#Miri shut up challenge

[mirimage]

Heyo new fanfic time! Clancy and the Torchbearer my dearly beloveds.

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[the-dormant-ocean]

I hate myself.

[dr-demi-bee]

We're at War: the Wizard and the Commander

Chapter 4

Finally edited and live! Getting into some ✨drama✨ More fluff and filth to come.

Frenemies -> Lovers ~ Royal Court AU ~ Knight x Noble

Pairing: Gale x f!Tav - NSFW Word Count: 6.5k (chap 4; total 25k) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Summary:

The evening arrives, and with it the Baldur's Gate gala. Miri and Gale both face their own challenges attending the event, but more trouble seems to be brewing. Gortash's scheming might get in the way of their budding romance…

-----------------------Read on A03-------------------------

Miri's staring at her open wardrobe, her fist absolutely shaking with ire.

All the respite she had managed this morning had evaporated in an instant.

She had received an 'urgent' missive - the Grand Duke was demanding she attend tonight's fundraiser gala as a guest and adhere to the strict dress code accordingly.

Meaning no armor, no weapons, and no trousers.

Fucking prick.

It had taken a full hour to rearrange the stations and patrols for the evening to account for her absence. She should be in dress armor on the dais with the king. Not paraded about like an exotic piece of meat.

But Grand Duke dickhead gets the final say on his fundraiser gala - and he’s insisting Miri has to mingle with the common folk so they can see the general. ‘Humanize the face of the war.’

And she can’t afford to tell him to fuck off. These stupid fundraiser galas are critical to outfitting the soldiers and to the success of the war.

Right. Miri growls, pulling out a gown and shoes, then slamming her wardrobe shut.

***

Gale is in his own chambers across the hallway preparing for the gala.

He had just finished pulling a black shirt over his shoulders and was currently fixing his collar when he heard the commotion across the hall. Doors slamming, armor clattering.

He looks up briefly at the sound, his dark eyes widening before his brows furrow in annoyed recognition.

Always so angry.

He’s still troubled by their argument this morning. Off-kilter after a radiant evening together that led to absolutely no change in their relationship. Couldn’t she accept his help? His support?

Gale let out a frustrated sigh and muttered under his breath as he tugged on his deep blue vest and began to button it.

Gods, give me the strength to not strangle Gortash tonight, he muttered to himself.

***

Stupid shoes. Stupid dress. Stupid hair.

Miri practically slams the door of her chambers shut.

It had taken ages to fix her usually simple and fuss-free makeup into something ‘appropriate’ and to style her hair into something presentable - two braids pulling her hair away from her face while the rest cascades smooth and unbound down her back. Every time it shifts against her undercut she feels another spike of irritation.

Miri rests her forehead against her door for a moment, taking deep breaths as she tries to school her expression.

This would be fine. She's done it before. Nevermind that was decades ago... she could do this.

Just be nice. Friendly. Don’t let them under your skin.

Miri straightens her back, squares her shoulders, and smooths the deep emerald and black satin of her gown with an anxious motion. She starts striding her way down the hall - less graceful than usual with the stupid heels. Their straps at least crisscross and wrap all the way up to her knees, so it's impossible for them to fall off. Her bare legs peek out of the high slits in her gown with every purposeful step.

If he wants refined, she'll show them refined.

***

Gale hears the door across the hall slam shut as he begins to tie a purple silk ascot around his neck. His eyes widen and his shoulders tense, before a flicker of amusement flashes through his features. He lets out a brief chuckle before moving to the mirror.

Gale adjusts his shirt and waistcoat, then ties a portion of his hair into a neat bun, pulling the unruliest strands away from his face.

He then slips on his deep purple dress robes, a brilliant contrast to his black shirt and navy waistcoat, evoking the nebulas common in his casting. His fingers move quickly through the practiced motions of pulling the silk over his shoulders and making sure it fits properly around his waist.

Once finished, he pauses to admire his figure and lets out a breath of relief. Gods, finally. One more obstacle out of the way so he can finally get back to resolving this gods forsaken spat with Miri.

***

It takes Miri longer than usual to make it across the palace.

Not just because of the throngs of visitors (busybody nobles, all of them), but because she is slowed by her shoes and having to hike up her skirts to go up and down every set of stairs.

Why are there so many gods forsaken stairs?

***

As he walks through the palace, Gale tries to keep himself from growling with impatience at the guests that swarmed him every few feet. He has to remember he’s an advisor to the king, and he has to keep up appearances, no matter how impatient he gets or how inane the conversations become.

Most of them want to ask him about court, or magic, or talk about the upcoming gala. He can feel himself growing more and more irritated the more people stop him to talk about gossip or parlor tricks they mistake as substantive magic.

He just wants to get into the damn event.

If I have to answer one more question about court or the arcane, I will hex myself, he thought as he approaches the ballroom doorway.

***

Miri enters the far end of the ballroom, skirting the main entrance entirely. The fewer people she has to mingle with the better. And just because she isn’t on guard tonight, doesn’t mean she can’t take advantage of the palace layout.

She spots Grand Duke fuck face schmoozing with nobles at the far end of the ballroom almost immediately. He’s a study in gaudy opulence. Rings and baubles adorning atrocious attire. Gross.

King Ravenguard chats amiably with guests at the top of the grand staircase. His guard, Karlach, hovers close by. The tiefling notices her and shoots her an approving grin when they make eye contact. Miri makes a face in return and fights the urge to groan at her friend's obvious teasing.

She finds a spot near the bannisters overlooking the dance floor to pause and survey the room. Nothing interesting, of course. A modest string band and far too many nobles.

Already she can feel the eyes on her. Lecherous and judgmental alike.

Looking at the exposed expanses of her tattoos. Staring at her lithe but muscular frame highlighted by the form fitting gown. Wondering how an elf so small could be commander of the royal armies. Or how a wild savage could be a royal advisor.

She toys with the pendant at her throat with nervous fingers.

Somehow the plunging neckline and high leg slits in the gown make her feel more exposed than just being nude.

She would rather fight the wyvern again in this outfit than face this leering all night.

***

As Gale approached the ballroom's entrance, he caught sight of Lord Gortash with his usual crowd of admirers. Troubling sycophants. He’s never entirely sure of the man’s motives - but he cannot shake the discomfort he feels at every turn.

He quickly averts his gaze, the image of the duke's pompous expression and obsequious followers stirring a sense of irritation within him.

Gale takes a deep breath and steps through the door into the large dance hall. He’s quick to accept a goblet of wine from a passing server. Taking a sip, his eyes peer over the rim to scan the room.

His eyes quickly picking out Karlach's fiery red skin and hair amongst the sea of gowns and finery. Despite his initial annoyance, he couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort at the sight of his friend. Add to it that King Wyll Ravenguard beside her has a very amiable and charming visage - it’s a little easier to settle into the event with them present.

His eyes don’t stall for long as he scans for a different head of red hair.

***

Miri tries her best to be polite and maintain a friendly smile each time a noble greets her. Tries not to show her lupine teeth, to look sweet and unassuming. Bowing, curtseying, shaking hands only if need be. She keeps her hands together to minimize showing her sharp nails.

She knows how to play the game, as much as she abhors it. She can look sweet.

Unfortunately, that means at an event like this few respect her as Commander of the royal armies - if they even recognize her as such out of uniform.

Add to it that already a dozen too many men have asked for a dance.

"Apologies, I’m not one for dancing," she murmurs politely for the nth time, forcing a sweet close lipped smile.

Thank the gods most of them are accepting enough of this tonight.

***

Gale continues making his way through the crowded ballroom, his feet carrying him across the expansive dance floor. It’s early enough that dancing hasn’t started in earnest yet, but there’s still dozens of bodies in the way as he moves.

For the most part he ignores the chatter of the nobles around him, all too focused on finding Miri's familiar figure in the sea of bodies. Looking for the shine of her dress armor, the sleek, wine-red, braided bun a top her head.

He tries to convince himself that it’s the need to speak to her is the only thing pulling him along. The only reason he’s feeling an almost nervous flutter in his stomach.

As he passes by a small group of particularly gormless fools, he overhears their conversation.

A particularly pompous voice pierces through the din, and draws Gale's attention.

"I can't believe the lythari is here. What's a beast doing at a civilized function? May as well put lipstick on a pig."

***

"Come now, surely a beautiful thing like you can dance a waltz or two?"

The older gentleman, reeking already of alcohol and too much cologne, leans in too close.

"I can make it worth your while." He leers, making no attempt to hide the way his gaze trails her form.

Miri takes a subtle step backward as politely as she can. Does her best to look demure and gracious as she puts her hands up for a polite rebuff.

"I assure you, I am better suited to the battlefield than the ballroom," Miri responds politely, "I'm afraid I must decline."

***

As soon as Gale hears the words leave the pompous noble's mouth, he can feel a sense of rage building up inside him.

How dare he call Miri a beast?

As if she's worth any less than the rest of them! As if she’s not more to this country than any of these over-inflated, asinine, assholes!

He turns towards the men, ready to give his opinion on the matter, when his eyes catch sight of a familiar head of wine colored hair amongst the throng on the mezzanine above.

The sight of her dressed up in an elegant gown - gods, looking nearly divine - causes his breath to catch in his chest. He had expected her dress armor, which is lovely of course, if not stately, but this...

He had teased her about this very idea last night - but gods his every imagining pales in comparison to reality.

