#as someone whos a bit younger by far one of the most frustrating things about the anti side of the fandom is the infantilization of

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

I just saw a very good post in the anti tag about the issues with the IC making Nesta dance with Eris, and the reason Im not reblogging it is that I think it has some pretty bad and wrong shit to say about Nesta, specifically her age

First of all, it leads with that godawful "the brain isnt fully developed until 25 (therefore youre actually still a child until your mid-20s)" talking point which is just wrong, like scientifically, the brain is never truly 'fully developed' because it never stops developing because past a certain point brain development has very little to do with your age and more to do with your personal experiences. Also, 'development' when we're talking about the brain is not synonomous with becoming more mature or improving somehow. Like, if you suffer some trauma thats going to affect your brain development in ways that have to do with your life experiences so far and with your material circumstances and very little to do with your age (unless youre an actual child who has less rights and less control over those things o guess)

The OP of the post goes on to be like "Nesta was turned fae when she was 24, presumably the way the cauldron turned her immortal is by slowing down her aging to an astronomical degree, which means that shes going to mentally be 24 years old for a long time after this, thus effectively making her a child for the next eternity" and then, presumably to legitimize the absolutely asinine argument that a 24 year old (previously) human adult could be a child in any world, they go on to say some shit about high fae not reaching maturity until theyre like 50 which Im prwtty sure is wrong

Like, SJM is a bad writer and a worse worldbuilder so everything about everything is just a big inconsistant mess, but as I understand it, high fae and illyrians seem to age like normal humans until they hit their mid-20s and then their aging slows down to an astronomical degree, the thing about fae aging slower is something said by Alis in the first book so it its either something that only applies to lower fae or its one of the many things that got retconned from ACOTAR to ACOMAF. In other words, fae would physically develop the same as humans, brains and all (not that that matters anyway, as ive already detailed in the previous paragraph)

The thing that kills me about this post, the thing that makes me call it very good except for this aspect, is that its primarily about the IC putting Nesta in danger by putting her in contact with a guy who, as far as they know, is a dangerous misogynist with absolutely no regard for her safety. Thats an absolutely horrible thing to do to an adult woman, especially one whos recovering from severe trauma, and there is no need to make it seem even worse by infantilizing her like that. Yes, thre is an age gap between Nesta and Eris which contributes to a pretty weird power dynamic, but ultimately the reason that dynamic skews towards Eris is that hes older, not that Nesta is younger. Eris is a guy who with centuries of life experience who is characterized as manipulative, who likely spent a big part of those centuries learning how to be manipulative in the most effective way possible, and Nesta is a normal adult woman, thats the issue here; not Nesta being a "child" and Eris being an "adult"

[simplyreveries]

Dorm Leaders watching their S/O beat up someone that shit talked them. And they do it without a scratch and walk off to them like nothing happened, and the only reason why they noticed was because of some blood on their uniforms

riddle rosehearts

the look on his FACE when he sees you straight up sucker punch someone for calling him names, most likely some student in his dorm telling him off frustrated and badmouthing riddle to their friends. he was speechless??? like??? he quickly regains his composure and manages to have you and the other (more so you) back off before anything more happens and it escalates. he may even temporarily use his magic on you two as a swift warning.

riddle will remove it once the student is gone and scold you for doing and resorting to such violence… though yes it was good that you had, good intentions with him and mind he’ll huff and tell you that is not how to do it! he’ll end up rambling in a flustered moment after having that happen and because out of defense? he's never felt that before or had someone to do that for him really.

he’ll ask and wonder if aces stubborn and fighting tendencies are rubbing off on you, he’d know as he GOT hit by him before. he’ll exclaim and be like “I told you, dear, they're a bad influence on you tsk..!” hehehe. he makes an effort to keep you strayed and quickly moved away if some situation like this occurs, especially after knowing just how far you are willing to go for him… after he’s gone on long enough to you about how that wasn't a good idea, you swore you could've seen a hint of a smile on him.

leona kingscholar

leona is used to hearing some sort of snarky hushed comments about him from other students, thinking he doesn't have such a keen sense of hearing, at times. he really could care less and mostly likely will not be caught thinking about it even later on. there were times where maybe yes, they would sting him slightly but that was when he was younger and, in the castle, hear comments regarding him and his place beside his brother. once again, he has gotten used to these kinds of things and finds it rather pointless to dwell on. he doesn't want to pity himself.

but… you are kind of the opposite when to him and he actually is genuinely shocked for once when he sees you getting personal and physical with some random octavinelle student that made some snide comment about him. leona had always known that you had an overprotective and forward flare to you— hell he loved that about you, but he actually was not expecting that one bit.

he will grab your arm and stop you from going any further from terrorizing this poor student, he’ll grumble what “an idiot” you are for getting yourself into such a mess, for a mere comment towards him. he’ll have some smirk on his face, he doesn't seem to be taking this seriously one bit.

azul ashengrotto

like leona he has had to learn to “toughen up” and learn to ignore them (though he does most likely take them to heart at times) he holds his front and persona ever the same remaining unbothered and frankly ignorant. he is quite used to others talking poorly especially as his reputation is poor among various students haha. but he doesn't seem to care, he is quite happy to see his business grow actually.

azul seems a little taken off-guard when you start a whole fight with not one but a group of students??? l mean, most violence he is used to is from the twins to some student who’s defiant to fulfill or deal with the effects of their deal. when he is past the initial surprise, he stops you and tells you to only ignore them, azul will claim its foolish to engage. he tries to keep a fake “oh terribly sorry about that...” to the students to make sure they won't do anything. if something were to happen though because you decided to pick a fight out of his defense, he could always send someone like floyd, not you!

not going to lie though, moving away he did feel a sense of pride knowing that you're someone that's so willing to go such lengths for him, not to mention, he's impressed. you’ll still find him going on and telling you that you shouldn't be doing that, it could lead you into some larger mess with other troublesome students. but he’ll chuckle and tell you he finds it endearing.

kalim al-asim

kalim is pretty liked for the most part by other students and his dorm, minus the whole fiasco that happened during his chapter. he is just the kind of person that wants to be able to get everyone's approval and he’ll stubbornly keep being persistent. however, in a school like nrc where they're so many people the opposite he is bound to get annoyed, mean comment from someone. SO, when you decide to take that extra personally, he is so??!! he is not one for violence like ever...

after he sees how willing you are to defend him by literally fighting the student, he absolutely will quickly get in between you two and stop the situation before it even begins to escalate, trying to make light of it all with a nervous smile and laugh, he doesn't want to see you or the other person fighting!

he'll look over you all worried, he doesn't want you or anyone to be hurt, especially on his own behalf. he just has this shocked and bewildered expression as he does so, like he is flattered and thinks it's nice that you care for him but not so aggressively! haha.

vil schoenheit

this man is a celebrity…. words do not affect him. he is really used to comments online but also around him during his school life, though he is surprised there are some so bold to be expressive about their thoughts of someone like him. he doesn't think much of them, at most shooting them some glare or even an unamused look from him. if he’s particularly stressed or upset about something beforehand he won't hesitate to throw his own comment as well.

he is shocked but carefully removes you before things get any sorts of serious after you decide to start that. the last thing he would want is for you to be hurt in some sort of silly reason, as he doesn't seem to care about what others think of him. if anything, vil would only be more concerned about you than that unpleasant student. he does know quite the temper and stubbornness you can get; he’ll move you by the arms away if he has to.

vil would look like he is frustrated but his face is just painted with concern for you— he’ll stubbornly bring you to his room and make you sit down in front of his vanity, leaving the student way being (frankly surprised that you decided to sucker punch them for talking ill of vil). vil will carefully tend to your hands, shaking his head. he’ll kiss your knuckles when he’s done, get your uniform cleaned and warn you not to do something like that again!

idia shroud

if idias feeling mean back (most of the time) he’ll probably just do something scummy to the person online and call it a day. but at the end of the day, he avoids people like the plague, so this happening is rare— he isn't exactly the most confrontational person either, unlike you who willingly get into the student's face getting slightly physical about to jump in and defend your boyfriend. that is until the student runs off.

he freezes and pauses for a moment, really unable to stop staring at you as the whole situation unfolding in front really trying to register what you just did. then he would give off his weird little snicker and giggle, after witnessing the whole thing, he finds it amusing that you're able to do that to some student, knowing you're a human— the magicless one yet you're able to do something like that for him??

honestly, he loves it, you've opened his eyes and made him realize that he is definitely attracted to that lmao. yet he groans when you go on and still fired up about the student, he’ll tell you it's too much of a trouble to do these kinds of things.

malleus draconia

he is quite used to hushed whispers and looks from passing students, though it is discouraging because he doesn't want that from others— there's another part of malleus if he's upset or feelings particularly spiteful for it… he could get really intimidating himself, no doubt about it, if he really wanted to. he never does anything too bad, but he sometimes messes with others if he is in the mood. at the end of the day though, he is used to sebek quickly charging up ready to defend his honor at any moment of the day and telling him calmly to let them be.

nevertheless, he is genuinely surprised when you suddenly are willing to fight people literally for him. he finds it entertaining at first but then when he realizes you're being serious and get tough with a particular student he's like OH. with the quick move his hand, he’ll quickly move you and pull you away with some magic and prevent you or the student form doing anything else.

he’ll have some amused look on his face, as he remembers the face on the student when you were about to swing at him. as he lightheartedly scolds you for being so rough and doing something that could end with you getting hurt.

[urautismdiagnosis]

Peso

Peso my lil Habibi <3 <3 <3

hes just a top tier character

my Hispanic coded son, mylil guy who's learning how to believe in himself

i just I lovepeso guys he's so pure and supportive and caring and lighthearted and silly and he's really doing his best??

he could probably cure my mentally illness with a bandage I'm sure

imgonna be so real I think he has game tho, like I'm 300% he could pull any maiden

he can become friends with like any sea creature too probably

hes my hero and my son and I think he low-key judges everyone internally

cuz like idk if y'all have met people who refuse to swear out loud verbally and hate confrontation, but the internal dialogue omg

i just know one of these days if he gets pushed too far hes gonna threaten someone with his slappity flippers

like y'all know the look birds do where they just sideye you??

that glance???

i think he does that whenever people do things that are stupid

like he loves them all dearly but shellington why would you touch The THing That Will Hurt you, no shellington you cant eat that for science-

Also I think he and dashi would listen to music together i think they might spend evenings relaxing together. I mean their rooms are right next to eachother so like I'm sure they've had some lovely little evening conversations and stuff 🥰 i can just imagine dashi tryna teach peso yoga and like 😩🙏his penguin body wasn't built for it but he still slays

Hes like the little sibling but in the actually I am the most mature way???

I think its cuz he looks up to alot of the other members (altho he's definitely gotten alot more confident as the show has progressed) but he also like..

He gives me the vibes of the oldest sibling of not just the siblings but of all the cousins??? This might just be me projecting but like why did u even become a medic for such a wide range of medical creatures and sign up to join the newly formed highly experimental water nasa???

I think he probably had alot of high expectations on himself because everyone just always believed he could do anything. And that sounds super supportive in theory but when ur like tryna be the oldest and first one to support ur family and everyone is always looking at u because like.. most other people in ur family are younger or ehatever.. that pressure and extra attention can cause alot of perfectionism and high self standards

That mixed with being The Caretaker in your family especially as a child is a pretty good recipe for getting anxious about any big goal in your life and how others perceive you. I think he tried to like humble himself by saying oh no I'm not really capable of all those amazing things so pls don't have those huge expectations hahaha but then it just turned into not believing in himself as much???

Also we slay genuinely caring and kind people having alot of pent up frustration they never show because they love everyone too much. It still hurts inside tho.

Anyways uhhhhhhhhhhh this totally ain't me projectin or anythin.

also hes like a mixed kid, but he's mostly gentoo penguin id say based on my own design

speaking of penguins I think that their homes would be actually made of stone lol. Their homes would have like different smaller homes for privacy around like communal areas.. they still gotta deal with predstors like albatross or ehstever tho. But their albatross for example might work in groups or even be larger.

Friendly reminder my lore for the octonauts is a bit different than the Canon. Sure People People being like hunted is wayyyy less common than irl but They're basically still playing their evolutionary roles kinda like how we see with sea otters in the show.

I'm gonna make the post for their social norms and etc on this within the next few days actually lol but back to peso

Do u guys ever think peso wouldve jumpscared the crew by being like "oh no the shelf is too tall!" And then busting out the "hey did you know that penguin legs are just folded and much horrifically longer than ud think they are?" On them 😩🙏

"Wh- why would ye show me this??"

" because no one will ever believe you"

Hes very sweet but I think he deserves to be a little bit of a sneaky sht

If uve made it this far thanks for reading the brainrot I hope it was comprehensible pls lmk ur headcanons about him cuz I need more ngl

[atinystraynstay]

Butterflies - Choi Beomgyu

Synopsis: Experiencing love for the first time is a magical thing. And college was all about experiencing a series of firsts. For Beomgyu though, it was the most terrifying concept. Yet, when it comes to how Beomgyu feels about you, he was ready to conquer his fears.

Pairing: College Student!Choi Beomgyu x reader

Genre: first love, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.4k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

"What are you doing?" Taehyun asked, peering over Beomgyu's shoulder. Quickly, Beomgyu covered this notebook from the peering eyes of his best friend.

"N-Nothing," Beomgyu quickly responded. "Bullshit! Let me see."

