#this is one of the silliest things i've made in a while

[sdr2lovemail]

Could you write something about Sun and Moon being irritated/jealous that they can't kiss the reader (the maintenance worker one) with their mouths like a human can so the reader shows them about all the other ways to kiss? Like kissing Sun's hand up his arm to his cheek until he is giggling so loudly Vanessa thinks he's gone off his rocker, or gently kissing Moon's forehead all the way down to where his heart would be? Even better if the maintenance reader leaves behind little lipstick marks on their face for Monty and the gang to laugh about :D

Inspired by that one tumblr post about a guy walking out with a few lipstick kiss marks and then saying "you should see what they did to the other guy" in a stereotypical mobster voice before said other guy drunkenly walks out absolutely covered in lipstick marks, sfw of course I want Fluff I want Affection I want Lovey Dovey-ness if you think you could swing it, just the softest silliest thing you can write, and keep up the good work anywho :')

I have no mouth, and I must kiss. (GN Reader but they do wear lipstick) Synopsis: After a play full of heartbreak and tragedy, Sun realizes that he'll never be able to kiss you. You remedy the situation.

Notes: It's been almost 2 years since I've written a fnaf fic, I feel rusty. Help wanted 2 got me calling my old mans' numbers. That's a joke they never left my phone. Anon if you're still out there, I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labors.

Requests are open!

Children are very persuasive. While you originally came to the daycare to fix a broken screen, you’ve ended up in a play. Decked out with a foam sword, you act as the story’s brave knight. Once you’ve slain the dragon, a kid wearing a Monty hood, your princess awaits.

“My dear knight! You saved me from the evil dragon!” Sun swoons. Instead of his waist frills, he’s worn a bright yellow skirt. Dangling from a few of his rays was a princess cap. The bells on his wrist jingle as he clasps his hands. “Is there any way I can repay you?”

You press a hand against your heart and bow your head. “There is no need, Princess. Protecting you is my sworn duty.” You’d say your acting wasn’t half bad for an underpaid maintenance worker.

“The princess has to kiss the knight!” A kid called from the audience.

Sun felt rigid like his joints were locking up. He hoped you couldn’t hear his fans kicking on as his body temperature rose. He would love to kiss you but wanted the moment to be perfect. “N-now friend, we don-”

“Mr. Sun can’t kiss them! He doesn’t have a mouth!” Another kid argued. Something about what they said made Sun feel weird.

“Yes, he does! It just can’t open.” 

Sun lets out a huff, turning to you. “They’re getting cranky. It must be snack time. I’ll pass them out quickly. That way, we can spend time together!” He bounced on the balls of his feet, eager for you to stick around.

Your fazwatch pings with an alert: a S.T.A.F.F. bot got stuck in Monty Golf. “Oh, sorry, Sun. I have another job to do. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Sun would be frowning if his faceplate could move. He quickly perks up and sets his hands on your shoulders. “Right! Right, right, right, you have a job. Responsibilities! I’ll- I’ll see you at closing. Buh-bye, friend!” The jester waves you goodbye before sighing, hurrying to pass out snacks before someone throws a tantrum.

The rest of your day goes as smoothly as working as the Pizza Plex could be. It was after closing time, and you were doing your final tasks. The glamrocks were in their rooms, the S.T.A.F.F bots were on their set paths, and nothing on the floor needed fixing. The last place you needed to check on was the daycare. 

Walking through the big wooden doors, Sun is nowhere to be seen. You call his name, followed by Moon’s, but still nothing. Shrugging it off, you make your rounds, checking everything is in place. During the sweep, you could hear muffled words from a storage closet.

“Do you think they’ve kissed anyone, Moon? We can’t do that…” That was the unmistakable voice of Sun. “I wonder what it would be like. Hmph, even the glamrocks can move their mouths…” He grumbles.

When you open the door, Sun jumps like he’s been shocked. He scrambled to stand up. “Ah! Oh, hi! You’re here early!”

“It’s almost eleven. I’ve been here for almost thirty minutes.” You say, checking your watch. “What were you talking about?”

“Would you believe me if I said nothing?” The daycare attendant tilts his head, his faceplate spinning a bit.

“No, I would not.”

Sun sighs as he sits back on the closet floor, his legs crisscrossed and his hands holding his face. Taking a seat next to him, you ask him what’s wrong.

“I was just thinking about some stuff after our play. Moon and I can’t kiss you!” He flops over dramatically as if he’d heard tragic news. “Our face is stuck in this stupid smile!” He tugs on one of his rays, angry at his lack of facial mobility.

“Hey, I don’t mind that you guys can’t kiss me. There’s more to a relationship than that. Besides, there are other ways to kiss.”

This breaks him out of his kissless stupor. “There are? Tell me, tell me!” Sun practically shakes where he sits. “Better yet, show me!” He opens his arms wide, inviting you to do as you please.

Taking one of his large hands in your own, you place a kiss on the back of his hand, leaving a lipstick mark on the shiny plastic. While he didn’t have pupils, you could feel Sun’s eyes burning into you. He didn’t want to miss a single second!

The touch sensors in his arms and hands weren’t that sensitive. Kids sure did like to scratch, kick, and bite. But even so, he could still feel your lips pressing fluttering kisses to his casing. Laughter bubbled up in his voice box. 

Kiss after kiss lined Sun’s arm. Even if it left stains, this is one mess he could let slide. You took his other arm in your hands, mimicking your previous affections. Kissing back up his arms, you reach his faceplate. Sun’s giggling gets louder as your lips kiss the hard surface of his cheeks.

“Hey, your shift’s almost over. Get ready to clock out.” Vanessa’s voice rings from your watch. 

When you pull away to answer, Sun tries to follow your lips. “Alright, I’ll be at the office in a moment.” Sun lets out another round of laughter.

“Oh, you’re with him… Your pay gets docked when you stay overtime, you know. Make sure to leave before the shutters close.” With that last sentence, Vanessa cuts off her line.

With excited, shaking hands, Sun brings your face closer to his. “Keep kissing me! Please, please, please!” His begging is cut short as he listens to Moon say something. “Awww, but I’m not done!” Sun still gets up to turn the lights off, moping the whole way there.

Bright red optics suddenly appear in front of your eyes. The lights glow against your skin. Moon clicks a flashlight on, making his faceplate look more menacing than he probably intended. “You weren’t thinking about leaving, were you? Not when you haven’t given me the same attention Sun got, right?” 

“Oh, of course not, Moon!” Cupping his face in your hands, you leave a kiss mark on his forehead.

You bring your trail of kisses down to his nose, trailing along the curve, up to the corner of his eye. Moon lets out that raspy laugh of his. He tugs you closer, craving the warmth of your skin against the cold of his plastic.

He watched as you kissed down his face and neared his chest. “Sun was whining all day, worrying over us not being able to kiss you.” Moon snickered. “He was fretting over nothing, as usual. But I must admit, he’s right about some things.” 

His ‘breath’ hitched as he watched you kiss right where his heart would be. The fans in his chest cavity kicked into overdrive as they tried to cool his circuits, trying their best not to overheat. “Kissing you would be a dream.” 

Letting out a laugh of your own, you press another soft kiss on Moon’s chest. “I guess I’ll have to do the kissing for all three of us.” Punctuating your sappy sentence, you kiss their sculpted-on smile. An audible puff of air leaves the daycare attendant’s chassis.

 “Attention Pizza Plex Guests and Staff. The Pizza Plex’s doors will close in ten minutes.” An automated voice rang over the building’s speakers.

More alert than before, you get up from the closet door. “I gotta go!” You were not trying to spend the night here. “Bye, Moon. Bye, Sun. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget to wash that lipstick off!”

They weren’t really listening, absolutely high on kisses. For a few hours, they simply rest in the daycare’s storage closet, gushing to each other about you. Well, more Sun than Moon.

Once it was time for Moon to do his rounds around the Pizza Plex, he’d forgotten about the lipstick covering his exoskeleton. It wasn’t until Monty knocked on the glass of his room.

“You having a good night, Moon?” It was like the smirk in Monty’s voice was audible from his voicebox. “Seems like you had a lot of fun.”

Seeing his reflection in the glass, Moon lets out a growl. How could he forget to wash off all this lipstick? “Not a word of this to anyone.” Moon scratched his fingers down the window, leaving marks behind. He turns tail to head back to the daycare and wash the stains off of himself.

Unknowing to the lunar animatronic, Monty had already sent a message to all the other bots.

#daycare attendant x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy’s x reader #sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader #security breach x reader #security breach #fnaf #daycare attendant #x reader

[lactoseintolerentswag]

The Spotlight Effect

Maybe someone else has pointed this out before but I'd still like to talk about it!! Something really interesting to me about Leo (rottmnt) as a character is his inherent charisma, and how he draws in people with grand and dramatic speeches. Visually this is shown by something I like to call the "spotlight effect".

Season 1 Episode 2 "Origami Tsunami"

Originally the mentioned effect was used as a bit/gag. Here Leo is trying to hype up the boys to go on a junior-level "safe" hero adventure, and does succeed in getting them excited. Throughout the episode he's shown to drag them place to place, one inspirational speech after the other.

Season 2 Episode 1 "Many Unhappy Returns"

In season 2 we see this effect return. In "Many Unhappy Returns", in which Leo is initially a figure of comedic relief to ease tension in the return of the Shredder. This backfires a little bit, as it mostly annoys his family despite good intentions (which are not clearly communicated). It's not until he proves that he's taking this situation seriously--and ramping the team up with another one of his on-point speeches about everyone's strength of character--that he becomes a point of inspiration. The scene above takes place after Raph questions Leo, who in turn responds with "trust me".

Season 2 Episode 2 "Todd Scouts"

Again we see the "spotlight effect" used as a gag; however, there is still an interesting point here made in this scene. Leo calls himself something along the lines of the master at apologies, and something I believe that contributes to the effectiveness of such apologies is that charisma that draws people in. Which is shown visually for us via this effect!!

Season 2 Episode 5 "Air Turtle"

Another apology of Leo's after his dismissive and competitive behavior when playing basketball with his brothers. It also serves as a motivation point in this episode, for them to go against the mysticly beefed up basketball players.

Season 2 Episode 9 "Bad Hair Day"

I'm tentatively counting this as part of the phenomenon I've pointed out because while Leo is Put under the spotlight as a potential suspect to the thieving in this episode, Leo takes full advantage of it to wrap people around his finger. The hair doesn't not help either.

--

And now for one of the most Blatant and emotionally impacting examples.

The Rise Movie, the moment when they think their brother is lost, and when Leo begins to finally start listening to his team.

He unites them under his hope and confidence. I mentioned in this post that Raph is their center of responsibility, well in comparison Leo would be their center of inspiration. His competitiveness rubs off on his brothers (encouraging to put their all in the silliest of things), his playful encouragement keeps the baby of the team from being too babied, and his speeches tie everyone together to one goal. Hope is a ninja's greatest weapon, and while he may not realize it until Casey Jr. quotes that famous phrase, he's been using it this entire time.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leonardo #character analysis #long post #critter talks #sorry for the low quality screenshots #still figuring this whole posting thing out #anyway there might be more scenes i missed #will also try and id the screenshots later when im more familiar with breaking that down in a long post format #anyway leo's a good boy #and i hate him <3 #rottmnt movie

[olivianyx]

UPDATES ON MY JOURNEY

Heyy all! I've been focusing on my senior professional medical year and it has been stressful. So here are some things I manifested effortlessly and a few things without me thinking about it. Long ass post ahead! ⚠️⚠️

1. Getting more pocket money than usual. Like my parents usually transact in my account like a $80 or $100 AUD per month. But in both feb and march this year, they transacted me $500 and $700 AUD! Plus! I occasionally find $10 or $50 cash in my classroom or on the streets sometimes (and they come lie next to my feet 😭) I'd ask everyone in my class if it's theirs, and they say no. What do y'all expect me to do? Like go and give it to the university management?? 😭 hell no, so i kept it lol.

2. MANIFESTED DIOR'S LIP OILS!! 😭😭 LIKE 5 OF THEM 😭 YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH I'VE OBSESSED WITH LIP OILS 😭😭 AND I WANTED THE RASPBERRY ONE SO BAD, AND GUESS WHAT? I MANIFESTED IT ALONG WITH 4 OTHER SHADESS OMGGG 😭😭😭

3. My crush giving me hints that she's obsessed with me 😭 like she literally told me 'you're so sweet and caring, I've never met a person like this after my grandma' cus her grandma passed away recently and she was so depressed. She even had an eye infection, so she stopped coming to the uni. So i had to make sure she's alright, and met her everyday cus she needed someone real bad. Like she needed to talk to someone and get that thing bothering her outta her head. I was there all along whatever she was going through (don't come at me y'all, ik if we help someone they would say all these things but she's my crush lol so) She's also getting real close to me, like she tells me how annoying people are lol. She loves skin ship, physical touch, being clingy around me, and complimenting me 😭😭 so these are the hints 😭 like friends wouldn't do that right? Would they?? (My friends diss me right in front of everyone 😶)

4. I've always been the type to care too much for the silliest things, nowadays I don't really put my energy into it and become all anxious. My anxiety levels have completely gone down like I'm literally cool asf?? Even while being in public?? Literally yess

5. Manifested getting my hair coloured next week! and my mom permitted me! For my cousin's engagement in april, I wanna be there like the hot younger sister I am lol. I just wanna make my relatives and their kids jealous cus they made fun of me when I was younger (my younger self has been dreaming for this moment) so why not a revenge glow up?? 😭

6. Losing weight even though I eat like a pig due to my study stress. Like literally I ate a 5 course meal one day and lost 2 kgs the next day? (cus I randomly checked my weight for 2 days cus I had to submit my height and weight to the university student records)

7. Getting a natural blush on my face! Like it's such a game changer, I look like a movie star y'all 😭✋🏻

8. My teachers complimenting me for my discipline and high scores. As yk uni professors don't even give af bout students and they complimented me??

9. Getting into a new friend group! My old one was too toxic and they would always bully me (verbally) my new friend group is literally soo damn enjoyable! Like they're the cool kids of the year 😭 and now I'm one too!

10. As I mentioned in my older post that I'm moving into an apartment. We moved in and it was too difficult for me to sleep as the place was new and also there we're disturbances in the night time like stomping noises or playing loud music at night. So the neighbors there were too sweet that they introduced and comforted us that it's okay and if something's bothering us they'll take care of it. And they literally made the people who we're causing those disturbances to vacate out 😭😭✋🏻

11. My hair getting shinier! It was brittle before as I was severely anemic, now my baby hair is back and it's shining ✨

12. I overheard my parents conversing that they should make me audition for an entertainment company....like what? 😭😭✋🏻 when I asked them once years back they denied giving me a 4 hour lecture and now they wanna make me audition?? Like literally 😭 y'all watch me at the Grammy's (after 5 years lol)

13. Getting into the void on command or intention.

14. I literally get free foods everywhere I go 😭😭

15. I got free gifts from my uncle who's living in France! He works at a fashion company and he sent me perfumes and a few outfits (I can't reveal it I'm sorry)

I ONLY WAS THINKING ABOUT GETTING MY LIP OIL, GETTING CLOSE TO MY CRUSH AND FOCUSING ON MY STUDIES. THE REST, I MANIFESTED WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT IT.

