#and complicated for her but she does love it

[averageestrogenenjoyer]

Brienne of Frickin' Tarth!!!! best girl!! best girl brienne!!!!

Oh my god oh my god oh my god but thinking about Brienne and how she didn’t reject her femininity by choice but everyone else rejected it for her because she wasn’t conventionally attractive so the only role she felt she could fit in to in society’s eyes was that of a warrior and how she was in love with Renly because he was nice to her and danced with her and treated her how all the other girls her age were treated even if it was just for a night and how she never feels like she fits in as a woman because she’s ugly but she never fits in as a man because she isn’t a man but she can’t go back now that she knows what its like to be free from those constraints but there is still a small part of her that wonders what it would be like if maybe, just maybe… and I just… George had absolutely no right to write a character that good

[consultingfujoshi]

having some barely formed thoughts about the three severed women we know of (excluding o&d) and how they're all sort of experiencing their own misogynist hellscape and how severance not only exacerbates the existing struggles of women but reduces those women down to nothing but their suffering

gabby's innie exists purely to gestate and give birth to children and then is switched off again and never gets to raise or even meet her child until her husband decides it's time for the next one. episode 7 suggests gabby is not the only woman who has done this to herself. how many female innies exist just to be a walking baby incubator?

gemma is quite literally in hell. dozens of versions of her are being subjected to physical or psychological torture at the hands of the same white guy, at least one of which is in an endless performance of housewifery, her body given over to the hands of strangers, and she has to willingly walk into each room knowing anything could be happening to her in there and she will never know what, only that her alternate selves have literally never known anything except suffering. you did it to yourself, you asked for this.

and even when she tries to free herself she is immediately sent back by one of these innies who literally does not know what is going on and why she's here, and doesn’t know enough to question what she's being told. these women she becomes do not have the tools, the knowledge or agency, to fight back. if you'd known better, you'd have stopped it. why didn't you stop it? why weren't you smarter about it? why weren't you more careful?

tell me you love me before you go, sweetheart

and helly. she's more complicated but there's really something to be said about helena, a woman that by all accounts should see her as a sister, and uses that very idea to propagandise herself and inflate her own status, but in reality does not even see helly as human - she is constantly at the mercy of a woman far more affluent and powerful than herself who feigns care for her to the masses whilst happily subjecting her to torture. and then without that support from another woman, without that sense of solidarity, she seeks refuge in the arms of a man who can somewhat understand what she's going through because that feels like her only option, to gain approval or social standing through a man, but even that is hollow and it is soured by the very woman she is at the mercy of competing with her for that same man. she has been forced to place all her bets on the love of a man, like that'll prove she's real and worth something, and even that she can't have for herself

severance is used in all of these cases as a means of further dehumanising, objectifying, and reducing women down to their base biological functions and forces them to subject themselves to the whims of men. all in totally unique ways but all very real experiences that women go through every day, crytallised by having it quite literally be all they exist for. severance as just another tool to exert violence upon women

[nocompromise-noregrets]

Oh, they dress themselves identically. :D It is a conscious and deliberate choice from their earliest days.

(I headcanon them as one soul in two bodies, more or less, which adds to the identicalness somewhat)

Only their parents and Arwen can tell them apart by looking at them. A few people who know them really well can tell which is which by mannerisms and listening to them speak (Elladan is slightly more brusque and sharp and impulsive, Elrohir is slightly more calm and gentle and considered). A very very few people have worked out that they stand in alphabetical order as you look at them (Elladan on the left, Elrohir on the right), much like Ant and Dec. Everyone else has no earthly clue. Which they heartily encourage, partly for insular us-against-the-world reasons and partly because they think it's really funny. :D

Ioreth thinks she can tell them apart, but she can't.

(extract from that fic under the cut because it still makes me laugh)

After everything was over, the Ring was destroyed and the Enemy defeated, the twins’ long quest to avenge their mother over at last, Arwen was amused and somewhat bewildered to see her brothers parading through the streets of Minas Tirith one on each arm of a small, elderly woman who never quite seemed to stop talking and who had opinions on absolutely everything that had happened over the last weeks. They were smiling, laughing even, tolerating the woman telling them what to do, fetching and carrying for her, treating her like a queen, and much as Arwen rejoiced to see hints of their old carefree selves, she could not quite understand how such a transformation could have been wrought so swiftly.

“What is going on, meleth-nín?” she asked Aragorn, quietly, as they and Legolas visited the Houses of Healing to speak with those who were still recovering from their injuries, watching the old woman confidently address Elladan by Elrohir’s name and Elrohir by Elladan’s. “Who is that woman and what on Arda has she done to my brothers?”

Aragorn chuckled softly. “That, meleth, is Ioreth. She is a skilled healer, to be certain, but also a very skilled gossip, and a purveyor of the most outlandish old wives’ tales. And she seems to have adopted the twins.”

“And she thinks she can tell them apart,” said Legolas, his soft voice full of amusement. “No matter who tells her that only those closest to them know with any certainty which of them is which, she is quite confident.”

“She almost never gets it right, and when she does it is purely by luck,” said Aragorn. “I think they are going along with it, pretending to be each other. It seems to amuse them.”

“Well, Varda knows they have been in need of amusement for a long time,” said Arwen, “but they have not pretended to be each other since we were barely more than Elflings.”

“We’re not certain,” said Legolas, “since you and your father are the only ones who can truly tell them apart, but it is most disconcerting to think one has worked out which is which from how they speak and behave, as the rest of us must do, and then have that completely upended.”

“I suppose so,” said Arwen, for she knew that others must rely on their knowledge of the twins’ personalities, Elladan slightly more abrasive and inclined to swearing, Elrohir softer-spoken and inclined to smoothing the feathers his brother had ruffled. “But -” and she broke off, staring, as across the room the twins, bringing more supplies to the old woman, were met with a long and rather complicated demand for something else that they had not brought.

“Manwë’s balls, woman!” barked Elrohir - Elrohir, Arwen’s lovely, soft-spoken brother who hardly swore and never snapped. “You couldn’t have told us that the first time?”

“Before we went to the stillroom?” added Elladan, much more gently, almost pleadingly, and Arwen could only gape as the old woman giggled - giggled, coquettishly, and batted her eyelashes at them.

“Well, perhaps I just like to make you work,” she said. “Now, hop to it, there’s good lads.”

And the twins just - went. They glanced at Arwen as they passed, and Elladan - Arwen was sure it was Elladan, though they were even standing in the wrong order - waggled his eyebrows, flashing her a grin.

Arwen pressed her hand to her heart, feeling distinctly off-balance. “Is this what being mortal feels like, meleth-nín?” she asked, rather faintly. “I feel as though I need to sit down.”

do you guys think that elrond is the kind of dad to dress the twins identically

[brattypagansub]

Teaser

The cost of winning

Soap was bet to snowboard shirtless

Kate was going to lose her ever loving mind if she has to listen. To these two bulky operators verbally edge each other for much longer. So she does what any self respecting person does.