Taehyun tried his best to reach for the pile of papers but Beomgyu did a good job at playing defense. If only he noticed Kai by his side who was able to snatch the notebook from underneath him.

"Hey! Give it back," Beomgyu whined.

He was about to pop up and chase after Beomgyu, but Kai already began reading out-loud the written words. Kai's voice called to attention Yeonjun and Soobin, who soon found themselves wondering over towards the living room. Beomgyu just wanted to crawl in a hole and hide.

"Oh, does our little Beomgyu have a crush?" Yeonjun teased. He approached his younger friend and ruffled his hair playfully.

Beomgyu was quick to swat his hand away before glaring. Yeonjun quickly took a step back, putting his hands up in surrender.

"So what if I do? What's the big deal?" Beomgyu muttered. If only the couch could swallow him whole at this moment. "It's not like anything is going to even happen anyways."

The other four boys all looked towards their friend. Their eyes were wide. Soobin was definitely questioning if he had heard Beomgyu correctly. Taehyun, his closest friend out of the group, took a seat next to him on the couch. Yeonjun had taken a seat to his other side as Soobin and Kai placed themselves in front of Beomgyu.

They had never encountered this side of Beomgyu before. He was always the friend that offered advice when one of the other guys needed advice, especially when it came on how to approach someone they were interested in. So to hear that he had his own self doubt was a bit alarming.

In reality, it was easy for Beomgyu to give advice to his friends. At his core, he was somewhat of a hopeless romantic. He loved watching romance novels, for the plot he claimed, but also because it gave him hope of one day meeting a girl that makes him feel like the main character. He loved the cliches in songs and poems. Beomgyu often took the lessons he learned from film and other forms of media in order to help friends sort through their dilemmas.

He had just never experienced a love that powerful before. Sure, he might have had a crush here and there, but he never took them seriously before. They would normally fade after a week or so.

This time was different.

"Gyu, what are you talking about? Why would you think that?" "Because I know nothing will happen! She's far too good for someone like me."

Kai and Yeonjun looked at each other with concern. What was going on in their friend's mind? How could he not see how amazing he was, both as a friend and as a partner for someone? Soobin looked at Taehyun, letting him take the lead to ease Beomgyu's concern. If Beomgyu had to listen to someone, it would be Taehyun. "Is this about y/n?" He asked outright. "Why would this have anything to do with her?!" Beomgyu was both impressed by his best friend's sleuthing skills but also terrified that his crush had been outed so easily. All the guys knew of you. You were constantly working with Beomgyu on class assignments, but they didn't know much about you other than that. Now, it was starting to come together. "I'm going to take that as a yes," Taehyun chuckled lightly.

All Beomgyu could do as a response was throw his head against the back of the couch and let out a loud groan in frustration. It was then the concern on his friends' faces turned into smirks as they watched how red Beomgyu had turned in a matter of seconds. "Wait," Yeonjun called out. "Is y/n the one who works at the coffee shop?" "No, she is the one that Gyu is always meeting up with at the coffee shop," Kai proudly proclaimed. "So she's the one that he sits beside in their Poetry class?"

"Do we have to keep talking about her?" Beomgyu asked, a slight whine in his voice. His friend group was notorious for teasing one another, but he prayed this one time that they might spare him.

"Yes," the other four said in unison which caused Beomgyu to groan again. "Or at least we can conceive some sort of plan to help you," Taehyun offered.

This finally peaked Beomgyu's interest. Slowly, Beomgyu sat up correctly with his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm listening," he muttered. He would be lying if he said his stomach wasn't filled with butterflies at the thought of getting an inch closer to breaking the barrier from friends to lovers.

"Here's what is going to happen," Taehyun began.

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

Everything was set into place. There is no way Beomgyu could mess this up. But to make sure it all went according to plan, the four others had situated themselves at the opposite end of the cafe. To everyone, it looked like they were just four studious guys trying to finish their degrees.

Yet, Beomgyu couldn't help but look over his shoulder to make sure they weren't being too obvious. It didn't help when he made eye contact with them, they all shot him a thumbs-up. I hate them.

You weren't a predictable person. You had your moments were you craved to be around other people, surrounded by loud noises and flashing lights. He knew Fridays would be a guarantee of catching you out of frat row. But he didn't want to make a move where you might forget about it.

There were times though during the week you'd like to retreat to your dorm and ignore the world. You valued your alone time, which shocked him as he got to know you. There was hardly ever a time you said no to someone. Unless you had a study or a paper due.

The one consistency in your life was your love for an iced coffee and blueberry muffin. It was something that helped motivate you to study, but also something that could heal your soul.

Today was one of those days where you could use a little tender, love and care.

To be fair, Beomgyu hated Taehyun's plan. It involved you getting let down. You were such a considerate person, so Beomgyu hated anytime you felt betrayed. Yet, he knew Taehyun wasn't doing this maliciously. It was supposed to be an opportunity for Beomgyu to swoop in as if being your knight in shining armor. Still. Beomgyu hated the fucking plan.

Taehyun had texted you saying you wanted to do something special for Beomgyu's birthday next month. Of course, you said yes. You knew all the guys, and would do anything for any one of them. Especially Beomgyu. He had become such a prominent role in your life that you actually felt honored that to be included in the planning of his special day. Taehyun then said he would meet you at the coffee shop at 6:30pm, after his evening lecture.

However, he sent you a text at 6:31 saying that he had planned everything already so there was no need to meet up. Truthfully, you loved getting the opportunity to make someone's day special, whether it be a big or small occasion. You felt hurt that not only did Taehyun take full control, but that he decided to cancel last minute. What was the point in texting you in the first place then if he was just going to turn around and do it all on his own?

Cue Beomgyu.

I hate you, Taehyun.

His heart was shattering as he saw the sight of you. Your head was down as you seemed to be focused on writing down either notes or even poetry lines, a habit you picked up from the class. He could still tell you were upset by the way you were hunched over.

The coffee shop you two frequented never announced customer names, just their orders. Your stomach grumbled when you heard someone had ordered your usual. Lucky bastard.

You would write a few words in your notebook, but then quickly cross it out in black ink. Nothing was working out, nothing made sense.

"Maybe this could help?"

The voice that spoke out to you caused your heart to race. Could I just be hearing things? You looked up slowly, not wanting to get your hopes up too much. Yet, you couldn't deny the smile that curled onto your face.

Beomgyu stood in front of you, one coffee cup close to him but the other gently being placed in front of you. "BVC" was written on the cup, a blueberry vanilla chai. The order previously called out made you seethe with slight jealousy. You had no idea Beomgyu would even be here.

"My knight in shining armor!"

Beomgyu chuckled as he went to shrug off his jacket. He placed it on the back of the chair in front of you. It made you smile a bit wider, cheeks beginning to ache, as you realized he was actually staying.

However, what took you by surprise was the way he didn't pull back the black metal chair. Instead, he slid in next to you in the booth portion of the table. Your eyes widened slightly, a pink hue coating your cheeks. No matter how hard you wanted to conceal it, Beomgyu noticed and boy, did it make his ego soar. There were always murmurs, mainly from the four guys, that you could like him. He always denied it, but the slight confidence was now making him lean into the theory.

"How did you even know I would be here?" You asked softly. "Please, y/n. This is your favorite place to go after classes, especially when it has been raining off and on all day. You aren't ready to go home quite yet because you are a cliche who loves rainy days. You wanted to be somewhere you could get work done but also get lost watching the rain."

It was a lie. A little white lie. Maybe one day he would confess to the crime he was committing, but right now, he just couldn't get over the shimmer in your arms. Did he actually make you that happy.

You couldn't confide the truth in Beomgyu why you were here. Not when his surprise birthday party was on the line. All you could do for now was nod your head in confirmation.

"Well, it's definitely better now that you are here." "Oh really? Tell me, sweet girl. How can I make this evening even better? Or is having me right where you want me enough?"

The pep talk from Yeonjun was paying off. The words were falling off of Beomgyu's lips with ease now.

You were staring at him at shock. This wasn't the Beomgyu you knew. The guy who could trip either over his words long forgotten. This was a new man who knew his next response before you could say anything.

There was no doubt that you had feelings for Beomgyu. He made you feel the cliche butterflies you read about in romance novels. He gave you hope that maybe the authors weren't just exaggerating when they described love as making you warm and fuzzy because Beomgyu made you feel that way daily.

Yet, he was your best friend. You never wanted to jeopardize that by the rush of emotions you felt. To be honest, you were confessed at first the only reason why you thought of Beomgyu romantically was because he was the first guy to give you validation rather than just attention. He treated you kindly without expecting something in return. Unless you ate his last snack. You thought it was something you'd grow over time.

However, here you two were. You were sitting in the booth, staring at each other. The music, the conversations of people around you faded out. All you could hear was your own heartbeat in your ears.

The only thing that brought you back to reality was the feeling of his arm wrapping around your shoulders. His free hand resting on the table, but fingertips strategically placed close enough to brush yours. Does he fucking know I like him?

"Because let's be honest here. We both have been trip-toeing around the idea of us. I don't know about you, y/n, but I'm tired. I want to play a different game."

Your head tilted slightly, confused what he could mean by game. Beomgyu honestly was a intriguing man, so you naturally were inclined to learn more.

"I'm tired of competing with other guys to try to get you to see I could be the one for you. I want to be the only one. Why don't you give me a chance to prove it to you, once and for all?" "And you think a blueberry vanilla chai could win me over just like that?"

Now it was Beomgyu's turn to become fluster. His eyes widened as he retreated a bit, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. Was he being too presumptious? Did he say too much?

There was the Beomgyu you knew.

Before he could over a rush of apologizes, you giggled. His mouth that was opened quickly closed. Your hand now rested on top of his, squeezing his hands comfortingly.

"There's nothing I would love more, Gyu. Why don't you pick me up for dinner tomorrow night? Something proper because right now, I really don't want to leave our favorite spot."

His arm slightly tightened around you, pulling you in closer. His heart couldn't settle just once as he realized this was actually happening. And that his best friends were actually right for once.

"Sounds like a date," he whispered.

His lips were pressed gently against your forehead, but he quickly pulled back once he heard cheers erupting from the other side of the cafe. His eyes widened as he didn't even have to look over to know what who was behind the interruption.

Yet, you didn't. You raised an eyebrow and glanced over your shoulder, staying close to Beomgyu. His fingers caressed your shoulder, almost as if he was trying to keep himself grounded rather than going over to yell at his four friends.

His four friends who were right all along, and were celebrating their victory by whistling and clapping for the two of you. Which caused everyone else at the cafe to look over in direction.

You blushed again, not expecting all the attention. Your face buried into Beomgyu's neck as you erupting into a fit of giggles. He couldn't help but chuckle as he looked down at you endearingly.

Thanks, guys. Seriously.

[theo4eve]

Facts about Byul:

-Was born in Seoul, Korea

-Moved and lived in France until he was a teen. 

-Has a habit of covering his face with either his hood, a mask, or scarf whenever it’s cold. Like how red pandas cover their faces with their tails.

-Freezes whenever people compliment him, has to process it

-Can’t twerk. Has tried but ended up on the floor from embarrassment, again, covering his face in shame

-Eldest child, has three younger siblings who he tries to be in contact with 

-Often forgets to take his medications, vitamins. So Felix reminds him! 

-Didn’t start professionally dancing nor singing until he was recruited

-Has his drivers licence 

-His favourite season is Autumn

-Has a beauty mark right above the corner of his left eye, which he loves. 

-Doesn’t have any pets, is allergic to cats. Loves to play with Berry, Kkami and Bbama whenever he is able to

-Before becoming a trainee he was going to become an Architect, still draws buildings and sketches of either people or realism in his free time though

-Can wink and move his eyebrows separately 

-Loves bad jokes and puns, if you crack a bad pun you will be rewarded by a sticker. Most likely one of the many panda ones he has, or a cat or a star

-Sometimes gets overwhelmed by the other members loudness and energy, which has him going to the far corner to block everything out for a moment to take a breather

-Has the worst eating schedule. Doesn’t eat breakfast, lunch around 3 pm, dinner around 10 pm

-Works out regularly, although he isn’t a gym rat like Changbin

-Tries to sound like a native english speaker, but there’s always just a little bit of a french accent and it frustrates him till the end. (everyone else loves it)

-Tries copying the Aussie lines way of saying things, for example, ‘Ya reckon?’ 

-Cannot handle horror movies, gore, flashing lights, horror games. Will run away and hide. 

One time, Seunglix tried to get them to play a horror game and told him it wasn’t scary. (Ended up crying even though nothing scary happened yet and left the other two to play. Sniffling and getting some hot chocolate to cheer himself up) The others bully him for this so much, man. For example, sneaking up on him, forcing him into joining them in scary rides while at a park.  ‘Awh Yullie too scared? Baby Yullie~’, ‘BOO!’ 

-You can often see him on his phone, most likely looking at posts fans make or texting someone

-Doesn't play video games or watch anime. If ghibli studio productions count then he loves it. His comfort movie is My Neighbour Totoro and his comfort series is The Disastrous Life of Saiki K

-Is pretty good at maths, physics and subjects in the science area of things

-Has a zoned out look or a frown on his face most of the time

-Has so many things he wants to do honestly, but forgets as he doesn’t write them down

-Can play the bass and a little bit of drums, so he tries to practise to not get rusty 

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #14: Skin-Deep

Prompt: telling || Master Post || On AO3

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Alakhai does not initially understand just how Synnove and Dancing Heron remain friends with one Rereha Reha.

