honestly say I’m the happiest I’ve been in years.

Next stop, THE UK!!! I’m not only studying abroad on a once in a lifetime Shakespeare trip, seeing loads of West End shows AND performing at the Edinburgh Fringe, but I also get to meet my favorite London boy in person :)))) could NOT be more excited

#personal #david tennant #good omens #shakespeare #musical theatre #Opera #iolanthe

[avisisisis]

one of my favorite dynamics is "two best friends going to high school together" and i love writing fics about it. it's just, like, two people being friends. i love that sm

and i was so sad yesterday because i couldn't do that with mark. sure there's william, but they don't really hang out anymore, do they?

when mark's with william, it doesn't feel like a lifelong friendship that will last for years. it's just... not the type of friendship i'm looking for

i could go with eve, yeah, but her relationship w mark is romantic, and even if it wasn't it still isn't the friendship I'm looking for. amber? mark's girlfriend. rex? they're really not that close. of the guardians? like, in general? sure, they're friends, but not best friends. the found family dynamic works best when it's only them, maybe excluding the newest members for now

and it hit me how alone that makes mark feel for me. his dad's gone, and all he has is his mom and brother. he doesn't go to college anymore, so he can barely hang out with william. he broke up with amber. eve's been dealing with her own crap for a while, and they're definitely in love but it's still a little complicated for now — they'll get there tho. he's not a member of the guardians and will never be and there's that whole.... thing..... in the comics

usually i listen to nostalgic music while imagining two of my favorite characters going to school together (which is, like, the most connecting experience ever) (the amount of highschool or hogwarts fics i've read is insane), but now i only think i mark and his dad, or mark and his brother

get some fucking friends, markus

#what a loner #mark grayson #invincible #avis' post

[redroses07]

How The Evans Would React To Reader Who Has Panic Attacks

A/N: Hi guys!! This is just what I headcanon Evan's characters to be like with a partner who has panic attacks. As someone who deals with panic attacks personally, this hits really close to home. I hope y'all enjoy, and comments are always appreciated.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆₊˚⊹♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆₊˚⊹♡

Tate Langdon

Has experienced panic himself, so is surprisingly good at handling them.

Will hold you as close as possible until it passes.

Lets you cry into his chest and sometimes even sheds a few tears himself.

Combs his fingers through your hair and presses soft kisses to your forehead.

He's mostly quiet during them considering he's not the best with his words, and mostly relies on his physical presence to comfort you.

Tate hates seeing you like this, so he always pushes you to have a conversation about what triggered the attack once you're calm.

Tate obviously isn't a mental health expert, but he wants to help you to the best of his ability.

Kit Walker

The SWEETEST boy oh my lord.

Kit will immediately drop whatever he's doing and rush to be by your side.

He takes both of your hands in his, and pulls you into him.

"Look at me, sweetheart. You'll get through this."

Is super vocal, and his words always help calm you.

Will kiss your tears away until you don't have anymore to shed.

"I love you hon, it's gonna be okay."

Once you've calmed down some, he'll carry you to bed so you can rest.

Listens to your every request and does whatever in order to make you feel comfortable.

Also makes sure that he knows your triggers so he can help minimize your attacks.

Kit is the king of communication, and your relationship is built on honesty and transparency.

Pre-Death Kyle Spencer

Also extremely sweet and loving.

I'm a firm believer that Kyle is an amazing listener so over time he becomes very well equipped to help you.

"Hey babe are you okay?"

"Oh shit!" He immediately pulls you into him.

Will sway back and forth as he holds you to help soothe you.

Also I think he would have a habit of humming softly in your ear, whether it's consciously or not.

Jimmy Darling

I know for a fact that Jimmy is a big hugger, so his first instinct is to give you a big hug.

He doesn't have much experience with panic attacks, but I'm sure my queen Ethel taught him how to be empathetic.

I feel like he would sing to you to calm you down, doing what he does best yk?

I think he'd be a super anxious boyfriend, so he'll constantly check in on you for the next few days to make sure you're okay.

"Hey, how're ya feeling?"

"Jimmy, I told you I'm okay."

"I know, I know, I just want to be extra sure."

James March

I feel like he'd lowkey be super confused, especially the first time you had an around him.

Given the fact that he's over 100 years old he doesn't even know what a panic attack is.

I feel like he would think you were being possessed at first and freak out.