Bets Soap five bucks to snowboard down the mountain shirtless. Given how Simon about breaks his neck anytime Soap even wears shorts. To get a view there’s no way this won’t work so she can hang onto the last of her sanity. And added bonus those two get each other so it’s a win win.

Five bucks well spent though let’s be honest he probably would’ve done it for free. But that’s neither here nor there.

Soap didn’t know what’s going on a permanent condition. You ask him to do complicated math to be able to hit a target. And he can do it within a minute in his head but situational awareness on anything but sniping.

Forget about it.

[vaugely10]

AGHEUAGHAO9HGO9 PIRATE AU!

Maybe I missed something, idk, but you mentioned the divorce quartet in another ask (not by me btw) and I was wondering why each of them are up for bounty? Are they all pirates, or did they each commit different crimes? Like, Cleo as an arsonist or Scott organizing large scale heists or something?

Love this concept and very excited for if/when you make this a fic if you haven't already

the divorce quartet were all apart of a pirate crew together, although each had a history of crime before meeting each other.

cleo and scott were always a pair, committing petty crimes at first, simply to get by in life, which eventually escalated to major raids of navy bases and burning down ships and hideouts of rival pirate crews. they are the ones to invite martyn and pearl to the crew, who each had quite the infamy as well.

martyn definitely has the least bounty compared to the others, but that doesn't mean it's not high. the only reason it's lower than his fellow crewmates is because he's just very good at not getting caught, so the navy can only pin him on so many crimes.

pearl's crimes are...complicated. yes, she does commit them, she would tell you that herself. however!! she didn't commit all of them. she, at first, only did what she had to. steal some bread here..take a sword there..which, nobody caught her doing, and if they did catch her, shes fast enough at running, so it's all fine..fast forward a few years of "borrowing" food, it seems that someone in her town has robbed the community bank, but not like she had any gold in that bank in the first place, so it's all good..

except when the townsfolk start pointing fingers at her. people calling her evil, telling her "how could she," how she had her whole life ahead of her, telling the navy they saw her there..which, she wasn't there!! she doesn't know how to pick locks!! or how to rob a bank!!! but it doesn't matter, because people know she's been taking, and borrowing, and all the other things people like her need to do to survive. and people like her don't get a say in these things. so, from then on, shes decided if people are going to make her out to be this bad person, shes going to give them a real reason to think she's a bad person. so, during the dead of night, as the moon is at its peak, she sets the whole town ablaze. she steals a ship, and sails as far as the wind will take her, hoping the sea can drown out her sins.

and, on the topic of a fic, i don't actually plan on writing one. i enjoy writing dialogue, however im not very good at all the other things that come with writing a story, so ill be exploring the au through comics and illustrations :-)

[commanderlexaofthegrounders]

Tanagariel's Clexa First Kisses

Following the trend #10YearsofClexaKisses here you have the first kisses between Clexa in four of my works!

Between the Sheets, Part I

Voices started to rise when Principal Kane shouted from the stage. “Calm down everybody, the back-up generator will be up in a minute. So stay where you are and if you need assistance a teacher nearby will be there in a second!”

Only a minute in total darkness. Who could need assistance in a minute? Probably Clarke Griffin.

0:59

0:58

0:57

Lexa turned Clarke around so they could be chest to chest. There was no need for light for they knew where they were. And their bodies were connected, communicating through touch.

Clarke was breathing heavily as well as Lexa, both their bodies were radiating heat from their dance; sweat draped their bodies. Lexa’s hands ran over her bare back and Clarke trembled.

0:43

0:42

0:41

Clarke hands moved over strong arms until she could anchor herself on firm shoulders and locked her fingers behind Lexa’s neck. Lexa’s hands rested on her lower back pulling her closer and then one soft hand rested on her cheek. “In the dark.” Lexa said and her warm breath tickled Clarke’s face realizing how close they were.

0:32

0:31

0:30

And that was it, the end of the world for Clarke Griffin because Lexa Woods was kissing her. Soft lips moved over Clarke’s tenderly and awaited permission, Clarke didn’t hesitate and opened her lips welcoming the kiss, and kissing her back. Lips tasting of Chap Stick and punch, and it was sweet.

0:15

0:14

0:13

Lexa changed the angle of the kiss deepening it, controlling the pace, filled with passion, and Clarke wanted to kiss her forever. This was surreal, nothing could have ever compare to being kissed by Lexa.

0:03

0:02

0:01

The generators were back on in full force; the lights blinded everyone for a second, but not Clarke who opened her eyes to meet the prettiest green eyes she had ever seen. Lexa took a step back pulling away from her.

“Clarke I…”

BANG  BANG!

And then chaos erupted.

2. Can't Tame this Wild Heart (Tarzan AU)

Lexa stood up and went into the forest quickly before coming back. She brought a flower and offered it to Clarke.

“Gift!” Lexa smiled as Clarke took the flower in her hand.

“This is pretty.”

“No, Clarke is pretty.”

Clarke blushed profusely.” Thanks, Lexa.”

Lexa sat closer to Clarke, she took Clarke’s hand and put it over her chest. “Happy with Clarke.”

She could feel how fast and strong Lexa’s heartbeat was.

“You make me happy too, Lexa.”

“Then we stay.” Lexa said simply. Her green eyes boring into Clarke’s. “We make new home.”

“Lexa.” Clarke let out a long breath. “Things aren’t that easy. You have to return to your family and I need to go back to my life.”

Lexa tilted her head slightly trying to grasp the situation. She huffed and shook her head.

Clarke reached for Lexa, cupping her face to make her look at her.

“Lexa, I know you’re angry and frustrated. Trust me, I’d love to spend more time with you, but things are complicated right now. I just wished…” Clarke realized how close she and Lexa were.

Her green eyes locked with her own, and then to her lips.

“Lexa?”

Lexa looked back into her eyes again. Suddenly she closed the gap between them and kissed her. It was a very sweet, innocent kiss. Tentative, guarded, but so tender. Clarke was paralyzed, surprised by the tender action. It wasn’t unwelcomed though because soon she closed her eyes and kissed Lexa back slowly, opening her lips to suck lightly Lexa’s plump, chapped lips. It wasn’t rushed, it was everything a first kiss should be. Fireworks behind her eyelids, and explosion of butterflies in her belly. But Clarke’s logic began to creep in her mind, telling her she couldn’t do this. Not to Lexa.

Clarke backed away. “I’m sorry, Lexa. We- we can’t.”

Lexa frowned again. “Wrong because I am girl?”

“What? No, no Lexa I ah, I don’t mind that you’re a girl.”

“Then why? Clarke does not like Lexa?”

Clarke chuckled. “No. I like you, but I can’t do this to you. I can’t do this knowing that you’ll have to go away, and it wouldn’t be fair to you. Your feelings, you have to grow some more to understand what you really feel. To be sure of those feelings. You might think you like me, but it could be just gratitude. Once you learn more you’ll understand that this isn’t simple either.”