Oh, sure, the girl is nice enough (‘girl’ as if she isn’t just a few years younger than Alakhai herself), especially for someone that filthy stinking rich. (Who needs that many purses?) But she’s loud and rambunctious and bawdy, a bit too fond of parties, ostentatious in the extreme, the exact opposite of the far more reserved Synnove and Heron.

Clearly, she’s missing pieces of this puzzle, not helped by her infrequent visits to Ul’dah, and then Rereha running screaming for Gridania of all the cities. But Alakhai is very good at fading into the background to observe, so that’s what she’ll do.

It’s all the little moments that count for the most.

The time she and Synnove arrive at Rereha’s family manse to find Rereha’s room a minor disaster with clothes spilling out of the walk-in closet and Rereha sorting things into various piles.

“Shirts to keep, trousers to keep, dresses to keep,” she had said, “shirts to donate, trousers to donate, dresses to donate. Forgot to do this before I went to Gridania. Oh! Gotta let Ruru and Roro at the donate piles, too, they get first dibs on whatever I’m not wearing anymore, should be a couple of things they like…”

There’s also the cheerful pride Rereha always has when she speaks of her baby sisters. She isn’t particularly close with them, but none of them seem to mind that. Rereha has her own path, and she speaks with naked relief about how much better Ruruha and Roroha will be as castellans for the family businesses. “They actually enjoy goldsmithing and alchemy and all the business management stuff!” But she’s always happy to share a list of her sisters’ latest accomplishments when asked, and at one point, Alakhai is present when the young twins decide they want a song from their elder sister. And Rereha immediately puts down her bow, and picks up her fiddle.

There’s the time they were all out shopping the market stalls, and Alakhai sees Rereha clock a minor jeweler down on their luck. Worn hems, unpolished shoes, a collar very carefully turned to hide a faded stain. Their wares are good, even to Alakhai’s untrained eye, and Rereha quite happily purchases a necklace and two sets of earrings from them. But Rereha doesn’t haggle quite as ferociously as she would with a better-off merchant (and there is, apparently, an entire etiquette about haggling in Ul’dah and greater Thanalan that Alakhai has no hope in hell of grasping), though she manages it in such a way that if you’d never seen her actually put her whole effort into it, you’d never know she’d deliberately gone light.

And then she puts on the necklace as they wander off, and hooks in one pair of earrings into her lobes and the other onto her cartilage just at the points of her ears, and gushes to everyone on Sapphire Avenue who asks about her baubles about where she’d gotten them.

Then there’s Rereha’s about preternatural memory for keeping all of Heron’s numerous relatives straight. Synnove’s dead to the world on the couch in Rereha’s room, recovering from exams, while Heron whisper-shouts in frustration over some family squabble that’s boiled over and Rereha is nodding along. Heron finally wears herself out and presses her forehead against the couch with a low groan.

“It’s so stupid,” she finishes.

Rereha wiggles off the still-sleeping Synnove’s back to smush herself against Heron’s head and pat her shoulder in commiseration. “Your uncle’s a moron,” she says. “Has anyone bothered to write to your Great Aunt Intrepid Star to get her to settle the matter already?”

Heron heaved a sigh. “Trying. She went on holiday in the South Seas, which has turned into her island hopping her way to Thavnair, and the runner keeps just missing her in every damned port.”

“Damn.”

Finally, there’s today. Synnove is making eyes at an enormous topaz she just bought like it’s a Bismarck ice cream sundae and Alakhai has a hand on her elbow to keep her moving through the crowd. Rereha, however, isn’t quite so distracted, and she yanks at Alakhai’s belt to get her attention.

Alakhai looks down and can’t help but blink in surprise at the expression of utter loathing on the lalafell’s face. Then Rereha points, and through the heavy crowds, Alakhai sees a hyur woman of middling years, pale-skinned and black-haired and blue-eyed.

Alakhai has never met Isolde Greywolfe and quite frankly probably shouldn’t (oops there’s a knife in someone’s kidneys, so clumsy, how awful of her), but now she knows for sure what the woman looks like.

Rereha has already moved to Synnove’s other side and is tugging at her friend’s skirts, and Alakhai assists by gently pushing Synnove into the movement. “Come on, babe, you’re gonna get us mugged making buffalo eyes like that,” Rereha drawls.

Synnove merely grunts.

Even with her eyes still glued to that topaz, Rereha and Alakhai manage to get Synnove down one of the less busy side streets, and from there, Rereha guides them through the maze that connects the various major Avenues until it spits them out near one the clusters of cafes.

“Time for coffee!” Rereha says, and that finally gets Synnove’s attention.

Alakhai shakes her head in amusement, and levels a considering eye on Rere. The pieces are beginning to fit together, and what a strange creature this Rere really is. Funny, though.

Let’s see where this goes.

[ringleaderscarletshadow]

You know how in season 5 They gave Marinette PTSD WELP turn that up to 11 Prompt is the idea of turning into a Robin would give her PTSD too that or just meeting Batman/Bruce in a NOT TODAY SATAN kinda way.... this blue eyed kids not up for Adoption don't know how they meet thought I

Ooo I love this so much. There's a lot of potential here.

Turning her into a Robin would definitely give her ptsd. I feel like it would cool to keep the "Not Today Satan" reaction to Batman/Bruce but perhaps instead of a robin, it's a thing where they try to get her and Adrien into one of the many younger hero groups.

This is my take on it below (Spoiler it ends up straying quite a bit):

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Wait, you're being serious right now?" Marinette double takes.

"Well, of course. We do not let children be part of the Justice League. They have their own place."

Marinette tries to process the words of Superman.

The League had seen how far Chat Noir and Ladybug have come as heroes of their own. Two children gifted an entire box of miraculous to keep safe purely because of the previous owner seeing them be kind to others. Sure, they did not know that part, but the duo was surely strong enough to be a part of this team.

Both Adrien and Marinette are skilled with not only their miraculous but nearly every possible miraculous pairing within the box. Each has their half that suits them the best. If there was any two people in the universe who could manage it, it was them.

Now, the heroes that had reached out to the duo to meet with them are saying that they want Ladybug and Chat Noir to join their teams but not the main, strong team. Instead, they want to place the duo in with sidekicks.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but you reached out to Chat Noir and myself because you wanted to talk to us about joining the team. Anyone who would read "joining the team" would think that you mean the League, not some sidekick division. Perhaps you got your information source told you wrong. The two of us are heroes and partners not sidekicks to someone." Marinette stands her ground, crossing her arms.

Wonder Woman and Superman look to each other before spotting Batman. The dark and brooding keeps an emotionless state. None want to speak. Reluctantly, Superman does.

"You are only kids. You should not be out fighting crime by yourselves. We caught footage of you taking on threats' way above your capabilities and nearly die."

"That is reckless and can get many civilians hurt. You are only thinking of yourselves. It needs to be stopped." Batman cuts in, frustration pouring into every word.

Marinette blankly stares at the Trinity before looking at the two other leaguers that happened to be in the meeting, Green Lantern and Shazam. Both of them had distasteful looks toward what was said.

It is Chat Noir, who had been held up dealing with civilian matters of his own, that makes it known that treating them with such distaste would not be tolerated. He walks up beside Marinette, hands firmly crossed to stop himself from doing anything regretful.

"You have no right to tell us what we can and cannot do. We are not children. We are young adults who have been wielding this magic just as long as your little bird has been dangerously flipping around kicking down evil doers with no protection but the suit of fabric. How about you think about the circumstances you have put children through before you try to 'educate' us on how to do things?

You know what? We do not accept your offer to join any team. The two of us will make our own. One where you cannot try to control everyone else all because you have the most following. I looked up to the Trinity as a guiding light. Now, I realize that they only want to make sure heroes only act as they see fit."

Adrien keeps his eyes sharp on the trio as he lets his words hang. He had no regrets to what he said. If they wanted to treat them like children, they were going to learn how wrong they are for it.

Wonder Woman is the one to get most furious of the trio. Not because they called her out specifically. It was how Adrien's first words on the scene were immediate decline.

"You cannot simply make your own team. Teams need leaders who are seasoned and know the horrors of combat. Without such, it will all fall apart and be weak."

"You think that we have not seen the horrors of battle, of war?" Marinette scoffs at the princess. "The number of times that I have watched Chat Noir die to save civilians and had to rewind to warn him before it occurs is beyond what you can comprehend."

"I have had to fix entire timelines because of the villains you think are nothing, but jokes and seen Ladybug die in order to save as many lives as possible while none of the League helps." Chat Noir hisses at the trio.

The miracle duo cannot find it in their minds to ever consider joining the League now. It was simply a matter of getting out of the conversation and standing up for what they know is right.

"Making up stories will not help your case. Wonder Woman is right. You have no experience leading a team and will only get anyone who joins hurt. We will not allow you to do so."

Green Lantern and Shazam both had have enough of the trios demands. They stand in front of Marinette and Adrien, shielding them.

"Tough luck guys. They will have a leader who fits your standards, and you will have to deal with it. Oh, by the way, I quit."

"Same goes for me. I don't want to be part of a team that puts down other heroes for their age."

Before any of the Trinity can speak, Green Lantern pulls up a light wall so the group can leave. Instead of taking the zeta tubes, Adrien pulls out Kaalki's glasses, double transforming to open a portal.

They spare a glance back to see an infuriated Batman, shocked Superman, and Wonder Woman trying to hide her anger toward them. Green Lantern laughs as the portal closes behind them.

They arrive in the manor that Adrien inherited from his parents. Marinette takes charge by letting her transformation fall and Adrien follows suit. Green Lantern takes the hint and allows his ring to replace his suit.

"Oh, we are revealing our civilian attire. Well, I guess you guys are the best people to let the secret out to. Shazam!" Billy appears in the spot of Shazam, slightly rubbing at his arm.

Hal places his arm around the older teen. Billy is hesitant but allows Hal to continue.

"I had a feeling there was more to you. I am glad you both told Bats off. Miraculous are a hard magic to wield. They had no idea what they were disrespecting. The name is Hal Jordan. Happy to be on whatever this team is."

He offers his hand. The duo confirms visually with each other before accepting. They each give their name, leaving Billy to reveal.

"I'm Billy Batson. I have to admit... I have been a big fan of the both of yours for a while now. I think we will all make a great team."

"Have room for a couple more?"

The group turn to see Raven and Tempest come in the room from Raven's spell. The two were a weird combo to have appear.

"Raven and I were also asked to come meet with the Trinity. As much as I like Nightwing, there was no way I was going to stay and be forced into any team by those three."

"If you do not want us to stay, we can leave and understand."

"Absolutely, we do not want to force you all into anything you do not want to. Oh, I'm Garth but go by Tempest."

"Raven. Rachel Roth if a civilian name is needed."

Adrien eyes Marinette. The two shared a smile as they gladly accept the two's request. Anyone how wants to work with them despite their 'lack of experience' and age are more than welcome to join.

The only thing they needed now was a name.

[anamazingangie]

your precious heart | Rupert x Taggie

🍓 Chapter Two 🍓 Work In Progress 🍓 Rated E 🍓By AmazingAngie 🍓

Tags: pining, idiots in love, falling in love, competency kink, rupert POV, older man/younger woman, size kink, fantasizing, [tags to be updated]

Summary:

You’re old enough to be her father. Once, those words had reminded him to keep his distance. But in this moment, he could only think; She was old enough to be his wife. or: Rupert cares more about what his heart wants than his friendship with Declan. 

Chapter Excerpt:

He’d been doing this since before she was born. He’d been practicing for her. He’d waited a long time for her.

🍋 Chapter One 🍋 Tumblr Post 🍋 Word Count: 2.9k

🍓 Chapter Two 🍓 Tumblr Post 🍓 Word Count: 4.3

🍓 everything that I want, I want from you 🍓

He knew that on occasion, Agatha O'hara became a fragile thing—both in an emotional and a physical sense. 

The days between the present and the party had done little to dull the memory of how the night ended, and how devastated her expression was. 

(The sensation of her soft cheek against his lips remained sharp in his mind, too.) 

But he thought that in this moment she was more gangly than anything else, rather like a newborn foal. She didn’t quite know how to carry herself, nor did she have the awareness of how magnificent she could become in time.

If given the proper care, of course. 

Something he was rather capable of, having been involved in the husbandry of colts and fillies long before he became interested in chasing the wants of his cock. The Rupert-Campbell family had been breeding horses and hunting dogs for a half-dozen generations now.

It was in the water, his grandfather had claimed, their estate never failing to birth the most virile of men and mammals, and Rupert was certainly an example of the former and experienced with the latter. 

To be honest, even now, he tended to treat his horses better than the women in his life. 

But then, many of them were more loyal and—such as in the case of the mare Taggie was currently petting—had been in his life longer, too.

Bitsy had arrived in Penscombe Court before Helen, and remained there after Helen, outlasting even his lengthiest and most successful —at least on paper— relationship. 

He had probably ridden her more than Helen, too, though obviously in a different sense. 

He certainly preferred Bitsy’s company. Often, he had escaped the home on horseback, finding far more comfort and stress relief in the stables and the grounds of his property than he had in his house, with his wife. 

It was still a bit of a mystery as to why he had pursued that woman, much less married her. 

No, no it wasn’t a mystery, not really, he just didn’t like the reason and the misery it had led to. 

He had wanted to marry her just to prove that he could. Even a woman who was rich, stunning, and smart as Helen Gordon was unable to resist him…even if she thought him to be a complete and utter imbecile, which she very much did.

She reminded him of this often, both before and after they took their wedding vows. 

Their relationship had never been a happy one, and neither was their marriage, but he had stayed in it since the alternative— divorce —was equivalent in his mind to defeat and he was too stubborn to accept that, even if they would both be better off for it. 

He supposed that contributed to his feelings towards Taggie and her situation, specifically the lack of support and acceptance she faced in her home and her family’s inability to acknowledge or respect her talents.  

She may not be gifted academically, and neither was he, but he was clever. He had worth beyond that, and the confidence to remember that even when Helen looked down at him and made it obvious thought otherwise. 

Still, it had been frustrating and exhausting to live with someone who thought of him in such a way.

And Taggie, the poor little duck, had never known any other life, and never managed to acquire the confidence he had worn like armor while surviving those years he spent chained to the title of husband. 

He didn’t understand how she coped the way she did. She was a marvel, truly, and he couldn’t recall the last time he had admired someone as much as he admired her. 

And he said that as a man who dined with the Prime Minister the previous evening. 

The discussion of politics and stiff suits that had plagued that evening did little for his mood. Comparatively, he found Taggie’s company, with her muddy wellies and wavy hair, made him feel light in a way he rarely had since giving up jumping. 

It was a sense of rightness in moments like this, giving him all the confidence in the world that he was supposed to be here and to be with her.

Fuck, what he would do to have a roll in the hay with her. 

That desire was never more apparent than now as she stroked his eldest pony, grinning up at the mare and lavishing compliments on her. 

“She cannot understand you, you know,” he warned, but she was quick to disagree, “Nonsense! I think it more likely that you can’t understand her.” 

He opened his mouth, wanting to disagree, for he understood women a great deal, even the equine variety, but she interrupted him before his thoughts could turn into words. 

“And even if she can’t, I don’t care, she deserves a compliment whether she understands or not!” 

The words were punctuated with a whinny from Bitsy, which sounded oddly like agreement, while the bob of her head mimicked a nod. 

He was still skeptical, but he shot the mare a look—if Bitsy could understand, he hoped she could understand the betrayal of her actions at that moment. 

“That was why my comments towards Gertrude upset you so, hm? You thought she understood?” 

Taggie flushed, likely recalling that day. It was several months ago, during the height of summer when the heat of summer made tempers run hot.

They had met a mere handful of times when he dared to question the undignified mixed features and fluffy tail that Gertrude boasted. Traits he would never accept in his spaniels or terriers, which were bred to the highest of standards. 

Taggie had been horribly upset at the slight, even shouting at him—

“Just because she doesn’t meet your narrow standards of beauty does not mean there is something wrong with her! You small-minded jit!” 

At the time, he had not attempted to apologize, instead responding with the insistence of, “ There is nothing small about me, darling.” 

She had huffed and stormed off, showing more anger and defensiveness in that moment than any other, despite the months that had passed between that day and this one.

She wouldn’t dare speak up for herself the way she did a dog, as if Gertrude was truly deserving of more respect than she was. 

It was as charming as it was frustrating. 

She nodded, looking down at her feet and scuffing the boots against brick while she waited for her blush to fade. 

Pity that, he quite liked the stain of pink across her fair cheeks.  

“I suppose you do catch more flies with honey than vinegar, hm?” He mused, coming up behind her and narrowly resisting the urge to bend and smell her hair. 

She turned and her head was forced to tip back to catch his eyes, ensuring he saw the petulance in her own narrowed gaze, “That isn’t true. You catch ants with honey and flies with vinegar, you know.” 

He grinned, thinking that she would never have been so bold with him weeks ago. Such a comment could be seen as a correction, something rude that her mother would be quick to admonish her for when in the company of someone ‘important’ or ‘rich’— and Rupert was both.

Maud always seemed more concerned with her daughter’s manners than her own, despite Taggie showing a great deal of composure and an ability to stay sober, both of which her mother was rather incapable of accomplishing. 

But there was no fear in her eyes or hesitance in the set of her jaw. Not with him. Not anymore. 

It felt like a bit of a victory. 

And she was right about the vinegar and honey. 

Different baits were required to catch different things. 

(How many women had tried to catch him? No wonder they had failed. The only bait with any chance of success was standing before him, muddy boots and all.)

“Have you ridden before?” He asked, and she shook her head. 

“Well, let’s change that.”

🍓

She looked good on the back of a pony. 

Fuck, he wanted to see her on her back. 

🍓

“Don't you worry about falling?” She asked, shifting in the saddle while he walked alongside her and the gentle mare. 

His first thought was; worried about falling in love? 

When he looked up at her, he thought; it is too late to worry about that.

She elaborated, taking his lack of response as confusion, “Falling off the horse?”

Oh. 

Of course. 

After all, that was why he was walking — he had promised to catch her if she slipped, knowing that would offer more comfort than reassuring her of the unlikelihood that she would. Outside of extenuating circumstances or poor tack, it was bloody hard to fall off a horse. 

“No, never.” 

She sighed, “You’re very brave.” 

No. He wasn’t. He was a coward in this, when it came to her, when it came to feelings. 

“I think you are the brave one, I never could have managed what you did last week.” 

She snorted, “You had to tuck me in like a child, what is brave about that?” 

“True, but before that—you did so much, and felt so much, because you love the people around you so much. If that isn’t bravery then I’m not sure what is.” 

Taggie frowned, looking down at her fingers which were nervously fiddling with the leather reins.

“That is not bravery, that is—uncontrolled. There is no decision to love, is there? It is merely there. You decide to mount and jump and put yourself in harm's way. You do not decide to love, you simply find yourself, well…falling.” 

He swallowed, grateful that on that occasion at least, he had been around to catch her. 

“That makes it all the scarier. The uncertainty of it all,” he mused. 

“Yet there is little emotion more certain in this world. You can feel it in your bones and blood and the tip of your toes.” She said it so confidently, that he couldn’t help but agree. It was true, he supposed, regarding his children. 

In regards to her, too, if things carried on this way. 

It was a reminder that made his stomach twist, a reminder that he should put an end to this. 

“Your family is lucky to have you, and any man would be lucky to be loved by you. Only a fool would waste such an opportunity or leave you behind,” he said, recalling his conversation with the dimwitted and greasy-haired Ralphie. 

She was so sweet that she didn’t even sound bitter when she said, “It seems to be what I’m best at, being left behind,”

No. Not bitter. She was never bitter. But she was sad, and that was worse.

He was adamant in his disagreement—insisting that this claim was an insult to her cooking, humor, and all her other talents.  

Not to mention her looks…

She simply shrugged, “I wish you were right. I wish those were enough to make people stay. But then—I’m not sure I do, I don’t want my failings to hold back my sister or family from achieving what they are meant to in life.” 

“That’s utter shit, Taggie—what about what you are meant to do in life? That matters too.” 

You matter. You matter to me. 

“Does it really? It’s never felt that way to me.” 

What argument did he have for that? He could be frustrated by her feelings, but he couldn’t tell her they were wrong, not when she was being honest with him.

Still, he disagreed. 

But then, just weeks later, he left her too.

(Or at least, he left for America.)

🍓

He came back, but he also found himself holding back. 

It was the last thing he wanted to do, because she was everything he wanted.

But he was older— old enough to be her father— with a horrid reputation and sordid romantic history. He wasn’t lacking self-confidence—if anything, he had too much of it—but he wasn’t delusional. He knew the sort of man he was, and he knew the sort of girl she was. 

She was so good. 

She would taste so good. 

Fuck, he bit back the thought, adjusted his pants, and carried on—he was here to speak with her father, not her, no matter how much more appealing she was to him as both a conversationalist and companion. 

She was too appealing, that was the problem.

Especially since his self-control seemed to evaporate the second he saw her. 

It was frustrating that he couldn’t even manage his usual level of flirtatious and tactile behavior that he practiced among friends, even ones he had no further intentions towards. 

But she was…less worldly, she saw more meaning in those interactions than he did, and he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression— or, worse, the right impression. 

He was forced to treat her as less—to touch her less— because she was so much more. 

And he wanted more so badly. 

It was a special sort of torture, the way he wanted to hold her—and the fear he had that he would be unable to let go. 

It was for the best.

Yet, no matter how many times he told himself that, the itch he felt in her presence, the pull he felt towards her, it never seemed to stop. 

( What would happen, if it snapped?)

🍓

When he left, it was sometime between dinner and lunch, a carefully calculated exit on his part that saved him from declining the inevitable dinner invitation that would come if he stayed past 4 pm. 

There was something intimate about dining with the O’hara’s—by which he meant dining with Taggie. It was doubly so when she had cooked the food–which she always did. 

She poured her time, energy, and perhaps even love, into preparing meals, and fuck it showed in the flavors. 

Each bite was delicious, an assault on his tastebuds in the best sort of way. Consuming her creations was intoxicating and it made him long to taste her, too, to praise her and thank her in the only way he knew how. 

In a way she had never known. 

He wasn’t sure if that angered him or soothed him. She deserved to be pleasured and loved in such a way, but the thought of another man providing her with such a thing felt—

That wasn’t fair.

It didn’t matter what he felt, it was wrong, he was wrong for her.

🍓

As he left, he found Taggie picking berries from the overgrown gardens and neglected fences just a few yards from the path, tossing the occasional one to Gertrude who yipped enthusiastically. 

Clearly, she wasn’t the only one sneaking them—Taggie’s lips were stained the most appealing shade of pink, the blackberry juices leaving the most tantalizing evidence he could imagine. 

He wondered if they would turn such a shade when she was kissed. 

He wondered if the hue would match the buds of her breast. 

The temptation hardly ended there—the sun was intense, kissing the exposed slope of her neck and creating a halo around her golden hair. 

God, he was jealous of the fucking sun now and its ability to envelop every bit of skin she displayed. 

She smiled when she saw him, and Gertrude abandoned her in favor of barking at him and nipping his boots.

She really was terribly behaved, but in the most endearing way—that was something she shared with her owner. 

Taggie shaded her eyes with her palm, moving from the brambles and swinging her basket as she approached. 

Oh for fucks sake, she was barefoot, and every inch of skin below the rolled cuffs of her overalls was red and scratched by the bristly bushes. 

Why did she take such poor care of herself? 

Fuck, and why did he care?

“Are you coming back?” She asked, “There is a roast in the oven, and I’m making pie for dessert, and I still need to thank you for the trinket!” 

Yes, the trinket, the faberge egg she had adored despite thinking it snagged from a gift shop rather than a jeweler that dealt in nothing but solid gold. 

It seemed she was blind to its value, along with her own. 

She was so easy to please—and so eager to please—and thinking about that did things to both his mind and cock. 

He shook his head, “Afraid not, and I’m sorry for it, but darling, your words were enough, I feel thoroughly thanked.”

She frowned, “It just doesn’t feel like enough.” 

“Well, it is—and I didn’t buy it for you with plans to barter for baked goods, I just wanted you to have it.” 

If she couldn't see the value in herself, she might as well own something valuable, albeit far less than her as a person. 

Her eyes narrowed, lashes brushing her cheekbones—which he noted had a soft pattern of freckles across them, the unseasonably warm spring shooing her outdoors and leaving proof of the time spent on her cheeks. 

He wanted to count them. 

He may hate sums, but that sounded like a great deal of fun. 

Or perhaps tracing them with his tongue—

“Maybe I just want you to have pie, too,” she said, smarmily. 

He couldn’t help but smile, though he refused to respond, saying goodbye as he turned to leave.

“I know where you live!” She shouted as he made it to the drive. 

He simply waved.

🍓

When he returned home from the pub that night, a foil-covered pie was set on top of his counter, with a note taped to the silver surface. 

His housekeeper—Mrs.Bodkin—told him a pretty girl dropped it by, and if it wasn’t obvious already, there were numerous clues pointed to Taggie.

For one thing, he doubted any other was capable of making such a mouthwatering-looking berry pie. 

For another, she had good as threatened to give him one that morning. 

And lastly, the shaky handwriting was undeniably hers. 

Yu can thnk me bye return ing the dish. 

Fuck, he wished he could thank her in other ways, too. 

Specifically, in the kitchen at the Priory. 

It would be so easy to sit her on the tiled countertops, to lift her apron and the dowdy skirt that hid so much perfect skin from him. 

And beneath it, he would find—

Well, he certainly wouldn’t find lingerie. She would never wear it, not of her own volition, at least. She wasn’t calculated like that, she seduced with her blush and by biting her bottom lip. Lace would only distract from the glory that was her bare flesh and expression.   

Plus, Taggie was practical, always dressing for her own comfort rather than catering to trends.

She was more interested in catering parties than dressing for one, he’d witnessed that a half dozen times and as many months. 

So, he was certain that if he flipped up her skirt, he would find plain cotton knickers beneath it, and modest ones at that. The type that came in packs of three and cost no more than a couple quid. 

But she would wear them so well one might think each pair went for a million of pounds a piece.

Still, as good as they may look on her, his fantasy involved getting them off of her. 

( They would be in the way of his goal which was getting her off.)

He wasn’t typically a patient man, but for her, he’d draw things out. He’d tease her, curling his fingers in the sides of the cotton pants, slowly pulling them down her legs. 

Those fucking legs. 

(How anyone could see them and not consider how perfectly they would wrap around them was beyond him.)

He might not be patient enough to take them completely off—content to leave them dangling from one of her delicate ankles while his fingers traced the path they had taken. 