Once he does understand though, he'd actually be very loving.

For one thing, if James happens to fall in love with you then he is IN LOVE.

He would devote his life to you and nothing about you could deter him from loving you.

The main thing he'll do to comfort you is kiss you everywhere.

Like he will kiss your cheeks, your shoulders, your nose, your lips. Not in a sexual way, but in an affectionate way.

Kai Anderson

I think he'd be super super awkward about it.

Like I can honestly imagine him giving you a pat on the shoulder and being like "get it together."

On the other hand, if he's in a good mood, he'd start talking about how once he takes control of the country you won't have to deal with anything like that anymore.

If he's feeling extra generous he'll even hold your hand to help you relax.

Kai is your typical narcissist so he would deal with your panic attacks in the only way that he knows how, making it about himself.

But you know that's just how he is, and that he shows his affection in his own way.

#evan peters #american horror story #ahs #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #tate langdon #ahs fic #ahs tate #ahs x reader #ahs coven #ahs hotel #ahs fanfiction #ahs cult #james patrick march #james march x reader #tate langdon fanfic #tate langdon x reader #kit walker fanfic #kit walker x reader #kit walker #kyle spencer #kyle spencer x reader #jimmy darling #jimmy darling x reader #kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson x you #james march x you #ahs freakshow #ahs asylum

[nepenthean-sleep]

Hey hey! For the character meme Gideon!

hello thanks for the ask :)

favorite thing about them i love how she speaks. someone said once that everything she says is like the wrong option in a video game dialogue choice list. all of tamsyn's characters have incredible dialogue but gideon is so goddamn funny especially. like it wraps around from being cringe to being funny again. her narration is excellent.

least favorite thing about them i'm gonna say what i said for harrow, everything about her makes sense for her character and her role in the story.

favorite line given the first answer here you can imagine this is extremely difficult for me. however. i'm going to go with a decidedly unfunny one from chapter 25 of ntn because it makes me feel insane.

Nona had never seen anyone so sad in her whole short life. It made her nearly afraid to die. “Nobody locks me up anywhere,” said Kiriona.

she says!!! while locked in her corpse by her dad!! after being locked in harrow's brain for a year by harrow!! after being locked in drearburh for 18 years by the ninth!! ohhhhhhh my god

brOTP sorry i'm going with gideon and ianthe because they hate each other and i just find that endlessly amusing

OTP griddlehark sweep

nOTP don't really have one, just don't like when she's shipped with men

random headcanon after she goes to canaan house she starts getting freckles because it's her first time in sunlight

unpopular opinion idk i don't really see people talking about this much but like she's an asshole. she has a mean-spirited streak. and like yeah i guess if your opponent in the cartoonishly evil contest is harrow it's gonna make gideon look like a much better person but like. idk everyone was shocked by her being a dick in ntn but it's not really that different from how she was before?

also i really really hate the fandom himboification of her turning her into a one-dimensional horny fuckboi vehicle for harrow to have 36 orgasms or whatever. or the opposite where they make her a loyal idiot golden retriever. butches often have personalities that are not either of these things, actually!

song i associate with them it is 100% absolutely from hell with love and sweet true lies, both by beast in black. not only do they sound like songs i think gideon would listen to, like, the lyrics are so.

Killed my light To serve your delight Now see me ripped apart Ripped apart

Another voiceless cry Another hopeless try I wish you'd open your wings and take me inside From hell with love I write Confess my passion crime Cause to my heart, soul and mind, you are kryptonite Oh babe

like cmon.

Baby, baby tell me more of your lies Say you want me for a lifetime I believe you even when I know it's a lie Love's so blind Sweet true lies

AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! thank you @oceanwrath for introducing me to these songs with your tlt art.

favorite picture of them again i can't choose just one there's so much good art in this fandom but my favorites are this FUCKING STUNNING kiriona piece by @nil-elk and this amazing one by @battletailors and this incredible piece by @notedchampagne and this one by @may12324 and this one by oceanwrath and listen ok i just really really like gideon nav 😭

thanks for the ask!

#gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #the locked tomb #ask games #neph.txt

[carlosoliveiras-wife]

hi. so some things happened today. ruined my mood. and it's hard to...deal with and i don't much like making it weigh on others. so this is how i'm dealing with it.