SO WHAT NEXT?

I've decided to respawn to my waiting next month. I'm still scripting how my waiting room should be... So it might take time for me. So till then I'm gonna be strengthening my self concept even more, and also getting more and more excited to be in my waiting room! I want my waiting room to be like a more like a sci fi movie and a princess fairytale combined 😭 (ik I'm weird). Like I just want my favorite anime characters to be there to help me script my DR ✋🏻 So I'm kinda in a more excited mode lately to script my waiting room! Will give you updates on how my waiting room will be in a future post! So until then take care, love you, byeeee byeeee!

- olivia 🤍

#law of assumption blog #law of assumption #loassblog #loassumption #neville goddard #reality shifting #loa success #affirmdaily #dream life #frequency #manifestations #manifestyourreality #scripting #void state #void success #void thoughts #advaita vedanta #advaita #non dualism #non duality #mini shift #shifting realities #affirm and persist #visualisation #live in the end #girlblogging #this is a girlblog #updates #mental diet #mental health

[silverskye13]

Ask game: so originally I was going to ask for some kind of angst with RnS Helsknight and then I saw “turned into an animal” and now I cannot stop thinking about him turned into like. A dog or something. Could you,,, draw that pretty please :]

(I also think Tanguish would find that situation hilarious)

"You deserve this," Tanguish informed him, hiding a laugh behind a hand. "You should've kept your thoughts to yourself until we were back home, but no, you had to tease me about the stupid cat curse while we were still in front of the church, and now look at you."

Helsknight much to Tanguish's glee, did in fact look down at himself, a gesture that looked incredibly cartoonish on a dog, even a big, wolfish dog, which he was. Helsknight was all mean angles and teeth and hackles, with red-brown fur that thinned around his scars. He looked like the sort of dog that got into fights in alleys and junkyards, with a bite to take fingers off, and somehow, sitting on the cobblestones and looking down despondently at his paws, he also managed to look like the silliest thing on earth.

"You poor thing," Tanguish said, ruffling the top of his head. He snatched his hand away when Helsknight snapped at it. "Oh don't be like that. I am sorry you got turned into a dog. But you've got to admit it's a little funny."

Helsknight growled deep and low in his chest, probably trying to convey that no, it was not funny in the slightest. Except the tip of his tail was twitching, betraying begrudging amusement at his turn in fortune.

"You're massive," Tanguish observed as Helsknight stood and shook out his fur. "Well, you're smaller than normal. But for a dog you're huge. You know, I've heard they put teams of big dogs on sleds and make them pull people through snow. I bet you could pull a sled."

Helsknight tilted his head slowly in Tanguish's direction, ears angling back, teeth barred just slightly, in an expression that could be best read as, try to put a sled on me, and you will never be able to use your hands again.

"It could be fun."

Helsknight's eyes narrowed, which Tanguish read as, sure, and living without hands would also be fun.

"You're supposed to chase sticks in the mud, not be one," Tanguish sniffed indignantly. Helsknight did his best impression of an eye roll -- a motion that tilted his snout back in a funny little half circle -- and butted his head into the back of Tanguish's knee, sending him stumbling.

"Alright! Alright. Let's go see if we can find a curse breaker further up the road." Tanguish said, leading the way down the street. "You know, your sense of humor was better when you were a person."

Helsknight made a harrumph noise and stuck his nose in the air. Tanguish decided dignity looked ridiculous on dogs.

"D'you wanna chase?" Tanguish asked, lilting his voice up in faux excitement at the end of the sentence. Helsknight's ears perked as did his tail -- and then he forced them back down again into a scowl when Tanguish started laughing. "You're just like a dog! You got all excited and everything! Should I get you a lead and take you on walkies?"

Helsknight growled and snapped at him. Tanguish sprung out of the way, and again when Helsknight snapped at him a second time. Then they were running off down the road, Tanguish laughing, dodging in between pedestrians as Helsknight barked and growled and loped on his heels, tail wagging and claws skittering on the cobblestones. They ran all the way to the square in the city center, where Tanguish finally stopped at the fountain, too winded to go any further, laughing breathlessly. Helsknight bounded straight over the fountain's edge and into the water, and Tanguish figured he probably splashed him on purpose.

"Well you can't be that angry about this," Tanguish chuckled. "Your tail's been wagging for the past twenty minutes."

Helsknight, still up to his chest in the water fountain, looked back at his treacherous tail with murderous intent. He snapped at it, missed, snapped at it again, spun in too quick a circle after it and fell over into the water. Tanguish fell onto the cobblestones too, laughing too hard to breathe.

Gods. He couldn't wait to tell the guys at the Colosseum about this.

#Situations Asks #peregrine5 #im love them your honor theyre so stupid #rns ficlet

[bitchesgate3]

Disclaimer: I have not romanced Minthara nor have I fully played the Dark Urge.

One thing I've experienced whilst having Minthara in my party since Moonrise is that there feels like there are narratively TWO Mintharas. And the Durge break up makes sense for one and not the other.

This 1st Minthara: Upon rescuing Minthara, all your initial conversations are deeply emotional. And later ones at camp are so deeply insightful that her maturity and experience compared to the other companions really stands out.

She understands the plots going on and the subterfuge and conspiracy. She reflects on her experiences with the Absolute, her understanding of the Chosen 3, her gratitude about being saved by Tav, her time under Orin's thrall, and gives us glimpses into the emotions that run through all these experiences.

How does a merciless woman grapple with being shown mercy? Her specifically. Not Dror Ragzlin. Not Priestess Gut. But her - singled out - for mercy?

This Minthara feels like she makes sense of these experiences for herself, to find a life to carve out on her own - integrated with her indomitable spirit. She is a dynamic and nuanced character and makes her a must-have companion for me on ANY playthrough.

However, another Minthara exists.

Minthara is most likely intended to be Chaotic Evil. She comes across as Lawful at times, but I think she was de facto made to be compatible with any type of evil, hence she must be chaotic. As opposed to Lae'zel who with Lawful Evil and disapproves if you are dishonorable in some way.

Astarion in EA was more overtly Chaotic Evil leaning Neutral Evil, and probably more conventionally chaotic because some of what he approved of felt like evil for shits and giggles. Following his whims and entertainment.

Minthara on the other hand is certainly calculated by comparison. She understands that seeding disorder is a way to destabilize an existing power in order to obtain it for one's self. This knowledge of undermining pairs extremely well with the overarching mindflayer plot. So while she may inevitably seek more secure power for herself, her ambient dialogue options encourage chaotic evil in this way.

And that's where this 2nd Minthara character comes in. She is the only companion that consistently disapproves of every "good" aligned decision the other companions make. She encourages you to make deals with Gortash and the Emperor (THE master manipulators), and has all these big plans for world domination right out the gate that she sort of assumes you're on board with.

The most egregious thing for me is that she grants approval for the silliest evil actions in the game.

It's clear to me that being opportunistically evil, selfish, and self-serving makes sense for a character like Minthara who utilizes chaos and fear for her own goals, but I find that because she is the only character who could possibly align that way, Larian gives her EVERY possible [calculated] chaotic evil approval that comes up.

So this 2nd Minthara ends up saying the most contrived, cartoonishly evil dialogue responses that really breaks immersion because it feels as if she's only saying that because she's the only companion who can.

That being said, I don't mind this "2nd Minthara"/Chaotic Evil Minthara existing and actually being a part of her character (because clearly this is intended and part of the authors' vision), but when the 1st Minthara seems to hint at possessing divergent thought while this 2nd Minthara seems stuck in her ways, I can't merge the two entities as the same one.

I actually think the game needs to add flags similar to Gale and the Crown where the more you agree with Minthara on her disapproving of the companions defying their dominators/approving when they align with them, only then you will get the Durge break up if you defy yours.

Just adding those flags - not even adding new content - would be an easy fix and I think would help justify why these two Minthara's even exist.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #minthara #larian #the dark urge

[splitster]

answering MORE asks!!

featuring: pom wraith au, ✨discovered secrets✨, character motivations and more! check it out! ↓↓

now THAT's a question... it VERY much depends on the story!! it could range from immediately supportive, to shocked confusion, to terrified repulsion-- i've made art for a few different ideas... but ultimately it depends on how close they are (and the circumstances under which she's revealed)

Dingo's loyalties are going to lie with the rescue corps. he's been there for a while, and he's friends with his coworkers. he especially has loyalties towards Yonny and Shepherd (one being his childhood friend, and the other his captain that he's grown to tremendously respect). so if he thinks that his crewmates and his friends are going to be endangered, he'll always side with them first! so hopefully whenever Pom is revealed, he'll realize Pom isn't a threat!!

i think he'd be prone to accepting Pom's secret, especially if they've started becoming friends. maybe she has to protect him out on the field (dumbass tried to show off and it backfired), and she gets hurt in a way that reveals she's not human. maybe Dingo encounters Pom accidentally when she's in her full wraith form, and he's entasked by the rescue corps with monitoring this "Rose Wraith" to make sure it's not a danger to their mission, and at some point he realizes the Rose Wraith and their new recruit are one and the same. there's a lot of possibilities!

they're fun to think about... i do want to pick an idea to flesh out with art or maybe some writing hehe!!

i will admit i've never looked too hard into that particular theory, so it's not something i had or will have in mind when making this au... there's certainly something very mysterious about the planet that neither the crew nor Pom understands. there's a strange connection between the planet PNF404 and the wraiths too!

she can't shrink her core that much, so it'd have to be something that can fit a ball in it. otherwise yeah i guess she could just recreate gmod prop hunt💖

OHOHHOHOHO its funny you ask this, i literally have a comic drafted about this exact scenario

you'll see parts of this in the comic i'm making, but think about it from Pom's perspective: humanoids are really weak, squishy things. they can die from the silliest things! if they get stabbed they'll die, if they hit their head too hard they die, they can't even lose limbs without being at threat of dying. compare that to Pom as a wraith -- the only thing that's fatal to her is her core getting shattered. she's way tougher than the others, and she doesn't have a good frame of reference for what IS fatal to humanoids because they seem to be able to die from anything...

so when Dingo gets hurt out on the field, she'd freak out thinking Dingo is straight up dying. if they're close enough, she'll sacrifice her cover as a regular person and go wraith mode to save him from any further damage. she asks him over and over if he's dying, and when he says no she'll ask if he's lying. she's panicking! when she's dragging him back to the ship and when the adrenaline wears off, she might get teary eyed. she genuinely thought she was about to lose her crewmate... someone she'd started to consider a friend. she's never had anyone to lose before and it's a very scary feeling!

there are a LOT of really good questions here!! i can't fully dive into everything here or else i'd end up writing a novel but i will try!!!

pom is a VERY simple creature at first. i haven't decided on which planet she grew up on -- probably a random civilized colony -- but she grew up on the fringes of society. she's always been an observer and in the background; she's experienced enough to loosely know how to fit in, but a lot of social nuances are lost to her because of her inexperience.

but (unfortunately) there's some shit you have to do if you want to engage in society, one of which is make money. if you want a place to live you gotta make some dough, and through some fortunate coincidences she happens upon the rescue corps recruiting advertisements. one thing leads to another, she ends up training and eventually recruited as a new officer. whoever was supposed to background check her clearly was sleeping on the job, because a simple Space Google would've revealed her listed home planet of Karut to be fake (when they asked where she was from she panicked and said carrot💖)

pom has spent so much of her life simply drifting on the outskirts of a civilization she doesn't belong to. she doesn't realize (until she has friends to lose) that she was very much lonely. when she's on the rescue mission she comes to understand herself and what she wants a lot better, but that also precariously places her right on the edge of tragedy because now there's stakes if her secret is found out

she might be learning more about humans every day, but ultimately they're still a mystery. there are so many nasty potential outcomes if her secret is found out, ranging from being outcasted to a worst case scenario where they attack her or experiment on her indefinitely. she's never had anything to lose before, so now that she does she's terrified of the possibility!

realistically, if pom's secret was found out in the middle of a mission, i think most of them would be concerned but ultimately accepting. their new recruit is just a little gooey, but that's okay! she's still a star officer, and they couldn't execute this rescue without her! (shepherd is terrified of Creatures though so she'd take a while to warm up. yonny however is already chomping at the bit to experiment on her)

however... if they thought wraith pom might've replaced their original recruit, that'd go horribly. imagine being shepherd -- she'd think that the new recruit she spotted at training camp DIED, and was replaced by a gooey abomination at some point during this rescue mission. that's terrifying to think about, they don't know anything at all about what pom is so they might fear the others being picked off and replaced, or any amount of other awful things.

likewise, if they realize wraith pom has a connection to this planet (and to the other wraiths), they might suspect she's trying to tear them apart from the inside. pom is a complete unknown, and that's a scary thing! so ultimately their reactions depend on the circumstances of how she's revealed

thank you!! i already talked a little about everyone else, but captain Olimar is an interesting one. if you consider strictly the canon of pikmin 4, then he would simply be curious. he's never met an alien creature with the same level of sentience as him, and you KNOW he'd be taking writing and taking notes on her lol

however, if you consider a slight deviation from canon where olimar had a run in with the plasm wraith, his reaction would be WAY different. wraiths have a certain unsettling aura to them (it's how wraiths can sense other wraiths nearby), and if olimar spent an extended amount of time around the plasm he probably would've picked up on that sense. the first time he sees pom exposed, even if its just her partial form, that horrible awful sensation would prickle the back of his mind. she feels like the plasm, and that would be terrifying and AWFUL. olimar is a very kind man, but he's not about to subject himself to any more trauma (or endanger the nice rescue corps folk who saved him), so he'd spearhead the effort to contain pom (with the intention of ousting her back whence she came)

THANK YOU!! please hold pom like a hamburger. she'd just stare at you with that blank ass expression

my life long crusade to draw all pikmin characters screaming...

THANK you!! i love those silly cartoon people

PNF-404 is basically like a buffet to her with all the creatures she can eat for biomass. she can control her size but this is a funny thought

"There was a terrible accident with the ships miniatizer... I flipped the m to w and now I'm big...."

oh hi!! uh i've never used fire alpaca, I used Paint Tool Sai for the longest time before switching to Procreate. I also sometimes use clip paint studio but Procreate is my go-to art program!

i could make a FAQ but i don't know what i'd put there HLIHAIERHA i don't have too many frequently asked questions

thank you for reading this far!! i also appreciate everyone sending in asks💖, I try to read all of them even if I can't get to them right away. I'll get through them all... slowly...