“I am not confused. I know I like Clarke. We mate and make new home here!”

Clarke was now a furious red. “I ah, we uh, we can’t mate Lexa. I told you this isn’t simple. I’m sorry. I ah, I think we should get back to camp. It’s getting too dark.”

Lexa’s face was so heartbreaking to see. The confusion and yearning were so clear now. Her eyes that were bright suddenly became dull. Lexa nodded and picked up their stuff before making the way back.

3. Bokeh:

“Give me your cellphone.” Clarke extended her hand.

Lexa pulled out her phone and unlocked it. The blonde chuckled as she typed her number in the contact list.

“What?” Lexa crossed her arms defensively.

“Nothing.”

“Spill it, Clarke.”

She finished, returning the phone to Lexa. “You have Poison Ivy as your screen background?”

“Yeah, so what?” Lexa checked the new info. “Clarke Griffin?”

“Yup, that’s me and Harley Quinn is the more badass villain.”

Lexa had never been more offended in her life. “Oh god, get with the winning team here, Clarke. Seriously, Harley? She’s nothing but a puppet for the Joker!”

Clarke grinned mischievously. “I guess I’ll have to teach you who's on the losing team.”

In the blink of an eye, Clarke stepped into her personal space and claimed her lips. It was a very brief chaste kiss, just lip against lip, but it was like Lexa had been burnt. As if the oxygen had been sucked out of her lungs and the only thing that kept her alive were those soft, warm, lips.

“Thank you for the ride.” Clarke giggled taking two steps back, she turned on her heel and went to hitch a cab.

Lexa touched her lips not believing what just happened, the tingling left was warm and fuzzy. It was such a long time since she kissed someone, but this sensation was new to her.

A good kind of new.

Except it was with the girl who assumed she was Alexis, whom Clarke met at a nightclub and not awkward, lesbian disaster Lexa.

“Well, shit.”

4. Like an Open Wound:

“Clarke, I didn’t push you away because I wanted to be professional. I should but... It’s because I-” Lexa hesitated and Clarke wondered who was this Lexa who faltered with words and looked suddenly shy. “Because you’re you.”

“Wanheda, I know.” Clarke dejected. “Your assignment.”

“I told you that you weren’t just an assignment to me.” Lexa sighed in resignation. “I’m sorry, Clarke. I never meant to hurt you with my actions.” Lexa offered a small sad smile that broke Clarke’s heart. Lexa turned on her heel and began to leave the room.

“Lexa, wait!” Clarke tried to reach Lexa before the woman left her bedroom.

Her jealousy - because she was very sure that’s what she felt for Costia now - blinded her completely to what she was really feeling for the brunette. And of course, she misinterpreted Lexa’s words as well. Lexa had been saying something to her in her own Lexa way - between words - and it wasn't until now that she removed the jealousy fold from her eyes that she could see Lexa again.

Lexa and her weren’t so different at all.

Both were lonely, suffered deep loss and cared too much.

Weakness, Lexa called it.

Clarke called it strength.

In the end it was the same thing.

Wasn’t it?

There was only one way for Clarke to find out.

Clarke skipped the last steps to reach Lexa, cupped her face gently and closed the distance between them.

Her lips touched Lexa’s, and it was like everything was right in the world. Lexa was clearly caught by surprise, however, the tension slowly started to leave the brunette. Clarke felt Lexa melt into the kiss and open up to her, finally lowering her shields completely. Clarke took it as a positive signal to deepen the kiss, her hands moving to entangle into the soft chestnut braids and the baby hairs on the nape of her neck to pull Lexa closer, to eliminate any space left between them. Lexa’s hands were quick to find an anchor in Clarke’s lower back, keeping her steady and secure.

Nothing could have prepared Clarke for the sensations she felt by pressing her lips ever so softly against Lexa’s plump lips. It was out of this world, her heart was beating so fast, it felt as if it was going to jump out of her chest; but soon she felt the change in Lexa. The tightness of her jaw and neck so Clarke pulled away.

“I- I can’t...” Lexa said. “I’m sorry, Ms. Griffin.”  Her demeanor was back to the cold, stoic, emotionless woman. Her walls were so high that right now it was an impossible task to go through them.

She didn’t give a chance to Clarke to say anything else. Lexa was out of her room leaving her with nothing but want and regret.

[wherearedagrapes]

The deleted scene from the second movie where Maddie almost lets Sonic off the hook for sneaking out because he brings her (a ridiculous amount of) roses and Tom (who realizes immediately what Sonic’s trying to pull) has to keep Maddie on track also highkey reminds me of Amy and her hopeless romantic side lol like she would definitely swoon over a gesture like that and almost forget she’s mad.

Maddie’s so funny. I really do hope we get to see more of her. (Just realized Maddie and Tom are also wearing pink and blue here lol)

More thoughts on Amy under the cut.

If Amy is indeed on a mission to save the future/world, I can definitely see her having little self-preservation. The world — all the lives counting on her — matter so much more than her own life and desires. And if she’s been alone a decent while, I can see her having some trust issues or wanting to do a lot by herself… Amy (at least the Amy in the games I grew up with) has also always been bullheaded, take-charge, and kinda reckless. In the movie, it seems like she’s been tracking the Metal Sonics and knows way more about what’s going on than the others.

With all that in mind, I can see her taking over and maybe steamrolling “Team Sonic” at first, much to Sonic’s chagrin. He would try to be cool about it despite his wounded ego, but he would feel bossed around and unheard, and I can see them butting heads over this early on. Like I can see Sonic lowkey not following one of Amy’s plans out of spite and to prove his strategy is good if not better than hers and causing a mess. I can see Amy during one of her plans putting way too much of the dangerous responsibilities on her self and Sonic having to save her. I can see Amy struggling to be a team player, but in many ways she’d be similar to Sonic. And it could be a good way for Sonic to learn what it’s like for his friends when he disregards them/runs off into danger without them… How scary it is to be on the other side of that, to watch someone you care about be reckless with their own life or determined to do too much on their own. How frustrating, when all you want to do is help them.

You mentioning that Amy could see attachments as trouble is interesting because I’ve been thinking a lot about… IF Amy is from the future, isn’t she doomed to nonexistence? Depends on the time travel rules the movie chooses to follow ig, but logically, if the gang changes the future, the Amy that is a product of the bad future will disappear, right? If the future is changed/saved, then Amy would have no reason to time travel in the future. And if she never time travels, she never meets the Wachowskis… Wouldn’t it be like they never met?

I doubt the movie would actually end that way, but I can see this complicating things. I can see Amy going into this knowing/accepting from the start that she’s probably going to disappear if she succeeds in saving the future. She’ll change when the future does. She’ll become a different Amy with a different life. It’s not much of a burden until she meets Sonic and his family and starts growing attached to them. Now, she has something to lose. She’s carrying this bombshell around by herself because she doesn’t want anyone to put the mission at risk. Saving the future is too important. But she doesn’t want to leave. She doesn’t want to lose these new connections. She doesn’t want to be forgotten...