PROSHIP DNI

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

selfshippers who...are made to feel like they are destined to ruin things by merely existing. to selfshippers who...who feel like expressing any amount of emotion that's negative and are immediately thrown into hell for it. to the selfshippers who have come to believe that they make things worse for everyone literally just by emotions or expressing yourself the way you can— your f/o is not kinda be the fucking asshole who repeats this cycle.

to selfshippers who have bottled since they were kids because they've been treated like shit while traumatized, who's only means of getting the pain out is through silently crying and going quiet in the hopes you can fix everything by shutting up, your f/o would *not* contribute to this. your f/os would carefully walk you through your feelings, try to help you talk. they'll help you as much as they can, even if it means letting you crying, sobbing, wailing into their embrace because you don't get this safety often, hell, maybe even at all.

to the selfshippers who have built up so much anger that your reactions come off as attitudes, your f/o would never see you that way. they know you can't express yourself properly at times, and that going quiet is how you're processing it in the moment.

if you've had a parent who fucking hurts you and puts you through turmoil, who has made you so used to being alone and that you'd be better off away from them because you feel like all you happen to do is ruin shit and that you are not valid in how you feel, your f/o will NEVER treat you the same. they'll have you know you are not destined to piss everyone off, that you're not destined to ruin everything, and that you deserve to live a fucking normal life where you aren't fucking treated like a villain for your emotions, for your hurt.

to the selfshippers who have come to fear communicating and expect negative reactions for even breathing a goddamn word. to the selfshippers who would rather shut up to make it all okay, to the selfshippers who would rather take and bear all the hurt and bury inside than talk about it, your f/o understands and would gently approach you and coax you to talk. they understand if you don't trust talking to them at first because of all the shit you've been through, they wouldn't get pissed, they wouldn't be exasperated. they know talking about it would be better, and they knoe you want nothing more than to communicate your feelings— but they also know it isn't fucking easy for you.

there's so much more i could add on, but i'll leave it at this. just know that your f/os don't see you as a monster, that they don't see you as a fucking jackass when you have the right to get upset over something or you're just upset in general. you're not a burden to them, they don't view you as a monster. they want you to feel safe, to feel okay in being who you are, because holy shit, family clearly never have us that.

#⛈️: chloë's rainy day thoughts. #selfship #self ship #selfshipping #self shipping #selfship community #self ship community #safeship #safeshipping #selfship comfort #today was...a day #i'm so very used to this snd i wish i was so fucking numb to knowing that i can hurt people st the drop of a hat #i'm so so tired of it #but at the end of the day #i know that i have friends that care and will listen #that i can imagine characters i love that will listen. #and...it's nice. and while it wont fix the issues at hand that i face more than i can predict #it can make me smile a little

[kittynette]

*marinette noises intensify*

marinette’s voice appreciation post because i’ve never seen one on tumblr<3

#name: marinette. best quality: her screeches<3 #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #everyone’s always praising adrien’s voice actor and for a good reason don’t get me wrong! but no one ever talks about #marinette’s voice actress #and how good she is #like. she IS marinette. i can’t even imagine her not sounding like this #i mean i personally find her voice super pleasant to listen to #even when she’s stuttering even when she’s screeching even when she’s making strange noises #i’ve loved her voice since the start #she can sound angry and sweet and determined but never annoying even when the character is supposed to sound a bit crazy #and she never uses a fake high-pitched tone #i mean. she sounds like a real person. #so i can’t understand why she doesn’t get that much love from the fandom?? #because really #who’s doing it like her #video #mine

[sleepyblr-heart]

this'll hurt you more than it'll hurt me

#heart art! #adventure forward #af2 #cyalm #celesteal #verfection #YAYYY I DIIDDD ITTTTT #no background cause i nono wanna but YAYYYYYYYYYY #i really love this. im very proud of it dawg #ill be so honest. i do not think i would've like vain revival if it came out. #the idea of not only bringing back cyalm n then also making their evil deeds an unwilling action so that they can be redeemed is. so stupid #but the ideas presented by verfection....... mmmmm #im glad they arent canon bc i can give them so many problems man #insert like an essay on why verfection/2ss is the best character in adventure forward here #maybe a 'stratos verf blueband and voixer are like realy fucked up quadruplets. please listen to me im only stretching a little i prommy' #essay as well #and a 'adventure forward wouldve been better if they just fucking Talked to Eachother a Little Bit More and maybe kiss but idc abt that' #essay as a final desert #im trying real hard not to turn my tags into a 10000 word essay again #so please imagine those essays for me instead. do the hardwork for me #anyways immmm noraml about guys that arent actually real. and that are definelty not just like an oc in a trench coat (silly) #ok i need to stop talking enjoy freeaks byee

[overleftdown]

farleigh analysis part 2, because the first post wasn't enough. this is going to cover all scenes set at oxford university that i find significant to my understanding of the character (this ended up including pretty much every scene with farleigh in it). once again... buckle up.