#pikmin #pom wraith au #modask #modpost #thank you for all the asks!! 💖

[luvring]

heyy l love ur all your touchstarved hcs and I was wondering if you could write anything for ais? if you’ve done him already could you do leander? thank youu <3

GENERAL AIS HCS

gn!reader | OF COURSEE my babygirl & thank u omg IM GLAD U GUYS LIKE THEM !!🫶 i'll probably make a separate leander post + posts for the others too tbh

you see it in the demo but he's so so happy to see you get along with princess + any other pets 🙁 personally i need a scene where they go to you instead of him and he pretends to be offended.

"after all i've done for you?" he asks before squatting beside you. his eyes flicker over to you before he joins in petting them. "guess i can't blame you, though."

ais teaching them tricks and grinning and saying good job and laughing when they jump on him for a reward. him teaching princess a trick and secretly being very excited to show you because he wants to see your reaction🙁💔

ONE LAST PET NOTE but i need to know what other names he's thought of because he totally looks like he'd give a big scary pet the silliest name ever. peak entertainment for him

if you know any other languages he'd love to learn some phrases!! yes i mean insults for others and nicknames for you. ais loves using them on like,, leander,, who's like What? so he can go "Wouldn't you like to know."

would be very amused if you dyed your hair to match his. calls you a copycat but if you threatened to redye it he'd get more annoying (said lovingly)

does the thing where he leans in really close as if he's gonna kiss you then doesn't. he reaches to grab something behind you and moves away while grinning

he likes listening to you talk about your interests and makes sure to remember important details. casually osmosis's (???) your interests and opinions even if he's never touched it himself

pulling him closer by his clothes or necklaces gets him. Interested.

the pocky game. he takes huge bites and kisses you or gets so incredibly close everyone's just like oh shut up. takes the stick that's a centimeter long between his fingers and goes "i think we got an inch left"

the type of guy who if you wordlessly hugged him would be like "miss me that much?" but have a noticeably firm hold around you because he Is a little worried about why you're hugging him. if you sincerely say yes, his eyes and voice soften when he says "well, good thing i'm here now."

he's confident and totally trusts you but he also finds it incredibly amusing to walk up and kiss you or wrap an arm around your waist if he sees someone try hitting on you. asks "hey, babe, who's this?" while staring right at them. Won't be nice if the person's an ass though

not afraid of pda. you could literally be clinging on to him and he wouldn't mind.

one of the guys who'd carry your silly looking bag without hesitation

you could say "oh try this," about a silly little heart headband and he'd let you put it on as long as he can give You one. "now we match," he says with a grin. take a picture together and set it as his lock screen and he won't change it for ages

looks like a guy who will drape himself on top of you if you're in bed or on the couch. the type of guy who when you say you need to go pee says okay i'll come with you before you shove him

^ likes it when you hold him and just play with his hair or trace things along is back. he plays that game where he tries to guess what you're writing and is ? weirdly good at it ?

if you made a playlist for him he'd listen to it whenever he misses you

also if you have spotify he always checks your profile. you say "i need to know who's liking my playlists" and he's like yeah they must have a crush on you. it's literally him though

sends you shit like this and says you @ me / us / etc because he's annoying and also correct. ais at the peak of the "you want me so bad" jokes would be on top of the world

#touchstarved game #touchstarved #ais x reader #touchstarved ais #🧾nia.answers #<3 anon #i want him.... #someone remind me to add these to a masterlist #ill do it in 3 hours when im back from essay writing. oh my god #q #nia + touchstarved

[shark-myths]

I've honestly been feeling the exact same way as you about the SMFS vid!

I feel like FOB's vids generally follow one of two threads: The most over-the-top, silliest self-roast possible, so they just have an excuse to be as ridiculous as they can (ie Uma Thurman, Irresistible, Wilson (Expensive Mistakes)), or a study in loneliness, and finding community again after you've been made to feel like you don't belong (ie Sugar We're Goin' Down, The Youngblood Chronicles, Young and Menace, What A Catch, Donnie).

SMFS manages to walk the fine line between the two pretty well, I think, and the more I think about it, the more endeared I am by it!

yes!! And I think over the last 20 years, Pete has become so used to being a spectacle, he’s started to just—put true things in plain sight under that thin gauze of silliness, knowing he’ll be dismissed and there’s no risk of being understood. the SMFS video feels like one of those thin-gauze moments.

and working with Jimmy, who came under media scrutiny for his emo look last year, amid rumors about his sexuality—receiving the pw treatment, in a way—while showing us something so soft and open, the see-through identity of the invisible man… well. this has ended me!

#smfs #fob #thanks anon! #I have so many feelings! #fall out boy’s Orville peck moment #asks

[just-a-carrot]

i'm desperately battling post-launch depression by playing more dd2 (unsurprising; i've been battling every negative emotion lately with dd2 🤣) and i've had a breakthrough

genzou finally rode in the oxcart with iggy

ok i think i need to explain the mechanic. so there's a semi fast travel function in game where you can hire an oxcart to take you to a different town, and iggy will sit in it while his pawns walk alongside/out front to act as bodyguards (I say semi fast travel because 90% of the time it's interrupted mid-way by monsters attacking the cart LOL). however, i found a post online from someone surprised when their pawn actually sat next to them in the cart once! seems it can happen if they're at max affection, but even then, it's very rare and by chance(???) (they only saw it once in like 85 hours)

after reading this... i became determined to get genzou to ride in the cart next to iggy because i thought that would be so sweet 😌 little did i know how difficult that was going to be... hence:

the oxcart conundrum

strap in because this is gonna be a journey... (with gifs!!!)

i knew that genzou already had pretty high affection so i decided i would just need to attempt to ride the oxcart a lot (i normally don't ride it that often)

many times, i would go to ride the cart, and genzou would kinda stand at the back staring up at iggy as though he really really wanted to get up into the cart... but then as soon as the cart would start moving, he'd quickly run around to the front like normal

one time he came up into the cart and looked like he was going to sit down???? .....but then suddenly ran off and started twisting back and forth as though flustered and like he couldn't decide what he wanted to do LKASLDFAD (ok i'm just making up thoughts for game code now BUT STILL)

i felt like i had to be getting close. but still no matter what i did, he would never actually get up and stay and sit down. i would try different things like running around behind the cart to try to get genzou close before walking up into it. i would try sitting up and back down and getting on and off the cart. one time i literally even just spent like 30 minutes riding the oxcart back and forth between vernworth and checkpoint town again and again in hopes it could trigger but nothing. NOTHING. it was starting to feel like it must be impossible

then... at the most unexpected time... IT HAPPENED

i dismissed both my other pawns because i tend to do that when i'm done for the night, then thought i'd try for funsies to ride the oxcart again...

...this time, when iggy sat down, genzou stepped up in the cart?!?! ...but then just stood there?? even as the cart started moving??? GENZOU WTF SIT DOWN YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO???????

i waited for a bit and he still just stood there even as it entered oxcart mode until finally i got so frustrated i made iggy stand up, which seemed to make genzou all flustered...

genzou ended up going all the way back around to the front of the cart, so i thought it was a no-go and had given up in my mind for this try. so i sat iggy back down. as soon as iggy sat down, genzou weirdly ran back behind the cart again and started acting all weird, like getting up half into the cart...

then like ten seconds later... after it zoomed back out to the standard oxcart view...

he stepped up into the cart.......................

................AND SAT DOWN

i may or may not have made a very unholy squeaking gasp and clapped my hands over my mouth LKJDFALSKDF

IT LITERALLY TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET THIS TO HAPPEN

i know it's the silliest thing and not even that "momentous" but because i'd been trying and failing for so long it felt very big and my heart started beating really fast LOL 🤣

once i had calmed down i got a few more cute shots. once you go into oxcart mode the perspective gets locked and just transitions between a few different set POVs of the oxcart moving along all cinematically lol

it was the first time i didn't "Doze Off" to skip forward 🤣

ofc then however the oxcart eventually got attacked and destroyed by an ogre LKAJDLASD whoops. WHICH LEFT IGGY AND GENZOU STRANDED BY THEMSELVES??? IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT??? ONLY HALFWAY TO TOWN???

i was a bit scared because i didn't have my full party (and night is quite dangerous in this game) but fortunately my levels are high enough now that i was able to make it back ok. and actually it ended up being very sweet, it was the first time i'd had only iggy and genzou without any other pawns and genzou was like, so much more conscientious of iggy??? giving him curatives and sticking closer to him and high-fiving/elbow-bumping a lot more than usual?????? he even started saying things i'd never heard him say before. felt like a whole new experience 🤣🤣 so now i may try to do this more often at least in areas where i won't get completely decimated and see if i can capture some of the cute things he does...💕

ANYWAY WHY IS THIS POST SO LONG I'M SO SORRY THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I ENTER POST-LAUNCH SLUMP AND NEED GOOEY HAPPY FEELS TO SPUR MY HEART

#carrot plays dd2

[theold-ultraviolence]

What are canon Aemond’s three kids tantrums like? Whose more likely to throw them, who’s lasts the longest and how do Aemond and reader deal with them?

Ohhh this is such a good question friend!! I read this ask earlier today but I've been thinking about it most of the morning, SO!

Elaena:

She is by far the one that throws the most tantrums because she's the most independent/energetic of the three, and Aemond is very overprotective of her, naturally, as she's the first daughter.

When she's little, she throws tantrums when she has to attend her lessons with the Maesters, and when things don't go her way on the first try. When she's getting fed up and bored during balls and royal gatherings, or when she's just not allowed to go out and play beyond the limits that she's allowed to venture into. When she's made to eat things she doesn't like. And at first, when the twins were born and her muña was tired and couldn't play with her as much as she used to.

At first, Aemond and reader are a little bit afraid of being too strict and causing their daughter to resent them, so they coddle her to the max during a tantrum, but they end up noticing that it makes Elaena think that she can get away with it.

Through lots of tantrums that escalate in length and intensity, they learn that it's all about balancing the coddling but also the discipline, and Elaena has to learn to keep her composure when things don't go her way, whether she likes it or not. It's a learning curve though, Elaena is the firstborn after all.

The older she is, like, when she's a teenager, the longer her tantrums last because she gives everyone the silent treatment for a week. This ends up being problematic in the sense that Aemond goes scarily serious: "You want to avoid talking about your problems with us, then fine. But I'm gonna respond with the same treatment you're giving me so you realize that this is not the way to treat others." So he stops talking to her as well. That's when he's absolutely had it with her. He'll never yell, but it definitely hurts more when he goes all cold and distant.

So it ends up creating this tense bubble in which neither is talking until Elaena breaks and knocks on her parent's door looking very regretful and sad to have been so bitchy with her family.

Aeron

For Aeron, I'm imagining that reader and Aemond were kind of surprised and perplexed at how calm he was? he rarely cried as a baby, would sit very still during family affairs, and always played well with his siblings.

So the first time he throws a tantrum, they're like that Pikachu meme, just staring at him with gaping mouths, while Aeron is on the floor kicking his legs and crying, and they're completely lost as to what to do.

And it was the silliest thing - either his shoes or his pants fit him too tight during a ball or a trip, and he was too polite to say because the clothes were tailor-made specifically for the thing. But he just COULD NOT stand it anymore, he wanted to slip into his pajamas NOW.

Aemond and reader have to escort him out, kneel to his level and ask him what's going on between his cries. When Aeron explains, Aemond and reader lowkey want to laugh, but reader takes Aeron in arms and carries him off to their apartments while Aemond stays back with Elaena and Vaella.

He's totally a mamma's mom like his father before him, and he feels more comforted by his muña every time.

And during some other time (still a toddler) he was getting fussy and antsy until he started to cry because he wanted to be served dessert, and was already sickened of eating boring ass food during a banquet sl;kdjflkjg.

When he's older, he starts getting a little bit annoyed with Elaena, because they both want to be the best dragon riders and sword wielders in the family, so they butt heads at times (even when they love each other).

So after a particularly nasty fight, Aemond had to sit them both down and explain that there's absolutely no reason as to why they can't aspire to similar things. That rivalry between siblings is poison to a family. Having similar interests makes them more powerful when they join forces, not the other way around.

Vaella

After Elaena, Vaella is the one to throw most tantrums, but it's far different than her sister in the sense that Vaella will cry and whine when she's made to go out of her comfort zone.

She's the shyest kid of the bunch, especially when she's still a baby/toddler. She's afraid of many things and doesn't like to feel pushed into them, even when it's for her own good.

The first time Aemond and reader took the kids out to swim, Vaella threw the biggest fit because she didn't want to separate from Aemond's arms as she was afraid of the ocean.

With Vaella in arms, Aemond slowly started to swim towards the deeper part of the ocean to try to push her, and she just couldn't take it, she was inconsolable.

At the shore, he shook her shoulders and very sternly said, 'Listen to me, Vaella. You have to be brave and conquer your fears, my girl. What will you do when your muña or I are not here anymore!?" But that just made her cry even more slkfjlkjgd

She also throws tantrums every time she has to attend a public event because she loves to be cozy in their private apartments and feels very weird and awkward socializing in general.

Aemond is the one to constantly give her pep talks, and it's about the only time he's truly stern and strict with her. It hurts him, because he knows how sensitive his girl is, but he also understands that he'll do her more harm if he doesn't give her the little pushes that she needs to grow.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen hcs #aemond targaryen headcanons #aemond's children #hotd #house of the dragon #headcanons #my writing #aemond targaryen fanfiction #my oc: aeron targaryen #my oc: vaella targaryen #my oc: elaena targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #ewan mitchell

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

Lemonade — Vada Cavell

When I was seven years old, my friend , Vada and I started a lemonade stand.  Ever since then, she and I have been inseparable.

It was a hot summer week, and quite frankly, we had nothing to do. Her mom had just gotten back from the store and asked us to unpack the groceries. Neither of us wanted to, but like I said earlier, we had nothing else to do.

"Oh my goddd the weather is killing me!" I complained, putting the milk carton in the fridge. She nodded in agreement.

"Look!" she squealed, "lemons!" She takes out a huge bag of lemons.

"That's a lot of lemons, V," I laughed.

"Buy tuh-woo, get three free," she desperately tried to read the label.

"You mean buy two get three free?" I tried to raise an eyebrow.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes, "we should make lemonade!"

I got out her mom's fancy pitcher and a knife, and miraculously didn't get cut while slicing the lemons. Less miraculously, the juicing of the lemons on multiple occasions stung our eyes.

"Okay, we gotta add lots of sugar," Vada told me, tasting the pure lemon juice. Her face puckered up in a way that even then I knew was not good.

"I love sugar!" I smiled, pouring an unhealthy portion of sugar in.

By the end of the afternoon, we made one dollar an seventeen cents with our one sale to the boy, Nick, down the street. 

"We should go buy candy!" Vada's eyes lit up.