She would be so sensitive, trembling beneath his touch and gasping when he gripped her hips, pulling her closer to the edge and pressing her thighs apart. 

God, she would have the perfect cunt, all pink and plump with arousal, glistening folds that were practically begging to be stroked. 

Had Ralphie touched her there? Had she touched herself? Or would he be the first? 

He’d definitely be the first man, the first to press a calloused thumb to the bud of her clitoris, to curl fingers with decades of experience into her tight cunt.

He’d been doing this since before she was born. 

He’d been practicing for her. 

He’d waited a long time for her.

She would be so tight—out of both inexperience and nerves, and not quite capable of relaxing enough to allow him entry, no matter how badly she wanted it, and she would want it. He’d make sure of it.

Let me say thank you, darling, in a language your body will understand.

It would be cruel, to deny me an opportunity to show my appreciation. 

Be a good girl, Taggie, and let me lick your cunt.  

He would have to loosen with her tongue before he could even consider getting a digit inside of her.

He would have to hold her legs apart, too, since she would be too shy to keep them spread for him, no matter how well-behaved she tried to be. Confidence took time to build, and in the meantime, he’d happily help. 

Soon, his hands would fall to her calves, his head buried between her thighs, tongue dragging against the soft folds that framed the pretty slit of her cunt. 

She was so sweet, he was sure her release would taste like honey when she gushed against his lips while he pressed kisses to the crease of her opening. 

When she was slick from her first orgasm, he’d give her his pinky, and even that would be so much for his little duck.

Would she cry? Sniffle? 

He hoped so. But he wouldn’t let her hide her tears with him—pain, pleasure, anxiety, euphoria, grief, whatever inspired them, he wanted her to let them fall, wanted to lick the salty streaks off her sweet skin. 

He’d tell her she was being so good for him, that she tasted so good, that he wanted to make her feel good. 

Then, another finger would prod at her slit, sliding through her arousal and into the silky channel that was her cunt, joining his pinky and finding a pace that resembled the shallow thrusts of a cock. She would arch against his hand, try to take more, and approach this with eagerness like she did everything else.

Fuck, he would be so proud when she did, bestow so much praise upon her while she fucked his fingers that he would be left hoarse by the end of it. 

He could imagine her whimpers, pleading, telling him it was too much because she was used to too little. 

But it wouldn’t be enough, not for him, it would be just the beginning, a mere warm-up to the main event that was sinking his cock into her. 

She was such a small thing, could she even take it? 

She would try, he knew that, because she always tried so��hard. 

Maybe he would be a little mean, he wouldn’t give it to her—she'd have to seek it out, have to seat herself on his length without his help.

Fuck, she’d be a vision.

He’d encourage her sweetly, telling her how brave she was and how pretty she looked with her cunt stretched around his length. 

Such a good girl.  

His girl.

Her body would shake and her breasts would heave as she took him inch by inch, going past what she thought was possible in her determination to take his cock , because she wanted to be fucked by him. 

Because she wanted him. 

Rupert, please. 

Please.

His eyes snapped open, realizing the words had come from his lips, not hers, because Taggie wasn’t there and this was a mere fantasy.

  Just as it always would be. 

Just as it always should be.

She wasn’t the sort of girl you had as a mindless fuck, she was the sort you married, and he—he wasn’t that type of man, his past proved that. 

Fuck. 

He rubbed his palm across his face, pointedly ignoring the heat in his trousers as he shuffled towards the kettle—though perhaps he needed something stronger than tea or coffee. 

Or something colder, say, a brisk shower, or an ice bath… 

Before he could consider that further, his phone rang, and he was relieved for the distraction, though also oddly hopeful—there was no reason for it to be Taggie, but it could be. 

His hope faded as the harsh American voice came crashing through the crackly connection.

Cameron. 

Right. 

She wanted to stay the night. 

“Is that alright?” 

“Of course,” he agreed, clearing his throat to hide how much force it took to get the words out. 

It didn’t seem right at all, but he wasn’t the sort to turn down carnal company. 

(She was the sort who wore black lace beneath her polished wool trousers and silk blouses. He doubted she even owned rubber boots.)

When the kettle started shrieking, he moved it from the stove—then reached for a decanter instead of a mug.

(Taggie’s favorite mug was covered in lopsided yellow flowers, the grass and sky absent, but a poorly painted sun prominently featured near the rim. A gift from her sister that she treasured for that reason alone.)

He definitely needed something stronger than caffeine . 

He was losing his damn mind over this girl and could only hope that mindless sex with someone else—or several someones—would fix it. 

It had in the past, but then—he’d never felt quite like this about anyone before. 

Taggie wasn’t quite like anyone else.

(She was so much better.) 

🍓

[elacular-kink]

Hicvember 9: Royals

I've actually written about royal hiccups once upon a time, years and years ago, and I still look back on my girls fondly. But I decided to do something with a pair of gentlemen this time...which might end up turning into a larger thing? I might at least write a scene or two more with them. My dumb brain is plotting.

Content: Hiccups, mentions of death, the pov character is an assassin, threatening at knifepoint, enemies to friends speedrun?, inconvenient arousal, mention of infidelity, pejorative use of "insane".

Shale had been training for this his whole life. He'd learned how to use a knife before he learned how to walk. The meaning of words in thieves' cant came more easily to mind than those in normal conversation. He'd carried out his first assassination when he was twelve. So now as a grown man (albeit a young one), he shouldn't have been concerned with this at all. Granted, a prince was high profile, and kidnapping was significantly more complicated than a simple murder, but he'd seen family members pull off similar jobs in the past. With all of his training, Shale knew that he could do it...but considering that the likely result if he couldn't was death, he didn't begrudge himself a bit of nervousness.

With that in mind, Shale took a week to study and observe his target. Prince Armel very rarely left the castle, which his unmarked pale skin and dark brown hair with no sun streaks showed. He also had a regal rotundness that would make the kidnapping more difficult than it could have been. Not complicating anything were his combat abilities (or lack thereof). Though he was trained in fencing every day, that was nothing like a real fight, and he was terrible at it anyway. He seemed much more at home in the various academic fields he was also tutored in, not that Shale had a clue what he was learning about. Shale knew how to read people, though, and the frustration of Armel's teachers wasn't that of people having to humor an idiot, it was that of people being forced to deal with someone who thought they were smarter than them and may have actually been correct about it.

On a related note, Shale quickly understood why someone would want Prince Armel dead. Though he doubted this was actually a personal matter, the smug sneers and condescension he provided most people were absolutely infuriating, and Shale didn't relish the idea of being on the receiving end of his snark. If he could knock Armel out and leave with him unconscious, that would be a non-issue, but Shale wasn't built for feats of strength and he doubted his ability to carry the fat prince at a workable pace. So he'd have to get him to walk out of his own relative volition. Damn this job to hell.

Still, there was no such thing as an impossible task. There better not have been for Shale's sake. Everyone had their weaknesses, and he quickly became acquainted with the many vulnerabilities in the prince's defense. A number of his bodyguards clearly hated him and had never actually seen anything dangerous occur. Most of them seemed at least professional, and he appeared to actually be...friiieeends? With a few of the younger ones, but there were a few who paid far less attention on their shifts than they were being paid to do. The prince also slept incredibly deeply and hated being awakened. That would have made a proper assassination much easier, but again, damn this kidnapping job to hell. And the most obvious, most useful vulnerability was his habit of leaving his bedroom window open on hot nights.

Around nine days after he started his observation, Shale saw his first good opportunity. One of the guards, a middle-aged one with a wife (and more importantly, a mistress) had midnight duties that Shale had a good feeling he was going to either be late to or leave early. The night was hot and muggy, but smelly alchemical oils kept the bugs away from the prince's window, which he left wide open. So, when the crescent moon was high and the guards' shift change was near, Shale climbed down from the parapets of the castle that he'd become so well acquainted with lately, moving down silently along the rough stone without needing to use any of his ropes or tools, then widening the window just enough to slip his thin, small body inside. The prince slept soundly, snoring, but not loudly enough to be obvious in its absence. That was good. And when Shale crept to the door and peeked out into the hallway, he saw it empty, the previous guard gone and the new guard absent. Alright. This was probably the best chance he was going to get.

Almost all of Shale's body was covered in a set of loose, light clothing, currently with their stone gray side out rather than their dark blue one. He kept a tight hood up over his head, hiding his long black hair, and only his dark brown eyes and a hint of his olive skin were visible in the holes in his mask. He made certain that was still the case, feeling the cloth over his face before he took out a knife and moved to the head of the bed. As he looked down, the prince's pale, round face looked strangely innocent without his usual smirk on it. He had no scars, no wrinkles of age, no roughness from work. He just looked calm and peaceful, his large, soft chest and stomach rising and falling beneath his sheets with each breath.

...everyone had their weaknesses.

Shale shook his head, then placed one knee on the prince's bed, moving behind his head and putting the knife close to his neck. Then, in a quick motion, he put his free hand over his mouth. The prince made an abrupt, shocked noise, but then went quiet. He didn't try to fight, simply tilting his head back and staring up at Shale with his large green eyes. After a moment, his head jerked back and he made a small, muffled sound beneath Shale's hand. "Don't try to cry out," Shale said softly. "Your guards aren't outside the door."

To Shale's shock, the prince responded to that by rolling his eyes before pulling one hand free and reaching up past the knife at his throat to tap twice against the hand that was muffling him. As he did, he made another one of those strange noises, and Shale saw his stomach abruptly jolt beneath his blankets. Underneath his mask, his face felt hotter. The prince glared up at him and tapped his hand more insistently, and against all better judgment, Shale pulled his hand away. "I can s–*hup* see that perf–*uckt*–ly well from he–*urk*." With every interruption to his speech, his stomach and chest bounced, and Shale's whole body got even hotter. God damn it. Everyone had their weaknesses. "There's no sha–*huk* shadows in th–*hup* the light beneath th---the door."

Even though his brain was being pulled in multiple directions, Shale arched his eyebrows at the prince. Despite having just been woken up with a knife at his throat, he was observant enough to notice that and calm and logical enough to recognize what it meant? "Well then stop making those noises. They won't help you either."

The prince sighed. "Well, *hmk* you see, dear as--sassin, that's no–*hup* not really up to *hulp* me. Out of cu–*hurp* curiosity, do you seri–*uck*–ously think you're the fi–*hurk* first to try and ki–*hulp* kill me?" Shale didn't know how to respond, but he didn't end up needing to, as the prince's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "...no. No, you're no–*hup* not trying to ki–*ulk*–ill me. *hmk*. You could ha–*uck*–ave done so alre–*uck*–dy. You are the fi–*hurst* to get this close, I'll gi–*hic*–i-ive you that. *hmk*." Shit. "So what do–*hook*–o-oooh you want? *hmk-lp*. I'd frankly pa–*hup* pay you more tha–*uk*–an you need *hup* to get lost and le–*huk* let me go back to slee–*up* if these hic–*hups* allow it." Shale's body instinctively tensed at the word and he pulled his knife closer to the prince's throat. To his shock, the prince just rolled his eyes again. "Touchy touchy. *huk* Fine, so you don't wa–*hup* want money. Wha–*uck*–at's the plan then? *hmk* Just want to bra–*uck*–brag to your mates at *hmk* the assassin's guild?"

Well, as long as things were relatively cordial, considering that Shale would need the prince's cooperation, partial honesty may be his best bet. He really wished he didn't have to make these decisions with his brain so compromised though. "You're leaving this castle tonight."

"Can't it wa–*huk*–ait for tomor–*hurk*–row?" Shale gaped at the prince's almost petulant tone. After a few hiccups, he continued. "I'm se–*heep*–rious. *hmk*. Can we no–*hok*–not do this tomor–*hurk*–row? It's the mid–*hulk*–of the night and sn–*hnk* sneaking me out wi–*ulk* with these hiccups would be *hmk* a pain in the arse *hup* for both of us."

Shale was stunned and resisted shaking his head to try and clear it. "You...you want me to wait until tomorrow to kidnap you." The prince nodded. "So that you can tell your guards."

The prince blew a puff of air past his lips. "For a–*hulk*–ll the good they've do---done me tonight *hmk* I think that'd be poi–*uck*–pointless. Honestl–*uk*–ly, what's the plan? *hmk* I know you're no–*hok* not going to kill me *hmk* so getting me ou–*uck*–out means that you're bri–*ingk*–ing me somewh---where. I don't exa–*uck*–ctly go a lo–*hup*–ot of places. *hmk* Certainly not whe–*urk*–wherever your type goes. *huk-ulk*. So this seems li–*uck* like a learning ex---perience for me. *hmk-lp*."

"You're insane." It came out of Shale without him even thinking about it.

He shrugged. "Maybe. *hmk* But if I'm lea–*uck-ulk* leaving either way, *hmk* this strikes me as a bet–*er-hurk* better path for ev–*urk*–ryone involved."

Shale was fairly certain that he was insane too, because he was actually considering this. This pretty, petulant little prince and his absurd spasms that were scrambling Shale's brain...he had no idea how lucky he was. "I'll be watching you all day."

"Natu---rally. If I didn't no–*hup* notice you before now *huk* I doubt that an---nyone will be *hup* observant enough the ne–*uck*–ext day."

"I know how to code a message in speech. If you try it, I'll kill you."

"Counterprod–*huck*–tive, but I certainly *hmk* think you could do it."

"How will I get you out?"

"I'll te–*ulk*–ell my idiot fath–*hurk* that I want to go hu–*un*–ting. He'll be del---lighted, we'll ride o–*hok* off into the *hmp* woods on the ca–*uck*–stle grounds, I'll be te–*hurk*–rrible at it *hnk*, he'll go off *hup* alone, then you'll t–*hup* take me from there."

It...sounded workable.

As a matter of fact, it sounded good. Everyone in the country knew about the king's love of hunting. Slate had seen it himself in his short observation period. The king left every single day, and every single day he tried to get his son to go with him, and every single day the prince refused. And any guards that came along (probably a relatively small number to begin with) would put their focus on the king, not on the prince.

"May I *hup* be honest with you–*huk*, assassin? *hik-ulk*." Slate had no idea how to respond to that. The prince apparently took his silence as a yes, and he heaved out a sigh between hiccups. "If I am to be ki–*uck* kidnapped, with a no–*hok* nontrivial chance o–*hup* of my death," he paused, "though I do–*hook*–o-o trust you to *hmk* keep me alive for *hnk* some time at least, *huk* I'd like a cha–*up*–ance to get some af---fairs in o–*urk*–rder. There are pe–*hup* people I'd..." he was quiet for a few hiccups. "...*hmk* I'd like to–*hup* let know wha–*uk* what I feel ab---bout them. *hmk-mp* *hmp*."

...Shale was absolutely insane. But there were still no shadows outside of the door. No footsteps audible in the hallway. After a long, long couple of minutes (during which Shale couldn't keep his eyes from drifting to the prince's spasming stomach), he pulled his knife back, though he kept the blade in his hand. The prince exhaled and rubbed his neck, sitting up and cracking his back. "You won't leave my sight."

"I don't dou–*hup* doubt that."

"Nobody will know that I'm watching you."

The insufferable prince rolled his eyes. "Yes yes, *hnk* I don't doubt tha---that either. *hup* Will you let me get *hup* get up and light a c---candle? I won't be sle–*huk*–eeping anyway unti–*ulk*–il these things *huk* are gone *hnk* and I'd rather do so–*hup*–omething prod–*huk*–tive than sit ar---round bored and h–*up* hiccuping. *HMK-mmp* mmf." The correct answer to this question was "no."

...but Shale would be able to see his spasms more clearly in the light. The way that his head was knocked back. The way that his shoulders lept. The way that his round gut kept...bouncing inside of his silk sleeping robes...

"Fine."

Everyone had their weaknesses.

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 23 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: A little bit filler….and I apologize for that! I woke up with some blood clotting and it’s been a bit rough today 😅 next chapter will hopefully make up for that! As always, let me know what you think!

The day before D-Day, Ruth felt like she was running around as a chicken would without a head.  It was for more than one reason that consumed her thoughts.  D-Day was everything that they had been working for and it represented a real hope that the war might be able to be finished soon.  Everyone was hands on deck and working to the best of their ability to make things happen. 

Ruth hadn’t slept for more than 45 minutes at a time, taking short naps when she could afford it.  But even her dreams were plagued with the other particular issue that she was having and its name was Robert Rosenthal. 

How dare he weasel his way into her heart yet again and how dare she go too far and let him touch and kiss her like she had?  She was foolish and damned to hell, most certainly for her actions.  Robert Rosenthal was someone that she needed to be untouchable.  Needed to keep her distance from.  

If not for the fact that they were enemies, then certainly for the fact that whatever fake relationship they had going on was going to be complicated by the all too real lust that the two of them felt.  But she wasn’t so foolish a woman as to pretend that Robert Rosenthal didn’t make her physically weak in the knees simply because of how he looked and the fact that she trusted him. 

Nor was she immune to the fact that she desperately needed someone in a carnal nature—and not just because she was lonely.  Ruth needed the comfort that came from being with another person physically.  And whether that meant she was sitting atop his face and having a heady pleasure course through her or she was on her knees and showing him straight to the seventh heaven, she didn’t care. 

She just knew that she needed something like that and soon—or she might just lose her damn mind.  

Speaking of losing one’s mind was the very vision of Harry Crosby, practically a madman at this point.  Ruth rushed past the man, eager to get her next set of paperwork to the Colonel.  She didn’t have time for the tired ramblings of Crosby, who hadn’t slept in three days and was practically the walking dead.  She had far too much on her mind to worry about what was going on with him. 

There was Abe and Rosie who she needed to worry about as a whole—because the two of them were going up in the skies on D-Day and that meant she was going to be praying the entire time that they would just come back alright.  There was Liesel, who by all intents and purposes, was her legal ward for the time being—and Ruth truthfully knew nothing about raising a child, let alone a teenage girl who was now getting in trouble at school and that had been put on the backburner for the week. 

There was the fact that her mother had sent a damn package with so many of her personal effects from home—including her personal diary that she had taken the time to hide (mostly because it contained several secrets and a rather embarrassing Valentine that happened to be the only one she had ever received).  It was a rather damning thing, having the very diary that contained her younger self’s thoughts on Robert Rosenthal—hell, he took up half of the damn thing and that was mortifying in and of itself. 

The tip of Ruth’s pencil snapped and she just let out a frustrated sound, quickly grabbing for another pencil to finish off the paperwork.  Signing her name, Ruth had just moved out of her office when she caught sight of a group of men carrying Harry Crosby towards the Hospital Wing. 

She nearly stopped short, confusion flitting across her face.  “Is he…did he pass out?” Ruth questioned, eyebrows shooting up in the air. 

Jack Kidd just looked equally as annoyed by the actions.  “I told him he needed sleep.” 

“Oh that dumb man,” Ruth mumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose.  “Well—get him to the hospital and let him rest.  He’s off the clock now.  And no one better wake him up again,” Ruth warned in a short tone. 

Kidd gave a nod.  “You heard Lieutenant Sharpe.  Go on then.” He let out a deep sigh as the others took off with Crosby in tow.  For a moment, the two of them just lingered in the hallway. Ruth looked her friend up and down, a frown tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“You should get some sleep too.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“That was an order.” 

“I’m pretty sure I outrank you.” 

“You really wanna argue with me on this right now, ol’ Jackie boy?” Ruth crossed her arms and gave him a stern look. 

Any resistance that Kidd had died in his shoulders and he glanced down.  “Not really.  I don’t have the energy for that.” 

“I know you don’t.  So go rest.  Please?  God knows we need you right now and we don’t need another hospitalized competent person unable to help us.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bright and early on the morning of June 6th, 1944—before almost anyone else was up, Ruth, Rosie, and Abe all gathered together in the mess hall, sitting quietly with one another and letting Ruth pray over them. 

Ruth had practically dragged them all there, but neither one of them could complain this time around.  The invasion of Europe was no laughing matter, after all.  And they needed all of the help, both human and divine, that they could muster.  If that meant Ruth demanding God bring them home safely, then so be it. 

After the prayers were said and Ruth had done her best not to cry (she had done her makeup and everything this morning and didn’t need it smearing, thank you very much), she reluctantly came to the realization that she would have to let them go today.  And it was at this particular moment that she wondered how Abraham could have possibly offered up Isaac to the Lord.  

What humanity and mortality required of her was impossible and far too full of grief to be any type of fair.  

She had her time with Abe first, pulling him aside just outside of the mess hall before he would go in there to eat and then be the property of the United States Air Force.  Looking him over, Ruth realized that she could scarcely recognize the young man that stood in front of her now.  Abe seemed to be all grown—so much of a man.  He was still just a child in number, but he had seen and done things that boys had not.  His time here had cemented that he was now a man. 

Ruth sucked in a breath.  Be gentle, be firm, be his friend, be his sister, be his person.  But don’t push him away.  “Be careful up there alright?” 

He just gave her a crooked grin in response. “Ruthie, I’m always careful.  And when has my math ever led us astray?” 

“Don’t you dare get cocky.  Not today,” Ruth’s tone of voice did not suggest begging, but it did hold some plea to him to be true to his word. 

Almost immediately, Abe sobered at her tone of voice and gave a nod.  “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Don’t ma’am me,” Ruth stated in exasperation.  She brought the boy in for a hug, trying to pour every piece of luck and karma and hope and prayer that she could into the hug.  Because maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to keep him alive.  And maybe, just maybe, he would come back to her and get to have a life. 

It felt like a lifetime before she let go of him and then Robert Rosenthal was standing in front of her and it was all just so much—the fact that he was going to be the pilot, the fact that he was going to be going up and could die too—

Any sentimentality that Ruth wanted to have lived, breathed, and then died in her lungs.  She had half a mind to tell him that she couldn’t imagine doing any of this without him and that if anything happened to him or Abe, she’d surely transfer to another base and drown her sorrows in work.  She had half a mind to beg him to come back to her (and yes, that was right, she said beg).  She had half a mind to jump him here and now against the very mess hall building and let him be the one to take the remaining shreds of whatever virginity she had. 

But Ruth did none of that. 

She stood there, cold as ever, with her arms crossed and breath even.  She stood there and she looked him dead in the eyes.  “Uh….are you—are you gonna say anything?” Rosie asked, confusion flitting around his face.  Ruth was never this silent, never this steely before.  It was simply unnerving and he didn’t know what to make of any of it. 

“Come back and you might just find out.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

D-Day went off without a single hitch and Ruth was almost entirely certain that it was a God-given miracle.  How else to explain the fact that there had been no air resistance for the men by the time that they had shown up to the fight—those paratroopers and marines on the beaches had cleared the way for the skies to be taken by the pilots of the Hundredth and other groups. 

In fact, the bombs had been dropped and Rosie’s plane had returned without a single mark, scratch, or dent in it.  The utter relief that Ruth felt at the sight of that dumb plane—the singular time that it would ever go unmarked on a mission—was irrepressible.  

For those few hours that they had been in the skies, Ruth had haunted the local church like she was some sort of weeping woman or banshee from old folk tales.  She had paced like a ghost unable to shake the dust from its own death and then made her way to the candles—and she had lit candles for every single member in Rosie’s crew.  She had lit candles for her paratrooper friends like Lew and Dick—and she had prayed. 

Let them be the righteous hand of God and carry them back on the wings of your love. 

And those prayers had been answered—at least for the men at Thorpe Abbotts.  Ruth didn’t altogether mind the aching in her spine or the pinching of needles that bundled up down in her lower back.  If lingering back pain that acted up in times of stress from her residual injuries with Timothy was the cost of bringing back her brother and Rosie safely, then she’d happily pay the price ten times over. 

So neither Rosie or Abe was surprised when Ruth barrelled into them, pulling them both into a fierce hug.  Because if nothing else, they had established that the three of them were something.  They were a family, if a little unconventional at best.  But they were there for one another.  And they’d keep on coming back to one another.  It was just how it all worked. 

The party that filled Thorpe Abbotts was simply extravagant and ever so slightly gauche.  The death toll for the men in Thorpe Abbotts may not have gone up, but Ruth was keeping an ear out for reports on the men on the beaches and those who had dropped behind the enemy lines.  Their death toll would be a number that she wouldn’t be able to forget—because with everything they did, there was always a cost. 

But Ruth lit up a pipe at the end of the night and she sat and watched the skies of Thorpe Abbotts carefully.  And when Rosie joined her, she didn’t hesitate in handing him the pipe.  And for a moment, just a shining moment—the two of them just sat in the silence and in the waiting of trying to figure out what the hell that they were amidst the hellscape that was the war.  

And when the night was over and the party had died down, the two of them parted ways and stayed in the waiting.  Because now was not their time. And they both knew it. 

[imdoingsortagay]

Be good for me

Summary: Weeks of the older woman avoiding her at all costs throughout the compound and Wanda is met with a very surprising view when going to confront her.

a/n: first character x character fic in a while , the last one was Killing Eve related which ouch

smut below the cut so 18+

Wanda is 20 ish in this fic while Natasha is around early 30w

It had only been about a year since the young woman had been brought from her home country to the United States. Now entering her 20s as as avengers and happy just to be anywhere that wasn’t her past

Most of her teammates had been as nice as possible to her, mostly Thor as he knew sort of what she was going through. Steve would check up on her every once in a while to see how she was doing while the rest would only say hi to her during meetings and team training.

Then there was Natasha.

The older woman never seemed to make any effort to get to know Wanda, not even saying hi in meetings and choosing to train with Clint before she even woke up. She understood a bit why Natasha would be careful after the events of recently.

What Wanda didn't know was that Natasha had long forgotten about the events of Sokovia after talking it out with Clint. Natasha had developed a crush on her fellow teammate.

It might have been due to the loneliness of not having a partner but after a couple of months of training a bit with Wanda, the older woman would blush when she saw the brunette go at it with one of the guys on the team. She felt kind of silly blushing when Wanda would easily pin Bruce onto the mat and her mind would go all over the place with thoughts about Wanda pinning her down like that in her bedroom, just the two of them without anyone interrupting them.

From then point on, Natasha made it a goal to avoid the younger woman at all costs. It worked so far but she could sense that Wanda was questioning why her teammate wasn't talking to her like the rest of the team was.

Like today when Natasha had seen Wanda in the kitchen with Thor, making some of her comfort soup for the god of thunder who was hungry.

Wanda sporting her usual attire of a sleeveless t shirt to show off her arms. Ripped jeans with some boots to compliment the look send Natasha over the edge at how pretty she looked.

Wanda and Thor too busy in the food talk until the redhead made a little noise that Wanda could only assume was a whine before she left the kitchen and make a run to her room.

Natasha could never figure out why the woman doing the simplest things make her go crazy.

“ is lady Natasha okay ?” Thor asks the redhead in front of him. All Wanda can do is shrug before continuing the cooking lesson between the 2 of them. She wanted to go and check up on Wanda but had a long way to go before she was finished with the recipe in hand. She's made this recipe before, no problem for her to cut some corners to make it quickly.

As the younger woman quickly finished the soup, Natasha returned to her room without a trace, throwing herself in her bed and huffing in frustration.

She's the Black Widow for crying out loud!

She has never acted like this in a long time for someone, not even when she first met Bruce, that crush not lasting too long. Her mind goes into thinking about Wanda like usual.

The way she smiles when someone says a joke, her kindness to anyone new she meets, her long brunette hair that must smell like daisies, and so on. The more she thinks about her fellow teammate, the more her thoughts become impure.

Natasha thinks about the younger woman on top of her, praising her for being good for her. Wanda fucking her with the rings she has on, eating out the woman like she's a goddess. Before she knows it, Natasha's right-hand goes to her boob, groping it like she imagines Wanda would. Luckily for Natasha, the rooms were sound proof so she didn't have to worry about anyone in the rooms next to her hearing her moans.

She can feel herself get wet with every dirty thought that passes her mind. She quickly takes off her shirt and pants, leaving just her undergarment on and wastes no time on running two of her fingers through her folds.

" I can't believe I'm wet for her," Natasha says to herself as she continues to tease herself. Unknown to the redhead who was fucking herself in the moment, Wanda had just finished the recipe and was on her way to take it to Natasha.

She wanted to get to the root of this problem once and for all. Wanda thinks to herself what she's going to tell Natasha when she gets to her room. not having anything prepared beforehand. When she does get to her room, Wanda knocks on the door a couple of times wondering if she was there.

She tries again before deciding to open the door a bit to see if she's okay. What Wanda doesn't expect is to see Natasha on top of her bed, with a hand inside her underwear while her other is pinching at her nipples.

" Natasha!" Wanda exclaims before covering her eyes, too afraid to see the woman in front of her.

" What are you doing here?" Natasha asks as she composes herself, trying so hard to act like her scary and intimidating self. Hard to do when she's just in her underwear.

" I wanted to talk to you about why you keep avoiding me but I see you're busy," she pauses," with your own thing".

" For someone with mind-reading powers, I'm surprised you haven't realized what my thoughts have been about," Natasha tells the younger woman who removes her hand from her eyes, opting to not look at the redhead's chest.

" I promised never to do it again Natasha, unless you want me to do it again", she explains as the other woman in the room motions for her to come on her bed.

" You can read my thoughts, honey," she hears the redhead say quietly, Wanda feeling a bit nervous to use her powers on Natasha before she's met with so many dirty and horny thoughts from the woman in front of her.

In that moment, all Wanda can do is immediately start kissing Natasha, her own thoughts also going to what she wants to do to the woman under her.

“ are you gonna be good for me Natasha ?”

“ I will ,” Natasha says as she feels the younger woman’s hands roam her body , until she gets to her soaked panties.

“ prove it to me Natty,” she orders while teasing the older woman’s folds,” prove to me you’ll be good for me “.

“ Wanda please!” The older woman pleads,” I want to be good for you so bad”.

“ good girl Natty ,” Wanda says as she inserts one finger into the older woman’s wet pussy.

“ be good for me and I’ll be good to you baby,” Wanda says as she prepares to give Natasha the time of her life.

[unrelatedwaffle]

Old lady on tumblr rambles again

Hi again, people younger than 30, it's your rapidly-aging-due-to-stress aunt on Tumblr.com. Our country sucks at teaching even recent history, and I'm young enough that it's still shocking to me that some of you were born post 9/11, so I'm going to muse a bit on the experience of being young in a Republican-dominated era.

The Bush II years were dark. The Iraq War started when I was a junior in high school, and I was the only person I knew who was even remotely politically aware. Back then, if you didn't "support the troops" or froth at the mouth for America, you were considered a dangerous freak. 2000-2008 was a very, very difficult time to be politically left in this country, and it was isolating and scary. Watch The Simpsons where they get sent to Guantanamo, seriously. (Honestly, watch The Simpsons from the beginning. Political satire is a great coping mechanism). My advice to you on an individual level, though the situations are not necessarily comparable, because That Fucking Guy is so much worse than even Bush II, who was one of the worst people on the planet (although a lot of the same fucking people have been syncophanting for the frothing Right this entire time! Look them up! Newt Gingrich! Karl Rove! Dick Cheney was around during Iran fucking Contra!), is: * Read books. I'm serious, you gotta do it. If you need help with attention or getting better at reading, there are kind and caring people who can do that. Please ask someone for help if you struggle with reading or attention. It's a prerequisite for getting through this with your sanity intact. You are scoffing, but I'm serious. Books. BOOKS. * Read about history. Read books by Black and Indigenous Women in particular for the most honest and incisive looks at this complex and frustrating country. Try going a whole year only reading books and articles by black women. * Find like-minded people and stick close to them. Keep your distance from people who will hurt you. If you have to interact with people you can't trust, keep it surface-level. Do not be afraid to cut ties with peers who are unsafe. There is a graceful way to do this by letting the relationship slowly die, and they don't need to know why it did. Finding like-minded people just to be friends or activity buddies with feels more achievable than "finding an organization" or "creating community." Make dinner for a few friends and talk about how you're feeling right now. Call a friend you haven't seen in a while and ask how their folks are, how their job is. Write a letter or a card to someone you love far away. * If you cannot travel for financial reasons, consume long-form media (especially independent films, books, poetry, comics, journalism, weird stuff made by other thinking and sensitive people) from other countries and other kinds of people inside your own country as much as you can. Learn another language to a deep level, it will open up your mind and world, and is just a useful skill to have. * Do not forget who you are, know what your values are, and stick to them when things are tough. When you feel like you can't fight or absorb anymore, take a break. Check out for a day, a week, a month, but as a rough guide try not to mentally check out for more than a month unless you are going through some serious shit like grieving a loved one. If you do that it will be very hard to find motivation to come back and keep doing the work.

[ntaras]

Would you be willing to speak of this OC you added to the Lin Kuei brothers' dynamic? (Just kidding, you have no choice. 🫴)

HI i’d love to talk about her!!! i’ve been purposefully quiet about her because i’ve been making some changes to her + waiting to finish writing a fic about her 

but because you give me no choice i’ll talk about her

i’ll talk about her in context of her role in the new era because that’s what i’m really currently focused on in regards to her. that and her role in the previous timeline(s) are currently to much of a mess to coherently write about because i’m reworking her previous roles 

ANYWAYS. her name is luna which i did take from the “look to la luna” easter egg because 11 year old me wanted her name to somehow directly reference something in mortal kombat. she is kuai liang’s daughter even though i do view/headcanon kuai liang as someone who would not have kids, but i think it’s fun to bring that element into their relationship. 

the usual backstory for her goes that when kuai liang was a teenager he met a girl named nariyaana (whom i mostly refer to as yaana) and their relationship can honestly be described as a very quick-paced love because they were both so young when pursuing each other. like had they not met when younger, they would never be together because their relationship is solely based on them being young. so far in every timeline yaana has died during childbirth, resulting in kuai liang being a single dad and that moment marking the change from his youthful naivety and growing into the mature man we usually see him as. 

in mk12 before he became the god of fire and was still making his own timeline, liu kang made sure kuai liang and yaana would meet so luna could be born, but what he didn’t decide was when luna would be born. one of the things that frustrated me about kuai liang in mk12 was how he was already treated as a character dealing with so many inner demons and very quickly became this wise and flawless leader, so luna’s inclusion allows me to dump a whole bunch of hardships onto him that make him more tolerable for me. and one of those hardships is the quick and rushed love he had with yaana, resulting in her pregnant and unfortunately dying in childirth at 16 and him bieng a father at 16 (i also decided on doing that because ik the characters are meant to be on the younger side, so making him a teen dad was the route i went with trying to make him as young as i could when the actual story would happen). 

ik cryomancer used to be established as something that was able to be harnessed at an older age (with the exception of the ice brothers and frost), but for mk12 i’m establishing that it’s something that begins to develop at a younger age. i’m still unsure what to do with pyromancy but the idea i’m going with is that it’s something that can very rarely develop in cryomancers instead of cryomancy. 

what happened with luna is that her powers were not showing at all and as she grew older and past the age cryomancy develops (and she showed no signs of pyromancy) it was assumed that she didn’t get her father’s genes of either cryomancy or pyromancy. but eventually at around 10 years old she reveals to bi-han that she does have cryomancy (albeit developed very late and a weaker form of cryomancy), and at that moment bi-han saw potential in her and became her mentor and eventually choose her to be his heir to the lin kuei. 

before i get into the dynamic she has with the brothers (her father and uncles) i need to establish the most important thing about her is her inner powers and her physical body. the reason why her cryomancy developed so late and is weak is because her body is meant for someone who has pyromancy, but she was born with cryomancy. her body is constantly struggling to keep up with itself, but i’ll get more into that in a bit because that’s like one of the most important factors to her relationship with her family. 

bi-han is luna’s mentor, and he chose that role himself after she revealed her cryomancy to him. and the reason he chose to be her mentor is because he 1. Saw potential in her and 2. wanted to build her up to become something greater than the current lin kuei. her issues with her cryomancy and her body already pose a tough a life for her but bi-han’s insertion into her life as her mentor makes things worse for her, as he’s really tough on her. 

bi-han himself was mostly trained by his dad, so a lot of methods bi-han uses are from his dad. BUT the thing with bi-han is that he is also trying to further himself from his father and teach luna differently, but luna still experiences the same harshness bi-han experienced through his own training with his father. it plays with the idea that cryomancy just inherently causes not just physical pain, but a specific isolation that no one else can understand. because of this (and for other reasons) luna struggles making connections with other people and forms a unique connection with bi-han that she cannot form with her own father.

it’s eventually why she chose to stay with bi-han rather than flee with kuai liang and tomas during the story. her inherit cryomancy bound her to bi-han while also she felt like she lost a sense of who she was and felt guilt for having something that sevrerd her relationship with her dad, so it was easier to let him go rather than go with him. 

her physicality (which is constantly causing her pain) is her father’s, while her inner self (which is also constantly causing her pain) is bi-han’s. she’s kind of like the physical representation of the dispute between the two brothers. just like her body cannot naturally keep up with herself, she cannot handle being stuck between her family’s war without it causing immense confusion with herself.  

that’s the most condensed summary i can offer because other wise you would be getting a 100k word response from me lmao. but thank you for asking!!!!!!!!! i adore luna and i can only appreciate mk12 because of her

[travllingbunny]

Hi! I love your posts and insights about the Wars of the Roses. Do you think you could talk a bit about Richard Duke of York? What do you think his character/life was like? Also re his and his sons appearance??

Hi! I'm sorry for taking so long to answer your ask, but I just couldn't find the time before. (I happen to currently have more free time than usual, due to particular circumstances.)

Thank you for asking about Richard, Duke of York, because I think he is a very interesting historical figure who gets usually overshadowed by his sons. If one day someone decides to make a new TV show or movie about the Wars of the Roses that doesn't just skip over the 1460s and start when Richard Duke of York is already dead, his life would make quite a compelling story.

As for historical books about him, I recommend Matthew Lewis' Richard, Duke of York: King by Right.(2016), which is a very detailed (but still very interesting, to me at least) account of his life. I read it a few years ago so I don't remember all the details, only the main points and overall impression I got from it.

My main impression is that, although he is often portrayed by pro-Lancaster writers as power-hungry, this is far from the truth. It seems unlikely that he ever wanted to challenge Henry VI and put himself forward as king, before the last year of his life - and this controversial act makes perfect sense when you look at the circumstances and the things that had happened to him and his family just before that. Besides, while Richard was for a long time - before Edward of Lancaster was born - Henry VI's heir, it seems more likely that he was hoping that his son would one day succeed Henry, rather than himself, since Henry was younger than him and in good physical health. Rather than the result of some evil overreaching lust for power, it seems to me that his conflict with the Lancaster/Beaufort faction was a result of the years of frustration over his treatment. As the conflict grew, staking his claim to the throne throne may have been an act of desperation (since, at that point, this must have seemed like the only way to protect himself and his family), but maybe he was also just really done with everything, and with Henry VI and unwilling to support him as King. Considering the context, I don't really think even pro-Henry VI people could really blame him.

But first I think we'd have to go back to the beginnings. I think that Richard's childhood and, most of all, what happened to his father, is what framed his whole life. Richard's mother, Anne Mortimer (great-granddaughter of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the second of the sons of king Edward III who survived childhood), died soon after giving birth to him, aged only 22. His father, Richard, Earl of Cambridge (himself the grandson of Edward III through his 4th surviving son Edmund, the Duke of York), was executed - when Richard wasn't even 4 years old - for his involvement in the Southampton Plot to depose Henry V in favor of his brother-in-law, Edmund Mortimer (but since Edmund had no children, really in favor of his own son Richard, who would be his heir).

After all, the Lancasters, i.e., Henry V's father Henry IV , himself the son of Edward III's third son John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, had deposed Richard II, skipping over the line of the elder son Lionel, so it could have been reasonably argued that the Mortimers's claim to the throne was stronger (sure, it was through the female line - but so was the English royals' claim to the throne of France - France had installed the Salic Law to bar the female lines from the throne of France - really to bar the English kings from it, but England did not). But Henry V was a crowned and annointed king, so trying to depose him would have been treason... (Even though he was only on the throne because his father had deposed, imprisoned and starved to death another annointed king. To quote one of my favorite TV shows, "Treason, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder". But it's crucial whether you won or lost.)

Just a couple of months later, his uncle Edward, his father's elder brother, was killed without children, Richard became the heir to his lands and titles and became the Duke of York at the age of 4. Ten years later, after the death of his maternal uncle Edmund, he also became heir to the Mortimer estates.

So, young Richard grew up as an orphan but also one of the technically most powerful and richest people in England, and heir not just to titles and lands but also the claims to the throne from not just the 4th but also the 2nd son of Edward III (the latter being the senior line of succession after the deposition and death of Richard II) to rival the Lancaster dynasty. And at the same time, he lived in the shadow of the fact that his father had died as a traitor and rebel against the crown for pressing that same claim.

If I were to speculate about Richard's personality and how his upbringing shaped it, I think he was a person who tried hard to do everything right, to fulfil his duties in every way and be beyond reproach, exactly because he had so much responsibility and probably so much to prove. Something that really strikes me about Richard is that he seemed almost too perfect: competent, respected nobleman popular with the people, in a stable marriage, not known to have any mistresses or sexual transgressions, had seven children who survived childhood including four sons...What the contrast to Henry VI, a nice and pious man but notoriously disinterested in ruling (long before he started showing signs of mental ilness and became catatonic), prone to relying on favorites such as his extremely incompetent cousin Edmund Beaufort. and also, for a long time, unable to conceive a child with his wife Margaret of Anjou (and possibly uninterested in trying), before finally siring Edward.

And this is exactly why Richard must have come across as such a threat in the eyes of Queen Margaret, Edmund Beaufort and other people around Henry VI. How could they not be wary of his powerful man, Henry's cousin and heir, who had all the qualities you'd want in a king, which Henry lacked? However, if he was really power hungry and eager to replace Henry as king, he certainly didn't show that for many years. I think he must have been especially eager to prove his loyalty with the "son of the traitor" thing hanging over his head since he was a child. But he was nevertheless constantly under suspicion and distrusted by the Queen and her faction. I remember reading the details of his career, which come across as Richard constantly having to prove himself while being denied positions or sent away - his appointment in Ireland was really meant a virtual exile, to get him away from court (but it resulted in him and by extension the York dynasty gaining long-term popularity and stronghold in Ireland). (One of the common myths is that Richard was warlike and that this got him in conflict with the supposedly more peaceful faction - in fact, if I remember correctly, it was Edmund Beaufort who acted belligerent in France but made a mess of things, which Richard then had to clean up.)

It all must have been really frustrating to Richard - he was doing everything right, but it was never enough, and he had to prove his loyalty over and over. Maybe the Queen and the Lancastrians really created a self-fulfilling prophecy. Theoretically, I suppose Richard could have been binding his time and playing some really long con to depose Henry, but that seems unlikely looking at the details.

Instead, I think the most likely reason for his decision to start claiming the throne for himself in 1460 is that the conflict had become too harsh and the situation too desperate after he had been proclaimed a traitor to the crown and had to flee to Ireland. The attainder meant he was to be killed if he set foot in England again, and his family was disinherited. He had to successfully invade (ironically, he was in a similar situation that the future Henry IV before he deposed Richard II) and then either make himself Lord Protector again or even Henry's heir, or to proclaim himself the true king.

But I think the earlier loss at the castle of Ludlow, when the Yorkist troops were reluctant to fight the Lancastrian army when Henry VI himself was at its head (a puppet or not, ineffectual or disinterested, the annointed king was seen in an almost religious light and had enormous symbolic authority), and then the brutal sack of the castle, where Richard's wife Cecily Neville, his daughter Margaret and his two youngest children George and Richard (who was only 7) at the very least had to witness awful scenes of rape and pillage, by that same army with Henry as its nominal head... this may have been the straw that broke the camel's back and made Richard decide he was done with Henry VI. (Whether or not he had earlier really respected Henry or just respected his position as King.) And I really can't blame him.

I wonder how he felt when he finally made that decision, which would lead to his death less than a year later - followed by his eldest son's successful campaign and decisive victory over the Lancasters? Was it sheer desperation and survival, was he angry, did he decide he deserved the crown after all and was going to take it, did he feel any pride and relief that his decision would also basically mean an annoncement that his father was not really a traitor? I don't know, but I'm surprised there aren't more novels, movies and TV shows with him as the protagonist, delving into those questions.

Now, as for Richard's appearance and those of his sons.

There doesn't seem to be a lot of direct evidence of what he looked like (and the drawing that, for whatever reason, you'll find most often as a supposed portrait of him on Google definitely isn't reliable), but there are some indirect ones: Richard III was said to particularly look like his father. The phrase about Richard III looking like his father in face and figure has been often interpreted to mean that Richard, Duke of York was short, because Richard was a bit on the shorter side. However, there's no indication whatsoever that York was short, and we know that Richard III was shorter than he would've otherwise been due to his scoliosis (but still quite taller than some other men such as Niklas von Popplau, the German knight who was his guest and described him later). And to put things into context - Richard III was being praised for his similarity to his father and the mention of his figure seems more likely to be a reference to the late Edward IV becoming notoriously overweight in his 30s (while Richard was slim and lean), so I think it simply meant that their father Richard Duke of York was slim and in good shape when he was killed at the age of 49.

This miniature portrait of Richard Duke of York from the Talbot Shrewsbury book (around 1445, when he was 33/34, around the same age Richard III was when he died) shows a blond man with a strong chin - similar to that seen in the portraits of his sons Edward and Richard, an acquiline nose similar to Richard, and full lips (the one detail that doesn't match Richard that well and in fact seems more similar to Edward, going by their portraits).

There are a lot of myths about what the brothers looked like that were mostly created by historical fiction - including that Edward and George were tall and strong while Richard was small (in fact, I don't think we have any contemporary evidence of what George looked like), or that Edward or maybe George too were blond while Richard was dark (both Edward and Richard seemed to have medium brown hair) or that Edward and Richard looked nothing alike. I actually think there is quite a resemblance between the two brothers mostly in chin and face shape, which probably would've been obvious before Edward had gained weight and his face shape got much fuller.

[izayoichan]

2, 4, 7, 17, 30, and all creator questions for my boi :)

For the boi!

2. How easy is it for your character to laugh? Very easy, he is the type that can laugh about almost anything, even when they hit their toe against something sharp, they just can't help but laugh, even though it fucking hurts. He also has a very contagous laugh, the type that if he starts and really gets the chuckles, no one in a room could either not smile, or start laughing too.

4. How easy is it to earn their trust? He is far from the worst with it, although I think he is good at giving people some trust to begin with, and then let them prove to him that they are worth more trust that just that little bit in the beginning. So you have to work a bit to get into that proper inner circle of trust. Outwardly that makes him seem really trustful to most.

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling? There are two things that are equal for him nostaliga wise. (this is a bit of a spoiler, but ah well) watching pairs skate is something that triggers nostalgia for him. After him and Ye-Min's accident he never got a new partner to skate with, but went solo. He doesn't mind that feeling, but it is bittersweet for him. It's hard to wonder what if. The other thing is helping out at the shelter. It brings back all the memories he had a child, and he loves the feeling it gives. It's simply comforting. So yes, he brings his daughter along, to hopefully give her the same feelings as he has when there.

17. Are they easily embarrassed? Suprisingly yes. He has learned how to hide it well due to his job, but yeah, he is quite easily embarrased. He doesn't blush easily, but a tell tell sign is shuffeling of feet and twiddeling his fingers when he gets embarrased.

30. Who do they most regret meeting? Hmh... I don't know if he regrets meeting anyone, he has been lucky that way. The only thing that comes to mind, is some of the kids that were bullies when he were younger, saying that his love for figure skating wasn't good. And then for me: A: Why are you excited about this character? Because he is so different from the normal character I make. I tend to make the happy couples and all that, and Rylan simply deviates from that norm, and I adore him for that. B: What inspired you to create them? He kinda did himself, I do play the kids a little, I made him a teen, and no matter who flirted with him, no one was interrested. So first I was thinking a bachelor, to find that spark, but after talking about it with @mahvaladara i realized I didn't feel that was right. He shouldn't have to fall in love with anyone if he so clearly did not want to. C: Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story? Yes, because my brain followed my standard they shall find someone and live happily ever after in the end, but they wanted differently. D: Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look? They aged up pretty much the way they looked now, I had to add the horns, scales hair and eyes, but other than that he is basically just how he grew up. E: Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you? Yeah, I think we would get along, We share a few traits, and some ways of thinking.

F: What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)? A half a year ago: Frustration, because i did not know what to do with them, none of the original idea felt right. Now, exitment and pride in who I feel they chose to be.

G: What trait of theirs bothers you the most? He is a athletic one.. so he always wants to exercise, mostly skate tbh, but its every single time I try and do something, like poses, he breaks out and does pushups, goes to skate and so on.

H: What trait do you admire most? His devotion to his family, specially his daughter and her mother. Even though they are not together, he cares deeply for both of them, and his family in general. He is very very family oriented.

I: Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe? I don't mind him going a bit in the fantasy direction on occasion, or an AU if it comes to mind. As long as his little one can come with, I'm happy with whatever my silly mind can come up with.

J: Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character? Luckily not. He had no big canon other than being part of the story I have.

thank you for asking!

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Posting Update!!

TW: mentions of weight loss (positive) and body dysmorphia, past trauma non-specific just mentioned, personal junk rant under the cut, above is general information about the posting update

Hello hello! I have finally returned for an update! Things have been crazy for me recently, so I apologize for the delay in the new chapters, but they are still being worked on! I don't have a definite posting date for anything yet, but I'm shooting to have something out by next week! If you would like to hear a little bit more about what's been going on in my life that's below! Just under the cut so no one is caught off guard by the TW's above, it's also a little long because I'm a rambler lol, but overall a lot of exciting stuff is happening on my end!

I go to see Powerwolf in 3 days, which as some, if not most, of you probably know if you've been around here for a while, is my favorite band of all time. That, paired with the fact that this is the first big event I'll be going to since I started my hot girl glow up last year has been making me a little insane lol.

August 19th, 2023, I saw Ghost live, which absolutely changed my life. I remember vividly I had just recently found out I was the heaviest I had ever been in my life, and as someone who's constantly had to deal with body dysmorphia for as long as I can remember, it really made my self esteem take a huge hit. I had this whole plan to dress up and be all hot and sexy for the concert, which I did, but all I could focus on was how much weight I had put on, it was super frustrating and if I hadn't gotten VIP passes I honestly might have gone home because I was just not feeling it. But, we went, I made it all the way up to the barrier. I had an amazing time flirting with Phantom and Sodo (I'm sure they weren't flirting back but I like to let my delusional little brain believe lol) and throughout the night my heart felt so full, it was amazing. There was one point Papa came out singing He Is (my personal favorite) and, again probably delusional but whatever, there was one point where he walked over to my side of the stage, and I was reaching out for him and our eyes met, he reached his hand back out to me and something in my head clicked... This man preaches about acceptance, treating others with kindness, would Papa treat me the same way I treated myself? The answer was absolutely the fuck not. So, from that point forward, I made a conscious decision to treat myself better, I wanted to become so hauntingly beautiful that I would be able to catch Papa's attention if I ever make it back to the barrier for one of their shows lol. That really started to ramp up when PW announced their US tour.

I bought these tickets in February, I fully stopped in the middle of whatever I was doing at the gym to go camp out in the locker room for the pre sale at like 9 in the morning, got the tickets for the front floor because my friends and I are once again trying to make it to the barrier, and went of my fucking God, Falk. In my mind, I had an end goal now.

From that point forward The Hot Girl Glow Up truly began. I'm down 40 lbs, I've put on a shit load of muscle from going to the gym a few times a week, I've recently picked up yoga and I LOVE IT! But, it went so much farther than just the weight loss. I've been a lot kinder to myself, I have a lot of things that happened to me in the past I still need to heal from, and that scared, hurt younger version of me is still trying to find a soft place to land in my mind so she can rest. And a big part of my journey so far is really getting to the root of why I'm holding all of these bad feelings towards myself, which has been its own web that needs to be carefully unwound. Because getting healthy and losing weight is great, but I don't want to get there by bullying myself. The body heals through compassion and stillness, we cannot heal a body we hate. That's something I picked up in yoga the other night, think I'm gunna keep that in my pocket for a bit.

I know I don't owe anyone any explanation for why it takes me so long to get updates out, but I'm not posting updates not because I don't want to, that's the farthest thing from the truth. To put it simply, I give a shit about myself now. I can't spend all day sitting in front of my computer, staring a blank screen, waiting for the ideas to come while I shove nothing but fast food in my face and don't take care of myself physically, mentally, or emotionally, that's where I was at before all of this. So, I do apologize for the lack of updates, I promise just because I've slowed down doesn't mean I'm stopping any time soon lol.

Hopefully after PW I'll be back to a more consistent schedule. Between all of my classes, and the gym, and work, and trying to sew the last part of my concert outfit and make jewelry, and do practice makeup, and hair trials, and meeting up with my friends to plan their outfits and makeup and so we can go shopping for all of this, I've just been very busy lol. But, the update is still coming, we just gotta get there!