[0:03:48] farleigh: oh, he's got the scarf. hey, cool jacket! and the tie?

starting off with a banger! this is farleigh's first line, his introduction as a character. this is how the viewers are intended to see farleigh, at least for this portion of the movie. this is what i'd consider an outer-circle perspective of farleigh, how the majority of his classmates understand him as a person. catty and casually rude. it's significant how surface-level and mild this introductory piece of dialogue is. farleigh is pointing out how hard oliver is trying to appear mature and scholarly, because farleigh is too nonchalant to try hard to fit in (haha).

[0:07:10] farleigh: i'm so sorry. got completely lost- hi, nice to meet you. so sorry. tutor: you're farleigh start, i take it. nice of you to join us, finally. you're not a, uh relation of frederica start, by any chance? farleigh: uh, shes my mother. tutor: no! i knew her when i was your age, when we were both here! when she was frederica catton, before she went to america. farleigh: no way! oh my god, i'll tell her! she's gunna be thrilled that i'm being tutored by one of her friends.

and again, an outer-circle perspective. here you can see the supposed influence of farleigh's family title. "when she was frederica catton," signifying the beginning of the end of frederica's social rappour. farleigh is a product of his mother's abandonment of everything the catton's stand for; wealth, coldness, heartlessness. however, from this perspective, the one we've been introduced with, farleigh is still hiding in the ghost of his mother, before she moved, before she had him.

[0:07:48] tutor: not sure we ever spoke. farleigh: ...oh.

HEHEHEHEHE. i giggled.

[0:08:48] oliver: so you're picking apart the style of my essay instead of the substance? that's kind of... farleigh: kind of what? oliver: lazy? farleigh: it's completely valid to debate the rhetoric of an essay. it's not what you argue, but how. tutor: great point. oliver: yeah, especially if you haven't read any of the poems.

i think this dialogue is incredibly fitting for farleigh's character. as in, it represents how farleigh interacts with people at oxford, with the cattons. picking apart the style rather than the substance, because it's not what you argue, but how. using that comparison, oliver pointing out that farleigh clearly didn't read the material is synonymous with farleigh being clueless to how and why the cattons truly tick. this makes farleigh's socializing hollow by nature. whereas oliver... he does his research. he learns how the cattons function, what motivates them, what their dynamics are. he doesn't play into style or rhetoric; he doesn't need to.

[0:13:11] felix: oh, there he is! oliver! ollie! oliver, come here, mate! yeah, come here. come here. what? come here!

farleigh's face visibly drops, and he sits up straight where he's sitting beside felix. he's not disgusted, nor offended. he looks anxious. a few seconds later, as felix says "this is my fucking hero, right here," farleigh is giving oliver the gnarliest look. he's fidgeting with his hands, and you can see him swallow. i think he looks a healthy blend of angry and exasperated. as it's made known later in the movie, felix has a notorious savior complex. farleigh knows exactly what's happening.

[0:14:00] (shots) you can see that, between the last timestamp and this one, farleigh has been displaced to the other side of the table. previously, every single sighting of felix has farleigh glued to his side. standing right next to him. farleigh on the opposite side of the table as felix is very indicative of the very real threat that oliver poses to farleigh's stability.

[0:14:10] farleigh: it's your round, man! oliver: i should go to bed. farleigh: wait, no no no. you can't snake your way out of a round. oliver: i'm not. farleigh: it... looks like you are.

the most important thing about this scene that i'd like to point out is that oliver would not have, and should not have, stayed for his round if it wasn't an intentional plan. the nature of "buying rounds" was made clear and is clear. he reasonably shouldn't have stayed and specifically left when it was his turn to pay. that's gnarly. that's generally just rude.