"Ooh! M&M's! And jolly ranchers! And gummies!"

That was also the day we learned that there's not much you can but for $1.17.

It was a devastating day.

Twelve years later...

"Hi Vada," I exclaim, running up to the shorter brunette, giving her an obligatory head pat before enveloping her in a hug.

"Hi!" she smiles widely. I love her smile so much.

"What do you wanna do today?" I ask.

"What's there to do?" she replies. We end up lying down on her trampoline for at least an hour, scrolling through TikTok's together.

"What is it with the Lana Del Rey, will you serve me Lemonade trend?" Vada says, confused.

"No idea," I confess, "but it's fun to see celebrity glow ups showcased by it."

"No, totally," she laughs, "You've totally gotten a glow up."

"No, you're literally hotter than the sun, shut up Vada!" Vada's definitely the prettiest girl I know. Everything about her is so flawlessly beautiful. She could literally wear the silliest most random outfit she found at the bottom of her closet and pull it off perfectly.

"You shut up!" 

We sit in silence for a moment, then an idea pops into my head.

"Let's make lemonade!" I decide. Vada shoots up excitedly, "yes please! Anything other than TikTok's!"

"I agree."

We set off to work, making (much better) lemonade than we made last time.

"Okay, first of all, your mom has a lemon juicing thingy now, which feels over the top fancy, but we should probably use it," I tell her.

"It's literally a thingy you put lemons on and twists them, that's not fancy!"

"Whatever, let's use it!"

We slice up the lemons and begin to juice them.

"Damn, if this is what giving handjobs to guys is like, I do not want to date guys. Honestly, not really into that even before this. Like honestly, they're not doing it for me," she rambles. Her rambles are the cutest thing. If you don't interrupt her, she can go one for hours about conspiracy theories, shows, books, songs. It's one of the many things I love about her.

"Vada, you're literally gay, you don't have to worry about handjobs."

"No you're literally gay!" she points a finger at me. I pretend to take offense, slapping a hand over my heart. Joking around with her is the highlight of any day.

"We're both gay, now work on the water to sugar to lemon ratio," I decide.

"Why are you turning lemonade into mathhhhh," she complains.

"Just work on it!" I exclaim.

"Anything for you, my dear," she winks at me.

We finally finish the lemonade after fifteen minutes of bickering. I'm excited to try it, honestly. I haven't had good lemonade in years.

"Will you give me some?" she asks, noticing I've poured myself a glass.

"Pay Up!" I laugh.

"Is $1.17 enough?" she asks innocently.

"Why, you got that much?"

"The exact same coins," she confesses. I blush at the fact that she's kept coins from twelve years ago that we earned selling lemonade this whole time. I've never seen her as the sentimental type

"Damn, I must have meant a lot to you," I tease her.

"Not as much as you mean to me now," she takes a step closer to me, booping my nose.

"Oh yeah," I say, "and how much is that?"

She smirks, taking the lemonade out of my hand and setting it down on the counter.

"Enough to do this," she cups my cheeks and stands on the tips of her toes to brush her soft lips against mine. I hate to sound like a stereotype, but I swear I can feel fireworks go off in my stomach. My arms wrap themselves around her waist before finding their way to her hips and gently pulling her closer. She tastes like lemons and sugar(unsurprisingly considering we're making lemonade). Such a perfect taste for such a hot day. I could get used to this. It's hard not to crave more and more.

It's funny that just a few nights ago we were making fun of couples on TV who were like this, and yet now we're completely totally a cliche.

"Sorry if I read that wrong," Vada apologizes after pulling away.

"You're not reading it wrong, don't worry," I reassure her, kissing her lips again.

#Vada cavell #jenna ortega #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega x reader #vada cavell x fem! reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #vada cavell x y/n #Vada cavell x you #cute #lemonade #childhood memories #lana del ray will you serve me lemonade #the fallout #no trauma in this one #Fic #reader insert #x reader #Queer romance #lesbians #useless lesbians #gay people #little gay people in my phone

[normal-thoughts-official]

That post I made earlier today got me Thinking™ about Mr Yusuf al-Kaysani and the way he uses humor, and turns out that I find that a really interesting trait of his character, so I'm giving it its own analysis

Like. Listen. Joe is funny. We know this and he knows this. It comes naturally to him and it's part of who he is. However, the more I think about the times he made deliberate jokes in the movie, the more I realize that they were almost always made in times of distress or to diffuse a tense situation

When we get the first scene of the immortal family, Joe shows that he is fun and carefree (the way that he spins Andy and makes her laugh nearly instantly), but he's also pretty laid back. He's happy to sit back and laugh as the moon when he's lost in darkness gets his ass handed to him in a bet, and generally takes a backseat in the interactions while the others do their respective clown routines. He isn't really trying to be funny, at that point; the ones making jokes are the others

The first time we see Joe have an "I am fucking hilarious" moment is when they're in the helicopter and he hits Nicky with his Fuckboy Grin™, and that is a mood diffuser if I've ever seen one. The other three are all tense, armed and getting ready for battle, and we get several slightly-uncomfortable long shots of them sitting still and getting into their Soldier Headspaces, and then it pans directly from Nicky's longsword to Joe's open mouthed grin. It makes Nicky smile, and it also gives some relief to the tension that had been building up

And sure, part of that is that it's how Joe is, he's the carefree one, but part of it also seems like a very intentional way of lightening the mood - and it works, too, both for Nicky and the audience

Then, the first joke he tells in the movie is the one about the shoes Copley planted in South Sudan, which. I hesitate to even call it a joke because it falls so flat, but that just solidifies the point that Joe is using humor on purpose to try and diffuse the tension in the group. It is clearly an attempt at a joke, he even gives a little chuckle at the end, but he's obviously hurt and it doesn't quite land. Still, he tries, because everyone is tense, and upset. And humor is the best way he has to try and pull them back from that state, if only for a moment

Then, over the rest of the movie, we- okay, to be fair they are in stressful situations the entire rest of the movie, but most of his deliberate jokes come as direct responses to Moments of Duress™ - "he thinks you're a mouse, Nicky" comes when Merrick is threatening them, "bedhead?" when they are strapped to their tables, "faster than the elevator" when the fight with Merrick is over and they're all catching up with their tiredness and tension, and so on. Similarly, his silliest moments come when they are in tense situations (the wink and other funny faces and laughing when they are in the dinner with Nile, which is obviously tense as hell for all of them). The fact that he's using humor deliberately to try and lighten the mood during hard times becomes pretty obvious when you put all of his jokes together

Which isn't unusual, plenty of people use humor as a coping mechanism. Hell, I'm from Latin America, "laughing so we don't cry" is a common saying where I live. But the thing that gets me is that Joe is not using humor as a coping mechanism, because it's not supposed to help him

He doesn't make a joke when he sees the shoes, despite the fact that they clearly get to him. He makes it when the others are rattled by the fact that they've been set up. When Nile dreams of Quỳnh, Joe is so visibly devastated, but he doesn't try to lighten the mood once. When he is in the van, chained and desperate to see if Nicky will wake up, he doesn't make a joke. When he finds out that Booker has betrayed them, which obviously hurts him, maybe more than any other of them, he doesn't make jokes (he is cutting, yes, and I'll admit that "no man left behind" "well there's always a first time" is one of the funniest lines in the movie to me, but I don't think he intends it as a joke; he means it, because he's angry, and the humorous effect of the response is cut by the "he's nothing but a traitor" at the end. But, again, Joe is just naturally witty so it comes across as funny without that being, necessarily, his intention). In the moments when Joe is in the most distress, his humor is nowhere to be found. When his family isn't there to hear/see his response, he is just as tense as the rest of them are

Which brings me to my main point - Joe isn't using humor as a coping mechanism, because he isn't using it for himself. He uses it for his family's sake. Every time he makes a deliberate joke, or is goofy, it's for an audience, it is directed at the rest of the family, it is functional. He is trying to make them feel better, not himself

And that makes sense, because after Quỳnh was gone and before Nile joined? Joe was the only one who was really light in their group. Andy and Booker were obviously doing their Depression and Self Destruction Tour at nearly all times, and Nicky is a rational person. When confronted with problems, he thinks of solutions. When Andy is mad at Copley, his response is to say "we did it right, for the right reasons" - which doesn't work, because Andy doesn't want to hear it, but it's the way Nicky thinks. He has no regrets as long as his heart is in the right place, and when in a tight situation, he's going to try and get out of it. He's not the kind of guy who lightens the mood when things get tough; he is the kind of guy who takes everything deeply seriously, and takes it upon himself to find a way out of bad situations

Which is not to say that Nicky is a closed-off cold weirdo who doesn't know how to have fun, because if the baklava bet proved anything it's that Nicky also knows how to try and make his family happy. I know we all love to roast him for being shit at bets, but let's be real for a moment here - after a millennium of knowing Andy, there's no way he doesn't know that he will never fucking win at this. When he loses, he puts his hands over his face, but we can see that he is smiling about it, and I think he covers his face to hide that fact. I'm pretty sure Nicky was genuinely trying to outsmart Andy when this started, but at this point I'm also completely sure he just keeps doing it because it makes everyone laugh when he inevitably loses

(I think Joe knows that, too, because the smile he gives Nicky when he proposes the bet is too knowing and too fond)

But Nicky's moments of lightness come when they are already at ease; once the mood darkens, Nicky immerses himself in the seriousness of the situation. He is a soldier, and that's the headspace he immediately goes into. Which has its role in the group, but the fact remains - without Joe, the three of them would let themselves be swept up by the tension in their lives and never come back. They need Joe, because they need someone who can bring levity and soul into their lives

Which is a role Joe fulfills naturally, of course, because that is who he is - he is the artist, the one who's in love with life, the one with the easygoing personality and sense of humor. But it is also a role he fulfills consciously, and deliberately, because Joe also cares deeply, and so he knows that they need him to bring them back in the moments of darkness, and he is still trying, desperately, to keep his family together emotionally

And I just wonder how much of a toll that takes on him sometimes. Because after Quỳnh and before Nile, there was no one to do it for him, no one to pull him from his own darkness. And whenever there is tension in the group, Joe needs to step up and try to take care of everyone. And I'm not saying they don't take care of him as well, obviously, but this does mean that Joe is frequently choosing to put his own fears in the backseat in order to help his family. And the thing about using humor as a coping mechanism is that it's an easy way to make your own feelings ignored, both by yourself and others

Now, obviously Joe also allows himself his feelings - part of his whole thing is that he feels so openly and so intensely - and him and Nicky are clearly constantly playing taking-care-of-each-other chess trying to outprotect the other at all times, and Andy also tries to care for them all despite her own pain. But there is this particular thing that he also needs and that no one else is really well-equipped to provide, and that kind of forces him to put his own feelings aside on a regular basis so he can help the others. And it's gotta be pretty lonely and alienating, sometimes, to be the one to always take the lead in these moments and be the only source of lightness when things get heavy

(I'd also like to take this moment to praise TOG for making it so that Joe takes this role without making him a Comic Relief Character™ and also giving him the depth and complexity he deserves. God, I love this movie)

So, in conclusion, I believe that Joe being the only one who is able to diffuse the tension in the group a lot of the time is one of the ways in which he suffers from their isolation. It makes him uniquely lonely and challenged by their immortality situation, as they all are. It is also one of the small ways in which he takes care of everyone else, and an important role he plays in the group, particularly after Quỳnh is gone and before Nile comes*

*by which I don't mean that Nile is the New Comic Relief, although she is also pretty funny. What I mean is that her arrival changes a lot in their dynamics, particularly because it makes Andy visibly lighter, so the situation changes considerably once she's in the picture

TLDR: Joe uses humor to try to support the rest of his family emotionally, and it's an interesting trait of his character

#i wrote this whole post on my phone #which had 10% battery and no signal #on a shitty public WiFi while my phone lagged and bugged every five minutes #so you know the joe brainrot is real #mr al kaysani please release my brain #tog #the old guard #meta #yusuf al kaysani #joe the old guard #joe tog #tog meta #long post #eventual italics #has tldr #immortal family

[separatist-apologist]

Red Earth & Pouring Rain

Remember what we found? No one can ever take that away. Something forever.

Summary: When Feyre's father tries to set her up with one of his high society friends' sons, Feyre does the only thing that makes sense in the moment: she fakes a Scottish fiánce. Writing him letters detailing her escapades, Feyre never expects anyone to read them. But when a mysterious uncle leaves her and her sisters three scattered castles, Feyre's forgotten fiánce appears on her doorstep, determined to make an honest woman of her yet.

Or- that time Rhys fell in love with a stranger writing him letters.

Big thanks to Unhinged Bookclub for help with the moodboard and @the-lonelybarricade for being my UK consultant (which consisted mostly of me asking about swear words)

Part 1/2: I've Got Something Burning, Coursing Through These Cold Veins | Read on AO3

Dear Rhysand Campbell-

Today is my sixteenth birthday, which ought to be cause for celebration. I want to be happy about it, but I’m not and I can’t tell anyone. My sisters already think I’m terribly spoiled and my father probably would, too, if he ever cared enough to notice me. Ugh, that sounded spoiled, too. Maybe they’re right. I don’t suppose you understand.

Of course you don’t. You aren’t real. And I guess there’s no danger in telling you about this miserable birthday party (if you could even call it that) or worrying you’ll think I’m spoiled and a miserable brat (like my older sister accused me of) (don’t worry, I pulled out one of her extensions in front of Tomas Mandray which…in retrospect…maybe proved her right on the miserable brat front. It was pretty funny, though. Even Elain cracked a smile.). 

It all started with my father. He woke up one morning a month ago, looked me straight in the face, and asked me how old I was. I didn’t know what to say (I might have forgotten), so Elain told him I would be sixteen in a month. And he said we should celebrate, which made me so happy. I rattled off a list of things I wanted to do, and I thought he was listening.

I should have known he wasn’t when he put Elain in charge of planning. It’s not that Elain is malicious, she’s just…prim. Perfect, really. The sort of daughter he actually wants, I think because she doesn’t make a lot of fuss and maintains his calendar for him like mother used to (she died when I was nine). 

And I definitely should have known we were NOT going camping when Elain had me measured for a dress. She looked so apologetic and I couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings when I know she’s trying really hard to fill the gap mom left when it comes to me, even if it makes her spineless when it comes to dad. And I could have asked Nesta to ruin it, but I guess I’m a little spineless, too.

So by the time the day arrived, it’s this huge party for all of dads friends, one of whom is running for parliament and needs money. And I look so very stupid in a floor length ball gown and—I am not joking—a jeweled tiara while all these old men in their fifties whore themselves out for cash. There was a cake (five tiers and chocolate, which is my favorite flavor, at least), there was singing, and of course the aforementioned incident in which several of Nesta’s extensions were pulled from her head unceremoniously. 