Which circles back to those ideas of being too selfless and trying to handle too much by yourself. What Amy wants doesn’t matter, but it’s harder and harder to deny her feelings and the part of her that wants to keep this love and happiness she’s (maybe finally) found on Earth. She needs to trust her friends. She needs to let her friends help her. But that’s easier said than done.

With Amy coming along, I can't stop thinking about the Amy-Sonic/Tom-Maddie parallels.

You know, the pink and blue scheme, Tom having a similar personality to Sonic and Amy possibly having some similarities to Maddie, Amy and Maddie possibly being two big city girls with Amy being from New York and Maddie from San Francisco while Tom and Sonic are both from Green Hills, the setup of Amy plus 3 Wachowski siblings as well as Maddie and Tom, who canonically have siblings too.

They've been foreshadowing this couple since the second movie, fight me!!

(and Tom x Maddie are the parents and couple ever, I love them!)

(Also, please give Maddie more prominence. She's awesome!)

[contrarianwitt]

a deep dive on adam/blue

okay i just need to do talk about blue and adam’s brief “relationship” because (1) i never used to like it and it always felt needless in the story/got in the way of the found family, but upon rereading it works well in the narrative and (2) there is way too much underlying misogyny when discussing blue that i just need to talk about

the gist is that blue and adam are such similar people who were both using their relationship as deflection, and were not good to eachother because they’re 16/17! not because they are evil or irredeemable

but the reason i realized upon rereading why the adam/blue relationship is so important in the first two books is because it shows us exactly why both pynch and bluesey work so well:

adam wanted blue to be the simple thing in his life that isn’t tarnished by his abuse, which is a completely valid reaction from the trauma he is facing. he’s secretive about his home life (not that he owes that to her) because he wants her to see a different version of himself. that’s why he is more upset about the kissing than the lack of emotional romantic connection.

adam calling blue in front of ronan, pointing out to gansey that he “got blue” without him shows it’s also just a teenage boy competition thing. he doesn’t really understand what entails in a healthy relationship and just wants blue, to have anything of his own. this makes sense for a traumatized 17 year old, but isn’t fair for blue to have to be the simple “easy” thing in his complicated life when she has her own issues and life, and adam is in a really bad mental state and expecting things from her she doesn’t want to give

while adam wants to seperate from his abuse, blue wants to seperate from her curse. she does want adam, and she firmly tells the universe that she wants to choose him, not gansey as an effort to escape their fate.

but of course, she is inevitably drawn to gansey and blue tells gansey about the curse and not adam, because she doesn’t want to break their allusion that they could just be normal teenagers, and gansey quite literally needs to know or he will die.

it is unfair to adam that she immediately went to gansey after and used him as deflection from her curse when she knew something could happen with his best friend, and to hide it from him after.

this conflict is showcased really well in their fights in the dream thieves. adam is solely focused on why blue won’t kiss him, blue is focused on why he wont tell her anything, and just keeps bringing it back to gansey (again, emotional connection vs the kiss, the curse and adam’s abuse lingering)

adam is extremely unfair to blue during this because he acts as if blues romantic attention is something he deserves, even pushing it after she tells him about her curse because he is so desperate for connection and blue doesn’t just want to be his girlfriend:

blue is extremely unfair because after the fight, she immediately went to gansey, his best friend right after they broke up, and didn’t consider adam’s feelings or how effected he was by his trauma and how rocky his friendship with gansey was - especially talking about adam with gansey

so, yes they both messed up and used eachother!

but at their core, it shows how well adam and ronan work: someone adam can kiss and love who has seen and fought his abuse head on and still loves him for it and understands him. he never got a chance to try and hide from ronan, he knew adam was from the beginning

and why blue and gansey are soulmates: someone who has an emotional connection with blue and sees her as a person and a friend first, who wants to kiss her, badly, but doesn’t expect anything. (there’s a good parallel in tdt of gansey discussing blue here vs the adam fight)

but onto the underlying misogyny: somehow the blame is always put onto blue for “cheating” and acting as if she was a master manipulator?? there seems to be a weird undertone by placing the blame on the only female character, while the boys are allowed time to grow and make mistakes and just be mean! especially since blue didn’t know half the things going on with adam, and wasn’t trying to hurt him, but it is always off-putting to me when people are always so defensive of everyone except blue…

i think they’re both equally at fault! it’s messy and mean, but the fact that they both heal and both recognize and regret the hurt they’ve done to each other shows there’s no need to completely absolve one party. like they both admit they were shitty, we should be able to do the same and love them all the more because it’s real! they’re young! they get it right eventually! i love them both so much

[bradleysass]

Bliss - @black-brothers-microfic - wc: 412 - Starchaser + Lily & Harry

Regulus Black considered himself an intelligent man. He had read more books than he could count, mastered spells beyond his age group, and survived the impossible. But nothing—absolutely nothing—had prepared him for the monstrosity that was the modern Crayola crayon.

“What do you mean this is ‘Blueberry Bliss’?” Regulus asked, holding up a crayon as if it personally offended him. “This is just blue.”

Harry, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him, sighed like he was speaking to the most clueless adult in the world. “No, Reg. It’s Blueberry Bliss. It’s different.”

Regulus squinted at the color and then at the coloring book in front of them. He had been roped into helping Harry color a picture of a hippogriff, a task that had seemed harmless enough—until he was confronted with the horror of unnecessarily complicated color names.

“Alright,” Regulus conceded, picking up another crayon. “Then what about this one?”

Harry glanced over and beamed. “Oh! That’s Ocean Serenade.”

Regulus turned the crayon in his fingers, examining it like it had just spoken to him in Parseltongue. “This is also blue.”

Harry giggled, nudging him with his elbow. “Yeah, but it’s a different blue.”

Regulus exhaled sharply and put the crayon down. “How many shades of blue does one coloring set need?”

James, lounging on the sofa nearby, chuckled at Regulus’ distress. “Welcome to the joys of parenting. Just wait until he makes you guess the difference between ‘Raspberry Rush’ and ‘Strawberry Sizzle.’”

Lily, walking in with a cup of tea, smirked at the scene before her. “Oh, he hasn’t even gotten to the glitter crayons yet.”

Regulus looked at her like she had just announced the end of the world. “There are glitter crayons?”

Harry, eager to demonstrate, began digging through his box of crayons. “Yeah! They’re really cool!” He pulled one out triumphantly. “See? This one’s ‘Moonlight Magic.’”

Regulus took it with a long-suffering expression. It was silver. Just silver. But he had already learned his lesson. He nodded solemnly. “Of course. Moonlight Magic.”

Harry, pleased, went back to coloring, and Regulus sighed, resigning himself to his fate. James, still laughing, leaned over and pressed a kiss to Regulus’ temple. “You’re doing great, love.”

Regulus huffed but didn’t pull away. If being part of this family meant putting up with ridiculous crayon names and an enthusiastic little boy who took them far too seriously—well, he supposed he could manage.

Even if ‘Blueberry Bliss’ was just blue.

[judebellenthusiast]

Casual- Jude Bellingham

Jude x female reader

w.c: 4.3k

summary: Two friends, whose connection was once effortless and genuine, now find it teetering on the edge, as Jude’s possessiveness and Yasmin’s reluctance to fully engage threaten to push them toward an emotional breaking point.

warnings: mature language, not proof read

-------------------------------------

Another ordinary night at Jude’s place. The TV hummed in the background, a classic British comedy filling the space with familiar chatter. Yasmin was curled up on his couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies, laughing at something on her phone. She looked so at home here, so natural—like she belonged. Like this was hers. And maybe, in some unspoken way, it was.

Jude watched her, savoring the sight. He loved that she let him see her like this—unguarded, comfortable, vulnerable. Not just once, but over and over, as if trust was second nature between them. It made him feel dizzy with something dangerously close to happiness. Because despite the strange, unspoken thing lingering between them, she was still here. Still showing up for him. Still untouched by whatever it was that had been gnawing at him.

And that had been eating at his sanity all along.

A noticeable ping goes off on Yasmin’s phone. Immediately alarmed, Jude shifts, listening to the soft tapping of her fingers as she responds to the message. His chest grows heavy with the realization that, once again, he had interrupted their quality time.

And that makes him hot.

Fighting against his better judgment, he decides to play loving Jude—the version of himself who puts his pride aside, who listens, who understands. It never used to be difficult. But lately, with her? Not so much.

The thought of her with someone else makes his blood run scorching hot.

It shouldn’t. He’s had his flings, his hookups, his forgettable nights. She’s free to do the same.

Still-

“You like him?” His voice is rougher than it should be, his grip tightening around the bowl of popcorn.

She looks up, surprised. “What”

“That guy.” He doesn’t say his name. Won’t. “You like him?”

She hesitates, then shrugs. “He’s nice.”

Nice. Jude almost laughs. He wants to rip nice apart with his teeth. Nice doesn’t know her like he does. Nice doesn’t get to see her in moments like this—wrapped up in him, breathing in his space, wearing his hoodie like it belongs to her.

Tonight, he’s greedy. Completely relentless.

“Since when did you settle for nice?”

For a moment, Yasmin just blinks at him, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she sets her phone down on the armrest, like she’s choosing her words carefully. Choosing how to handle him. It makes him feel like a landmine ; one wrong step and he’ll go off, shattering whatever fragile thing still exists between them.

“don’t start.”

That should be his cue to back off, to shake this off like it’s nothing. He wishes it was nothing. But it isn’t. It’s her. And it’s him. And it’s every moment like this where she’s here but not his.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I’m just saying, nice? That’s all it takes?”

Her jaw tightens. “Well Jude, not everything has to be complicated.”

But we are, he wants to say. We always have been. Instead, he scoffs, running a hand through his hair, feeling himself unravel. “Right. So, what, he sends a few texts, calls you pretty, and that makes you fold?.”

Yasmin tenses, her fingers curling into the sleeves of his hoodie. It’s not anger, not yet—but he knows her well enough to recognize the shift. The moment she starts pulling away.

“That’s not fair,” she murmurs. “You don’t get to do this.”

She’s right, he doesn’t. But she’s here, looking at him with something dangerously close to pity, and it makes his stomach churn. Because deep down, he knows what she means.

Not when he’s the one who taught her how to move on.

Not when he’s the reason she had to.

She looks at him for a beat too long, eyes scanning his face like she’s searching for something morse code , a smoke signal, a reason to stay in this conversation. But whatever she’s looking for, she doesn’t find it. She exhales, slow and measured, then reaches for her phone again.

That should be the end of it. He should let her go back to texting Nice, pretend this doesn’t bother him, be the easygoing, unaffected Jude she’s used to. But he can’t.

Instead, he says, “Does he know you steal all the blankets in your sleep?” His voice is quieter now, almost careful. “That you leave the tap running when you brush your teeth, no matter how many times I tell you it’s wasteful?”

Yasmin freezes, Jude’s hoodie failing to shield her from the icy sensation creeping through her. What once felt like comfort now felt paper-thin.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head tilted to the side, a gesture that usually made her needy but now had the opposite effect.

“Does he know you don’t really like horror movies, but you watch them anyway because you love the way people get passionate about them?” His throat is tight now, but he pushes forward. “Does he know that when you’re sad, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying?”

A pause. A long, suffocating silence.

Then she whispers, “What’s your point here Jude ”

And fuck, it hurts. The way she says his name, soft and broken and pleading, like she’s asking him not to do this. Like she’s trying to remind him of all the reasons they stopped being them in the first place. All those intimate nights together, How he ruined her for any other man like a disease taking over its carrier.

How she’d wake up bare and vulnerable to him holding her like she would slip away in the middle of his slumber— worst part is how they’d go back to their usual selves like nothing ever happened

He forces out a laugh, but it cracks at the edges. “Nice doesn’t know you Yaz.” His voice drops, raw and unsteady. “Not like I do.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek—something Jude knew she did when she was annoyed. But once again, he selfishly disregarded her discomfort. He didn’t care. Not when he was ready to burn every bridge between them just to make his point.

Jude had never been the rational one between the two parties, that was always Yasmin. The thinker, the mediator, the one who kept their arguments from spiraling into something irreparable. She was emotionally intelligent in a way he wasn’t, in a way he admired. In a way he adored.

Amongst so many other things, As often as he hated to admit it, she was usually right. She had to be—moderating heated debates between him and the younger Bellingham required nothing less.

“Oh, grow up. What do you know about relationships when your entire track record consists of sleeping with women on the first date and kicking them out before sunrise?” Her words cut sharp, ruthless—but he deserved it for thinking he had the right to judge her.

“I’m actually trying to build something here. Something real—something valuable.” She presses.

Jude makes no effort to chime in, letting her words settle between them like embers still burning at the edges. She had a point—a brutal one at that; but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he stays silent, almost relieved. Because for once, she isn’t biting her tongue to spare his feelings. Even if it comes at his expense, at least she’s finally stopped pretending everything between them is fine.

At least now, they’re being honest.

“Hmm, now you have nothing to say?” She tilts her head, eyes sharp, voice laced with something dangerously close to amusement. “What happened? You had no problem running your mouth about ‘ nice’ earlier. What, Jude? Cat got your tongue?”

Nothing. He stays perfectly still, arms sprawled out against the couch, exuding the kind of ease that only ever masked something deeper. His eyes remain locked on Yasmin, drinking her in like she’s an expensive painting in the Louvre—something priceless, something untouchable.

And then, just to piss her off, he flashes the biggest, most infuriating shit-eating grin.

“You find this funny? What’s so fucking funny, Jude?” Yasmin’s voice is sharp, laced with frustration, her arms crossing over her chest as she glares at him. “Go on, speak up”

Jude just chuckles, shaking his head, that damn grin still plastered on his face. “I’m just glad you finally had the balls to say what you actually feel instead of watering it down, Yaz. Good on you love”

Running a hand through her hair, she takes a deep breath, her patience hanging by a thread. Without thinking, she grabs the nearest object—a pillow—and hurls it straight at his perfectly trimmed set of hair.

It smacks against him with a dull thud, bouncing off uselessly. The grin finally slips from his face, just for a second.

Jude blinks, then tilts his head, lips twitching. “Didn’t peg you as a violent person, Although, I gotta say… that cushion didn’t do much damage.” He leans back lazily, smirking. “Cute effort, though.”

Yasmin exhales sharply, shaking her head as if she’s trying to physically rid herself of him—of this entire moment. This was useless. He was useless.

“ Fuck right off, I’m done,” she mutters, voice tight. She turns on her heel, grabbing her phone in the process– not thinking of her valuables that’s stored in his closet and bathroom drawers for all the times she’d stay over. She practically lived here.

She moves toward the door with quick, purposeful strides. She won’t stay here, won’t let him rile her up just to leave her in the same emotional purgatory he always does. it was usually unintentional but it still hurt.

But then—his hand wraps around her wrist. Not hard, not forceful, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks.

“Yasmin,” he says, and for the first time tonight, his voice isn’t teasing. It isn’t cocky or smug. It’s quiet. Unsteady. Raw.

She doesn’t turn around.

He swallows hard. “If you walk out that door, you’re not just leaving for the night. We both know that.”

Silence. Thick, suffocating.

“Maybe that’s the point,” she whispers.

His grip tightens, just slightly, like he’s trying to anchor her here, to him. “Then tell me,” he says, his voice barely above a breath, Grabbing onto her shoulders turning her body to face his “Tell me you don’t feel it anymore. Tell me you don’t care. That this-” he lets out a shaky exhale, “—that I don’t mean anything to you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Her pulse thrums against his fingertips. “Fuck you”

“Say it,” he presses, voice breaking at the edges. “And maybe I’ll let you go.”

She wants to. She needs to. It would be easier if she did But the words won’t come, because they would be a lie. Because no matter how much she tries to convince herself otherwise—he still means everything.

And he knows. Of course, he knows.

So he takes a step closer, close enough that she can feel his breath against her skin, close enough that if she turned around, there would be no space left between them. “Figures, You can’t,” he murmurs. “Because you still love me.”

Her breath catches.

And just like that, he’s ruined everything

Yasmin wrenches her wrist out of his grasp like his touch burns her. And maybe it does—because everything about him is fire and recklessness and ruin, and she can’t do this. Not again.

“Don’t,” she snaps, stepping back as if distance could save her. “Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that.”

Jude shakes his head, jaw tight, eyes locked onto her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters. “Why not? Because it’s true?”

She scoffs, arms crossing over her chest like a shield. “Because it’s cruel, Jude. You don’t get to throw shit like that in my face when you’re the reason I had to stop loving you in the first place.”

That hits. She sees it in the way his expression falters, just for a second, before he recovers—before he takes a step toward her, crowding her space, refusing to let her hide behind anger.

“Yasmin,” he murmurs, voice low, pleading. “Look at me.”

She keeps her gaze firmly on the floor. She won’t let him do this. Won’t let him drag her back into the storm of him just because he suddenly decided he wanted her again.

But Jude isn’t having it.

“Look. at .me.” His voice is sharper now, desperate, like her refusal to meet his eyes is physically hurting him.

Her chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven breaths. “Why? So you can watch me fall apart for you again?”

“Yes.” The answer comes instantly, wrecked and honest. “Because I need to see it. Because I know you’re hurting, Yas. I know you still feel this.” He reaches for her again, not to hold her down, not to trap her—just to touch her, to make her stay. “I know I fucked up. I know I ruined it. But don’t stand here and lie to my face. Not you.”

She shakes her head furiously, tears stinging at the edges of her vision. “You don’t get to need me now. You don’t get to want me now.”

Jude exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. And then—his voice drops to a whisper, one that slips through the cracks in her armor before she can stop it.

“I never stopped wanting you.”

Her resolve wavers. And he sees it. Of course, he does.

So he steps even closer, tilting his head, trying to catch her eyes. Begging for them. “Please, Yaz,” he breathes. “Just look at me.”

she knows the second she looks at him, really looks at him, she’ll crumble. And she’s spent too long trying to piece herself back together to let him wreck her all over again.

But Jude? Jude is relentless.

His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for her again, to force her to face him if he has to. His breathing is uneven, his chest rising and falling too fast, like he’s the one spiraling. And maybe he is. Maybe, for once, she’s not the only one drowning in whatever the hell this is.

“Yasmin,” he whispers, voice cracking.

Her throat tightens. She clenches her jaw, wills herself to stay strong. But something about the way he says her name, like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this moment, has her resolve slipping.

So she looks.

And it’s a mistake.

Because his eyes—God, his eyes—are raw, desperate, completely, devastatingly bare. There’s no cocky smirk, no smug deflection, no armor. Just him. Just Jude. Just the boy she loved so recklessly, so stupidly, staring at her like she’s the only thing he’s ever truly been afraid of losing.

And just like that, she hates him.

Hates him for making her look. Hates him for looking at her like that. Hates him for being so fucking easy to love when he’s spent so long proving he didn’t deserve it.

So she shoves him. Hard.

His body jerks back slightly, but he barely reacts, barely even blinks, just lets her push him like she needs to.

“You don’t get to do this,” she chokes out, her voice shaking with barely contained rage. “You don’t get to sit here and act like I’m the one who left. Like I’m the one who let us fall apart.”

Jude swallows thickly, his jaw clenching. “I know.”

“Do you?” she snaps, another shove landing against his chest. “Do you really? Because if you did, you wouldn’t be standing here, making me relive all the ways you broke me.”

Jude exhales sharply, tilting his head up, eyes flickering to the ceiling like he’s trying to keep himself together. And then, after a long, agonizing beat—

“I never wanted to break you.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

Yasmin lets out a bitter laugh, but it sounds more like a sob. “Well, congratu-fucking-lations, Jude. You did.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “I know.”

And then, softer, like he’s confessing the worst sin imaginable—

“And I hate myself for it.”

Yasmin lets out a hollow laugh, “You hate yourself for it?” she echoes, shaking her head. “That’s rich, Jude. You think that changes anything? You think that makes it better?”

She pushes him again, but this time it’s weaker, her hands curling into fists against his chest grabbing onto his shirt

Jude doesn’t move. Doesn’t stop her. Just stands there and takes it, lets her anger sink into his skin like he needs to feel it.

“You have no idea what it was like,” she whispers, voice shaking. “Sitting there, pretending I was fine while you paraded around with other women. Like we never happened. Like I never happened.”

His breath hitches, but she doesn’t stop. Can’t.

“You’d walk into a room with some girl on your arm, smiling like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, and I had to sit there and pretend it didn’t feel like my entire fucking chest was caving in.” Her voice is raw now, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “Do you know what that’s like, Jude? Do you have any idea what it’s like to love someone so much that watching them with someone else feels like dying over and over again?”

Jude’s jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Hey—”

“SHUT UP” She cuts him off, shaking her head. “You don’t get to talk. Not when I spent months swallowing my feelings just to make it easier for you. Not when I had to sit there, night after night, pretending it didn’t hurt to watch you move on like I was nothing.”

“I wasn’t moving on,” he says, and for the first time, there’s something desperate in his voice. “I was trying—trying to forget, trying to stop feeling like I’d ripped out my own fucking heart when I let you go.”

Yasmin lets out a sharp, broken exhale, shaking her head like she’s trying to keep herself from believing him. “Bullshit” Yasmin scoffs, her voice sharp, cutting. “You have everything, Jude. Status, women—hell, you live for that shit. "Bet you enjoyed knowing I was waiting like a lovesick puppy, hoping you'd finally see me the way I’ve always seen you."

Jude finally moves, stepping closer, forcing her to look at him, really look at him. "Stop that. I won’t let you talk about yourself like you’re just a pawn in some game," he interrupts, hating the way she tears herself down with words that couldn’t be further from the truth. His voice is thick, unsteady as he murmurs, "I don’t expect you to believe anything.. but it’s the truth."

She clenches her jaw, her entire body trembling with the weight of everything she’s held in for too long. “You had options, Jude. You had every chance to fix things. And instead, you let me sit there, watching you touch other women, smile at other women, while I had to act like I didn’t care.”

His hands twitch like he wants to reach for her, but he holds back. “I was a fucking coward.” His voice cracks. “I thought if I kept running, if I buried it deep enough, maybe it would go away. Maybe you would go away.”

Jude’s breath stutters, his entire body going rigid as her chest presses against his. She’s so close he can feel the heat radiating off her, can see the fire in her eyes, burning with rage, with pain, with something he knows is for him.

She tilts her head, daring him, pushing him. “Well, you haven’t always been the brightest” she taunts, voice dripping with venom. “So did it work? All that running around, all those one night stands , all that trying to bury your feelings like a fucking pussy—did. It. Work?”

Jude exhales shakily, his eyes burning into hers. “No,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "No matter who I was with or how many nights I tried to move on, none of it ever compared to you," he says firmly, willing her to believe him. It’s raw, unfiltered—straight from the depths of his heart. Grasping her hand, he presses it against his chest, his heartbeat hammering beneath her palm. "This, right here, is real, Yasmin."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath right out of her.

And Jude knows. He sees it in the way her lips part, in the way she grips her arms like she’s trying to physically hold herself together, and for a second, just a second, he thinks he sees her waver. Like the weight of this, of them, is finally catching up to her. But then she blinks, and the fire is back.

“Aw boo hoo ,” she bites out. Pulling her hand away from his chest “I want you to suffer. The same way I did.”

Jude swallows hard, his chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven, too agitated with her stubbornness.

“You think I haven’t?” His voice is quieter now, but there’s something raw in it, something that makes her breath hitch. “You think I don’t fucking hate myself every second of every day for what I did to you?” “Because I had something real—something valuable—and I ruined it. I ruined us. And the worst part?” He lets out a bitter exhale. “I never fucking stopped loving you. Not for a second. Not even when I tried.”

Her breath catches.

And just like that, she’s done for.

Yasmin squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to stay firm, to not let those words seep into the cracks he already left behind. But it’s useless. Because this is Jude—her Jude—and no matter how much she wants to hate him, she knows deep down she never truly could.

She shakes her head, a silent plea for him to stop, to not do this to her. But Jude—of course—doesn’t stop.

Instead, he steps even closer, his fingers ghosting over her wrist, a hesitant, desperate touch. “Say something,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her throat tightens. She can’t. Because if she speaks, if she admits what’s been sitting heavy in her chest since the moment she walked through his door, there’s no coming back from it.

So she does what she always does when it comes to him. She tries to run.

But Jude is faster.

He grabs her arm frustrated with her constant need to run. “Stop walking away from me. Not this time, not ever.”

She exhales shakily, refusing to turn around. “let me go.”

“No.” His voice is steadier now, more certain. like he’s trying to coax her out of hiding. “Yasmin.” He tugs her gently, just enough to make her stumble a step back toward him

When she turns, it’s slow, hesitant, her gaze lifting to meet his like she already knows it’ll be her undoing.

And the second she does, she breaks.

Because Jude is wrecked.

His brows are furrowed, his lips parted, his eyes desperate, pleading. Like she’s the only thing that’s ever truly mattered. Like he’s terrified she’ll slip through his fingers if he so much as breathes the wrong way.

“I love you,” he says, and this time, there’s no hesitation, no running, no fear. Just the truth.

Her chest tightens. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.” He steps forward, eliminating the last bit of space between them. “And you know it is, Yaz. You’re it for me”

A single tear slips down her cheek, and when Jude sees it, something in him shatters.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes ,hesitating to reach up– but he does so anyway— wiping her tears. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Yasmin lets out a trembling breath, her lips parting like she wants to say something—but then she just falls.

Not physically. Just enough for Jude to know that, this time, she’s his to catch.

He doesn’t hesitate. The second he feels her falter, he reaches for her—one hand curling around her waist, the other cradling the side of her face like she’s something fragile, something irreplaceable.

Yasmin doesn’t push him away. Doesn’t flinch. She just stands there, caught between her anger and the way his touch feels like something she’s been aching for.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally speaks.

“Thought I lost you,” he says quietly.

“You did ” she responds, her voice sharp. “Nothing between us has been normal recently .”

Jude shakes his head instantly. “No,” he murmurs. “No, I didn’t. Because you’re still here.”

That stops her cold.

Because he’s right- hating the fact that he’s choosing to be rational- part of it likes that it’s with her.

She could’ve left. Could’ve walked out the second he touched her , the second he confessed. But she didn’t.

She’s still here.

Jude sees it, feels it, and he takes his shot. Grabbing onto her face he brushing her curls away gently his long fingers rest against her jaw

"I will spend every second of my life proving to you if you let me. I don’t care how long it takes, I don’t care what I have to do—just don’t tell me to stop loving you, Because I wont.”

Her lips part, her chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven.

And just when he thinks she might actually say it back—

She steps away.

His hands drop, his heart plummeting, but he doesn’t fight her. He lets her go, even though it physically fucking kills him to do it.

She’s crying now, wiping at her cheeks like she’s angry at the tears, at him, at herself.

“I want to, but I can’t.”

His face twists, like he’s in actual pain. “Why not?”

Yasmin swallows hard, looking at him like she’s memorizing his face, like she already knows this might be the last time.

“Because loving you is just.. painful”

Jude’s breath shudders, and just like that—

She’s gone.

[sonofwhales]

Oughhhh this is not exactly what happens in one of my scenarios but I'll take it as a go from the universe to just write it already.

In a fantasy (dnd esque) world a party of heroes has to take down the bbeg and they KNOW that they will fail, the cleric has a plan, letting their deity possess her body and use her full power to take down the evil, there is only one issue, the presence of the deity in her body will technically kill her due to having her soul detach and be lost.

As the party members make their way to the place of the ritual the barbarian wants to confess his love for the cleric but are unable to find the right moment in the rising tension. The barbarian is not the only one holding the secret as the cleric lies about the nature of her possession saying instead that the only complication that will arise will be during the ritual, as it will be a painful one. When the party arrives to the place for the ritual the cleric is visibly scared but plays it down saying that it's because she's scared for how painful the ritual will exactly be, but that she's ready to do it anyways.

And painful it is truly, as the deity takes over she feels like she's burning from the inside out, her limbs twisting in agony and invocative song turned into screams; and then there is only darkness. In her place the deity, the party members have been instructed on what to say to coerce her into helping them and so she does, excited of being called down to the mortal realm after possibly eons of staying in her own plane.

The battle is gruesome but thanks to the deity the bbeg is defeated. The team runs to the cleric/deity wanting to be there and congratulate their friend, with the barbarian first in line. But when they reach them the lie is shattered as the barbarian feels the world cave:

“Your friend? Didn't she tell you? She gave up her body for me. She's dead”

Had a sudden vision of two people getting out of a battle or otherwise violent situation and instantly embracing/kissing each other (if they are kissing bonus points if its their first) and when they pull back being all giggly and excited to have survived only to suddenly realise one of them is injured. Badly.

[dunadaan]

I’ve had Créa for 10 years this year and I’m amazed at how she’s changed since I made her. From little oc to stewardess of the North…she deserves good things 💖(

[a-mel0n]

@frogsinflannel your TAGS. i think the moment it clicks for buck that tommy is ABBY's tommy is when patricia goes missing. because abby has a total of 1 friend in canon that helps (carla), she'd also call in tommy for help bc like. tommy and patricia got along, of course he'd help.

(adding a read more bc wow i just kept rambling huh)

so buck gets to abby's place right as tommy showed up and they do a little pointed spiderman meme at each other bc like. they dislike each other, tommy bc buck's immature and also he wants to suck his dick HELLO internalized homophobia, and buck because tommy's so fucking perfect it drives him INSANE. he's so competent at his job and he's so fucking big and the way he calls buck "buckley" makes him want to either lick tommy's cleft chin (which is a perfectly heterosexual thought. ally!) or punch him in the face. maybe both.

they'd be partners at work like how eddie and buck are partners right now, and oh my goddd they get on each others nerves but they work together so well!!! bobby looks at the two of them like: "well i brought on buck to replace sal bc i thought he'd work well with tommy. and he DOES, they just hate each others guts. hmmmm. complicated." anyways back to the point: after they KNOW about the abby of it all their dynamic gets so much worse. buck starts pestering abby for dirt on tommy ("how good was he in bed? for completely straight reasons. i'm better right"), and is sooo antagonistic towards tommy about ending things with abby for (what he thinks) was no reason. full on: "she was devastated and you don't even CARE?" yknow?

tommy's thrown by the fact that he dumped abby and her response was to date someone FROM HIS HOUSE that's 20 years younger than she is. he KNOWS buck is a rebound and is in a temporary relationship, and he's so frustrated because fucking EVAN BUCKLEY can't see that, and can't stop being an ass and nosy about his personal life.

and the entire time abby's just standing in the middle of this weird love-triangle like: "i hear ireland is wonderful this time of year."

anyways they hook up at the end of s1 after abby leaves and buck is happy for approximately 0.2 seconds before tommy says to the 118 that he's thinking of transferring to harbor.

boom s2 starts and eddie joins the 118 while tommy's getting recertified. buck is 10x more antagonistic towards eddie because he's not afraid of eddie replacing HIM, he's pissed the fuck off that eddie's replacing his kinda-friends-with-benefits-kinda-boyfriend-situationship thing with tommy.

sorry just busy thinking about an au where tommy stays at the 118 and him and buck have an enemies to lovers relationship bc

1) despite what current day tommy would like us to believe, tommy version alpha would definitely think buck 1.0 is a himbo. and finding out that buck is dating abby??? guys you dont get it tommy would HAAAATE buck. mostly because tommy wants to suck buck’s dick but also because imagine being one tommy kinard and breaking things off with abby expecting to never see her again and then BOOM your coworker that stole the fire engine is her rebound and you suddenly got to deal with all of That.

and 2) oh my fucking god buck would peacock so hard. mostly because he really wants to suck tommy’s dick BUT he’s got abandonment issues visible from SPACE, if you believe he wouldn’t think his relationship with abby is threatened by tommy’s mere existence i fear you have not been paying enough attention. dude would hear that tommy and abby dated and he’d go “wait why wouldn’t abby want to get back together with her ex. tommy’s hot. he’s got pecs the size of my head and his dick is HUGEEEE. what do i have to offer that tommy doesn’t.”

anyways this all culminates with them hooking up in the 118’s supply closet and hen making BANK because she saw that shit coming from a mile away and started a betting pool immediately.

[waitineedaname]

I so desperately wanna know what lee sookyung and persephone's relationship is like. they share a son, I have GOT to know how lsk feels about that. is there grief that her son allowed himself to be adopted by another set of parents, when he struggles to connect with her? is she relieved that he has someone at all? does she try to tell persephone stories about his childhood, only to find there's only a small pool of stories she can tell, the rest of them colored by suffering and her absence? did they mourn him together?

[pepperpixel]

SAID HE LIKES CRAZY GIRLS,

BUT HE HATES WHEN I ACT CRAZY,

IT TAKES TWO TO TOXIC!

FINALLY!!! Finished these pics of jinx I’ve been working on!!!!! HOLY SHIT, these took so long…. But finally… they’re done… pls enjoy this art of my beautiful princess w a disorder. Featuring alternate colors for the big pic and also a closeup! Cuz I rlly like how both the lines and coloring on her face turned out… like the pink gradients w her eye… her deer in headlights expression,, like uve just startled a raccoon digging thru ur trashcan and r two seconds away from getting mauled.. m proud of it!

[cupoteahatter]

No One:

Me: Anyone ever think about how because Tyler was tricking her, he accidentally ended up as the one person who was seeing Wednesday for who she is and not who everyone wanted her to be? Specifically not who he wanted her to be, because he didn’t even have another image of her to fall back upon? Weems saw her as trouble/her Mother, Gates underestimated her, Sheriff Galpin only saw her Father, Xavier as his childhood hero, Enid blatantly assigned her a social mask but Tyler looked her full in the face and took her as she was? From their first meeting to their last, seeing Wednesday as she is, as she comes, all her dark edges and bright ideas and meeting her as an Equal Opponent, never underestimating her, never covering her up…. Just her. Only her. (And that in turn blinds her to who he is, until she pulls his mask off by accident).

Me: Anyone else ever think about that?