[0:14:30] felix: farleigh. farleigh: what? felix: just cut him a break, mate. farleigh: what? felix: that round's gunna cost a fucking fortune. farleigh: pub rules, felix.

yes, i understand that farleigh is being intentionally confrontational. but felix consistently falls flat when "combating" the judgmental attitude of his family and classmates. although he did exactly what oliver wanted him to do by paying for the round, he lacks a genuine purpose behind his verbal condemnations. felix wants to believe he is morally better than his family, the people he surrounds himself with. because of this, he lacks passion. farleigh surrounds himself with whoever felix surrounds himself with; he has become part of felix's background noise. he has become another steppingstone to felix's upward climb to righteousness. another blurring, booing voice, antagonizing the people felix protects and defends.

[0:16:09] felix: yeah, well you know farleigh basically grew up with us. oliver: i didn't know you and farleigh were cousins. felix: mmm, my aunt, farleigh's mum, ran away to america when she was 19 to escape the cold-hearted english. ciggie? oliver: eh, i don't smoke. farleigh: dear aunty fred married a lunatic who pissed everything she had up the wall and a fair chunk of dad's money, too, until he had to finally cut her off.

(oliver did know that farleigh and felix were cousins tbh what a liar, can't believe he would lie like that. unbelievable. truly criminal).

at 0:16:10, farleigh watches felix and oliver sitting with each other at a party. this is played behind felix's voice-over, as he tells oliver about farleigh's family history. i find that so emotionally impactful. jealousy is a hard emotion to read on someone's face, but almost always, farleigh just looks sad. i often see him glancing down; this can often mean disappointment, insecurity, deep thought. at 0:16:27, you can see him briefly scrunch his eyebrows together as he watches felix light oliver's cigarette. he looks confused, judgmental, or surprised. the only thing i can compare this to is taking a bite of food that you didn't expect to taste horrible.

i wish we got to see more of farleigh and his mother, or at least what their dynamic entails. we know he asks (begs) james and elsbeth to give frederica money. we know that frederica was either too kind or too weak to cope with her family. we know that she was well-loved at oxford, or at least had some admirers. i find it poetic, that frederica ran from the english, and now her son is running back in place of her. i also wonder about farleigh's dad. there's no mention of him, past this scene; but if he's no longer with frederica, why would she still be cut off by the cattons? are the cattons really that cold to her, or is frederica still married? curiosity, man. i'm about to start making stuff up on the spot.

[0:16:42] felix: well dad, you know, he felt so guilty about the whole thing that he decided that he would pay for all of farleigh's education. oliver: lucky farleigh. felix: oh, fat load of good that's done him. he's been expelled from almost every school in england for sucking off the teachers.

at 0:16:50, farleigh is shown with a woman on his lap. she's more adult than farleigh. i think it's relevant, considering the voiceover.

i think an important word in this dialogue is guilt; it's a strong motivator among the cattons. yet, it's an inconsistent one. because the cattons guilt is so external as opposed to internal, there is a threshold at which their guilt feels resolved. they just have to convince themselves that they are charitable and therefore good. there is no real understanding of love, and what comes with it. there is no intrinsic need to support their family, simply because they are family.

i don't know what to say about farleigh and his relationship with authority. clearly, he has an unhealthy attachment to transactional and exploitative relationships. how does that complex interact with his social life? his family life? to live surrounded by money and to surround your life around money creates a need to quantify everything. it means you're trying to understand what you're worth, and what your actions are worth. this can also be a testament of farleigh's character; is he just unwilling to put more effort into school? is he unable to compete with the schools that he's attending through money instead of merits? yes, james is paying for his education, but since when? how long has farleigh attended school in england, and what schools did farleigh attend in america? there's a large difference in education. i digress. i find this detail about farleigh significant and upsetting in a lot of ways, and it would be just as upsetting if he really did just prefer transactional sex over doing his homework.

[0:22:27] (oliver sees felix at the bar without him) and this is where farleigh regains his place next to felix. the framing of the shot specifically includes farleigh and felix, centered together on screen. oxford is the only period in this movie where you can truly consider oliver and farleigh mutual threats. this is the limbo, where both of their minuscule actions could change the course of their relationship with felix. oliver and farleigh are both intimately aware that only one of them can exist at felix's side, only one of them can be felix's accessory. oliver's motivation to be in this position is infatuation. he hates what felix represents and loves felix as an individual. is this the same for farleigh? how much is farleigh motivated by his love for his cousin? how far devolved is their relationship, since farleigh realized he needed to play a game just to be treated with compassion by his family?

[0:26:30] farleigh: oh, nice tux. oliver: thank you. farleigh: wow! it's a rental, right? oliver: yeah- farleigh: yeah. yeah, the sleeves are too long. always check the sleeves! but still, not bad. i mean, you're almost passing. oliver: for what? farleigh: i don't know! a real human boy.

he's so petty, it's hilarious. there's not much to say about the majority of this interaction, other than the fact that farleigh is overcompensating for his own social insecurities. to be expected. i like that last line, though. "you're almost passing for a real human boy." does that have anything to do with oliver's poverty? maybe it's just a jab at his fashion choices. i think it's also safe to say that farleigh finds something legitimately unsettling about oliver. or maybe he really is just prepared to give felix's new project a tough time. there are a few reasons for farleigh to go out of his way to make felix's friends uncomfortable or inconvenienced; almost all of them are petty. venetia does the same. elsbeth, who shares felix's habit of hosting people, seems thoroughly entertained by oliver.

farleigh's oxford era is hard to get a read on. he's truly just... rude. he's also scared. his dynamic during the school year with oliver is so compelling to me, because oliver is still in a place of deep instability. he almost lost felix halfway through the year; he needed a high card to win him back. farleigh doesn't play cards, though. that's one of the biggest differences between the two characters. for all their similarities, the only action against oliver that farleigh seems to have is being mean. oliver is driven by an obsessive ambition to control, interfere, dominate. during the school year farleigh is shown, repeatedly, that he just wants to get through it. he's coasting, truly. he slides right back into place next to felix when the spot opens up, and he stays in the background. again; all style, no substance. no research. the cattons were never a game, to farleigh. they were just an uphill battle. they were his family.

#saltburn #saltburn 2023 #farleigh start #oliver quick #felix catton #this is real insanity #i'm having so much fun #guys farleigh is my lover #he didn't ask to compete for his cousins love :( #imagine dude #i love my cousin to death #if he dropped me for a stranger #dude i'd lose it #anyways #i've been listening to ribs by lorde and thinking about farleigh and felix #i'm a little too attached to family dynamics #i can feel a fanfiction brewing in my stomach #lord above #i know i sound like a felix hater but i'm not #i swear he's as much of a complex character as everyone else #but he also needs several reality checks #the oliver situation was a decent reality check #too bad he died before he could have some growth as a person

[cerise-on-top]

what do u think Farah, Kate, Valeria’s types are, like personality wise or physically? love ur stuff so much, there isn’t enough stuff for the cod women and it is the worse💋

Hey there! I don't think they have a type per se, to them it's more important to have a good connection with someone! So I only wrote about what I think they'd like their partner to be! I didn't write about any physical appearances, though, since I think that sort of thing doesn't matter at all! The chemistry is important to them more so than anything else!

Valeria’s, Farah’s and Laswell’s type

Valeria: She’d likely be into someone who knows what they want from the get go, who can get aggressive at times but knows when to be quiet as well. Someone intelligent, who knows not to mess with her and her business too much, willing to let a lot of morally interesting things slide. Someone who can be loud at the right time, who isn’t afraid to stand up for themselves. However, I think she’d also be into someone independent. She doesn’t have a lot of time for a relationship, always out and about somewhere, so she’d want someone who can take care of themself. Someone who knows how to do house chores is also a big plus. You don’t have to worry about her doing nothing, if she wants to she can hire a maid or something, but it’s sort of domestic to her to have a partner who knows how to cook and use a vacuum cleaner. That way she won’t have to worry too much about coming home to a messy home. Her ideal partner would be up for going out with her from time to time, and wouldn't be shy in front of other people either. Someone motivated would be nice as well. Just someone willing to do things with and for her. But the most important part would be loyalty. Someone who knows that what she does is wrong, but stays with her despite it. Valeria can’t allow someone to work against her, not even someone she loves.

Farah: She’d probably like someone chipper. She’s surrounded by war and death at all times, so having someone cheerful with her, who can lift her spirits when she’s feeling down, would be ideal to her. Besides, she loves the domestic parts of life as much as the next person, so she wouldn’t mind settling down somewhere with someone, but she also wants to be with someone willing to go out with her to maybe explore the surroundings a bit. Doesn’t have to be a lot either, just watching the sunset while going on a walk with her would suffice for her. Her ideal partner would be open for most things, from cultures to just some outings. And although it’s only a small part of her, she secretly does wish for someone who’s not straight. That way she can share her experiences with someone else and not feel as alone. Someone who can show her something new almost every day would also be appreciated. Farah is a very loyal person, so she’d love for her partner to be the same. Communication is key, so someone willing to talk to her if something bothers them, regardless of what it may be, would also be nice. It would also be nice if that person could stay calm during most parts of their life and not lose hope immediately, someone who trusts that Farah will come home safe and sound to them and not freak out about every small thing. 