Some leering prick told me I was a woman now. Well, he said it to my breasts, not really me. What is it about men that makes them think that’s a normal thing to do? Am I supposed to be flattered? Elain whisked me away, a smile plastered on her face and when I asked her how she stands it, she only laughed and said, “Oh Feyre.” Like I was the silliest person in the world. 

She looked like a princess, and I don’t envy her for it. Every man our father is friends with is trying to trick or trap her into marriage. I think she could be a princess like Kate Middleton if she had the interest. 

Anyway. 

Father made some grand speech right before the cake cutting, where he talked about peace and, for some unknown reason, Brexit. He also thanked God for  our monarchs, which, I didn’t realize he was that religious but I guess for this crowd, he is. 

You know what he didn’t do? Say thank you for his daughters? Imagine, blessing Charles but not the daughters who enrich his life. Nesta was gripping a steak knife so tightly I thought she might actually stab him and Elain’s eyes were glassy and sad, even with that plastered smile.

And despite how Nesta thinks I’m a miserable brat, she DID stand up and demand everyone sing me happy birthday. And Elain led everyone in an off-key rendition of the song, which was nice. Serving staff cut the cake, and there were, of course, no candles.

Happy sixteenth birthday to me.

And at the very end of the night, some lord (I think—honestly, I wasn’t even listening at that point, I was just thinking about getting those miserable shoes off my feet) told father that his son was single, and also sixteen. I could see father's interest peak and I can’t be like Elain. She’s always letting those awful boys take her on dates, and they always make her cry. So I blurted out,

“Actually, I have a boyfriend.”

Father asked who, but already he didn’t care. So I said the most made-up, Scottish name I could think of—Rhysand Campbell. Maybe you do exist, somewhere. Actually, there are probably hundreds of you, though who's counting? What’s important is that YOU, Rhysand Campbell, are not real and this address is to a post office in the middle of nowhere Scotland. I expect it’ll be shredded. Perhaps the mail worker will read it and have a laugh at my expense. 

Still.

Thank you for saving me tonight. 

All the best,

Feyre Archeron 

Dearest Rhysand–

I didn’t think I’d write to you again, but I think I have to confess my lies, and you are the only person I know who won’t judge me.

Of course, you’re fake, but in my mind you’ve become a little real. Everyone wants to know how we met, and if you’re curious why they would ever want to know that, well, you are very convenient. You see, most girls my age want to date. And in some ways, so do I. There are some very handsome boys, nice boys, even.

But none of my family approves of. If they found out I slept with Isaac Hale, I think they might actually kill me. He’s a fishmonger, which is a very real job thank you very much. It only sounds fake and like something from an eighteenth century book because of the word monger. Which made me laugh the first time I heard it. Anyway, I thought maybe it was better to just get things over with, and he really was so nice that I just…kept going back.

He has a girlfriend now, and I’m trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt my feelings a little. Even though I know I could never bring him home. Nesta would sneer and call him smelly and Elain…well, Elain would probably be nice but her eyes would be pitying. So maybe it’s for the best.

I’m sidetracked again.

So Isaac has his girlfriend from Milton Keynes, which I am absolutely NOT  jealous of, even if her eyebrows made her look insane. I admit, I was brooding which Elain says is going to give me frown lines around my mouth. And of course father took that moment to stroll in and say he knew just the thing that would cheer me up.

That thing??? A MAN. In what world has a man’s presence ever made a woman feel better? Even Elain turned her head to roll her eyes, thinking no one saw. Nesta was in a mood, though I didn’t ask why—I don’t care, so long as she keeps yelling at father on my behalf. She told him seventeen was too young to worry about marriage, which made him remember that Elain is nineteen and Nesta is twenty-one, so I suppose we’ll all be dealing with that fall out later.

But the Lord of Rose-something-or-other has a son. Tamlin? Timothy? I was not paying attention. What I did say, was, “You know I’m dating someone already. I’ve told you all about him.”

I probably could have gotten away with that if Nesta and Elain weren’t in the room. We talk more frequently and they’ve never once heard me say your name. Of course Elain was fascinated, and Nesta was suspicious. Father is far easier to gaslight. 

“Ah, yes,” he said, that liar. “Remind me, who’s son is he?”

And I said, of course, that you were no one’s son, but just a regular Scottish man.

Nesta, that traitor, narrowed her eyes. He can always tell when I’m lying. “Oh? How did you meet this London-living Scotsman?”

Murdering your sisters is a crime. I’m saying that as a reminder to myself, because if she invented a fake suitor to get father to leave her alone, I would have gone along with it. So I said we met in a tea shop. I made you charming. I said you saw me from across the room and couldn’t help yourself. In this fictional meet-cute, you were enamored at first sight, and I, of course, believed you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen (I did not mention that because I was talking to my father). 

That was important, because NO ONE thinks that about me. They think it about Elain, who is so beautiful it makes my teeth ache, and they might think it about Nesta if her eyes didn’t promise violence all the time. But not me. And I have mostly made my peace with it, but it would be nice if there was one man who didn’t prefer my sisters to me.

Even if I have to make him up in order for that to happen. 

He told me to invite you to dinner. Please, oh please, Rhysand Campbell, will you do me the honor of dining with my dysfunctional family? Father will want to know all about your father, and if your family could be of use to him and his shipping business. And Nesta will hate you on principle alone, while Elain won’t be able to help but like you. 

Of course I like you, if only because you are not real.

It’s a shame you can’t make it because you’re heading back to Edinburgh to take care of a sick relative. You’re so compassionate, so selfless. This is why I like you. 

Thank you (again) for rescuing me. Too bad you’re just me, rescuing myself,

Your beloved,

Ferye Archeron

Darling Rhysand, 

Last names are formality by now, don’t you think? I’ve officially taken things too far. The nice thing about being overlooked is everyone kind of forgets what you’re doing (or that you exist), which means you and I have been happily dating for the last two and a half years. If I go out with someone else, no one questions it because they assume I’m seeing you.

And no one cares that they haven’t met you, because you’re some nobody they assume I’ll eventually tire of. Which would be all well and good if I hadn’t blurted out, in front of god and EVERYONE, that you asked me to marry you. Let me set the scene:

I panicked. 

Okay, I guess I didn’t need to set much at all. It was another party and as you can guess, I was in another stupid dress. Have you ever seen Gone With the Wind? You know those kinds of dresses? That’s how I feel, no matter how sleek and lovely the dress actually is. And I know I look perfectly fine in them, but I feel out of sorts. Like a doll, like someone who LIKES when men stare down my dress despite their wife right beside them, and tell me I’m beautiful.

They never say that when they’re looking at my face.

Anyway, do you remember Tamlin? Well, he’s a baron and his father and an MP, despite having so much money he doesn’t need to work (I suspect he just misses when the nobility could boss around the english populace), and he is quite taken with me. Rhys (can I call you Rhys? I feel like since you proposed I could probably call you that), he’s actually really handsome, too. The first time I saw him, I almost considered breaking things off with you. No hard feelings, of course, it’s just…you’re not real.

But he’s duller than dry paint. BEIGE dry paint. We have nothing to talk about, and believe me, I’ve tried. I thought if I could get him to talk to me for even thirty minutes, we could get naked.

But it’s like pulling my own teeth, dragging answers out of this man.

And, between you and me, he once told me “your hair looks clean” as a compliment. He couldn’t even lie and say I was pretty? So you and I continue our romance, implausible as it is. Tamlin’s father was saying how handsome we’d be, and Tamlin jumped in to ask me on a very public date and I am a coward, I think. 

Because I said, “Rhysand proposed.”

And Nesta burst out laughing, the bint. It was Elain, eyes brimming with hope and pleasure—she so badly wants to see one of us do whatever we like, father be damned—who asked to see the ring.

Of which there isn’t one. So I’ve made you poor, I’m so sorry. I lied and said you didn’t have one, because you were working toward affording something nice and of course I don’t care about it (because I don’t). Father demanded to meet you and Tamlin was humiliated (a silver lining to this whole affair, truly). 

Any reasonable person would have just confessed the whole plot right then and there. But I am not reasonable, my darling fiance. I am, I think, a little crazy because I slipped out the next morning and purchased a ring myself from Boodles, and since I bought it, it was perfect. Nothing terribly fussy—a sapphire cut in the shape of a diamond, with little diamonds haloed overtop, like falling stars. Set on a delicate silver band, it really is quite lovely. 

I showed father, who was rather impressed with it. I lied and said it had belonged to your mother, who was so overjoyed at the thought of getting a daughter that she solved your ring dilemma on the spot.

It doesn’t fix the problem of everyone wanting to meet you, of course. 

Our engagement is going to be short lived, I think—just as soon as I can figure out what to do next. If I’m not careful, I’ll be saying I eloped and then what? 

What then, indeed.

Yours, faithfully,

Ferye 

Rhys,

Well. 

It’s officially over. Why am I so sad? You were never anything more than a figment of my imagination, and yet telling my family you had ended things drew real tears from me. Elain comforted me, and Nesta called you a self-serving asshole, which is her way of assuring me she loves me. Father, of course, just barely remembered you existed despite the ring I’ve been wearing for a full year. I tucked it in a box as a token of how far I’m willing to commit to a lie (and because it was pretty expensive, and I don’t think I can return it). 

Even though you’re fake, I didn’t have the heart to make you an asshole. I said your mother had become gravely ill and you had to care for her. That it was with your deepest regrets you ended things—that you thought I deserved someone who could be in London fully, and you would always regret me. 

Nesta called it “typical male bullshit,” so I suppose she believes me now. Or she’s willing to pretend, given how sad I am. I’m mostly sad that I think I should probably stop writing to you. I’m twenty, now, and I think it’s time to stop indulging in my fantasies and be real. I’m nearly finished with school, and I should devote more time to paintings.

And besides, Elain is practically engaged, which has taken the pressure of marriage off Nesta and I, for now. Lord Graysen Nolan. How I wish you were real, because you would think he was a total twat, too. Nesta begrudgingly tolerates him because Elain is so head over heels, but he is awful. A scourge, a plague upon mankind and CERTAINLY upon my beautiful sister. He’s going to dump her in some ancient country estate, fill her with babies, and crush her into dirt and she can’t even see it. 

He is handsome and charming, though, and he has my sister wrapped around his finger. I think it’s because he doesn’t think she’s beautiful—though, I think he says so in his effort to break her down. She is so used to everyone finding her impossibly lovely that the first man who insults her is worthy of her heart.

I’m rambling again. Anyway, this is my official break-up, fake boyfriend slash fiance. I have loved you, though you never existed. You were the perfect man (because you were fake), and I’m not sure how any others will compare. Maybe I’ll try boring Tamlin again. 

What’s funny is that we could have been together, if you’d been actually real. Some dead uncle gifted my sisters and I three castles—one apiece—and mine is in the Scottish highlands. Isn’t that wild? He was my mothers uncle, so technically an uncle twice removed? I’m not sure how that works, honestly. But in his will, he left us each a castle in need of repair to do with as we like. Elain has dreams of turning hers (of course it’s located in the English countryside) into a charming bed and breakfast while Nesta wants to live in it as, and this is a direct quote, “the local bog witch all the children are afraid of.”

As for me, well…I’m not entirely sure what to do with it. I intend to go visit at the end of the month with my paints to see if inspiration might strike. I admit, I’m curious about a real life castle—maybe I will start a farm and remove myself from society instead. Everyone will ask (no one would, because that would require remembering I exist, but lets pretend they would), “What ever happened to Feyre Archeron?”

And my father would be forced to tell them I own a multitude of cows. All of which are named—and perhaps even treated like my children. Who can say? I am not sure if I’m cut out for livestock, or farming or even castle living. Maybe I’ll make it a museum or something else that requires little effort on my part. 

The caveat seems to be fixing it up. I can do that, I suppose.

This whole letter is rambling. It is supposed to be me telling you goodbye, and putting this whole messy affair behind me. Thank you for being my only friend, which I recognize is pathetic. I hope the postal worker who has been reading these takes pity on my plight, however pathetic it was. 

I will think of you fondly.

Yours, forever, 

Feyre 

Feyre wiped her nose on the back of her hand, breathing rather hard for someone who was in decently good shape. Six months since she’d moved to the highlands, thinking replacing the inner workings of a centuries old castle would be easy. Replace the plumbing and the floors, rework the electric, and fix the broken glass and she’d be done.

If only. Every day there was some new, horrible discovery. Bats in the attic and rodents in the cellar. A crumbling foundation that had to be nearly rebuilt. A leaking roof that flooded water into the great hall, which then ruined all the flooring Feyre had installed, causing it to be ripped up and replaced again. 

It cost a small fortune before the sprawling structure was decent enough to sleep in, let alone live in. And though she had her uncles inheritance to go along with fixing the god forsaken castle. Of course, that money was only for castle repair, and was just barely enough. She’d used her fathers money, too, a paltry sum given just how much of it he had to give away when it was for one of his friends or some do-nothing politician looking to cut taxes in a way that personally benefited her father. 

Feyre also considered she was far luckier than Elain, who’s castle came with a rather surly occupant that swore he also owned the castle—and after a little digging through legal records, was found to be correct. Feyre would have lost it if she had to compromise at all.

Except, now she had a nearly finished castle she had no idea what to do with. As it turned out, Feyre did not have the aptitude for farming like she’d hoped, and rather missed living in the city—though, she didn’t miss London. She missed people, and things to do, but not London itself. 

There were enough rooms to turn it into a hotel, like Elain was considering. Feyre also thought it made a rather nice venue for people looking to host events or get married. The view of the Scottish highlands was breathtaking, and the castle itself was really nice. Stone on the outside, mostly modern on the inside. Full, working plumbing so long as no one shoved too much toilet paper into the drains, claw baths, and big, four poster beds in circular rooms overlooking the hillside. There was a full, working kitchen Ferye had never used, a ballroom, a grand hall, dungeons—anything a person might want, if she could only figure out how to market it. 

It was just a passing idea. For now, Feyre was living in it with a small, paid staff to keep herself fed and the bats from sneaking back in. 

It was pure privilege to spend her days painting, and yet Feyre felt like she’d earned it. Without her father and his obnoxious social circle breathing down her neck, she could run wild like she’d always wanted to. She had a little hammock in the courtyard she frequently fell asleep in, a barbeque she’d spent an exorbitant amount on only to use twice, and was even considering digging out a pool. Why not? Who could stop her? 

No one. 

She’d have to go back eventually—home, that was. Her father’s calls were becoming more frequent and becoming more annoyed. All three of his daughters had just vanished, leaving him to manage his own life for once. Who was he going to build life-long alliances with if he couldn’t move Feyre and Nesta around like pawns. 

Elain was all but sold to the Nolans, if the ugly engagement ring Graysen had given Elain was any indication. Feyre supposed she’d have to come home for that tragedy. Sometimes Feyre wondered if Elain wasn’t dragging out the business with her castle in an attempt to avoid wedding planning.