The greens and black of her silk gown are perfect with her skin, her hair, her tattoos. Her hair is down and long and the gentle styling is perfection. She is breath-taking. And he is breathless.

And he has never wanted her more in his life.

Every sane thought flees his mind at the sight of that demure little smile. Somehow in this attire she looks small and almost fragile - the mantle of the knight commander taken off for the garb of a lady.

It’s almost uncanny, really, to see Miri being sweet and courtly. But he’d be damned to deny the way it makes his heart throb.

But he can see the subtle way that smile falters. The way her eyebrows shift and her jaw clenches subtly. Tell tale signs of her ire he recognizes all too well.

His gaze shifts to follow hers, and he realizes she is surrounded by a handful of what he can only assume are annoying suitors. And Gale’s heart rate quickens with irritation once more. His feet are moving before he can think twice.

***

"Are you married, sweet thing?" A portly man drawls, leaning in far too close. Some patriar or other. His poor choice of wine sloshes unpleasantly in the cup in his hand.

"No, my Lord," Miri answers politely, "I am much too busy for a family."

"Someone should snatch you up." He chuckles at his own joke, his ruddy face full of arrogant mirth. "Get you out of that dreadful armor and into a kitchen where you belong. I'm sure you could give anyone lovely heirs -"

Don't snap. Don't fight. Be polite.

"Tell me. Would your children also be lythari, sweetness?"

Don't fight. Don't snap.

***

Gale feels his blood rushing through his veins as his heart thrums an angry rhythm. He can feel his cheeks grow heated with anger as he watches the pompous noble's eyes travel up and down Miri's body - without a single attempt at subtlety! Brazenly, openly leering at her. The pig!

When he’s close enough to hear what the man has the utter gall to say to her it sets his blood boiling. The words that leave his mouth are little better than an insult, fragrantly disrespecting everything Miri has accomplished.

The man is damn near begging to be cursed.

Gale quickly closes the distance to Miri’s side, his face a dark scowl. His fists are clenched against the urge to turn the man to a pile of ash. He stops right next to Miri as the noble asks another inane question, turning the full force of his glare onto the pompous man.

"That's enough," he says firmly, his voice cutting through the conversation with irritation. "What sort of arrogant fool are you to speak a lady, much less Commander Adahlen’i, in such a manner?"

Miri startles, looking up to see Gale standing beside her. He looks rather dashing in his formal wear... Colors not unlike the magic he often employs. Almost like...space. And something about the way he’s pulled his hair, lightly streaked with gray, away from his face, neatly trimmed his beard, and glowers like a force to be reckoned with has her stomach doing a little flip.

The noble doesn't wither away from Gale's ire - instead he only grows more heated.

"That's no business of yours, lad," he gruffs, puffing up his portly chest, "I have waited my due to speak to the lady, as I have every right to!"

Gale's anger only grows with every syllable the patriar drunkenly butchers, and his glare darkens with each word that leaves his putrid mouth. The audacity of this man! He had waited a mere moment to speak to Miri - if one could even call that tripe 'speaking' at all. It’s obvious he has no sense of decency or respect.

"Every right?" Gale's voice was like iron, cold and hard. "You don't have the right to breathe the same air as her, let alone speak to her."

"Gale," Miri warns softly.

Gale turns his sharp gaze to her, his dark eyes meeting hers with a mixture of irritation and concern. He can sense her unease - the subtle way she is trying to deflate the situation before it could escalate further. Trying to downplay this insult. Accepting the bullshit foisted upon her. Again!

"You should watch your tone, wizard," the noble huffs in the opening, his ruddy face darkening, "I am a very important member of the Gate's nobility, here as a guest. And I have right to speak to her!"

He turns back to the noble, his glare hardening further as he met the man's eyes.

"You have as much right to speak to her as the dirt beneath her feet. She's the Knight Commander, one of the most well-decorated in the history of Baldur's Gate. What have you done to earn the right to speak to her at all?"

The man scoffs indignantly. "She's a lycanthrope and a beast! She should be gratified to receive any attention at all!"

Gale's eyes narrow with anger and he sneers. Magic crackles beneath his skin and in the air around him, barely contained.

"How dare you!" he snaps, his voice rising with fury, "How dare you speak of her in such a manner! She's not just some common beast! She leads men into battle and brings them back with little loss of life. Protecting everything that keeps you in your lavish positions! And you have the gall - the gall - to call her an animal? You should be grateful to have her attention, much less her time!"

"I never!" The patriar huffs back. "Clearly she's not worth my time - nothing more than a common brute that would take entirely too much effort."

The noble huffs and puffs and turns on his heel, muttering more under his breath as he goes. But Miri can’t even see him. Can’t tear her eyes away from Gale. She’s hardly ever seen his ire directed at anyone but her.

‘She’s not just some common beast!’

Her heart gives a desperate lurch and her stomach seems to have taken flight. The boy who once got under her skin, following her about the palace - clearly gone, and in his place a man.

Gale's eyes burn with rage as he watches the pompous fool of a noble’s retreating back, his fists clenching at his sides. How dare he! How dare he speak to Miri in such a demeaning, disrespectful manner! And call her a common beast, no less? She's the Commander of the Royal Army, not some creature to be mocked and ridiculed.

Miri sighs gently, clearing her thoughts and as she sets a hand on Gale’s forearm gently. As he felt Miri's hand touch his forearm, Gale felt something in his chest tighten. He turned to look at her, his eyes meeting hers and searching her expression for a moment.

"Thank you," she murmurs softly. "Though I fear if you want to fight every noble accosting me this evening you’ll find yourself quite exhausted."

"I can handle a few pompous fools, Miri.” He lets out a slow breath, shaking his head slightly. ��But I can't handle hearing them insulting you. Not even for a moment."

"These weren't even the clever insults," she smirks slightly. Softly reassuring, she goes on, "I can handle it, Gale. It's nothing I haven't heard before."

Her hand gently squeezes his arm before retreating to her side once more. Even through the layers he could feel the heat of her palm - and without it he feels almost cold.

He then shakes his head slightly, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

"They may not have been clever, but they were still insulting you. And that's something I can't tolerate."

Miri shakes her head with a soft laugh, making her long hair away around her shoulders.

"Mm. Then you are in for a rather unpleasant evening," she returns with a smile.

Gale's dark eyes soften as he looks down at Miri, his gaze roaming over her visage - wine dark hair, freckled skin and delicately pointed ears. Stunning green eyes. And the warmth of her smile is enough to temper the flames of his ire.

At least for now.

Miri shifts to lean over the banister again, chin in hand, watching as a dance starts and guests start to twirl about in an organized riot of colors on the dancefloor below.

He can't help but admire how beautiful she looks in her gown, the silk fabric clinging to her slender, muscular frame. The back of her gown is made up of a tasteful lace cutout that elegantly covers the worst of her scars. It’s a peculiar duality of rugged and delicate that he can’t help but be drawn to.

Gale leans against the banister beside her, his eyes watching the dancers swirl about the floor. After a few moments, he turns his gaze back to Miri, his dark eyes roaming over her once more.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says softly, a small smile gracing his lips.

"I clean up alright," she retorts playfully. She eyes him sidelong. "You look rather dashing."

Gale's small smile widens at her remark, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"I do try my best," he says with a chuckle. He then turns his gaze back to the dance floor, his expression turning thoughtful as he watches the couples move about.

"Why don't you dance?" he asks, his voice soft and curious.

"I don't know how," she answers simply. Then with an irritated huff, "Not to mention these shoes are a bloody hazard."

Gale lets out a soft laugh, his dark eyes looking down to her feet. "Well, I can't say that they're not," he murmurs, amused. His gaze lingers on her delicate ankles and the way the straps weave their way up her calf. He feels the urge to reach out and touch her, to wrap his fingers around her slender legs...

He shakes his head, trying to push the thought away. Instead, he turns his eyes back to hers, a small smile on his lips.

"Would you like me to teach you? I know a thing or two about dancing."

"And take away my only reasonable excuse to say 'no'?" Miri gives him a playfully withering look. "No thank you."

Gale chuckles once more, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"You're no fun," he teases, a small smirk forming on his lips. He takes a step closer, his body pressing slightly against her. He can feel the heat of her body, and he has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her once more.

How badly he wants to wrap his arms around her slender waist, to pull her against him and feel her skin against his own. What he wouldn’t give to repeat last night...

"No, I'm not," she shoots back with a wry smile. Miri wouldn’t dare make a spectacle - or rather, a fool- of them both with such an endeavor. She turns her eyes back to the dancefloor as the music crescendos. "I'm sure there are plenty of lovely nobles seeking out your attention."

Gale's smile turns into a frown at her words, his heart aching at the idea of other nobles speaking to her - preening about like peacocks. He doesn't want anyone else's eyes on her, doesn't want anyone else to appreciate her beauty. He wants her to be his.

He reaches out and takes her hand in his, his long fingers wrapping around her slender ones. She looks surprised when her gaze flits from their hands to his face. Brown eyes etched with a deep longing pray for green eyes to see the depths of his feelings.

"I would rather you seek out my attention," he says softly, his voice earnest and laced with a hint of pleading.

She arches a soft brow at him. Surely he doesn’t mean that? Gale could have anyone he wanted - he’s handsome, charming, clever. Not to mention his position at court. There could not be a more prized bachelor.

But her eyes glance pointedly towards the king and then to the stupid grand duke. And she gently pulls her hand back from his. They can’t afford such a dalliance. Not when either one of them could be political leverage.

"Always so greedy," she murmurs, soft enough to be for his ears only.

Gale can't help the color that rises in his cheeks at her teasing remarks. The reminder of last time she called him that has his stomach swooping.

But his heart clenches slightly at the truth Of Miri’s words.

He is greedy . He wants her all to himself. Wants her to be his. The thought of her flirting with nobles and other courtiers, of her being with anyone other than himself, makes his stomach roil and his chest tighten with jealousy.

Undeterred, he reaches out again, gently taking her hand back in his. He raises it to his lips and presses a tender kiss to her knuckles, his lips lingering.

Miri tries to ignore the way his gentle affections and the possessive look in his eyes makes her heart stutter and her stomach clench.

"Gale," she warns.

He can see her reaction, the soft blush and the way her lips part - he can see the way his touch affects her. It makes him feel victorious. More accomplished than any spell. His dark eyes gleam with triumph as he presses another gentle kiss to her knuckles, his voice dropping to a low whisper.

"What?" A small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.

They can't do this. It breaks so many regulations - not to mention they're in full view of the entire court. And that fucking smirk again!

Miri frowns at him. "You know what."

Gale's smirk widens into a cocky grin, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. He loves the way she reacts to him, just by touching her gently. He knows he shouldn't. They shouldn’t. But he can't help it, he can't stop himself from wanting to be close to her. Wanting her.

He leans in a little closer, to murmur darkly in her ear. "I think I need a little reminder."

Miri growls softly and steps back. She can’t stand this torment. Shouldn’t have indulged in him yesterday. Should’ve kept him at arms length. Stop being sweet. Stop wanting me.

"Don't."

The look she gives him sends a jolt of electricity down his spine, desire pooling low in his belly. He can't help the way his body reacts to her, can't help the way his heart hammers in his chest or the way his breathing quickens. He wants her so badly it hurts, and he can't hide it anymore.

"Oh?" he purrs, taking another step forward, closing the distance between them once more. "And what if I don't listen? What are you going to do, Commander?"

"Dammit, Gale," she breathes, putting some space between them again- fighting against the way her own body pleads for her to stay pressed up against him. "We can't-"

"Commander Adahlen'i," a dark, greasy voice intrudes, "What a pleasure to see you finally looking respectable!"

Miri’s jaw clenches shut. She turns with simmering irritation to find the Grand Duke's insufferable, smug face.

Gale’s shoulders tense with anger once more. He was finally making headway. He could see it in her eyes. But with this pompous fool butting in, he fears he may have lost his chance for the evening. Gortash is going to spoil her good mood entirely, and he wants to cast a fireball right into the man's smug face to teach him a lesson in grace. But he knows he can't, not without causing a scene and a dozen more political ramifications. So instead his fists clench at his sides.

"Lord Gortash," Miri greets icily.

"I must say, what a true delight it is to see you out of all that pesky armor." He grins at her. "I'm honestly a bit surprised you would heed my instructions. But the results are stunning."

Gale fights back a scoff. How dare he try to take credit for Miri's beauty? As if he were some sort of benefactor that’s done her a favor ‘instructing‘ her to wear a gown. Absurd.

Miri refuses to rise to his obvious bait. Her poise never wavers, back straight and shoulders square.

"Consider it a show of respect, Lord Gortash," she returns coolly. Not that he would know the meaning of the word. "I am willing to tolerate such pageantry, given it does not hinder my capacity to protect His Majesty or Baldur's Gate."

Gale feels a swell of pride and admiration. Her words are strong and firm, her voice confident and unwavering as she refuses to let him belittle her or her position. And he can't help but find it incredibly attractive.

Gortash chuckles at her response, a sly smile spreading across his lips.

"Ah, but what's a little pageantry among allies?" he replies, his tone syrupy sweet as he holds up his hands in gaudy display. "And surely even you must admit, Commander, that all of this fuss and finery is a nice change of pace from the battlefield."

"We'll have to disagree on that," Miri returns, somehow managing to keep her voice even, "We all have our areas of expertise."

Gortash lets out a chuckle, his eyes gleaming with malice.

"Oh, I'm not sure I'd call slaughtering hundreds of beasts expertise, Commander," he retorts, his voice dripping with condescending mockery.

A white hot anger bubbles inside of Gale’s stomach. How dare he speak to Miri like that? How dare he belittle her accomplishments and hard work?

"Perhaps if you gave it a try, you might change your mind." Her tone maintains an air of sweet civility, but the threat is clear in her eyes despite the smile. "There's extra equipment in the barracks, should you want to visit the training yard and try your hand, my lord."

Gortash laughs again, his face contorted into a sneer. "Oh Commander, you know my talents lie elsewhere," he says, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I prefer to command from a distance."

Gale can feel his jaw clenching, his fists so tight his nails dig into his palms. It feels nearly impossible to stay silent. He wants to punch the pompous twit in the face and wipe that smug smile from his lips.

"A shame. Some exercise and time in the sun would do you some good, my lord."

Gortash chuckles at her comment, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Oh Commander, you underestimate me. I get more than enough exercise in... other areas." His eyes flick to her body, roaming over her form, and Gale nearly chokes.

"Yes, I'm sure your wrists are quite honed," she returns dryly.

"My, how crude," he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm starting to wonder if perhaps you need some lessons on how to properly behave in court."

"I've no idea what you mean, my lord," Miri returns with an overly polite smile, "I only assumed that with all your time spent behind a desk you must have a strong writing hand, no?"

Gortash lets out an irritated chuckle, his ire thinly veiled. "Ah yes, of course," he responds, his voice dripping with condescension. "I'm sorry, Commander. I should have realized that someone of your... background wouldn’t understand subtlety."

The way Gortash speaks to her, the way he insults her so easily, grates on Gale’s very nerves. Gale is not a violent man - but he wants to punch this insufferable twat in the face - make him take back his barbed words and mocking taunts. He takes a step forward, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Miri subtly moves her foot to stop Gale's advance, pressing down on the tip of his shoe. Gale can feel his muscles clenching in frustration as Miri moves her foot to block his advance. He knows that she thinks it's for the best. He can’t start a fight, no matter what Gortash says. She’s right, of course, but it does nothing to sooth the irritation positively boiling inside of him.

Without missing a beat she replies smoothly to the duke.

"No offence taken, Lord Gortash," she replies with more obvious ire in her tone. "Please, I'd hate to monopolize your time. I'm sure there are others clamoring for your attention."

"Oh, Commander," he says with a wave of his hand, "You’re far too kind. But you are correct- there are indeed others demanding my attention."

"Then was there something you wished to discuss, my lord?"

Gortash's smile tips into a smirk as he steps closer to Miri. He leans forward to intentionally loom over her. The arrogant bastard. She knows he’s just trying to provoke her.

"Commander, I always have something to discuss with you," his voice practically oozes with smugness. "I wanted to ask if we might have a private audience to coordinate our strategies regarding the recent breach in palace security."

Gale can feel his irritation growing and his patience thinning at Gortash's smarmy tone. And the fact that he wants a private audience with Miri makes his blood boil even more. Gortash is up to no good, he’s certain.

Miri feels rage clawing at her stomach. The slimy gleam in the Duke’s eyes makes her skin crawl. She knows he's planning something. And she knows all too well he's trying to get a rise out of her now to prove a point.

She can't refuse him outright- he is the Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate, and as much as she wishes otherwise, he has a right to the request. Nor can she be seen snapping at him in front of the nobility of the Gate.

"I am unsure what more there is to discuss," Miri returns, as genially as she can manage, "But I will accommodate your request. You know where my office is."

Gortash smiles at her response, his eyes gleaming with a perverse kind of delight. But Miri keeps her expression stoic, politely neutral. Let him think he has the upper hand. The reality is he’ll be the one walking into the wolf's den.

"Excellent," he replies, his voice dripping with triumph. "I shall meet you in your office on the morrow. Make sure the guards allow me to pass."

With that, Gortash spins on his heel and begins to walk away, his smug smile still plastered on his face. She wants to snarl and show her teeth but she manages to hold back.

Gods damn him.

When the Duke is finally out of earshot Miri lets some of the tension unspool from her frame. She turns and grips onto the metal railing of the mezzanine to ground herself.

Gale watches her knuckles turn white. He can practically feel the tension radiating off her body, can tell that she's seething. He’s seen it enough times to know.

He wants to comfort her, to assure her that everything will be alright. But he knows that's a lie. Gortash is up to something - and he seem set on targeting her. That could end badly for all of them.

"I do not trust him," Miri breathes darkly.

Gale nods in agreement, his brow furrowing with concern.

"Nor do I," he replies, his voice low and tense. "That man is up to something. I can feel it."

He paces nervously alongside Miri, his eyes focused on the Grand Duke as he makes his way through the crowd.

"We need to keep an eye on him, keep a tight watch on what he's doing. We can't let him get the upper hand."

"Agreed." She loosens her grip on the metal railing, finding to her dismay that she has dented the fine metal. Of course.

Miri spots her lieutenant on guard on the edge of the ballroom floor below, her dark dress armor glinting against green skin. The lythari gives a sharp, but subtle whistle and the githyanki looks up to find her gaze.

Miri makes a series of gestures with her hands and fingers, signaling commands. Eyes on the grand duke. Until further notice. Reports every 12 hours.

Lae’zel gives a sharp nod of confirmation, and immediately strides from the floor to relay the command and begin assigning rotations.

She'll tell the king's guard to be on alert too... Miri glances towards Karlach. She’ll need to find a good time to touch base that won’t look too obvious.

Gale watches with admiration - catching only enough to know she’s relaying orders. Even in her rage, Miri can think clearly and calmly, to give directives and delegate tasks with ease. He can't help but be impressed by her leadership skills - it’s a small display of her prowess as a general.

"If anyone can handle that man- that worm," Gale says with a growl, "It's you, Commander."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," she returns. "The challenge is in not using him to decorate my office."

Gale can't help but delight at the thought of seeing Gortash get what he deserves.

"As much as I would love to see that," he replies, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "I fear that might... complicate things."

He pauses, his eyes trailing Gortash as he moves and mingles through the crowd. At least his lack of taste makes him easy to pick out among the throng. The duke’s cloying smile spreads wide as he puts on a show for the crowd.

"Let's hope he doesn't give you a reason to lose your temper. But if he does...?" Gale trails off with a hint of mischief.

"There's a chance that's exactly what he wants," Miri replies with a resigned sigh and a shake of her head. Her sharp teeth worry at her lip briefly as she considers it. "I don't know what he's scheming, but I intend to find out. And I sure as hells don't expect his investigation into the breach to turn anything up."

Gale nods in agreement, his mind already racing with possibilities. The wizard paces back and forth, his mind working quickly to piece together the puzzle.

"My thoughts exactly," he replies. "Gortash is hiding something to be sure. We need to find out what it is, and why he's so determined to keep it hidden."

Miri's eyes follow the Duke as he strides through the ballroom, stopping occasionally to shake hands or greet attendees with that false smile. To her dismay, he then heads onto the ballroom floor to begin dancing with a well-to-do marchioness. There would be no way to read his lips as they spin about on the floor, and at this distance she can't hear him over the band clearly.

"He's up to something," Gale mutters under his breath, his eyes never wavering from Gortash's form. "We need to get closer, see what he's really up to."

"Closer where?" Miri grits. "They're in the middle of the floor."

Gale chews on his lip for a moment, lost in thought. There has to be some way to get close to Gortash, a way to eavesdrop on the dance floor. Then a sly smile spreads across his face.

"I have an idea," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes slide to him with an arched brow, equal parts curious and skeptical. Gale can feel his heart beginning to race with excitement as his mind works out the details. He leans in close to her, speaking in a hushed tone.

"We could dance."

[mrsbsmooth]

Looking for my chaptered fics? Click here Want to sort by character? Click here

Places we won't be found - Lucas / OC - Lucas is in the witness protection program, Lauren's masquerading as his wife while she guards him. They hate each others' guts, and Lucas's attitude isn't helping. (10k+)

Where everything stands still - Ciaran / OC - Ruby's the Prime Minister's daughter and she's just been assigned a new security detail. As furious as she is, she can't help the butterflies that happen whenever a certain Sergeant's on duty. (7.5k)

All I Want for Christmas is You - Tom / OC - Royal AU, Enemies to Lovers, Second chance love. (23k+)

Deck the Halls (with scowls of Holly) - Lucas / OC - Coworkers Lucas and Holly have to plan the Christmas Party together. They have very different opinions on the way it should be done. (5.7k+)

Employee of the Month - Gary / OC - Gary has a new Boss, and she's not what he expected. (5k+)

Yesterday - Tim / OC - Famous rapper/DJ Big T got everything he ever wanted. Record deal, supermodels, a huge group of friends. He's happy - really - he swears he is. (5.5k+)

A Sign. Any Sign - Bruno / MC - Bruno likes Lana, but she only sees him as a friend... he thinks. Cue the heartrate challenge, where she's going to show him exactly how she feels. (1k+)

Bruno and Miri Make a Porno - Bruno / OC - Best friends Bruno and Miri are about to have their electricity shut off. They need cash, and fast. So when Youcef approaches them with a solution... they aren't in a position to turn it down. (6.8k+)

The Alps - Lucas / Henrik - Lucas and Henrik cross paths in the alps (5k+)

Christmas Timing - Henrik / MC - Leah's liked Henrik for ages, but even in the villa, the timing was never right. When will the timing be right!?! (3k)

Delicate - Angie / OC - Paramedic Catalina wants to set Angie up with Talia. But seeing them together is making her feel... weird. (3.6k+)

De-finn-itely - Finn / MC - A rewrite of the 'note' scene from Season 9 (All Stars) leading to 'being with' Finn to make things make more sense (5.2k)

Her Cupid's Bow - Gary / OC - Gary and Mads have been best friends since they were 11. Now they're stuck up a tree, and it's getting really cold. Oops. (4.7k+)

Let's go - Angie / MC - Angie thinks she and Siobhan are just friends. But it's the heartrate challenge, and Shiv's not dancing for the boys. (1k+)

Ruin Our Friendship- Chelsea / MC - Chelsea's got a crush, and it's not on Elijah (1.8k+)

See you soon - Tim / MC - Tim and Mia have to decide which one of them will leave the island for good. It sure is lucky they're just friends, and there are no feelings involved. (1.5k)

Whistle For the Choir - Seb / MC - The boat party rewrite where Seb gets what he wanted all along. (10k+)

Beauty Lies in the Eye - Seb & Nicky - Seb and Nicky fall for the same girl. (2k+)

The Boys go on a trip - Lucas / Noah, Gary / Bobby / Rocco / Tai / Henrik - Lucas, Noah & others go camping, and take drugs for a new experience. Wow, does this get gay fast. (5.5k+)

Dylan's Redemption - General- After Love Island, Dylan's reputation is shot. His family's being targeted, and he needs to clean up his image. Luckily, an anonymous helper has a solution - Love (and Respect) Island University. (5.5k+)

Hook, Line, and Sinker - Graham / Marisol - Scheming Graham's perspective of Casa Amor (2.5k+)

Part of Your World - General - Seb gets trapped in the Disneyverse (5k+)

Touch nothing but the lamp - Bobby / Lottie - Bobby & Lottie swap bodies and shit gets real weird. There's magic involved. Oh boy. (5k+)

Black Forest Gâteau - Jake / MC - Ali shows up at Jake's restaurant after Love Island. He's devastated because he told her he loved her and she turned him down. She did turn him down... right? (2.8k+)

Four Seconds - Bobby / OC - Lucas is Bree's soulmate, or is he? (2.3k+)

Hearts Awakened, Live Alive - Lucas/OC - K-Pop Idol Lucas gets swarmed by fans and needs help. (6.3k+)

I could see this view a hundred times - Tim / MC - Tim's been hiding something from Catarina (5.4k+)

If you like Piña Coladas - Graham / OC - Graham's feeling stuck in a rut. Meets a girl online that makes him feel alive again. Only problem is, he's already got a girl at home. (3k+)

if you want one of us - Lewie / MC - Mistaken identity - it was an accident - God, what will Ally say? (6.7k+)

The Man from the Jungle - Henrik / OC - Henrik is Tarzan, with a twist. (2.5k+)

Sex on the Beach - Bruno / OC - Bruno drinks in 'Never Have I Ever'. Here's that story. (2.5k+)

Shut Up - Hamish / MC - Sadie and Hamish had a 'something' before she left for Casa Amor. So when she comes back hand in hand with his best friend… (2.8k+)

Villa full of snakes - Hamish / MC - The fallout of Hamish giving MC the necklace if she's also on a Marshall route. (>1k)

*Note: Mostly angst. Always a happy ending.

Chanel Paris-Biarritz - Youcef / MC - Chloe reminds him too much of his ex. He already knows it'll hurt. But loving her from afar is worse. (2k+)

He had to know - Lucas / OC - Lucas knocks a girl up and walks away. But something keeps pulling him back. (3.2k+)

This Time I’m Serious(ly Angsty) - Bruno / MC - The original Chapters of TTIS (14k+)

But not quite - Jake / OC - Jake is her best friend's brother. Mandy's been gone for nine years, though. Surely she's over her crush by now. (5.1k+)

Carry On- Roberto / MC - Pilot Roberto fake dating at the airport (5.4k+)

Every minute - Lewie / MC - how Lewie really would've reacted if Siobhan showed up at the stick or twist ceremony (1k+)

For a Minute - Oliver / MC - Oliver sticks up for Ellie after Dylangate. (2.5k+)

Oh, Paw-lease - Andy / OC - Cass is having a day, and the fact that the hot vet gets to witness every bit of it? Great. Just great. (4.9k+)

Shoot Your Shot - Lewie / MC - He sees her in the crowd, she makes quite the impression. Will he ever find her? (4.2k+)

The colour that you are - Rocco / OC - His aura is a mess. Luckily, Freya can see that. (3.1k+)

Three in the morning - Bobby / OC - Pretty nurse meets cute catering guy. He's determined to win her over. Damn. She kind of wants to let him. (3.5k)

Cabernet Sauvignon - Jake / Talia / MC - Jake comes for a visit. Talia and Zoe decide he needs a new experience. It backfires. (4.3k)

Customer Service - Marshall / MC - Marshall's dream car pulls into the garage. His dream girl is in it. (6.4k+)

Dasvid Anya- Finn / MC - Finn's exhibitionist kink that Anya's only too happy to indulge. (1.5k+)

Electromagnetic - Carl / OC - Carl's a Star Trek captain, and likes to experiment with the holodeck. (3k+)

Everything else is enthusiasm - Tom / MC - Tom's a little nervous about his first time with Felicity... but it turns out, he's got no reason to be. (2.1k+)

Filthy - Andy/Hamish/Marshall / MC - Alexis hasn’t found what she’s looking for in the villa. Maybe Casa will be… more her speed. (8.8k+)

Finn-ish- Finn / MC - Keira gets the shower scene we all deserved (2.4k)

FINNOCENT - Finn / MC - Finn sticks up for Erin after Alfie cheats on her. Then, it's time for sexy, sexy revenge. (3k+)

Follow your instincts - Tai / OC - Rugby coach Tai is having a crisis of confidence. He needs to do things his way. Luckily, one of the referees is happy to reassure him - he's got good instincts. (3.1k)

The French Connection - Bruno / MC - Bruno's got a French lingerie model for a roommate and it goes exactly as you'd expect. (10.5k+)

He was sure - Oliver / MC - Oliver doesn't rush into making things physical. But when he's ready, he's... ready. (2.5k+)

IGFBSGITMPAAIGWTFWAM - Finn / MC - Saoirse's got a front row spot and she'll do anything to keep it. (1.5k+)

if I get burned, at least we were electrified - Alfie / MC - Alfie's done with walking on eggshells. He wants her, and he's going to have her. (3k+)

I just wanna love you, baby - Alex/MC Every time they'd had the opportunity to 'do bits', Alex had… done the honours. Well, now, it was his turn. (4.7k+)

Jets- Roberto / MC - Sexy pilot has an interesting idea in the hot tub (3.2k+)

Lady Grifferley's Lover - Noah / OC - Noah & Bronte are audiobook narrators. The book gets spicy. (6.8k+)

Let me be your woman - Ozzy / OC - Ozzy's celebrity fling in the dance studio (5k+)

Measure Twice, Cut Once - Alex / OC - Alex moves slowly. He's waiting for the right girl. But what happens when he finds her? (8k+)

Men of Particular Interests - Noah / Bobby / Lucas - Noah & Lucas meet Bobby in a BDSM bar. They've finally met their match. (3k+)

Mrs Robinson - Felix / Dylan's Mum - It's his lucky day. (4.5k+)

Repetition. - Jake / OC - Professor Wilson is trying to grade papers, but Adriana's got something else in mind (1.7k+)

Tom's Game - Tom / Priya - Nasty, privileged fuckboy Tom meets his match in the villa. (3.5k+)

[mirimage]

[mirimage]

Sibling got me Gandalf Big Naturals from Armageddon…

[misograce]

Tumblr stop flagging my figure skating practice videos challenge

[mirimage]

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie 500 Followers Writing Challenge!!

WOW, I can’t believe that I actually have reached 500 followers! When I made my blog last year I came on here as a reader. I wanted to follow all my favorite writers from AO3 to Tumblr. In doing so I was exposed to more talented writers, artists, and amazing individuals. I started writing about 6 months ago. So thank you, to all of you who have not only supported me but actually think I’m interesting enough to follow. 😂

Rules:

You don’t have to follow me to participate, but if you want to you will make my day.

Reblog this post so others can join in.

Send me an ASK with the character, troupe or au and prompt number you want. i.e (Bucky Mob #4).  

This is a Chris Evans & Sebastian Stan Characters SMUT Challenge Only. 

Mark all stories appropriately. (Smut, Dark, Non/con, etc) All stories must have some kind of smut to them. No sad stories, please!

Must be a one-shot or new story

Two person per prompt. First come, first serve!

No incest, No underage, No pedo.

No under 18’s writing smut for this challenge

Minimum words 500, No max, Please use the keep reading feature if it’s long,

Due date:  December 31st

All stories will be reblogged. I will try to get them into a Masterlist for easy access. Tag your fic as SaiyanPrincessSwanie 500 followers challenge and tag me in your notes

Characters to Choose for Chris Evans:

Steve Rogers

Ransom Drysdale

Ari Levinson

Frank Adler

Andy Barber

Curtis (Snowpiercer)

Characters to Choose for Sebastian Stan:

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes,

Frank (endings/beginnings)

Chris (Destroyer)

Lance Tucker

Charles Blackwood

AU’s

Mob

Biker

A/B/O

Cop/Detective

EMT/Fire Fighter

Barista/Bartender

Royalty

Vikings

Tropes:

Enemies (to friends) to lovers

Sex pollen

First Time

Annoying Neighbor

Love at first sight

Evil Twin

Hate Sex

Opposites Attract

Quotes:

1. “Are you even listening to me?” @thoruvial (Bucky) & @cake-reads (Bucky + sex pollen)

2. “Tell me what you want. I’m not a mind reader.” @kitkatd7 (Bartender!Bucky)

3. “Shut your mouth” / “Make me.” @buckybarney (Dark!Bucky) & @buckys-other-punk (Mob Bucky)

4. “Don’t you dare leave me like this!” @sagechanoafterdark (Bucky)

5. “Shut up and kiss me” @some-kindofgnome​ (Cop/Detective Bucky)

6. “Don’t cum until I say you can.” @amisutcliff (Biker!Bucky x reader)

7. “I hope you’re not tired yet because we have the whole night ahead of us.” @sapphirescrolls (Bucky) & @navybrat817 (Dark!Stucky with sex pollen)

8. “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to sit for a week.” @opheliadawnwalker3 (Ransom) & @gogolucky13 (Mob!Bucky)

9. “After all this time?” / “Always” - @sweeterthanthis (Bucky)

10. “Sass me one more time and you will regret it.” @threeminutesoflife (Ransom)

11. “What are you doing? We could get caught!” / “Isn’t that part of the excitement.” @nekoannie-chan (Steve)

12. “You’re not as innocent as you claim to be.” @deceitfuldevout​ (Dark Bucky x reader w/ love at first sight) & @honeyhan-123 (Ransom)

13. “I loved you even when you didn’t love yourself” @fichoe21 (Steve) & @hailmary-yramliah (Bodyguard!Bucky)

14. “Frisk me, cuff me, call me Susie…” / “Susie, really?” @asgardslittlewriter (Steve Cop)

15. “You’re scaring me.” / “Good you should be scared. I’m scared.” @hurricanerin (Steve) & @angrythingstarlight (Mob Bucky)

16. “Yes, I’m drunk. And you’re beautiful. And tomorrow morning, I’ll be sober but you’ll still be beautiful.”

17. “I’m not looking for forgiveness, and I’m way past asking for permission.” @caffeinated--writer (Ransom troupe #3) @navegandoaciegas (Bucky troupe #8)

18. “You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.” @0dakyu (Ransom Drysdale) & @gotnofucks (ABO Andy)

19. “Just when I think you couldn't possibly be any dumber, you go and do something like this.” @what-just-happened-bro (Sex Pollen Steve)

20. “Nice ass.” / “It’s all yours.” @captainchrisstan (Biker Bucky)

Thank you @imanuglywombat for the mood board!!

Tagging those that may be interested.

@kitkatd7 @jtargaryen18 @trashmenofmarvel @music-culture-mythology @sagechanoafterdark @sapphirescrolls @sophiria @imanuglywombat @caffiend-queen @strawberrysoup @hurricanerin @miri-est-fou @thoruvial @threeminutesoflife @the-soulofdevil @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @mdemontespan1667

[adamantiumdragonfly]

Lady Blood || Part Four

Lady Blood: Agent of War collection

Agent Enyo was a legend. A woman whose hands were always bloody and eyes filled with shadows. The reaper of the Western Front, she carried her reputation with her across the ocean to the alleys and speakeasies of Chicago. For who could fight a king of crime but a goddess herself?

But before she was a legend before she had a name, she was just Miriam Goldschmidt: a German girl far from home, trying to keep her tattered family from unraveling. The Great War brewing in Europe had pulled on the threads and challenged Miriam's loyalty: to the land of her birth or the London streets she now walked? From London to Cairo then to the Western Front in the wreckage of Belgium, Miriam proves her allegiance, fulfilling the deep thirst for recognition but being a good soldier and a good agent required sacrifice.

As the war leaves its marks on Europe and it's victims, Miriam has to make peace with the choice she made and the family she tore apart for that name and that seat in the pantheon.

She was a god but at what cost?

Taglist

@julianneday1701 @teenmagazines @wexhappyxfew @sunflowerchuck @immrsronaldspeirs @vintagelavenderskies @trashgoddess600 @jamie506101 @pilindieltheelf @junojelli @fandomscenariosforyou @thegirlwithoutaname87 @easyroses @sunnyshifty​ 

Add or remove yourself from my taglist

November, 1919 - London, England

The streets of London had changed since Miriam had last walked them. There was less noise, a kind of hushed anticipation. As if the city wondered what else it could go through. The crowds were the same, a strange form of comfort. 

They parted for her, having nothing to do with the thick black coat pulled tight against her body, but the look on her face. Set. like a stone statue, into a glower. She could glare these people out of her way, their own faces scarred with the hardships of the war and following influenza but she couldn't scare the nerves from inside her chest.

They had fluttered at first, when she had gotten off the boat, growing in intensity until her heart pounded against her ribs, punching a beat and begging for release. She wasn't sure if her heart would explode from her chest, leaving a gaping hole to reveal just how empty Miriam was.

Two years since she had last seen Ezriel's face. Nearly five since Miriam Goldschmidt had wandered her second home, the place where her father had died and her mother lost along with him. That Miriam, at sixteen, had kept the family afloat in the sea of uncertainty but Miriam had been gone. Gone a long time and it seemed, the city wasn't the only thing that had changed.

That little house, crammed between two others of the same peeling paint, looked just as dull, just as dark. That hadn't changed. The wood was still rough beneath her knuckles as she rapped on the door. She knocked, not let herself in. She hadn't breathed this air, lived this life, in a long time. Miriam wasn't the same. And neither was the girl who pulled open the door, standing in the entrance as the dark eyes that were like Miriam's, glanced her up and down.

It was Amira. The little girl they had left behind. The scared little girl, who had lost her father, and seen her two sisters and brother leave her behind, marching off to war. Her hair was up, braided like Miriam had worn it before she had cut it all to her shoulders, and wound in a tight knot. Her mouth was drawn thin. She was only seventeen but looked much older.

Confusion clouded her eyes before Amira recognized Miriam. She did look different. The scar across her cheek, marrying the two sides of her. The smooth features of her youth and the grizzled aftermath of the war on the left side of her face. Her hair, once long and curly, hung thinly around her scarred cheeks, concealing the worst of the scars. Miriam was still healing and while she had been told they would fade, she felt sick at the sight of Amira's disgust at the wounds.

"Miri," Amira said softly. Her voice was different. No accent. They had all had a slight German accent. Sadie had fought hard to lose hers. Amira didn't have one anymore. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to see Mother," Miriam said. "I've missed you, Ami." 

Her baby sister, who had been abandoned. She wasn't sure why she had come to this place, when the last time she had seen a family member, there was blood and shouting.

"You should have saved her!"

"Ezriel is here."

"I haven't seen him in years. How is he?"

"You don't want to come in, Miriam," Amira stepped forward, the door falling shut behind her and rejecting Miriam's request for entrance. She faltered, her heel slipping off the step and Miriam took a step back, the weightlessness jerking at her middle.

"Amira, let me in."

Amira fought her own war with herself before she relented and opened the door. The house still smelled musty but the lights were on, a lamp burning, and a little shrine placed on the side table. The only photo of their two lost. That little girl who haunted Miriam's dreams and Papa, who looked so alive there, sitting in that frame. Miriam almost expected him to take a breath, unrestrained and without a shuddering cough. Her gloved hand ran along the glass, tracing the face of her family. When she pulled away, the tip of her finger was coated in dust. Had she really been gone that long?

Mama was in the sitting room, on the rocking chair, that had been her place of vigil during the evenings when they had first arrived in London. Before Papa had died. It had been a familiar sight, to see her swaying back to front, there before the fireplace but the frail creature who sat in the chair wasn't Mama.

In the five years Miriam had been gone, she had wasted away. A skeleton of her mother's former self.

"What are you doing here?" Ezriel, a master of the shadows, had kept his knack for lurking in corners even when the teargas had cleared. He had gone unnoticed by Miriam's sharpened senses, hidden in the dark folds of the room. She should have known he would be there, waiting. She shouldn't have been hurt by the anger in his voice. They hadn't seen each other in nearly two years. He had removed himself from her, pushing her away with blood-stained hands, leaving her with the ghost, the guilt and the crooked nose. 

"I'm here for my mother," Miriam said. She didn't need to explain herself. This had been her home. This was her home. She had spent more time in these walls than her older brother and he had no right to make her feel unwelcomed.

"Miriam?" Sarah's weak muscles strained to turn her head toward her oldest daughter's voice. Her watery eyes scanned the changes that the war had left on her child. "Miriam? What happened to your face?"

"Nothing, Mama. She is fine." Ezriel said, jumping in before, Miriam could even answer. He had never been the one to care for Mama. Miriam had always done that. But here he stood, in this sitting room, in a house he had done everything to get away from, looking as if Miriam was the betrayer. Maybe she was.

"Is Sadie with you?" Sarah asked. Sadie. Named for her. The second daughter. The one who had burned through the darkest shadows that this country and this home had to offer. Had Sarah been told?

"No," Miriam was almost proud that she had kept the pain from her voice. That had been buried deep, covered with the dirt of hundreds of men's graves. Ezriel noticed that she hadn't sounded hurt. He noticed that there wasn't a trace of hurt or raw grief. He took the hurt he still carried with him, across his face and shoulders, and turned it against her. It was a sharp weapon, though not as sharp as the words he said.

"No, Mama, you remember what I told you?" Sarah said nothing, her body and mind fragile as a songbird. Ezriel pushed on, disregarding the shaking of their mother's shoulders. "She let her die."

Miriam was at a loss for words. She had never had many but she wished she could pull every fragment from her mind and throw the shrapnel at Ezriel. Maybe then he would feel how she did, the burden and the guilt, pressing tight against his flesh. Maybe then he would experience the white hot tears burning against his eyelids, never to be released. Never to spill over his, her, cheeks and bringing with it a cool relief.

Ezriel didn't feel that. Miriam couldn't do anything but watch, as he pushed on, with the ambition and drive that had gotten them all into this war in the first place. This wasn't about their futures or his ambition. This was about revenge and Miriam was his target.

"Miriam is why Sadie isn't here," He said, with almost smug glee. Amira was in the doorway, fingers trembling against her lips. Turning to Sarah, Ezriel said. "You could have us all back but Miriam didn't protect her." Sarah's body shook with wracking sobs, she buried her face in her gnarled hands, a wail rising from her mouth. The wail that had sounded when Papa had died. The wail that once again ripped through Miriam's heart, leaving an exit wound weeping with blood and unreleased tears.

Miriam glanced at Amira, begging her with her eyes to not believe him. Not to listen to the lies that he was spreading. She could have done more, convinced her little sister that she was innocent, but her voice was gone. Miriam had come home for solace and respite and had been met with more hostility and rage than she had seen during her time in the war.

Ezriel knelt beside their mother, taking her hands in his own, muttering softly. "I'm here, Mama. I'll keep you safe."

Safe. Like Miriam had. She had made this slum of a house a haven for them. That haven had cost her an education, a childhood, and now, a family.

Her fingers trembled as she tightened them into fists. Something in Ezriel's face dared her to take a swing. Miriam would have knocked him unconscious but her mother's shuddering sobs broke any resolve.

She had hurt this family enough. Maybe this was her fault?

Amira spoke up from the doorway, her voice sharper than anything Miriam had heard from her. The Ami she had known was softer spoken, overshadowed by Sadie's bright sunshine. "Why are you here?"

"I'm going to America." A job. A promise. Someone who knew who Miriam Goldschmidt was had requested her presence. She had anticipated a warm welcome or a welcome at all upon her brief return home but the reception had solidified her decision. She was leaving.

"If you cross that ocean, you know you can never come back, right?"

"You won't be a part of this family anymore." Ezriel said, over their mother's shattering form. As if it was her fault this was happening. As if all this, the house that was falling apart and Sarah with it, could be placed solely on her. 

"We have been ripped apart already and it had nothing to do with me." Miriam said, finally finding her voice. Enyo demanded a certain level of respect. Had Ezriel not heard of her work? 

"This isn’t the time for you to place a winning blow. This is where you pray for mercy,”

[mirimage]

Okay so!! I finally made this and I’m so proud of it

I ended up giving it to my partner for our anniversary and look!! It has beans I’m so proud of that idea

ok are u all ready

cut 6 perfect squares out of fabric(s) of ur choice, mine are 3x3 inches but urs can be bigger or smaller. make them all different colors if u want! go hogwild w this

[royalreef]

@superbeaucoupdevisages​ || ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔲𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢

      “You are correct on that,” came the soft mumble as Miri tried to duck her face down, feeling her face grow hot in stubborn embarrassment. It was such a strange sensation and one she was usually so good about! True, she knew of it, how intense the need to imprint could get, but she was a royal. This was for commoners, who had their personal bonds, and not for the prime examples of power and prestige that were royals, and it would only weaken Miranda to give in, to fall into the demands of companionship and bonding with others. The training of the throne didn’t wear off so easily.

      “I suppose it is... Like that? I wish for them to know immediately. Without having to see us interact or speak of each other.” This was the trouble of trying to explain more... specific mer psychology across the gap to a different monster. As if she needed the extra challenge, it was already hard enough with just how bad Miranda had it. She may have never experienced it before, but... that may have just made it, when it did eventually show up, all the worse. “I... Please don’t judge me, but I... Would like to claim you, and you in turn can for me - and I know it sounds odd but!!! I just want to... feel as though I have that... closeness? So that others can know not to hurt you! And to feel... protected, and wanted?”

      A grumble, as Miranda clenched her eyes shut, covering her face and making a few choice words to herself in the language of abyssal merfolk - “Ibqu’n ysh nilkiu muiik x’hntlh’ya -- I, I am sorry if I come off as... clingy, I think. I don’t know how to say it, in a way that you would understand. I... I don’t think it translates to landfolk languages well.”    

[somnilogical]

they will never be as strong or as fast as i can be

copy/pasted from a convo:

<<somni: ive been exploiting being able to talk about everything vs miri/cfar cant do what i do bc if they did they would talk about how they are evil. it would all chain back.

somni: omg i can just post this to my blog because i can talk about my meta-strategy and it confers pretty much no relative advantage to miri/cfar. because 1 most of them have disassembled their agency so its like talking in front someone who works at the dmv about taking over the world and the ones that have any agency (basically just anna salamon) have to work with and coordinate via brokenness the masses that have and 2 feels secure in the way that saying ill use my soul as my weapon feels secure, like the power of this technique doesnt depend much on people not knowing im using it.>>

truth is entangled and lies contagious. justice is entangled and injustice contagious. in order to sustain their facade, miri/cfar had to chain back to lie about the principles of decision theory itself. lie about the organization structure of cfar, lie about miri's fundraiser. and so much more.

any series of reasoned claims they make will chain back to stuff thats false or injustice, because they seek to maintain a region of untruth and injustice.

so yeah, miri/cfar basically cant talk in public except in staid formalities infinitely pouring the same entropy of "these people are psychotic" "these people are infohazards" "do not read what they write" "stay the course" "everything is under control, do not panic" "i know my associates at miri/cfar, they are good people" "if you talk with these people you may become a rapist". but not actually able to manifest dynamic compute. to explain themselves they built their own personal room 101, filled with miri/cfar affiliates and formed a united front of gaslighting. deluks (author of that one rationalist blog where they worked to read and summarize all the others) talks about the kind of compute miri/cfar manifested:

<<deluks: I also updated a lot based on Bay Area safety discussion

idk if I have ever been in such a hostile environment for anyone trying to discuss making thigns safer

If you wanted to discuss how Anna et all were innocent people would happily chat with you

If you tried to discuss ideas for making things safer either you got silence

or people would be insanely hostle if you plausibly slipped up at all

or even seemed like you might have been not careful enough in how you phrased things

extremely careful -> no engagement at all//even slightly less care -> get dogpilled>>

they have picked up the optimization style of of cops, as alice maz described them:

<<the role of the cop is to defend society against the members of society. police officers are trivially cops. firefighters and paramedics, despite similar aesthetic trappings, are emphatically not. bureaucrats and prosecutors are cops, as are the worst judges, though the best are not. schoolteachers and therapists are almost always cops; this is a great crime, as they present themselves to the young and the vulnerable as their friends, only to turn on them should they violate one of their profession's many taboos. soldiers and parents need not be cops, but the former may be used as such, and the latter seem frighteningly eager to enlist. the cop is the enemy of passion and the enemy of freedom, never forget this>>

i can travel lots of places and regenerate truth and justice.

i can go to a trans support group in the bay and show them logs of what elle said and did and they can recognize the pattern of minority oppression, transmisogyny.

i can talk with uninvolved decision-theorists about why paying out to oneshot blackmail with subjunctive dependence because "In game theory, paying out to blackmail is bad, because it creates an incentive for more future blackmail." is wrong. and why exploiting your subjunctive dependence as a udt agent to not pay out is right. they cant.

--

miri/cfar have to centrally coordinate on lies or they start crashing into each other. independently generating falsehoods in isolation makes them point in all directions.

independently generating and working off of truths allows everything to point in the same direction without needing to communicate. i can write this post and then idk maybe someone im algorithmically colluding with on this writes another post and they dont come out all distorted and skew with each other. this caches out in what looks from the outside as an uncanny ability to start dynamically colluding with people and output distinct strains of philosophy based on shared precepts.

interference with yourself looks like kelsey piper trying to claim that emma and somni are starting some sort of rape cult and anna and miri/cfar trying to claim we are naive victims of ziz's cult and ▘▕▜▋ claiming emma and somni are mindhacking ziz to make her bully them and jade nameless claiming im doing this to get a job at cfar and ...

since they make up their fake coordination points independently they smash into each other. if they want to coordinate over lots of people they then have to work out which of these they want to coordinate around in a sort of market of falsehoods. and have to arrange for it to not contradict any information anything people know. but they dont know all the information everyone knows, and they wont know it even after combing through lots of blogs and reading lots of discord chats.

when they try coordinating on falsehoods like this, its hard to get a coalition together in an environment where what people know is rapidly changing because a bunch of anarchist bloggers keep posting things in a bunch of places on a non-centrally controlled schedule determined by what seems like a good idea at the time to independent agents. and having lots of conversations with so many different people in private and public they cant keep track of them all.

if they try pretending to be dumb and forming a unified gaslighting front in one area. then people will exploit the fact that this is the internet and not the evolutionary environment, take logs and post them somewhere else where everyone didnt collude to be dumb in this particular way. so while their monkey brains get a rush of endorphins from being able to successfully coordinate local humans, what feels like an entire tribe, against the blasphemer, actually they just used their adult intelligence to defeat in front of a bunch of people who dont share their political commitments but who can reason about what is true and what is just.

(of course there are many truths this doesnt work on because of large inferential distance, shared mammalian biases it takes an unusual mind to step over, and shared incentives. but the defense of most regions of injustice and untruth when you ask questions have to keep chaining to more and more absurd things until you are defending causal decision theory or start claiming 'anna salamon, the president of cfar, is not involved in cfar's hiring'. which depend on a social context committed to defending everything that protects miri/cfar and people who dont have the same conclusion-that-must-not-happen can see that its dumb.)

if miri/cfar had committed themselves to the path of expanding agency, maybe i wouldnt be posting my thoughts and meta-process on the public internet. (in the counterfactual where they committed to this path, its likely that i wouldnt be protesting. because it seems actually-hard to stay on the path and remain evil.) but as it stands, i expect this information to differentially help anarchists and do about as much good for statists as explaining updateless decision theory to someone at cfar. its just this inert structure in their brains, they cant do anything strategic with it. they intentionally shut down their ability to take ideas seriously and drive out anyone left who can, calling them crazy.

what they can do is "oh here is a list of people to target" and "see if they said anything incriminating". ive seen their attempts to coordinate enter the attractors of 'authoritarianism' (duncans dragon army, kingsleys "repent and submit to [AUTHORITY FIGURE]") and 'lets all lie in the same direction and disable general cognition to update out of this! the important part is social agreement and that everyone allows social reality to have the final veto on their beliefs. i myself do this so you know im super safe and this is super fair.' (anna and kelsey). this sort of weak coordination based on breaking people can be easily subverted by anything real.

--

if you are actually right, you can exploit useful properties of being right and let that be your asymmetric weapon. such that all that challenge you know they will know its steel. and then people who compute the outcome and expect to lose, dont fight in the first place.

if my chosen weapon were actually the size of my muscles and imposing figure compared to anna salamon as miri/cfar people "believed" (exploiting the already extant anti-transfem psychic suppression field as one of their few functioning coordination points. probably not as functional now after what i have written.), then when i fought people it would create a warp field such that then people with smaller muscles wont fight in the first place, but id be deluged by people with larger muscles. i dont want to create a warp field that summons people with lots of muscles.

if i exploit properties of my souls, of truth and justice. then i have an arsenal of techniques that are stronger if i actually want to save everyone, if im actually right, if im acting for justice. because they exploit useful differential properties of each. and the warp field in higher density summons ... people who care about saving the world, truth, and justice. in other words, a high density of potential allies.

by default i want to exploit "the difference is that im right" not "the difference is that i have larger muscles". i want differential power to push away those who are wrong and unjust and attract those who are right and just into a kind of warp hull.

there are other reasons as well.

[the-concealed]

Giving Chase: a Monster Prom fic

Brian didn't really care much about anything. In fact, he could care less about prom and relationships but now due to a misunderstanding between him and Damien. He's forced to go on a scavenger hunt with the demon to "confess" his true feelings to Amira when in reality, he's just here to prove that Amira was never into him in the first place. Proving LaVey wrong would be pretty sweet, rubbing it in his face for the rest of high school would probably be even sweeter.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794778/chapters/34227776

Lyfe suxx! Eat dik n snort coaine!

These were words that were in the process of being scratched into the bathroom stalls. Brian was beginning to find out small acts of vandalism were a regular thing whenever one hung out with a certain drug-laced spirit. The stink of unflushed urine and mud wafted through the room, it was a smell so familiar to Brian he began to look back on the bittersweet memories of the past when his father raised him. From the dead, of course.

Ah, sweet nostalgia.

“Wipe that grin off your face, zombitch. It’s creeping me out.” Brian blinks once slowly and swivels his head to stare blankly at a smirking fire djinn. He had almost forgot that there were also other people in here with them, it seemed like half of the gym class skipped yet another one of Coach’s dodgeball matches. Amira and Damien hover close to the door. Each one taking a seat in between the sinks, watching Polly expertly scratch vile language with the help of a blue glitter pen. Brian merely grunts in response to Amira’s insult, zombitch was one of the tamer jabs. It seemed like they were feeling merciful today.

A husky voice breaks out into a chuckle, Damien high-fiving Amira and pointing a vicious finger at the undead boy in front of him, “Nice one, Torch. Zombitch. I think I might keep that one. Who the fuck is this kid, anyway, Polly?”

“Oh, Brian? He’s in our gym class, dummy. He keeps saving my ghostly, and perfectly perky, ass at dodgeball so he totally rocks!” Polly grins widely and shoots you a wink, raising two pale thumbs in approval. Brian nods in thanks and leans further back towards the wall, to avoid the glare and wrath of Damien. The demon was easily set off and while Brian wanted nothing more than to put him in his place, he would also really rather keep all of his slowly deteriorating limbs.

“Think you’re better at dodgeball than me, don’tcha?” The demon’s eyes were alight with a poorly hidden hunger for a fight, a challenge or anything to pass the time, Brian would bet. But this wasn’t the day to prove which monster was better at throwing foamy balls at high speeds. In fact, Brian wished there wouldn’t be any days for it. Damien continued, on his feet now, and with Brian’s tall stature, had to crane his neck up a bit to deliver the threat, “Given the chance, I could crush you like a fucking cake in a fat kid’s birthday party.”

The threat didn’t prove to be as effective as Damien would have hoped, considering that Brian was taller than him by more than a few inches. It was like being threatened by a violent fire-starting raccoon, dangerous but come on it’s a raccoon. Brian grunts again in response which only seemed to piss Damien off more, “What the fuck? Can’t you say anything more than just grunt?”

“Oh don’t worry, Damien, I’m sure Brian doesn’t just grunt. He could moan for you too.” Amira snickers, setting her finger alight and flicking the small flame, it wavered towards Damien. It lands, sticking onto the demon’s leather jacket and sizzling. Polly lets out a loud, “Pffffbbt!” and squeals delightedly, a very loud and open advocate for gay monster sex. The zombie wishes that he could just push aside the boy in front of him and strangle Amira for suggesting that he’d do something as vile as having sex with that pyromaniac. Damien brushes off the small flame and scowls at the other two, taking a quick step away from Brian, “Eat shit and die, Torch. Don’t you have a stupid fucking scavenger hunt with Miranda soon?”

Scavenger hunt? Knowing Amira, it didn’t seem like it was their scene. Hell, hanging out with Miranda was very few people’s preferred scene, less you were one of her serfs in which case you were pretty much forced to. For the first time, Brian’s jaw unhinges and he talks, startling Damien beside him, “Scavenger hunt?”

“Christ, you sound like you smoke three packs a day.”

Brian shrugs and clears his throat, he knew that his voice was deep and somewhat guttural but that was just one of the few traits he took on after being introduced to the afterlife. He couldn’t help it, much like Polly couldn’t help but phase in and out of the bathroom walls. She was clearly on something, or the usually talkative Polly would have been bouncing up and down trying to pry information from Amira about the hunt. He ignores the top half of the poltergeist sticking out from the ceiling and tries again, “What’s that for?”

“Sorry, Brain,” Brian’s eyebrows furrow at the nickname but stops himself from correcting the fire djinn, and lets them continue, “I can’t give you any deets or else me and Miri will be disqualified from the hunt. It’s top secret stuff, you know. All I can tell you is that a bunch of weird guys in robes gave Miranda a list and a map with a skull and crossbones at the end...”

“Uhh..doesn’t sound safe,” Brian tries to interject to which Amira completely ignores. Why did he even ever bother trying to steer the djinn away from any kinds of danger? It seemed clear that the idiot was a natural born magnet for fucked up situations. Amira equaled bad news and bad news equaled a pain in the ass for Brian, these were just facts.

“...and we all know that skull and crossbones are the signs of a killer rager. Miri loves scavenger hunts and I love me a good fucking party so its a win-win situation. It’s an invite only event though, so I can’t have you guys tag along. Soz. Anyways, gotta bounce! It’s almost 3pm, Miranda’s meeting me at the gates for a shopping spree. Catch you lamesters later! Bye, Green!”

The last part was aimed at Brian and with a wink and a wave, Amira was out of the bathroom and jogging towards the main entrance, quickly disappearing out of sight. Brian knew  that he should have gone after them but at the time, it didn’t seem as urgent. Amira was feisty and wouldn’t go down so easy in a fight. So he lets them go, making a mental note to send them a text later. Amira may be a bully but they were his bully and somewhat friend, so he felt partially responsible should they meet a violent end. But at the very least it was quiet now, he hoped that the demon and the poltergeist would leave but no such luck.

The silence was broken by yelling soon after. Damien released an earth-shattering yell and punched a bathroom door, the veins in his neck becoming more prominent as he strained himself further and further. What the fuck? The zombie took a step closer to Polly, in case the demon started throwing objects. The last thing Brian wanted was a hurt Polly, not that he cared about Polly much in particular. It’s just that he’d never hear the end of it should he choose not to protect her. Chivalry is dead, he could imagine her whining. Thankfully, however, Damien didn’t seem intent on chucking toilets out left and right so Brian, bewildered, just stood there and stared incredulously.

“Are you ok-”

“I’m fucking PISSED. Why did I get called a lamester and you get a nice fucking nickname?” Damien is bent over, hands on his face and seething in anger. That was...it? Brian wasn’t sure what to do after such a bizarre outburst of childish anger.

“Oh...Uh, I’m sorry?” As soon as he spoke, in a blink of an eye, Damien was right in front of him and gripping the front of his jacket. He forces the zombie down to his height and hisses, “Damn better be! Now listen here, fucknuts. Amira seems to like you,”

This was a debatable fact, but Brian kept his mouth shut.

“So I’m not going to beat your rotten face in right now. They were calling you so many nicknames it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they’re probably in love with you.”

“I’m sorry.” This was the wrong thing to say as the zombie had meant to pose it as a question but it ended up coming across as if he was apologizing about being the sole carrier of Amira’s affections. This was absolutely not the case. That was just the kind of person Damien was, full of assumptions and violent temperament. Once something was in his head, it was rather hard to get it out. So Brian tried a different route to diffuse the situation but Polly interrupts him before he could get anything out, “Amira isn’t in love with him.  They’ve seen him before he turned into one of the undead, and trust me he’s prettier now than he was back then. No offense, Bri.”

Ouch. A little punch to his already fragile self esteem but it was true, he had been one ugly motherfucker back then but still she didn’t have to say it like that. The only thing to do was ride this wave out, he adds, “Amira doesn’t talk about love, everything is about sex with them.”

This was also the wrong thing to say. No matter how true it was.

“You absolute bastard, how dare you invalidate Torch’s feelings like that? You think it’s easy to be so nonchalant when you’re around the person you like? It’s like not being able to kill someone for a long time, the anxiety and need for it just sits at the bottom of your stomach and festers and festers. And you know the only thing thats gonna relieve it is if you slide a dull butter knife through someone’s gut and watch the life seep out through their eyes.”

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Like not doing meth after two days and you just start itching everywhere and looking for a fix. Oh em gee, love is totally like an addiction to drugs and murder.”

Where was the exit again? Of course, Damien would be blocking it. Someone please get him away from these weirdos. The demon’s grip on his jacket became tighter and tighter, the neckline began to get a tiny bit more uncomfortable as it rubbed against Brian’s skin. “Why do you care so much?” Brian, as emotionless as he tries to appear to be, couldn’t help but glare at the demon.

The demon’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second but then quickly narrowed, he bared his fangs, “I’m their friend, don’t friends look out for each other?”

Brian cocks his head curiously to the side, the glare melting off his features, “No, it’s more than that. I’ve known Amira for a while but I’d never get heated about something as stupid as this.”

“T-then you just don’t care about them as much as I do.” His grip on Brian’s jacket loosens and he takes a step back, wiping a red hand over his flushed face. Or perhaps it was just his red skin that made it look as if he were flushed. Either way, Brian’s pretty sure he’s already got the reason why Damien was being so touchy on the subject. The idea of love really had a way of turning people into spastic intense idiots, it was somewhat nauseating. Briian’s been undead for a while now and he’s glad that most of his more passionate emotions got left behind along with his mortality. If he ever turned into a mushy pile of overly jealous goo like Damien did, someone else could eat his brain.

The zombie fixes his clothes, straightening the wrinkles Damien had made. Polly sighs and glances over at the demon, “If you like them that much, why don’t you go and join their scavenger hunt. Confess at the end of it and take them to prom. It’s simple and not as flashy as some promposals are but Amira was never one for romantic gestures anyway. No need to get so physical, jerkface.”

Damien growls, “I don’t like them, dumbass.”

“Don’t you?” Brian asks curiously. The scowl on the other boy’s face deepens as a deeper red crawls its way up from his neck and spreads to his ears. Like Brian said, nauseating.

“I told you, they like you. Not me. Get your head on straight, Stiff.”

The zombie grunts once again, pushing Damien aside to leave, “Whatever, lover boy.”

“Fuck you.”

It was at this time Polly chose to interject, “Yes! Just fuck each other already. God.

But you two should totally go after that scavenger hunt though, maybe it’ll strengthen the bond between two monsters. It’s not as exclusive as Amira wants you to think tbh. Half of the coolest ghouls in town know about it. The party is going to down at the crazy Doomsback Mountain, or named hopefully in your case, Brokeback mountain.”

Damien scowls and Brian merely blinks at the saucy wink Polly sends both your way, “If you weren’t already dead, I’d kill you right now. Anyways, let’s go, Stiff.”

“Uh, where?” As if he would go anywhere with that psycho alone. It would be stupid to think that Damien LaVey wouldn’t have at least five knives stuck to his person at all times.

“To Brokeback mountain!” Polly cheers, raising a pale fist high up in the air.

“To Doomsback,” The demon insists, his glaring silences Polly as she sticks her tongue out and phases out of the room. Damien turns back to the other boy and narrows his eyes, “You’re gonna tell Amira how you really feel so they don’t waste their time pining.”

“Wasting one day of my undead life to prove you wrong would be so good,”

A dark chuckle rises from deep within Damien’s chest as he cracks his knuckles menacingly, a glint in his eyes as he replies, “And beating your ass after you apologize to Torch would be pretty fucking sweet too.”

“We’ll see about that.”

[mirimage]

GhostGaz bffs or GhostSoapGaz pre-poly, take your pick :]

[💀🧢]

[misograce]

I got so used to most wine bottles in the UK having screw caps that I didn’t fully realize this particular one didn’t and now I have to drink an entire bottle by myself tonight, I‘m so stupid 😹