Laswell: I think she’d be into someone calm. Someone a bit older, maybe even a few years older than her, who has seen the finer things life has to offer and who can appreciate them. Nothing would faze them and they would never raise their voice. Someone, who doesn’t need to see the world anymore, who has seen most of it. Someone stable and content. While Laswell could take care of someone, she doesn’t want someone reliant on her since she’s abroad more often than not and doesn’t have the time for someone like that always. While it would be nice if that person could speak up for themself, she doesn’t mind having to speak on their behalf from time to time. That person doesn’t have to be the next Einstein, but she’d love someone she can have sophisticated conversations with over a glass of wine. Someone willing to drink some wine with her in general would be nice. Laswell is too old to want very many complications, so she too would appreciate someone willing to say what bothers them so they can work it out together. Not everything needs to be perfect, but she’d prefer it if she could talk it out with them. Although she can splurge a little bit here and there, it’s important to her that her partner is responsible with money and doesn’t buy everything that comes to mind. She wants them to be well off, and that is, mostly, only possible if you know how to save money. She thinks butches are hot, but she’s not opposed to a cute femme either.

#cod #valeria garza #farah karim #kate laswell #I wasn't sure if I was going to write this request in the first place #I always felt bad whenever I read about a character's type and I very much was not that #and I don't want other people to feel bad because of it either #so I'm just gonna say it again: The chemistry you have with those characters is more important than fitting into their type #there's another word I'm looking for but I for the life of me can't remember it right now #anyway if you vibe with a character then by all means imagine yourself with them and don't listen to what I have to say #this was just for fun and really shouldn't make anyone feel bad #if you're the things I listed then that's great! but even if you're not the girls would still love and adore you all the same! #again these are just desirable traits for them more so than anything else! nothing to go by! #I can tell you that the girls would love you just as you are!

[deadmothsketches]

Priest Karamatsu sketches for those who need spiritual help.

Don’t ask me why, I dont even know lol

#osomatsu san #Osomatsu-san #Mr.Osomatsu #Karamatsu #karamatsu matsuno #priest karamatsu #sketches #Character Page #fanart #anime #expressions #I picture Karamatsu being the loving type #rather than fighting or hating #like imagine hes supposed ot fight against demons and he tries to use compassion insread #i got this idea from listening to the apology song from the book of life #imagine him singing that song do it #do it #now #also can you tell i like drawing this guy? #i'll draw the others i swear

[quorras]

every time i see someone call tron 'cyberpunk', i lose ten years off my lifespan

#note to self literally never read letterboxd reviews of movies i like i cant do it anymore kdjfgkdssd #say you saw the movie and the plot and visuals went right over your head without saying it #like. in what world is tron dystopic?? cyberpunk in itself is an offshoot of dystopian fiction. tron is not about an imagined future #tron is about an imagined PRESENT. thinking about our PRESENT relationship with technology in relation to the times each film was released #tron is in equal measures hopeful and critical about technology. that is NOT cyberpunk #the only CyberPunk that matters in tron is the Tron2.0 character of the same name #i will admit that tron's plot is cyberpunk derived but its. idk man its not the same thing #thematically its different. visually i think tron shares developmental artists with blade runner where the cyberpunk visual stereotype was #- established #but blade runner is more pure cyberpunk thematically than tron is. does that make any sense #and. and. listen to me. i am number one retrofuture fan. i love syd mead. i love moebius. but listen. just because they worked on tron - #- does NOT mean tron is thematically OR visually retrofuturistic either!! the visuals match the time it was made!! thats not retrofuturism! #thats normal scifi based on the every day!!! #tron is a sandbox and at the end of the day anyone can do whatever they want its all just for fun #at the same time. the entire story of tron is being severely misrepresented when labelled as cyberpunk. and it makes me sad #these are very shallow thoughts i just miss literary thematic analysis sometimes. my film studies classes cannot come soon enough #rex speaks