Maybe that was just wishful thinking. 

Feyre woke that warm, summer morning like she did every day. Breakfast was waiting in the small dining room on the main floor—a simple fare of sausage, beans, and toast. She dressed, braided her hair in a long, french tail, and gathered her art supplies, intending to make her way to the furthest point on the grounds. 

Outside the heavy, rounded doors lay a neat stone path meant to feel old, though it was very modern. She’d watched the workers lay it herself. And standing at the very end of it, dressed in a black shirt and a blue and green plaid kilt, was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His dark, blue black hair ruffled in the wind, while eyes so blue they seemed nearly violet, stared openly at her.

She saw plenty of Scotsmen, given she was in Scotland. And yet there was something about this man, with his toned shins clad in high, black socks and his tall, powerful body, that gave her pause. She could see the hint of ink just above his knees and the curve of his neck, and when Feyre looked back to his face, his mouth was curved into a sensual smile. 

“Feyre Archeron?” he asked with a rich, dark accent. 

Feyre cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s she—I ah—I mean, that’s me.”

His smile widened. “Aye, ye are, aren’t ye?”

She blinked. “Can I help you with something, Mr…?”

He chuckled, placing a broad hand against his muscular chest. “Ma apologies. I’m Rhysand Campbell.”

A soft scream escaped Feyre’s lips. “Liar.”

He took a step toward her, reaching into the leather sporran hanging from his waist. Feyre couldn’t breathe, watching in horror as he pulled a stack of letters out and offered them to her. 

She didn’t take them, shaking her head back and forth. “Prove it.”

He was still grinning, reaching for his wallet. Feyre’s hands shook when he pulled out a license, proving he was exactly who he said he was.

“How…?”

“Did ye think there was no one in all of Dornoch with the name Campbell? It’s quite common a last name.”

Feyre’s heart was mere seconds from jumping out of her chest. 

“It was luck I happened to be named Rhysand.”

“Luck,” she repeated, looking skyward. “All those years and you never thought to write back/”

He merely shrugged, taking back his license from her shaking fingers. “At first? It was charming. I figured ye’d stop eventually. Ye wrote a lot of things.”

“Oh, I get it,” Ferye said stiffly. Prick. 

“I’m sure ye don’t,” he replied with that insufferable smile.

“No, I do. You got my letters, figured out who my father was, and now you’re here for money. Is that it, Mr. Campbell?”

“Not quite,” he replied, coming closer still. 

“Enlighten me, then.”

“Where’s tae ring, darling?” he all but purred. Ice slithered through Feyre’s veins, her eyes landing back on those letters. She’d spent three years writing to him, pouring out her secrets, venting about her family…and telling him all about their nonexistent romance. At best, Ferye had imagined an elderly postal woman reading those letters with a mixture of pity and amusement before tossing them. Never, in her wildest dreams, did she imagine that an actual man was reading what she wrote. 

“It’s here, isn’t it?” he pressed, those eyes flashing with delight. “Sentimental, lass.”

Feyre shook her head again. “No. Absolutely not. Send father those letters—”

“And Nesta? Or Elain?” he pressed, preventing Feyre from turning on her heel and leaving him standing in the garden looking foolish. “What about them, hm? What do ye think they’d think of yer scathing assessment of them?”

Feyre exhaled. “What is it that you want? A sham engagement?”

“Oh, a wee bit more than that. I’ve come to claim my wife.”

“You don’t even know me,” Feyre protested, wondering if she ought to just call the police. He was blackmailing her—into marriage, for a purpose she couldn’t ascertain. 

“We’re in love,” he said, some of his smile fading just a little. 

“So I’m supposed to, what, exactly? Call up my father and tell him—”

“The engagement is back on,” he interrupted, closer still. She could smell him, then—like citrus and the sea, washing over her with the warm morning breeze. Rhysand blotted out the sun with his large body, peering down at her with enough intensity to make her uncomfortable. “And we’re in love.”

“Lies.”

“Ye should be verra familiar with that, darling,” he replied, an edge to his voice. 

Feyre ran a hand down her face. “For how long?”

He shrugged. “Who could say?”

Prick prick prick! 

“A marriage built upon the foundation of blackmail. You are too charming, Mr. Campbell.”

“Just as ye always imagined,” he replied with a wicked grin. “Now. Are ye going to invite me in? Or do I have to beg?”

“Why not?” Feyre grumbled, eyeing those letters. Rhysand caught her, offering them up again.

“Take them. It’s not like I didnae make copies.”

Still, Feyre snatched them from him all the same, holding them close to her chest. She’d hoped she might undo this mess simply by throwing them away and thus, removing his leverage. In truth, were Rhysand ever to show her father her letters, it would merely force him to pay attention to her. Elain and Nesta would forgive her, with time.

But the idea of her father knowing just how much she loathed him, all while craving his validation and approval, was too much for her pride to handle. It was enough to make her think that, perhaps, this wasn’t such an awful idea. If she could set some hard rules, having a ne’er-do-well for a husband kept her from ever having to get married to someone awful.

Like Tamlin, who still sent the occasional too-formal text inquiring after her help.

And this man was hot. Surely he knew it, too, if that wide smile and the way he kept running his hand down his chest was any indication. How long could he tolerate her? How long before he realized his new wife had no intention of sleeping with him, of showing him any affection? 

He couldn’t blackmail her into sex—even Feyre had her limits and had to assume he did too.

Or hope, anyway. The bar was in hell, even for a man who’d shown up on her doorstep and declared his intention to marry her. 

She forced a smile on her face. “Right this way, Lord Campbell.”

His smile vanished. “I preferred when ye were calling me Rhys. All my friends do. My wife should, too.”

“I’m not your wife yet,” Feyre reminded him. “My sisters are going to be so thrilled. Elain will want to throw an engagement party, and father—”

“Elope,” he said, stepping through the threshold with big, wide eyes. “I’m not going to London for a wedding.”

“Your wife is from London,” Feyre reminded him through gritted teeth. “You’ll have to visit them eventually.”

“Why? Invite them here. Surely there’s space.”

Feyre whirled on her heel, smacking straight into the hard plain of his chest. Rhysand reached for her arms, steadying her with a soft chuckle. “Careful, lass.”

“Let me get this straight. You will make no concessions in this sham marriage? Because, despite what you’ve imagined, blackmailing is a crime and my father has a lot of money.”

“Do ye want to go back to London?” he asked patiently, one perfectly groomed brow arched. As if he already knew the answer to that. As if he knew Feyre would have done anything to stay exactly where she was—far from London, far from her father and his circle of friends. Feyre crossed her arms over her chest, hating how smug he looked.

“It will be an actual wedding. And you will invite yer family—”

“I have none,” he interrupted, a shadow crossing his handsome expression. Feyre faltered.

“Friends?”

A soft smile. “Aye. Friends I do have.”

“Okay. Then friends. And you will keep your hands to yourself the entire time. Separate beds. Separate lives.”

He clenched his jaw for a moment before nodding. “Aye. I can do that. Any other demands ye have?”

“Once we’re married, I want you to burn those letters,” Feyre said, feeling suddenly small and vulnerable. “I’ll—marriages are not so easily undone.”

“And how do I know ye won’t back out tae moment they’re gone?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

She considered pleading with him. Was it not enough, she wanted to ask, to make her go through with this? That he knew things about her she’d never wanted anyone to know? He couldn’t let her forget it? Feyre took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry. Not in front of him.

“Very well,” she said, trying her hardest to channel Nesta’s icy disdain. “Let me just—”

She turned, and he caught her by the arm, spinning her around. “Give me a reason to trust ye, lass, and I’ll destroy them.”

“And will you be giving me a reason to trust you?” she asked, wrenching her arm from his grasp. 

“I could have gone straight to ye father. Shown him what ye did, demanded he pay me to keep quiet. I came to ye, instead. I don’t want yer money, Feyre. Just…”

“My home,” she finished with a sigh. 

“Aye,” he agreed solemnly. “A castle that belongs to Scottish blood, not the English.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” she snapped.

“Tae only way,” he murmured, and despite the softness of his tone, it was clear he didn’t care for disagreement. Feyre dug the heel of her hand into her eyes and sighed loudly. 

“Call him,” Rhys said, nodding toward her shorts and the phone outline in the tight fabric. “Tell him the good news.”

“He will never accept you as a son.”

Rhys only shrugged. “As long as his daughter loves me.”

“She doesn’t,” Feyre snapped, but it didn’t matter. She pulled out her phone and dialed.

Took a breath. And then. 

“Dad? It’s me, Feyre.”

-*-

Living with Rhysand was a mixture of insufferable and tolerable in equal measure. The castle was sprawling, big enough that for the first day, she didn’t see him at all. She’d instructed the staff to serve him and slipped that ring back on her finger in order to keep up appearances. Absurd, given any truly happy couple reuniting might have spent that first night locked in bed together, and Feyre had very much shut her bedroom door with the letters Rhysand had given and begun to pour through them.

They were worse than she imagined. Not only had she complained about her family, she’d divulged personal secrets, told him about her hopes, her dreams. She’d sent him sketches, she’d told him about the people in her fathers social circle, along with all the most embarrassing and hilarious gossip. Things that Rhysand could have sent to a trash magazine and humiliated half of London with. 

She’d treated those letters like a diary, never thinking there was a real man on the other end. Feyre couldn’t sleep that first night.

Or the second.

She did sleep the third, but only because Elain had promised to come down that weekend, delighted to meet the man she’d heard so much about. Nesta had sent back only three words.

Are you sure?

If Nesta came, she’d see straight through Feyre, so Feyre supposed she ought to be grateful Nesta was embroiled in some kind of property dispute with her castle and a local reenactor who took to staging battles of Scottish victory over the English on her front lawn with loud enthusiasm. Feyre suspected Elain was rather happy to escape for a bit, and might soften Rhysand ever so slightly.

And maybe if he realized there were more interesting Archerons, he might take to courting Elain instead of insisting with the sham wedding. Not that Elain would ever agree to it, but…men had always gravitated toward her. Feyre thought Rhysand simply wouldn’t be able to help himself. 

On the fourth day, Feyre slipped back through the castle, lugging her art supplies in a canvas bag with her. She expected the grounds to be empty, that Rhysand would be inside lording about her staff like some kind of king.

She heard the sound of wood splitting in the courtyard before she saw him.

Shirtless, in that kilt and the same black socks, rolled halfway down his shins from sweat and exertion. He’d found an ax and with a mighty swing of his powerful biceps, brought it screaming onto a block of wood.

Feyre couldn’t take her eyes off the slick, taut muscles of his stomach, his back, tattooed in dark whorls of ink. Rhysand seemed far too pretty to do any sort of manual labor, which brought Feyre back to the present.

Though, he’d absolutely caught her ogling him. He halted, pushing one booted foot up onto the heavy stump he was using to split wood while using the hem of his kilt to wipe at his forehead. “What are you doing?” she demanded. Didn’t he know she paid someone to bring in firewood? Besides, there was heating the castle—she’d also paid for that.

“Chopping wood,” he replied, his eyes sliding to the neat stack at his feet. His tone was polite, though perhaps annoyed. As if he really wanted to say, what does it look like I’m doing? 

“I pay someone to do that.”

“Of course ye do, lass,” he said with relish. “I don’t see why—I am more than capable of helping.”

Feyre hesitated. “You want to help?”

“Aye.” He frowned. “What did ye think I was gonna do? Sit around waving my hands like some kind of fancy lord?”

“Yes, actually—that’s exactly what I thought.”

“I already told ye. I don’t want yer money.”

Yes, he had said this, hadn’t he? Feyre sniffed. “Fine. You want chores? There are bats in the attic again.”

He offered her a handsome smile. Coupled with the bright sunshine and his warm, brown skin, Feyre’s knees wobbled a little. Why couldn’t he look disgusting? Her traitor body had not gotten the message that they hated him.

“I can do that,” he said. “And anything else ye have for me.”

“I’ll make a list,” she said tartly. 

But later, when Feyre was alone with nothing but her thoughts and her canvas, all she could think about was Rhysand, midswing over that block of wood. She thought of the tight expression on his face and the controlled movements of his body.

And even though she hated herself for it, she reached for a piece of charcoal.

And began to sketch. 

-*-

Elain arrived at the end of the first week of Rhysand’s arrival. True to word, Rhysand had done every chore Feyre had left for him without complaint. He’d cleared out the bats and fixed several burnt light bulbs, digging out a ladder from god only knew where. And when he ran out of things to do, he turned his attention to the dilapidated stables Feyre had never bothered with. In truth, she’d always meant to tear them down.

It seemed Rhysand meant to fix them up.

He was out there when Elain swanned in, tan from a summer outdoors in the English countryside. She grinned the moment she saw Feyre, throwing her arms around her sister's neck.

“It’s so good to see you,” Elain said, squeezing tight enough to make Feyre’s ribs ache. “How are you holding up?”

“Me? How are you holding up?” Feyre asked, pulling away to search her sister's expression. A faint blush bloomed over Elain’s cheeks.

“Well—I’m, well, I’m perfectly lovely, if we’re being honest.”

“Oh?” Feyre asked.

Elain held up her hand, wiggling bare fingers while Feyre just stared. “You got your nails done?”

“You’re so terribly observant. I’ve called off my engagement—just in time for you to be married. I’ve come to see if you want any of the things we put deposits on, so they don’t go to waste.”

“You—what?” Feyre gaped, realizing only then Elain was trying to show her a hand without an engagement ring. “What happened?”

Elain only shrugged, though more pink crept up her neck. “It wasn’t right. I was…I was deluding myself, I think. It doesn’t matter, because I know you hated him, so you don’t have to pretend. I’ve brought pictures so you can see everything, and it would be no trouble to have it all brought here for you. I know how much you hate planning,” Elain added brightly. “I only wish I could be more helpful.”

“This is already too helpful,” Feyre said, pulling her sister through the open hall toward the spiraling stairs that led both to the left and the right. Elain drank it all in as the skirt of her buttery yellow sundress swished around her legs. She looked every inch a princess, and it took no effort at all to imagine her walking these halls four hundred years before while poets and bards sang songs about her beauty. 

“Are you going to introduce me to your husband?” she asked, looping her arm through Feyre’s. “I’ve always wanted to meet him. Nesta used to swear you made him up and I told her you’d never do such a thing. It’s nice to prove her wrong sometimes.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed. “He’s working on the stables. I’ll take you to him.”

This would be the moment of truth. Rhysand would see her and realize his mistake, just as all men did. He wouldn’t be able to look away—and Elain seemed radiant that morning, glowing like the midafternoon sun beating overhead. Her golden blonde hair was perfectly curled, a cascade over her slim shoulders while a set of pearls graced her ears. She’d put on make-up, which Feyre never did, and had the air of someone both effortless and yet unattainable. 

The same air Rhysand had, if Feyre was being honest. They’d make a smart couple. Why did that thought annoy her so much? 

Feyre led Elain over the grounds slowly, giving her a tour and pointing out all the work she’d done while Elain explained how her bed and breakfast was going. She’d created a tentative peace with the other occupant and owner of her castle—a man with a distinctly French sounding last name and decidedly French first one. Lucien Vanserra. He sounded snooty, and given the difficulty he’d created for Elain, likely some seventy year old man looking to exert his control one last time before his time on earth ended. 

“Oh, he’s not so bad once you get to know him,” Elain said, which was a very Elain sort of thing to say. She could charm a wild bear holding a sword. If the man had eyes, it likely hadn’t been hard to talk him into a small compromise. 

Rhysand was coming out of the stables as Feyre and Elain began to walk in. He didn’t see them approaching as he mopped up the sweat on his brow with the hem of his shirt. Feyre’s breathe caught at the sight of peeking abs, vanished the second he saw Elain. His eyes slid from her sister back to Feyre, some answered question flickering in his gaze.

“Elain, this is Rhysand,” Feyre told Elain just in time for her sister to plant her foot in a wet container of wood stain.

Elain screeched, yanking herself backward. Her lovely white flat was ruined, which was a shame, truly—though Rhysand? wasn’t looking at Elain at all, but Feyre. His expression very much betrayed his annoyance, some shared secret she didn’t quite understand, as if to say oh. I understand now.

“I’m so sorry,” Elain said, looking at the mess pooling around them. 

“No need,” Rhysand replied, though there was some disappointment in his tone. “I was going to do tae floor as well.”

“Of course. Probably not like this, though,” Elain replied with a small laugh. 

Rhysand only nodded, looking back to Feyre for some guidance. But it was Elain who was the conversationalist, and when she realized he didn’t know what to say, pressed forward. “How is your mother?”

Oh, christ. Feyre had forgotten that lie, amid the others. Rhysand became rigid for a moment, haunted by Elain’s ask. “She passed, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” Elain whispered. Rhysand only nodded, his jaw tight with emotion. So that had been true, in some way. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not yer fault,” Rhysand murmured. “But I miss her.”

Elain nodded. “Well,” she said, wiping her hands on her dress nervously. “We should ah, probably let you get back to…”

“I’ll see ye both at dinner,” he replied, offering up his most charming smile. And that was that. Elain, holding her shoe by the crook of one finger, waited until they were out of earshot before she said, “You really undersold how handsome he was.”

And when Feyre turned to look over her shoulder, she found Rhysand leaning against the wooden door frame, eyes wholly on her. 

It was that night that both Feyre and Rhysand seemed to realize they could not sleep apart in opposite wings of the castle. Elain had made some little quip about how nice it must be to have all this alone time and Rhysand’s fork had clattered to his plate while Feyre’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

He’d come to her, at least. Feyre sat up against a sea of pillows when she heard him knock, sucking in a deep breath.

“Come in.”

A moment later, the handle turned and there he was. He’d put on plain black sleep pants and a white t-shirt, and his still damp hair told her she’d just freshly showered. If she’d been smart, Feyre would have dragged a divan up from another room so he could sleep on it. As it stood, there were two little chairs facing a small breakfast table and then her rather large, four-poster bed. 

And Rhys was a tall man. He looked around, drinking in the cream colored rug and the sand and stone walls, illuminated by an overhanging chandelier. A little potted plant sat half dead in the circular window at the far end of the room, while books were stacked on beneath the television stand haphazardly.

“I’m not sleeping on tae floor,” he told her when he realized their predicament.

“I assumed,” she replied, scooting to the far side of the bed. “No touching.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a theatrical eye roll. As he padded toward her, he asked, “How long will she be here?”

“The weekend,” Feyre replied, trying—and failing—not to notice how good he smelled. “Why?”

“She’s not what I imagined,” he finally said, dragging a hand through his hair with contemplation.

Feyre immediately felt defensive. “She has that effect on people.”

He frowned. “Oh? And what effect do ye imagine she’s having on me?”

“She’s just very…”

“Verra…” he prompted, waiting for Feyre to spit it out. “Dull?”

“What?” Ferye gaped. “She’s not dull.”

“Proper, then. A real English princess,” he amended. 

It was asking for pain, and still Feyre couldn’t help herself. “Then what does that make me?”

He smiled again, his face blooming with warm affection. “Wild. Free,” he added, thinking to himself for a moment, as if he needed to choose his words carefully lest he insult her. “Ye are far more lovely than her—”

“Don’t,” Feyre snapped, unable to stand the lie. “No one thinks that.”

She turned to her side, angrily fluffing a pillow before turning off the bedside table.

“I think that,” Rhysand murmured defensively. “I saw a picture of tae three of ye, once.”

She half twisted to look at him. “How?”

“We do have the internet here too, lass. It was simple enough to google ye. I wasn’t sure which of ye was which—but I hoped ye were…well…Feyre. I thought ye must be Elain, given how much you talked of her beauty.”

Feyre’s heart pounded. “You’re such a liar, Mr. Campbell.”

“Not when it comes to ye, darling.”

There was a pause of silence between them, hanging thickly as Feyre digested that information. Hoped. She didn’t know what to make of that.

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

“It was one of the things I liked about getting tae letters,” he murmured, settling into the bed. After turning off the lights, it felt easier to peel back some of her defensiveness, to listen to him talk. “My sister died when she was wee, and my mother, well. She never quite recovered from it. When ye wrote that first letter, she was ill again and my father was in one of his rages. And there ye were, in a similar predicament. I thought maybe it was fate.”

“Why didn’t you write back?” she asked, turning fully to her side, her head resting on her elbow.

“Cowardice, I suppose. Ye were a bit younger than me, too. Sixteen, but I was nineteen. It dinae seem right, and truthfully, I didnae want spook ye.”

“Is this your attempt at not spooking me, then? Demanding I marry you for reasons you’ve yet to divulge?” she asked, this time without her usual anger. 

“Aye,” he murmured, twisting so he was facing her, too. “I never said I was a good man, Feyre. Only that yer letters were never funny to me.”

“Will you tell me why all this was necessary? I might be able to help, you know—”

“One day,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “When all this is done and ye aren’t so angry, I will. I want to. Not tonight. Hate me all ye like, but I know ye—you’ll be trying to get out of this marriage if ye think you can solve my problems with money. I don’t want yer money.”

“Yes, so you keep saying and yet once we’re married, you’ll have it, regardless. Surely you’ve considered that.”

Rhysand’s pause betrayed him. So he hadn’t realized he’d become unspeakably wealthy the moment Feyre said I do.

It settled some wild, ugly thing in her. “That’s yers,” he finally said. 

And with nothing left to say, Rhysand turned over and left Feyre to fall asleep.

-*- 

Feyre agreed to take the least offensive things from Elain’s wedding, which, to be fair, were few and far between. The cake was nice, along with the flowers of which Elain would always be the expert. Tables and chairs, and of course, the caterer. Elain had been delighted, in no small part, Feyre suspected, because it meant Graysen wouldn’t be getting his money back. What had he done to her? It wasn’t like Elain to be so petty, but with each thing Feyre said yes to, Elain’s smile grew wider and wider until Feyre wasn’t sure how her sister's smile didn’t split. 

And then, with an exasperated sigh, Elain was gone to check on Mr. Vanserra, who was likely wrecking everything in her absence. Feyre thought she’d be sad to see Elain go, but the minute her sister's car pulled out of the drive, Feyre felt the smallest hint of relief.

Rhysand, too. She caught him peeking around a corner, muddy boots on a rather nice ivory floor runner she’d need to wash later. 

“Is she gone?” he asked, as if Elain were some terrible creature and not just chatty and maybe a little nosy.

“For now,” Feyre agreed. “She’s putting together your dream wedding, you know.”

“Ours,” he amended. 

“No matter how many times you say that, it will never be true.”

He stared her down, straightening to his full height. Feyre’s heart leapt into her throat. “Will ye tell me tae truth about one thing?”

“I doubt it, but you can ask,” she replied primly, wedging her way past his obnoxious body.

“In yer letters, ye said I was tae most beautiful man ye’d ever seen. Is that true?”

Feyre froze. If she turned, he’d see her answer written all over her face. “Everything I imagined about you in my letters was a fiction, Mr. Campbell—”

“For fucks sake, Feyre, call me Rhys,” he snapped. “I cannae stand hearing ye call me Mr. Campbell.”

Feyre forgot she wasn’t supposed to look at him, turning to argue only to find him so close she could smell him. Eyes wide, she backed up only for him to slam his palm against the stone wall behind her, trapping her with his body. 

“Tae truth, lass.”

“Why does it matter?” she whispered, hating herself for wanting him and hating herself for not being able to send him away. 

His fingers brushed her cheek. “It matters.”

“You can’t have it all, Rhys,” she hissed. He winced as she spat his name, saying it as though it were a curse. “You can’t have your secrets, this marriage and my affection.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t!” she shouted, shoving him away from her. Rhys let her, though she knew if he’d wanted to keep her where she was, there was little she could have done to stop him. “I’m guessing you’re the kind of man who just snaps his fingers and gets exactly what he wants. You could have asked me on a date! You could have been honest and told me who you were, that you got my letters! I would have said yes, you know. If you’d just asked. And if you told me the truth, I would have helped you. You want your secrets, fine. Here I am, playing along. Whatever else you want from me, though? Forget it. For the rest of your life, just forget it.”

“Feyre!” he called as she stormed off. “Feyre, come back!”

She didn’t turn, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she was certain she was going to explode. Feyre didn’t pay attention to the direction she went, running through the halls as fast as she could, just in case he was following her.

He wasn’t. She heard a door slam somewhere in the distance, and if she had to bet, Feyre would have guessed he was headed to the stables. It slowed her just enough to make a decision. He wanted secrets? Well, Feyre didn’t. She’d been too wrapped up in her own misery that past week to bother thinking rationally, but she’d seen him drag in all his things.

Surely there was some answer to the Rhysand question up in his room. 

Feyre didn’t feel even a little badly flinging open that door. Where she was messy, Rhysand was immaculate. His bed was made for the morning, draped in silken black that was just like him.

He’d tucked his suitcase beneath the bed, and when she opened his drawers to the dresser, everything was neatly folded and in its place. Feyre rifled a bit, feeling like a creep as she shoved aside his underwear and socks. 

The curtains to the windows were pulled open, allowing gloomy gray light to filter through. Outside, she was certain a storm was brewing. If it rained, Rhysand would retreat indoors and she’d have to try again another day. 

She didn’t know what she was looking for when she dropped to her knees, sitting on the plush, circular sand rug she’d put in all the rooms. Feyre pulled out his suitcase, unzipping thinking she’d find a passport with his real name, or maybe a criminal record that would explain this whole thing. And then she could call the police and be free of him.

Her stomach clenched when all she found was a large manilla envelope, unsealed.

Feyre. 

With trembling fingers, Feyre pulled out a stack of letters. They were stapled individually before he’d folded them into quarters. She reached for the one on top, surprised to see it was the very first letter she’d ever sent him, highlighted and starred with a blue pen.

And beneath, was the letter she’d said he should have sent her. 

Dear Feyre Archeron,

Don’t be embarrassed, but I have received your letter. I am curious—do you possess the gift of sight? It seems too much a coincidence that you would mail a letter addressed to Mr. Rhysand Campbell to my home in Dornoch. I’ve decided it’s fate, or at least luck. Tell me, though, this one thing: is your birthday on Christmas? I received this at the new year, and I have been trying to figure out when, exactly, you were born.

I guess it doesn’t matter, though it would be nice to send you a birthday gift next year. If you’re wondering, my birthday is in August. Not that you have to send me a gift. It just seemed fair, since I was asking, to tell you my birthday, too.

And, if it makes you feel better (I’m guessing it won’t, but it did make me feel better), my father also forgot my birthday this year. He was working, and I think he expects my mother to handle those things. I shouldn’t care because I’m an adult, and adults don’t need birthdays (or, that’s what I tell myself at least), but it stings every time he looks me in the eye and asks how old I am. 

I think he thinks I’m disappointing. Maybe I am. 

Anyway. I am happy to be your pretend boyfriend if it keeps you from having to date wankers. If you decide you’d like to write me back, send it to my address in Edinburgh. My mother lives in Dornoch, and I visit when she’s ill (which, to be fair, is pretty often), but I don’t want to miss one. 

That is, assuming you don’t find this horribly creepy. 

Yours in pretend,

Rhysand Campbell 

P.S. I think Nesta deserved to have her hair pulled, just between you and I. 

My silly Feyre,

You keep sending letters (that I devour), but I can’t make myself send one back. I’m starting to suspect I’m a coward, which is a terrible quality in a boyfriend. Maybe you should end things with me and date the beige paint (don’t do that). You’re so honest, and I’m so jealous because without my secrets, who am I? The thought of stripping myself bare makes me feel sick, and so I fold these letters up and pretend you read them and they didn’t disgust you.

In truth, I think you’d stop writing if you knew the truth about me. I’m back in Dornoch and mother is ill and father is working and I am just here. Barely existing, both in Edinburgh where I’m trying to be diligent and finish my education, and in Dornoch, where everyone thinks I’m a good son.

Am I? Can I tell you something? 

My sister died when she was nine. It was no one’s fault—except, I suppose, the man driving the car who hit her. We were out together and Ainsley darted out of reach. Father was closest. He lunged, but he wasn’t fast enough, and by the time mother and I could react, it was all over. 

I was eleven. 

I think we tried to rally together for a while, but the days following Ainsley’s death all blur together. Mother cried all the time and father began yelling. Everyone blamed themselves because we couldn’t blame each other, until we were just festering. Father stayed in Edinburgh, and mother went home and I was in-between. 

It’s like she’s lost in a fog, and I’m so angry sometimes because I needed her, too. I needed them both, and it was like, if they couldn’t have Ainsley they didn’t want me. Or anyone—I think mother wishes she’d died, too. And I think father is too busy punishing himself—and by extension, me—to take care of mother. 

I wonder what will happen to him when she dies. He loved her better than he ever loved either of us. And deep down, I think he’s ashamed he failed her by letting Ainsley die, and it’s better to yell at her, to stay away, to pretend none of it matters to him.

I can’t send this to you, but I like to pretend you’re reading it anyway. That you’d understand, because you feel forgotten, too. That’s how I feel. 

Anyway. Tell Tamlin to stay away. I’m fond of you, pretend girlfriend or not.

Your mess,

Rhysand 

Feyre, my darling,

Engaged? I admit, I laughed out loud when I saw what you’d done. I knew the English were awful, but surely there must be one tolerable man among the lot of them. I’m tempted to drive all the way up there and rescue you, if only to spare you the embarrassment from when this falls apart. I’m also curious to see the ring I got you.

I’d like to have it, if only so I can get on one knee and ask you to marry me myself. It’s strange how much affection I feel for you. How often I think about you, how I miss you without knowing you. I feel as if I do (maybe I’m crazy, too). 

I graduated last week. Father wasn’t there, though he did call in the after to ask me what my plans were. I nearly told him I planned to marry an English lass–but I have no plans for that yet, and no idea how to announce myself to you. It’s been almost three years, and I think I should have been less of a coward back then and just said hello.

I think, sometimes, you would have liked me. More than that other bloke (Ian? I remember his name, but it makes me feel better to pretend I don’t.), at any rate. And maybe my plans wouldn’t seem so far-fetched, and you wouldn’t have to keep lying to your family because I would be asking you to marry me.

For now, things seem possible. I feel like my own man for once, even if I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. Only that whatever it is will bring me closer to you. Of that, I’m certain. I am looking forward to hearing of our fake marriage, though—I hope you tell me exactly how you imagine it, so when we do meet, I can impress you.

Is that charming, or does it make me creepy? It’s a question I keep asking, and I think I’m walking a very fine line when it comes to you. Perhaps this will all be charming to you—or maybe you’ll have me locked up. I look forward to finding out. I’m certain I will never live it down, regardless.

For now, just know that I find you endearing.

Yours,

Rhys 

Feyre,

Your ability to tell the future is unnerving. Our relationship is over because my mother is ill—and though you don’t know it, you were right. I don’t think it would give you solace to hear she finally passed, but in a way, it gave me peace thinking you’d written me to say goodbye. That you understood, even if you didn’t know it, why you and I were just a foolish dream. 

Father and I stood in the rain to bury her. I didn’t think he’d come and it would be just me, watching them set her beside my sister. Reunited, at last, just like she’d always wanted. And for one moment, he and I stood there, shoulder to shoulder, silently weeping for all we’d lost and all the things we’d never have again. Ainsley should be here and so should mother. 

Her heart failed. I didn’t think you could die of a broken heart, and today I think I could, too. I thought I’d prepared myself better for this moment. As I so often am, I was wrong. Father left, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. Or if I even want to. Maybe that moment was enough. Maybe enough passed between us to call it even, to start over.

I think I’ve been trying so hard to forget when I should have been trying to remember. And I think you were just another way to pretend I was someone else, at least for a little while. You don’t know me—you don’t know Rhysand Campbell and neither do I. Not your once betrothed, anyway. That man was a fantasy, someone I wanted so badly to be. 

I would have disappointed you. I’m not a good man, Feyre. I don’t think you would have liked the real Rhysand Campbell, and I would have loved you. That’s the tragedy of us, at least to me. You are witty and funny and charming and I am…I am this. I am not the sort of man you fall in love with, but you. 

Oh, you, Feyre. I don’t know how everyone isn’t in love with you. How you don’t walk onto the street and have everyone at your feet, wishing they knew your name. Begging for a second of your time. And even though I know you’ll never see this, and so it doesn’t matter what I think or what I say, I feel as though I’ve been drowning in endless night, and you were the first bright thing that came along.

It would be wrong to go looking for you, no matter how strong the impulse is. You’ve said goodbye, and I am saying it, too. I need to figure myself out and maybe that will take forever. I know one thing, though. I will always be thinking about you. Always be wondering about you.

It’s your birthday (I think), today. That’s what started this whole thing.

Happy birthday Feyre.

Yours, eternally,

Rhys 

A crack of thunder sent the letters flying from Feyre’s hands. Was she crying? For one wild moment she twisted to look up at the ceiling, certain there must be a leak. Only, no, it was just her, dripping salt onto the elegant penmanship of Rhys’s unsent letters. 

“So,” a dark, masculine voice from the doorway intoned. Feyre’s head snapped to the side, drinking him in. His expression was carefully blank, fingertips holding the frame as he leaned forward. Ferye had been caught, had been so engrossed in the parallel lives they’d been living that she hadn’t realized the rain had started or that he’d retreated indoors.

His wet shirt clung to the contours of his chest, slicking that dark ebony hair to his forehead. 

“So,” she agreed, her voice trembling.

Feyre held his gaze. Waiting for his ire.

“Now you know.”

#feysand #feyre archeron x rhysand #feysand fic #yeah i did this #it started off as a joke #now it has spin-offs #and 13k words #smut tomorrow!

[ikuzeminna]

Why is crapping on Gundam Wing by people reviewing all the Gundam series such a trend? And in the silliest manner possible, because out of the million flaws Gundam Wing has, they never pick any of those. Instead they make stuff up. "The characters are flat." Oh yeah, sure, no depth at all to the guy who starts out as a merciless killer FUBARing every important mission he's sent on (and I love what a drama queen he is), gradually regaining his humanity once he's removed from the battlefield, only to end up horrified by being forced by a machine into becoming a ruthless killer again. Or the guy who spends the entire series preaching 'carpe diem' while he himself is the living embodiment of 'memento mori'.

Or the snarky mercenary with a massive Middle Child Syndrome who sacrifices the only thing he's fought for his entire life (himself) to keep another kid from turning out like him. Or said kid who goes through 50 shades of bonkers and every human emotion in existence during the show. Don't even get me started on the ladies. "Wufei is not interesting." Of course not. Why would the sole guy who doesn't fight for the freedom of the colonies but instead wages a personal war of revenge and a promise he's trying to keep to his late wife be interesting? Which explains why he's a wild card and fights on Mariemaia's side in EW. "The Gundams are overpowered. They never get any damage." Yeah, why didn't they send five suits made of Explodium against a world army? Also begs the question why we see them get repaired in the third episode already. And why every pilot is also a trained mechanic who can fix his own suit. Since the Gundams are indestructible anyway. Seriously. The show itself spells it out. Gundanium may be near indestructible but the electronics and other parts get fried perfectly fine which, surprise surprise, renders a Gundam useless. Never mind that Noin, in episode 4 already, was willing to use a weapon that could damage Gundanium but would overheat on Earth. "Relena's pacifism should never have worked against Romefeller. The show is dumb for presenting it as the solution." .....It didn't??? The whole Cinq arc made a point out of pacifism not working with Romefeller and the Mobile Dolls around. Just- what??? "Gundam Wing isn't realistic." This is like complaining about talking animals in The Lion King. Gundam Wing is supposed to be anti-UC. Being unrealistic was intentional. Being focused on ideologies was intentional. Not focusing on character struggles (too much) was intentional. Having a mess of a plot because you have one million different factions was intentional. If reviewers watch all the UC series and don't get that Gundam Wing has the exact opposite setup then I don't know what to tell them. Complain about talking animals while you watch a Disney movie, I guess. Pick on the horrid pacing. Pick on Relena and Heero being nutjobs in the beginning. Pick on yelling from cliffs. Pick on Noin being a doormat to Zechs. Pick on Zechs being a Char clone. Pick on there being way too many characters in the beginning. Pick on the Dorothy/Quatre connection coming out of nowhere or Une giving herself split personalities because of a dude.

There is a plethora of flaws to choose from. Also, get out of my face with UC being better. That salt episode was the dumbest thing I've ever seen in my life and I've watched Seed Destiny.

#gundam wing #salt #I post something after a million years and it's a rant #of course it is

[distortedkilling]

Probably an unpopular opinion time. Spoilers ahead!

I've seen a lot of comments circulate this this particular part is Mahito throwing a tantrum from losing. While I don't discredit that as true, I don't agree with it being the whole reason. If anything, I think it's a small contribution.

The argument I see a lot is because of how spiteful it is for him eventually shove a rock into one of the "snowballs". I'm like, yes, that is very Mahito but that is also the behavior of someone experiencing utter terror.

Fear makes people lash out and act irrationally even. And for Mahito, who has never known fear and absolute loss, it's not going to register for someone who grew up familiar with fear. A kid gets scared numerous times growing up from even the smallest and silliest of things. Humans jumpscare themselves with utter nonsense. And that's just accounting for common day to day stuff, not the actual serious shit we can go through.

That's all context Mahito has never experienced - and even if he had, when someone is faced with the brink of death they very much can lash out like this. Being brought down to such a weak point with the addition of death is a very vulnerable position to find yourself in. Which is probably redundant to say because yeah, of course it is. But I bring it up because of how easy it is to overlook because you don't like Mahito, hate him, or just because of his childishness.

This is someone who just worked his ass off to become such an awful curse, who finally developed and discovered himself - knew himself. And within that same span, completely loses all of himself and the control gained. If there was one thing Mahito has known, it was himself and his own potential to be strong. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough and now he's faced with the reality of it. All that confidence, all his growth and self-knowing means nothing.

I guess it's more accurate to say that the reality he perceived was shattered and a new one took its place. Given how important perception is in JJK. My beef with it solely being a tantrum over losing is that it means there's a sense of unawareness or lack of understanding. Whereas, I disagree. I think Mahito's new reality is one he understands so intimately well because he's on the receiving end of it. It's new, yes, he doesn't have the time or ability to comprehend just what fear means and therefore can only incoherently yell and lash out and try and stave it off like a cornered animal. But just because it's new doesn't mean it's not innately understood on a deeper level.

Maybe he can't process into words just what fear felt like, but his soul now knows it. It recognizes how others have reacted to him and fought against him when faced with death. I'm not saying these are thoughts he would be having in that scene, but Mahito isn't stupid. He's inexperienced and ignorant in areas, but he knows what fear is from causing it. Only now though is he on the receiving end of it.

Of course he's peeved over losing, yeah. But I don't think that would register to a curse experiencing fear and death for the first time. Even though death was something he has been on the brink of before, the first time he wasn't really threatened because the timing helped him to unlock something that made him a more potent curse. It contributed to his lack of fear about death because in his experience leading up to the scene above, death has only ever made him stronger. Whether it was the one time he nearly died or he has been the one to cause death.

The difference here is he has exhausted every possibility. There is no way out. There's nothing he can do but experience actual dread and terror and lash out in rejection of it. Deny it. Like someone with a fatal disease unable to accept their unfortunate outcome. Because denying something, rejecting reality, is a form of salvaging some means of control you don't have anymore. It may look like a tantrum, or may look like an unreasonable and childish outburst. But that's also how fear can come across when your back is against the wall and there's nowhere left to go. Nothing left to do while an imposing and deadly force has no other objective than to see you dead.

I see this in general with media, too. Commonly disliking a character for having an outburst but like... it's the human thing to do. Mahito is a human born curse, his nature is reflecting the ugliest things of humanity back at them. Of course he's going to freak the fuck out upon being stripped of all the things that empowered him. Powerlessness does that. Threat of death and fear does that. Being forced to be vulnerable does that. How many people receiving medical attention have to be sedated or strapped down just for treatment because of these things? Not to keep using medical examples but they seem like the most common ones that various people can understand and relate to.

Anyways, this doesn't mean anyone should give Mahito sympathy. He's a vile little cretin. I just love the dedication in the manga and especially in the anime to highlight Mahito's unraveling as his body reacts. I really admire dedication to someone having a meltdown out of fear because so often it is waved aside or misunderstood. Not to say my perspective is The Right One or anything, since this is just ultimately my own opinion on it. If Mahito had just sat there and threw a real fit, it would be more accurate to call it a tantrum. But the entire time he's backing off, trying to get away, and that just highlights this (to me) as a total fear response vs "I lost, now I am mad about it" response. Especially since all in the same night he lost his crew of chucklefucks that kept him kind of on rails, then he went off the rails and had some extreme growth, became dedicated to the success of curses and killing Itadori/any other sorcerers. All those quick additions that got stacked came crashing down around him.

There was nothing left but fear.

#headcanons #i am tiiiired don't mind me don't mind me #mahito is very fun to think about tbh. i mean the entire jjk cast is sdgdhfgh

[rhosmeinir]

Fictober 2023 #11

Prompt #11 - "You lost it. Well, we lost it."

Fanfiction: Good Omens

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which I didn't even sit down to write this until 10:30pm so it's one of the silliest pieces of fluff I've ever produced. South Downs. 542 words!

Aziraphale peered over the garden wall on tiptoe, brows furrowed in distress.

“You lost it!”

Below, his foot steadying the ladder upon which Aziraphale stood, Crowley raised his eyebrows. The angel backtracked.

“Well, we lost it.” They had been playing badminton in one of the clearer sections of the cottage garden, when Crowley had delivered a tremendous overhand swing and Aziraphale, in attempting to answer, had tipped the shuttle off the end of his racket, causing it to sail gaily over the wall. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but, “They’re out there again!” Aziraphale exclaimed, and clambered down the ladder. “I don’t think they saw it, but what do we do now?”

Their nearest neighbor was a respectable distance away, an elderly lady who tended to keep to herself, and with whom they had a cordial relationship. However at the moment she was in Wales visiting some relation or other, and in the meantime had let her cottage on AirBnB. Crowley claimed that he had had no influence on the app’s creation, and while Aziraphale wanted to blame demonic influence for its existence, he knew very well that humans were perfectly capable of this kind of evil on their own.

The tenants who now occupied the cottage were an American couple and their several children, all of whom were perfectly fine except that they were loud, extremely friendly, and liked to take up the entire field that stood between the old lady’s cottage and the one belonging to the “quirky gay couple,” with their vacationing antics. Aziraphale and Crowley (well, at least Aziraphale) had made an effort to be polite at first, but as the tenancy had dragged on, they began to simply avoid leaving their own garden when invaders were out. In the midst of wringing his hands, Aziraphale had an idea.

“Crowley,” the demon’s head snapped around at the saccharine tone in Aziraphale’s voice, his guard immediately up.

“Yyeeees?” he asked suspiciously, and Aziraphale reached out to grasp his arm, smiling beseechingly.

“Crowley, you know how we could get it back without being seen.”

“Angelll,” he said with a warning edge, but Aziraphale gripped his arm more firmly and sidled closer, grasping Crowley’s hand with his free one.

“Crowley—"

“No.”

“Crowley, please?” Aziraphale raised Crowley’s hand to his lips and kissed it, looking up over their knuckles with pleading eyes. Crowley sighed deeply, though the pink flush of his ears gave him away.

“Fine!” 

With a faint poof, he disappeared. Aziraphale grinned, wringing his hands in delight this time, and settled expectantly down onto a nearby bench. For a moment, there was nothing but the noise of the American children. Then, a feminine scream rent the air, followed by the sounds of screeching children, then masculine bellowing. Along with these sounds, there was the vibration of a much running about as the voices grew further away and (blessedly) quieter. A few moments later, a large black snake with a scarlet underbelly slithered around the corner and through the garden gate, the shuttlecock clamped comically in its jaws. Aziraphale beamed.

With another poof and a small pop, Crowley reappeared, and spat the shuttle into his palm, shaking his head in rueful amusement.

“The things I do for you, Angel.”

#fictober23 #fictober #good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #south downs #south downs cottage #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic