#away lines. like no one was thinking that so why did you say it??

[elodieunderglass]

Having dug out the Unfinished Tales to reference a conversation Tolkien wrote between Gandalf and Pippin (but didn’t publish) I thought I’d share it. Gandalf is talking to Pippin about the history of Thorin’s company, hobbits and why he chose Bilbo.

This is evidence for the grand statement I just made about how Bilbo was intended to be a catalyst that changed his society, and that hobbit society was indeed significantly different after his journey, with large social changes occurring between The Hobbit and Fellowship. But it’s also a very funny passage to me so here it is:

‘And then there was the Shire-folk. I began to have a warm place in my heart for them in the Long Winter, which none of you can remember.

They were very hard put to it then: one of the worst pinches they have been in, dying of cold, and starving in the dreadful dearth that followed. But that was the time to see their courage, and their pity one for another. It was by their pity as much as by their tough uncomplaining courage that they survived. I wanted them still to survive.

(😭😭😭😭. Also the theme of having pity for each other is what redeems both Bilbo and Frodo re: Gollum.)

But I saw that the Westlands were in for another very bad time again, sooner or later, though of quite a different sort: pitiless war.

(This is possibly one reason why this passage didn’t make it to publication - Gandalf shouldn’t have had this much foreknowledge of the upcoming war of the ring.)

To come through that I thought they would need something more than they now had. It is not easy to say what. Well, they would want to know a bit more, understand a bit clearer what it was all about, and where they stood.

(It’s also explaining that Bilbo’s role in Thorin’s company was predetermined both by a more omnipotent Gandalf and by Fate; that Gandalf selected Bilbo to be a social catalyst, to return and provoke hobbit society into a more adaptable, resilient state; therefore increasing their chances of surviving.)

They had begun to forget: forget their own beginnings and legends, forget what little they had known about the greatness of the world. It was not yet gone, but it was getting buried: the memory of the high and the perilous. But you cannot teach that sort of thing to a whole people quickly. There was not time.

(Thus Bilbo was supposed to be changed, and return changed by his journey, to teach his people.)

And anyway you must begin at some point, with some one person. I dare say he was “chosen” and I was only chosen to choose him; but I picked out Bilbo.’

‘Now that is just what I want to know,’ said Peregrin. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘How would you select any one Hobbit for such a purpose?’ said Gandalf. ‘I had not time to sort them all out;

(He is SO funny)

but I knew the Shire very well by that time, although when I met Thorin I had been away for more than twenty years on less pleasant business. So naturally thinking over the Hobbits that I knew, I said to myself: “I want a dash of the Took” (but not too much, Master Peregrin)

(This is brilliant we are always BODYING pippin constantly. NOT TOO MUCH TOOK 👀. We were ROBBED not having this in canon )

“and I want a good foundation of the stolider sort, a Baggins perhaps.” That pointed at once to Bilbo.

(Eugenics! Observing them like laboratory mouse lines! Call him a Charles River BILB/o the way you’re genotyping these poor little bastards for your purposes)

And I had known him once very well, almost up to his coming of age, better than he knew me.

(??? Hiding in the bushes spying or…?)

I liked him then. And now I found that he was “unattached” – to jump on again, for of course I did not know all this until I went back to the Shire. I learned that he had never married. I thought that odd, though I guessed why it was; and the reason that I guessed was not the one that most of the Hobbits gave me: that he had early been left very well off and his own master.

(Was it cos he’s gay as fuck, Gandalf)

No, I guessed that he wanted to remain “unattached” for some reason deep down which he did not understand himself – or would not acknowledge, for it alarmed him.

(I 100% now and for always love a narrator in a constant state of Just Fucking Lies To Everyone All The Time, Giving Us Nothing, Acknowledging Nothing Including Himself. NOPE NOT PROCESSING ANYTHING TODAY THANKS. WE’RE CLOSED. COME BACK TOMORROW. just A Massive Liar about everything and for what!!! Bilbo Baggins my beloved you were born wrong.)

He wanted, all the same, to be free to go when the chance came, or he had made up his courage. I remembered how he used to pester me with questions when he was a youngster about the Hobbits that had occasionally “gone off ”, as they said in the Shire. There were at least two of his uncles on the Took side that had done so.’

You can see why I love this! And I can see why Tolkien didn’t include it, too. Still very fun passage and near enough to canon to be used if you ever want to.

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Heyoooo, i just read your say it louder and im in love with that so much like holy, so i was wondering if you could make something kinda similar or something? like maybe logans chasing reader because she stole his cigars and they have a cute moment or something along those lines, maybe end a bit with or with smut? thanks so much babes!

Mine Now | DOFP!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Primal!Logan, Scent Tracking, Shotgunning His Cigar, Marking, Implied Smut, Reader is a Mutant who has invisibility, Enemies to Lovers because I’m a sucker for pain, Takes place at the very end of DOPF when Logan comes back to the future, Pain Kink, Breathing Play, Choking, Claws come out – I repeat the claws come out,

Rating: R – No Minors

Word Count: 4.5K

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for your request! This was a blast to write and honestly? It gave me a good excuse to write for DOFP!Logan! I adore you! 😊 Also completely unrelated side note….you did say you wanted smut, right??? Because I may, or may not, have spaced you said cutesy and went right to horny.

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Hank, have you seen her?” Logan asks, his voice layered with annoyance. You couldn’t help but silently snicker as you watched his brow crease, his nose twitch with frustration, his finger rapping at his side impatiently. The way his jaw ticked as Hank narrowed his own eyes at him made it impossible to hold your laughter, even when you were currently pressed up against the wall – a clear view of the situation going down. You pulled your lip between your teeth as you homed in on Logan’s features, eyes glimmering with rage. It was such a beautiful sight to see, one you have been dreaming of for months. Though you’d never openly admit it, everyone knew, all except him. You had to make the chase worth his while.

Logan Howlett is a force to be reckoned with, everyone told you that. When Charles and Eric first recruited you to teach with them in New York – you thought it was a joke, a cruel one at that. Living paycheck to paycheck in a hole in the wall Hell’s Kitchen apartment, dealing with constantly screaming and fighting from your neighbors, it wasn’t where you wanted to be. You were a survivor, you could adapt to anything, but after what you had experienced, you needed a fresh start. Working at a local diner, making shit for tips wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to help you save to leave. Where would you go prior to this? You had no idea, but someplace that experiences winter – you always loved the snow. But alas, that dreary November day a few years ago changed everything; It changed you. Meeting Logan on your first day told you everything you needed to know about him – he refuses to get close to anyone, you wanted to break that.

It's been three years since you first met Logan, two since you found yourself thinking he was cute, a year since you felt yourself falling for him, and six months since you started the cat and mouse chase. At first with how standoffish Logan was to you, you started to resent him. A year it took before that all fell to the wayside; Your feelings had shifted when you found him outside one night, crying as he smoked his cigar. Of course, your mutation left you able to turn invisible, able to watch him, without him knowing you were there. Through the heavy rain your smell was masked, he couldn’t tell you were there. But it made you feel closer to him; He wasn’t some robot who didn’t have emotions. He felt them too strong, which is why when he started to slip back into his mind, he pulled away. Being over 200 years old meant he saw some shit, lost people he loved, it took a toll on him after a while. That day forward you stopped keeping your distance, but instead made the effort to be near him, to show him you weren’t going anywhere.

Slowly you noticed how Logan started to open up to you, telling you stories of when he was young, his first mission with the X-Men. You got to learn a lot about The Wolverine, and come to find out he wasn’t a hard ass – he was sincere, doting, downright admirable. What he dealt with in his years fucked him up horribly to where he didn’t trust people easily – but it didn’t make him less. He always pushed forward and strove for success, to survive. He wouldn’t classify himself as a hero, but he was to you, and he deserved to know. Logan found himself trusting you easily after a year, his lonely nights stuck in his own head turned into game nights with you, strolls through the garden, getting a drink at the bar downtown. He could still be himself, but not have to carry the baggage by himself all the time. Falling hopelessly in love with him was inevitable, but also impossible. Nothing more could happen between the two of you and you knew that – but there was still a flicker of hope in your mind that wouldn’t quiet down. Especially with how flirty Logan had become with you.

 Usually, he was like this with Jean and Storm, taking it up a notch with them so he could have the last retort. To say he wasn’t a ladies’ man was a lie, he could pull anyone he wanted to. To Logan it was a game, seeing how flustered he could make him teammates – and he loved to win. With you it was different – it wasn’t low growls and light touching on your arms, no, it was more. At first to started off to be resting his chin on your shoulder, letting his breath stroke the column of your neck. Slowly it moved out to touches; Holding your waist from behind, rubbing his large hands over your lower stomach, slipping his hands under your shirt to caress your hip. Over the last few weeks though, he upgraded to holding your face, running his calloused thumb across your bottom lip, stealing forehead and cheek kisses before heading out. Rogue and Kitty that you two were dating, even Bobby got in on it – but when you stated you weren’t everyone looked at you like you had six heads.

“No Logan, I have not.” Hank let his eyes pan to where you were hiding as Logan turned away for a moment, giving you a small wink as he played along. After all, this was his idea – well, his and Xavier’s. You had overheard a conversation about how Logan’s cigar smell had been wafting into their classroom’s lately – distracting everyone as Logan taught. Charles had the bright idea for you to nab them and hold them hostage, until Logan learned his lesson. You on the other hand, were far too gone to do that. Instead you decided to take the cigars, but make a game out of it. Little post it notes with clues on where you were hiding, you stored them all over his bedroom and classroom, thanks to Scott. Ever since Jean told you just how primal Logan could get, how good of a tracker he was, you wanted to test it out for yourself. What better way than take the one thing he cannot live without? “What happened this time?”

Logan huffed as he ran both of his hands down his face, coming dangerously close to propping his hip against your body. You had to shuffle slightly as he leaned into the wall, letting his head bounce off the wood a few good times. “Little shit stole my box of cigars.” He looked exhausted, frustrated, and downright sexy. Seeing how lost and irritable he was without them made you smirk, causing you to bite your lip harder to suppress a whimper. You noticed how Logan’s ear perked up as you gulped, his head turning softly. Hank noticed this almost immediately and replied with a whooping laugh.  “Ha!” You sighed inaudibly as you silently thanked Hank, knowing he used his booming voice to mask your sounds. Holding one of his hands up to Logan, he snickered as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that was cruel of me. What I meant to say is, that’s funny.” Hank let out a small chortle at Logan’s distain, being met with a flash of a middle finger, and claw too.  “Thanks, asshole,” Logan huffed as he pushed himself off of the wall, running his hand through his hair.

You watched him intently, thanking whoever was listening for making you have the power of invisibility. Being able to listen to everything going down, while Logan has no idea you’re here, made you feel powerful. You heard talks about how your power could be useful, but ultimately not threatening; Now, you’d beg to differ. Though you grew tiresome of the chase, being a fly on the wall versus a real player. It was fun the first two hours this started, but encroaching on hour six – the school clearing out and the sun almost set on the horizon, you grew slightly bored. “Have you tried the library? She likes to hide there.” Hank let out without hesitancy, making your eyes grow wide. It was like an aha moment for you, choosing the most likely place for last. Earlier it was too crowded, people would know you were there the second Logan came looking for you. But now with the young mutants either outside or in the city due to the upcoming weekend, you knew it would be vacant.

“I know her all too well, Hank. That’s the first place I looked.” Hearing Logan say that made your heart flutter, made you feel special that he knew you so well. A strong sigh left your lips as Hank coughed, dreamily staring at Logan as you started to walk backwards. Losing your invisibility for a moment, you stood a few feet behind Logan, walking towards the grand staircase that took you to the library. Waving at Hank, you motioned for it as you smirked, causing Hank to laugh. “You sure?” He asked, nodding behind Logan. As you stood closer to the staircase, you noticed how Logan was sniffing the air – his body growing tense as he spun around. It’s when he laid his eyes upon you that you knew he was fed up. It wasn’t the primal growl and heavy breathing that got to you, but the way his hazel eyes went from green to black in a split section, his chest heaving as he stared at you. “Oh shit,” was all you managed to let out as you turned invisible again, running up the stairs.

Everything was a blur to you, running as fast as your body could take you. Three flights to get where you needed to go seemed like forever, when you were being chased by The Wolverine. He had super human speed, a great nose for sniffing things out, he was at the advantage whilst you were at a disadvantage. Even with scent masking, now that you started to sweat it would make you more obvious, especially when the library was empty. Huffing and puffing as you managed two steps at a time, you refused to look back. But you could hear the stomps of Logan’s boots, clearly taking three steps to match you. Silently you prayed to whoever was listening, to get you to the library safe and sound before Logan got you. The last thing you wanted was for him to pin you to the stairs so everyone could see, that was too on the nose.

Reaching the top step of the library, you managed to sway your way through the wooden chairs and tables, giggling to yourself as you were halfway across the room. Due to the grand nature of the library, especially being two floors, it gave you so many good hiding spots. A circular room to see everything, yet hide in plain sight. As you made it over to the spiral staircase for the second level, you had noticed Logan standing at the entrance of the library, huffing and puffing. It made you snort, seeing how riled up he was. You had to admit, it was sexy to see how pissed off he was, causing a fresh wave of your arousal to coat your panties. Logan seemed to have taken note as he sniffed the air, his eyes cutting across the room straight to yours. “Come on out princess,” he growled, flexing his hands at his side. Slowly you crept up the metal staircase for the second level, taking one step at a time to not elicit any sounds. You let your breathing relax, slowing your heart rate as you kept calm, not needing to give yourself away. But Logan could sense you, eyeing the staircase with every move you made. “I got you now.”

A devilish grin fought to claim his mouth as he pounced over the tables, running on all fours as he landed right at the bottom of the staircase. You managed to get all the way up and around, leaving to the right. Multiple aisles of books covered upstairs, as well as the walls, each window let in the dusk light – showing dust particles roaming the air. Your tell-tale shimmer of invisibility was caught in the light a few times, but Logan was too lost to notice. Finding your perfect hiding spot away from prying eyes, you slotted yourself against the endcap of Psychology of Mutants, knowing no one reads these. You could feel the stagnant beating of your heart at times, wondering if it was due to fear or the thrill of the chase. Maybe it was the aspect of it being bittersweet as well; A years long chase with Logan finally reaching its peak. You knew there would never be going back from this, and that was okay. Stealing his cigars wasn’t the endgame, it was only the beginning.

“You can’t hide forever you know,” Logan snarled as he reached the top of the landing, huffing as he eyed every shelf. You could see him, nor did you want to, hoping to God he chose to head left instead of right. Alas you were sorely mistaken as his heavy steps started to echo right, causing you to curse under your breath. SNIKT, you heard the metallic sound echoing through the room, but also your mind, causing you to whimper. Logan had unsheathed his claws, holding them out. The idea of him using the claws on you, pinning you down with them, holding them against your neck made your body run hot, your arousal heightening as the thoughts ran rampant through your mind. “I will catch you.” It was not a threat but a fact, Logan was not kidding anymore. The animal inside of him was taking over, leaving the Logan you knew behind. This was all caused because you pushed him to the point of no return, and you fucking loved it. The reverberation of his claws against the wooden shelves made you shudder, knowing how close he was getting now.

Biting down hard on your lip, you placed your hand over your mouth, trying to regain control of your breathing. Being right across from the last window on the right didn’t do you any good, especially with the beam of light falling through. If you moved even a millimeter, you were going to be made. It’s then when you opened your eyes to pan to your left that you saw his shadow encroaching on you, his stance wide as his claws were pointed at the ground. Each gruff huff he let out made your eyes roll back, finding it harder and harder to keep yourself hidden. You couldn’t look away from him either, you needed to watch him; How the sweat beaded at his hairline, how his little tufts of hair were wild from pulling at them, how his snarl got more animalistic the longer he tried to look for you. “Where did you go?” You couldn’t describe how Logan sounded in that moment; Primal and animalistic do not even begin to crest.

You focused too much on his tone, completely forgetting your watchful eye on him. When you glanced back after trying to calm yourself, you noticed the 6’2 Wolverine was no longer walking his way towards the aisles but vanished into thin air. Not knowing where he was, made your heart rate skyrocket – panic ensuing all over your body. Goosebumps arose across your skin as you pondered where he could be, afraid to move in case he was lurking close to you. Maybe he went off to the left instead, leaving you by yourself to escape. It would make sense, considering how you heard the creaking of the floorboards on the opposite side now. Letting out a concealed breath, you slowly moved away from the end cap of the shelf, leaving your back exposed. You knew it was a mistake when the hot, stifling air of the closed space became ice cold, a shiver falling down your spine. The sun shifted away in that moment, blanketing the area in darkness, complete with only a sliver of light, not even to cast shadows. The second your back was exposed; All hell broke loose.

Two strong hands grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you back into a solid form. The yelp you let out was loud enough to echo, but not loud enough to raise suspicion. The strain on your powers had gotten to be too much, slowly slipping back into being visible. You huffed out as your back connected with his chest, your hands finding purchase on his muscular forearms. “There you are little mouse.” He snickered in your ear, pressing his nose to the pulse point of your neck. Logan deeply inhaled at the vein, his teeth barring to nip at your exposed shoulder. It felt good to have his mouth on you, to have him seemingly obsessed with your scent. After all, it is what gave you away. Whimpering out, you dug your nails into Logan’s arm, feeling the reverberation of his snarl through your body. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move – you were a lost cause. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Logan was mocking you at this point, purposely being a little shit to mimic how you have been with him. When it came to his cigars, he wasn’t fucking around. But when he knew it was you who took them, well he wasn’t going to let you live this down. Logan moved from behind you, but kept his hands grasping your flesh. Moving to the side, he pressed your back against the end cap again, bringing you back to your original position. His right hand remained on your hip as his left grasped your neck, pressing against your pulse point, feeling the thrum of blood on your veins. The edges of your vision began to go fuzzy due to the restricted blood flow, but you didn’t care. Logan was putting you right in your place, and you were obeying so well for him. “I believe you have something of mine,” he murmured; His prominent nose pressing harshly against your cheek. The warmth of his breath on your skin, mixed with the cold drag of his claws against your skin made you shiver, loving how it felt too much. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laughed out, clearly laced with thrill.

Logan didn’t take too kindly to you playing dumb, the tick in his jaw spoke measures. His grip on your neck was heavier than before, using his full weight to restrict your blood flow quicker, your vision developing black dots. “Oh, you don’t?” The challenged in his voice said all you needed to know – he was fucking desperate. There was no hiding it now, he needed you – not his cigars, but you. Gulping down against his large hand, you felt the press of his claws against the back of your neck, pushing through the wood of the bookshelf to lock you in place. He would never intentionally draw blood, or hurt you, but he knew this was your deepest fantasy, all thanks to Jean relaying it. His lips were inches from your ear as he chuckled darkly, groaning out against the flesh. “Do I need to jog your memory?” You shouldn’t have been as turned on by that as you were. Your knees buckled slightly as you almost fell, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Logan took advantage of your eyes being closed to pull his hand away from your hip. The loss of touch made you whine, but quickly you were quieted by his roughened tugs. Grabbing at the edge of your tank top, Logan ran his claws through the fabric to create slits, ripping them open just as easily. Looking down at your jeans, he could see the bulge in your pocket – where you had hidden a few of his cigars. A huff of relief fell from his parted lips as she cut your pocket open, letting them fall right into his hand. He mimicked your hiding and shoved them into his own pocket, moving on to the next. The cool breeze against your exposed skin made you quickly heat up; Logan using his claws on you made you lose your fucking mind. He repeated his efforts with your other side, making matching holes in his jeans and shirt, not caring anymore.

It was as the last few cigars rolled out of your pocket that Logan pulled back, his heavy body heat no longer suffocating you. The contact was missed, causing you to pout slightly. “Boo hoo hoo,” Logan mocked as he watched you, walking backwards to push his back against the window. The sill right below it was begging him to sit, so he took advantage of it. Reaching into his left pocket, Logan pulled out his Zippo lighter – flicking it against his pants to ignite the flame. It was intoxicating watching him, how effortlessly fluid his motions were. Biting your cheek, you watched him intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He pulled out the precut cigar from his pocket and pushed it between his lips, favoring his left side for it to rest between his teeth. Lighting the end until the cherry burned bright, he took a few quick puffs, blowing the smoke out in a cloud around him.

Your eyes could not pull away from him even if you tried, it was nearly impossible. The way he moved was like silk through the wind, so effortless and elegant; He knew he was hot like this. Taking another quick drag, Logan let the smoke fall from his lips as he tucked the cigar back in between his teeth, putting away his lighter. Reaching forward with his claws still extended, he hooked two of the blades into the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you forward. There was about a person’s space between the bookshelf and the window, making it easy for him to grab at you. Of course, your body obeyed his silent command, tripping slightly as you tried to regain your footing. Placing both of your hands on his thick, warm thighs, you licked your lips. The smoke being released from both the cigar and his mouth captured your attention, making it difficult to focus on what he was saying. The way his motions flowed were so smooth, it was impossible to say anything else to him.

Taking a rather large drag of his cigar, he puffed his cheeks out a bit to hold it all in. It took you by surprise, why he was holding it all in his mouth. Retracting his claws on his right hand, Logan grabbed at your jaw like a man possessed, pushing his meaty fingertips into your flesh. The slight ache of his possessiveness made your mouth part, a pained look on your face that you were lost in. Logan got close to you, his lips only mere inches away from your mouth as you whimpered. With your lips parted, Logan mimicked your motions as he breathed out. The soft, heady tendrils of smoke wafted from his mouth into yours, causing you to let them stir. Tobacco mixed with the sweetness of the wrap caused your eyes to dilate, boring into Logan with pure unadulterated lust. There was no mistaking it as he shotgunned his cigar with you, his smirk prevalent. “That’s my good girl.” He crooned, taking in your big eyes, the heat of your skin – basking in your glory.

You blew the smoke right back at Logan while he chuckled, licking his lips to wet them as he took another puff. There was something so intoxicating about how you reacted, it was like watching a painting come to life. From the first day he met you, he knew you were something else – he had to challenge you. Almost four years later and you’re still trying to get with him, he admired it. Finally, the silent love he had for you could be shown, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for you. You made him work to catch you, now you had to work to get what you wanted. “Get on your knees.” The command fell off of Logan’s lips so naturally you almost didn’t catch it at first. Your eyes glossy as you watched him, your brain not keeping up. Narrowing his eyes at you, he cocked his brow as he laid the cigar to the side, watching to see your reaction. “I’m sorry?” You questioned without realizing, your face slack with lust.

Reaching forward towards you, Logan grabbed your neck once more, this time yanking you so close to his face that you felt his breath waft over your features. “Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.” There was no hesitation in Logan’s voice as he stated his command, letting his face go rigid to show he was getting pissed off. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” You wanted to, every fiber of your being wanted to disobey him, make him angry so he was rough with you – at the same time you didn’t want to make him mad, not yet anyway. Nodding to him against his hand, you slipped down to your knees easily with a moan, pressing out your wet bottom lip as you gazed up at him.

Logan rolled his eyes as he grabbed the cigar again, pressing it against your lips. It’s when you take a drag of it that he pulls out, putting it in his own mouth once more. With his hand now free from holding his cigar, he quickly flicked open his belt buckle, undoing the top button on his jeans as you took the silent command to pull his zipper down. His erection was stiff against his jeans and left nothing to the imagination. He was big, he was hot, and he was fucking turned on. Watching you with a lustful glow in his eyes, Logan groaned as he watched you, never letting you have the last word: “You may have started the game princess, but I am going to finish it.”

----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @mami-veracruz @salemslostwitch @karencaribou @princesstarble @dirtylittlefairytales @hbwrelic @mosscrissfemmefatale @pinkanonwriting @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones @silversprings-mp3 @lokidovahkiin

[purinfelix]

hiii, i love your writing so freaking much, can i please ask for a Franco fic inspired on Gold rush by taylor swift? he just literally gave me that vibe and I NEED to read something like that, please and thank you <3

everybody wants you ‧₊˚✩ - franco colapinto

summary: when your best friend since birth finally joins you in formula one, it's safe to say that you're excited - though when it becomes apparent that he's the more favoured one, you start to doubt things, including your feelings w/c: 2.8k

a/n: oh anon i love this idea but also this was my first time listening to this song so i hope i interpreted it the way you hoped and did it service !!! <333

You hated how cliche it was. 

The two of you were childhood best friends, together for as long as you could remember. You always credited yourself for getting into karting first and Franco, always eager to stay by your side, followed suit. The track only gave the two of you another domain to be inseparable in, with every race ending with both of you on the podium - and it never mattered who was first, only that you were both there, together. 

There was an unspoken understanding in your hometown that the two of you were never to be separated, which you initially revelled in, but the older you got the more you felt yourself developing a feeling towards your friend you couldn’t quite explain. Somewhere in the realm of jealousy, just beyond admiration and reaching just short of a childhood crush.

It came in waves, flowing whenever you were reminded of just how different the two of you were, and how inadequate you felt next to him - with his charismatic personality and curly brown hair that always fell perfectly into place, always drawing more and more people towards him. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself wondering why he had chosen you of all people to stick so close by, even if he never gave you a reason to doubt it. 

And so when you decided to move away to pursue racing, it wasn’t shocking that Franco would too. The two of you set off, after many tearful goodbyes to your friends and family back home, to brace the world, hand in hand. 

You stayed racing for the same teams, always getting promoted or signed at the exact same time - almost as if the universe had heard the same unspoken understanding of your town, and knew that you worked best together. And whilst it helped to see each other during practices, debriefs, and even wearing the same uniforms, it was far from the only thing that kept your friendship strong. 

Away from almost everything else the two of you knew, you clung to each other tightly and came to know absolutely everything about each other through it. Hushed midnight conversations, early morning snack runs, and even visiting landmarks as you grew and travelled countries - all the while with Franco by your side. 

Strangely enough, it never did occur to you to see the boy beside you as more than just a friend - no matter how much the other girls you befriended seemed to think otherwise. Whenever they would sneakily whisper to you, asking whether you were sure the two of you were just friends you would always roll your eyes shooting back something along the lines of Ew? Franco? No, we’ve known each other forever - which typically made them happy to pursue him themselves, even if they strangely never succeeded. 

All this came to a screeching halt in the summer of your second year in Formula Two, however, when you were met with a contract deal from Alpine Racing. A racing seat for one. 

“You’re taking it right?” his voice is excited as the two of you sit in the stuffy hostel room you’re sharing with about eight other strangers, all too broke or cheap to pay for anything better. Franco was the first you had told, before your coach, before your family, before anyone. 

“I don’t know Franco, I mean-“ 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?” 

You chew your bottom lip as you fiddle with the bedsheet below you, not able to look him in the eye. “It means we won’t get to race together you know,” you sigh. 

“Well you don’t know that, maybe you race alone for a year but once I make it into F1 we’ll be side by side again! Plus you’re stupid if you think I won’t be visiting every one of your races anyway.” 

You watch his green eyes scan your expression, searching for a clue to how you’re feeling. 

“It’s just a big step, I don’t know if I��m ready for it.” 

“I think you’re more than ready,” he insists, though you don’t feel convinced. 

When you finally speak again your voice is tiny, “I’m scared, Franco.” 

In that moment, he gives you a sympathetic look before pulling you into a tight hug and even though neither of you spoke about it again that night, you knew exactly what it meant - I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. 

And you aren’t ashamed of the fact that it was his reaction alone that pushed you to make the decision to take up the deal, and you couldn’t have been happier that you did. At least, that’s how you felt for the initial months of your contract which was filled with cocktail parties, race suit fittings and media interviews. And despite what you had expected, and as selfish as it might’ve been, having Franco not by your side for once felt like a breath of fresh air you hadn’t known you needed - it filled you with a lone sense of pride, having ‘made it’ without someone being right there for you to be compared to. 

It was perhaps this sense of pride that helped you manage to score points on your debut. You still remember running up to where Franco was waiting for you in the garage, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you jumped into his arms - and it felt, just for a moment, like this euphoria might’ve been what you had spent your whole life waiting for. 

But perhaps you had spoken too soon, since your progress saw a steep decline causing you to lose not only the chances to score points and impress your team, but also the confidence you had spent so long working on. 

And one night, just when it seemed like you were at your lowest, after a weekend full of DNFs and near-crashes - the most unexpected thing happened. A singular text from Franco, halfway across the world, excitedly explaining how he was going to be filling a position in Formula One, in a different team to you. 

There wasn’t a single word to describe the millions of emotions you felt rushing through you in that moment. For one, surprise at the mid-season switch as well as a certain sort of selfish disappointment that you would no longer be the only one in the highest form of the sport you both loved. But above all else, a thrumming excitement about being with your best friend once more - to see him at the paddock, catch up with him during sessions and not have to trek all the way into grandstands just to see his face. 

It didn’t take you long to realise though, that you were far from the only one who felt this way. It was almost like the moment Franco stepped foot on the paddock, donning the blue of Williams for his first race weekend, the world fell in love with him. Online, conversations about him blew up to the point where you couldn’t go moments without being bombarded by clips of his interviews or edits of him. It was strange, one part of you felt proud that the world was finally waking up to the treasure that was your best friend, but another felt the strong urge to hide him away, for him to be all yours. 

A small part of you had expected this, having known Franco and his personality since before you could put it into words - but what you hadn't expected was for him to also back it up with amazing performances. Now, it was him who was scoring points and impressing everyone - and you who was left to do little more other than celebrate with him, for your own results paled in comparison. And once news got out about you being childhood friends, through a couple of grainy leaked photos of the two of you smiling proudly in your tiny karts, the comparisons started up again. 

It was like salt in the wound, agonisingly so - seeing your best friend adored him doing well in the sport you got into first, while you were left to, weekend after weekend, fail to make it into points range. And to make matters worse, the media frenzy that cropped up around Franco did little other than make you come to a realisation you might've spent your whole life running from - that you were jealous, not of Franco, but of those who loved him. That maybe your desire to constantly stick by his side was more than just a childish habit, and that your jealousy of his achievements was just a reminder that you’d never be more than just a friend, one that was always a little behind, a little worse. 

Despite your best efforts, the two of you began to drift apart, each achievement he got driving a deeper and deeper wedge between you. It hurt a lot, race weekends beginning to bleed into each other - a plain blur of failed races, celebrations from other teams, and Franco's adoring fans.

It all seemed to come to a head one weekend, a minor crash in an earlier lap winding you up in the Alpine garage - sweaty, irritated and extremely exhausted. Yet you continued to watch the race, not so much for anyone else, but more so that you could keep a close eye on the blurry blue car, and its driver.

And before you knew it you were watching it cross the finish line in third, Franco’s first podium - right in front of your eyes. 

You weren’t sure why, but your first instinct was to hastily get up from the fold-out chair you were sitting on and rush away to your driver's room, like a child throwing an immature tantrum. You knew Franco well enough to know he’d come looking for you but knew yourself enough just as well to know you couldn’t face him right now. With everything that had been going on, with the constant stream of less-than-kind comments you were getting online and the extreme dip in your performance, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded of your inadequacy. It was extremely selfish, sure, but you convinced yourself that you were actually doing Franco a favour since you knew your acting skills were too poor to convincingly put on a show as he celebrated right in front of you. You always had been a faster runner than him, at least, that’s what years of playground tag had told you. 

But it had been a while since then and before you could make it to your room you heard an all-too-familiar voice call from behind you. 

“Hey!” 

“Not now Franco,” you huff, so close to the door of your room that you’ve got one hand on its handle already. 

“What? C’mon, I just got a podium and that’s all you have to say?” You pause at the handle, the hurt tone in his voice pulling at your heartstrings. 

“Yeah, I saw, good job but I just can’t right now.” 

“Can’t what? You’re joking, right?” His voice rises in volume a little, and he sounds in disbelief - you’re glad the garages are mostly empty so that no one can see the scene he’s making. 

“No, I’m not,” you shoot back firmly. You’re still facing away from him, arm hanging limp from the door handle - you can’t remember the last time you felt this defeated, this tired. 

“Seriously, what is going on with you lately? It’s like, you were so excited for us to race together but now we barely talk even though we see each other every day.” 

“Franco,” you say, quietly. 

“We’ve known each other forever but this feels like the first time where I truly have no clue what is going on in your head, why don’t you ever talk to me anymore? You don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding me?” 

“Franco, please.” You feel tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes, and it doesn’t help how accusatory he sounds. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, just go celebrate.” 

“No! If you think I’m just going to leave now without you, you’re seriously ridiculous. I mean, this is what we always dreamed of, isn’t it?” 

At that, you turn around to face him - looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like months. You watch his brows unfurrow immediately as his expression softens at the sight of you, tears welling up in your eyes which are surrounded by dark circles, marks left from your many sleepless nights. It’s clear that he notices how small you look as well as you hunch into yourself, barely having the energy to stand up straight. 

“Woah, hey,” he says, his tone gentle now. 

“Don’t do this Franco, don’t talk to me like we’re still children,” you say, instinctively defensive. 

“Aren’t we?” 

You let out a laugh, soft yet cruel as you struggle to hold in your tears, “Everything’s different now, isn’t it? When was the last time we were on a podium together or even spoke face to face like this.” 

“What are you even saying?” You feel a pang of pain in your heart at the look in his eyes, a little anger mixed with disbelief. 

“I’m saying, that maybe being friends isn’t going to work if we’re racing against each other anymore. Have you seen the way I get compared to you relentlessly? Everyone loves you, everyone wants you, and I’m just, there! Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have no one backing you?”  

“You’re my best friend, I’m right here, backing you!” 

“Franco,” you say, just above a whisper. 

There’s a moment of silence, and you can see Franco working up the courage to say something, his hands fiddling with the fireproof mask he’s been holding this whole time. You feel a couple of tears finally make their way down your cheeks and you do your best to wipe them away, eager to not embarrass yourself in front of him anymore. 

“I love you.” He finally says. 

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that.” You’re about to turn away, ready to just shut yourself in your room. 

“No, like, I love you.” You hear him take a couple steps closer to you, to the point where he’s right behind you. 

“You don’t mean that,” you sigh. 

“I do,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I have, for years.” 

You pause, silently turning around to face him, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks at you, nervously waiting for a response though trying to put on a face that tells you how serious he is about what he’s just said. 

“And I know that you probably don’t feel the same but I need you to know this because I can’t keep going on like this, barely seeing or talking to you and-” he begins to ramble, and all you do is let out a relieved sigh as you lean forward to rest your head on his chest in silence. However, it’s clear this confuses him as he stops talking immediately. 

“I love you too, Franco.” 

“Wh- really?” 

“Yes,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

“Like, seriously?” 

“As serious as a heart attack.” You lean back against the door with a smile of relief, or as much a smile as you can muster up figuring that you feel like you’re about to collapse right there and then. 

“I’d kiss you but,” he gestures to his face and hair which is drenched in sweat. 

“Oh shut up and come here,” you say quietly, looping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you. When your lips meet his arms wrap around your waist as he pushes you up against the door of your room, and even though you couldn’t care less, you’re once again glad there’s no one here to see the two of you. No cameras, no fans, no other drivers - just the two of you, and the years of history between you. 

When you part, his face is flushed as he offers you a shy smile, his arms still around your waist. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” 

“I could say the same for you.” 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“You go celebrate your first podium,” you reply excitedly. 

“We,” he corrects, finally unlooping his arms to take you by the hand and lead you out of the garage - and whilst your beaming smiles might’ve seemed to many the results of his podium, the two of you knew they were part of something much, much bigger. 

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[petrichorium]

I... would like to hear more of your thoughts about Luffy.... if you have any more to spare.....

lil prequel to this

The jungle is hotter than you anticipated.

It's only been an hour and already you're sweating through your linen shirt. It was foolish, really, to assume you'd be prepared, but before setting foot on the beach you might have said you'd last at least the first day before stripping most of your outerclothes.

Luffy, in contrast, seems perfectly unaffected. Of course it’s been nearly a decade since he’d first entered the Grand Line, an infinity of experience compared to you—in fact you might even say he looks more at home amongst the overgrowth and unseen beasts than he did in the bustling urbanism of your home island. He stands taller, you think; doesn’t bother hunching to your height, shoulders rolled back with eager confidence.

He'd picked up a walking stick somewhere along the way, and though he's offered more than once you've resolutely refused to climb onto that broad back if only because just the sight of it before you has your heart beating ever faster.

(And, admittedly, because more than once you've spotted some bug or another that has drawn you astray, and you'd be far too sheepish to ask him to stop and let you off if you saw one from his back.)

Now you lead the way, following the trail of distinctively eaten foliage that you'd first pointed out to a surprisingly keen pirate king who'd crouched to hover over your shoulder as you eagerly gestured to the characteristic patterns. He's carried on following you, an energetic pup at your heels with hands just a bit too willing to reach out and tug you away from the countless dips and valleys you seem determined to fall down.

Such as the one you stumble across now. The ground drops before you, so large that even your poor reflexes can stop you. Your heart drops even faster—once the trees have given way you realize the cliff you’ve run square into has revealed a perfect view of the ship you arrived on, and just how far into the horizon it’s gotten.

“Ahhhh,” Luffy says, a dismayed sort of noise. You flinch as a heavy forearm slams against your shoulder, the man forcing more of his weight than comfortable onto you as he leans forward. “So slow. The Sunny would have been gone by now.”

“What?”

“The Thousand Sunny! My ship!”

You wrinkle your nose. “I know what the Thousand Sunny is—“

“You do?” He’s giddy now, eager as he leans even closer into your personal space. “She’s the best ship ever, right? With the lion at the front, so cool, I'll take you to sit on it when—“

“I don’t know that much.” Your hand finds his face as you shove him away none too gently. He doesn’t budge. “Just the name, the figurehead… the flag.”

What any person in the world would know about the ship that carries the king of the pirates. You don’t bother clarifying such things anymore. Luffy doesn’t tend to listen.

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned by the fact that our ship has sailed off?”

He blinks. “That’s why you brought me along, though.”

The words turn your blood cold. You swallow thickly. “You knew? Did you… did Lyle tell you? Is that why you agreed so quickly?”

Luffy makes a face. When he speaks it’s sour in a distinctly juvenile way. “Don’t talk about him, I don’t like him. And I really don’t like when you talk about him.”

"He's my husband," is all you can think to say in response.

"He wants you dead."

Even more than before, you feel as if you've been doused in freezing water, as if the air has been knocked from your lungs. You knew—of course you knew, obviously you knew, but hearing it aloud is an entirely different territory. Your knees buckle; Luffy’s hands find your waist before you can drop, lifting you with ease to deposit you almost tenderly onto the large outcropping of rock you’d been bracing yourself against.

They rest on either side of your thighs. You try not to think too hard about how warm they feel against you.

Your new perch is high enough that you’re level with him now. It’s a more comfortable feeling, no longer craning your neck to look him in the eye. Except he has other intentions; ones that have your face growing hot as he sighs and lowers his head to rest his cheek against the soft give of your thigh.

He’s always been touchy, moreso than appropriate, but it’s never been anything this bold. When he glances up at you through lidded eyes your breath hitches, a thrill going through you.

“We’ll just wait for my crew, yeah? If I don’t show up in a couple days they’ll follow my vivre card to find us. But you knew all that, didn’t you?”

You squirm a little. Luffy's arm tightens around your legs.

"Stop that. Just lemme—"

He shoves his face into your stomach. You yelp, hand flying to grip his hair none too gently—but that only drags a groan from him as he presses further and inhales deeply. Your abdomen tenses involuntarily.

(Lyle had never touched you so intimately, and certainly never so desperately. It had all been courteous and tasteful during the course of your arranged engagement, and then he'd gone cold after the wedding. Some rebellious part of you wishes he could see you and the king of the pirates now...)

He pulls back only when you finally sink into it. Stomach still fluttering, you push it aside and lean back on your forearm, that hand in his hair relaxing to stroke through the strands absent-mindedly. He eases up, lifting his head to watch you.

“Why?” You say finally. “Why are you so calm? I tricked you into coming here, I lied to you, I manipulated you, and you just went along with it? Now you’re stranded on this island with me for who knows how long until your people finally show up and you’re just okay with that? Why?”

Luffy blinks at you, dark eyes wide as his head tilts and his mouth pulls into a pout that has your heart skipping a beat.

“Well… you’re gonna join my crew, aren’t you?”

[fushiguruuzzzz]

xiv  ⊹ ࣪ ˖  Love and (Internal) War 

Series mlist 

Tags — possibly offensive humour, Megumi’s self hatred peeking through, oblivious idiot yn 

Words — 1.2k 

The soft knock echoed throughout your otherwise lifeless room, a reminder that the boy on your mind was more than just text bubbles on a screen. You let out a low sound of acknowledgment, sliding off of your plush bed. The floor felt cold beneath you, the wood pressing firmly against the soles of your feet. 

You opened the door, the hinges creaking ever so quietly in the midst of the nights peace. It was late, very much so, but you were sure many of your neighbours were awake. That’s what students did, cramming everything into one short span of hours, usually at the most inconvenient times of night. By now, though, Megumi was usually asleep. It was something you often teased him for, referred to him as an old man. Truth be told, he just loved sleeping. There wasn’t much more to say. So why was he standing in your hallway looking like a lost dog? 

“Hey,” you said, shuffling to the side as an indirect invitation for him to come in. He took it, though hesitantly, as if he hadn’t been the one to show up here in the first place. “What’s up? Are you okay?” you asked. 

You gently pressed the door closed behind you, lingering in front of it, trying to gauge his mood. Your first instinct was to assume something had happened, something bad. Showing up at your dorm at 2 in the morning was a bold move for any average, semi-social person, let alone for Megumi. He shook his head, as if to shoot down any conclusions you’d jumped to. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. He shoved his hands into the pocket of the hoodie he’d haphazardly thrown on as he left his room, a snoring Yuji in the background. He spoke again, a mumble so quiet you’d think it hurt him to say. “…and I wanted to see you.” 

At this, the tension in your shoulders faded, the harsh lines taking up your face smoothing out. Instead it was replaced by a grin, and the hidden bashfulness that came with the way your heart sped up at his confession. 

“What was that?” you smirked, tilting your head in feigned confusion. 

“Don’t be an asshole,” he deadpanned. You let out a laugh, probably too high in volume for the hour. 

“Yeah, sorry. I missed you too.” 

Your shoulder gently brushed against his as you passed him, and the small touch sent too many sparks flying over his skin. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like that he so desperately tried to avoid that longing, that feeling he only felt upon seeing your face, but somehow always found himself here. Well, not exactly here, but with you. No matter the place, he always found himself chasing you like you were all he needed. Like you were home. Maybe you were. 

You plopped down on the bed, the covers rustling beneath you. You gave a discreet nod to the place beside you, noticing the way he stood near the door, barely moving. Did he have to be so mysterious all of the time? So guarded? 

He sat by your side, looking ahead. Anyone could very easily tell something was bothering him, anyone that knew him well enough, at least. He was more tense than he usually was, his walls seeming higher than ever. Though with added height came the crushing weight on the body of them, leaving cracks and holes for hints of vulnerability to seep from. 

“Megumi,” you whispered, a careful hand finding its home on his shoulder. “Is something wrong?” 

He was silent for a moment, avoiding your eyes as he contemplated whether he would be honest or not. His fingers twitched in his pockets, itching to move. They didn’t. 

“How was your date?” he asked, though a bitter feeling resided in his mouth once he spoke. Was that too forward? Too obvious? Were you about to kick him out and push him away? In his mind, those four simple words were as close to any sort of confession he was ready to give. In the few months since the two of you were reunited, he’d felt his walls be slowly chipped away, no matter how hard he fought it. With you, he just couldn’t. It was inevitable, and he was beginning to feel like that same stupid boy he was all those years ago. Stupid stupid boy, falling for you. In his mind, you were the sun and he was simple one of billions of stars yearning for your light. He could never amount to who he wanted to be, to be what you deserved. Wait.. falling for you? Had he just admitted that to himself? 

You paused. Was that what was wrong? Your date? You didn’t understand why such a thing would bother him, let alone enough for him to lose sleep and show up at your dorm in the earliest hours of the morning. “It was nice… he’s nice. Why? Do you not like him?” 

He stole a quick glance at you, softly shaking his head. “I’m not exactly fond of him, no.” 

“Oh?” you said, tilting your head softly to the side. “I didn’t know.” 

“I didn’t expect you to,” he said, shrugging. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about him.” He let out a soft sigh, mindlessly grabbing a book off of your nightstand. He was all too aware of your hand on his shoulder, how close you were sitting to him, and it felt wrong. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He didn’t deserve it. 

“Mm,” he said, examining the cover. He felt an odd need to make conversation, which made him sure he was losing it. When was he ever one to speak when not necessary? Who even was he? You took notice of this, knowing that he must’ve just been distracting himself from whatever deeper level of the situation was nagging at him. “You have good taste in books,” he said. 

For some reason, the compliment sounded much better coming from him than it did from Noritoshi. You summed it up to the fact that Megumi was more familiar, which wasn’t completely a lie, but… you knew better than that. 

You spent the next couple of hours talking about everything and nothing in between comfortable silences and shared looks. Whether it was literature, your classes, your friends, hell, you even talked about politics, it was all so comfortable with him. Things felt as if they were meant to be that way. And then, before you knew it, the two of you were slumped against eachother, halfway lying down as you slept in each others arms. He’d mindlessly held you in his sleep, something that came to him subconsciously, as if embracing you was muscle memory. You hadn’t protested, even as you stirred and occasionally gained some of your consciousness. It was just one night, wasn’t it? At least he was sleeping at all. You were just comforting him, that was all. 

Neither of you would voice it, but it was the best you’d slept in a long time. 

Taglist !¡ —

@1l-ynn @meowymeowbreow @missunrise @kiss-my-asscheeks @starrysho @good-mourning0 @gumims @beaniesayshi @mrowwww @luvvmae @megumislovedoll @azharyy @starsryi @tibibibi123 @idkidk32 @dazaisfavgf @tlissablr @vi0let-writes @walllflowerrrsss @sh0ot1ngst4r @blubearxy @tvnamayo @san-it-is-i-guess @harryzcherry

sighhh I love them lwk been distracted from bttoh tho been nurturing the farmhand yuji fic a lil too much… nb gonna read ts are they cries anyway ermmmm can you guys not kill me or yourselves after the coming chapters release pretty please… with a cherry on top…

[runnning-outof-time]

“You Came.” “You Called.” | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Solomons Sister!Reader

Summary: Tommy Shelby and (Y/N) Solomons despise each other…….or do they?

Warnings: language, slight sexual situations, weapons, threats

Word Count: 1304

A/N: I’m sorry this isn’t as long as the others have been. I need to get these requests finished and this is what I was able to come out with. I hope you’ll still enjoy! Also I’ve tried something a little different at the end - hopefully you’ll participate and not be too mad at me for it! :)

A/N 2: Oh and this is the story where the Solomons!Sister won the poll — I’m not sure if it’s angsty enough…I tried my best with it. Also I’m sorry if Alfie seems ooc here…it’s been a bit since I’ve written him and I’m rusty.

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! — I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE STORY!

comment/message me if you’d like to be tagged!

"You came," she sounded surprised.

"You called," his response was nonchalant.

"Yeah, but I didn't call you."

The story of Tommy Shelby and (Y/N) Solomons is a long, complicated one.

To give a quick summary: they first met the day that Tommy showed up at Alfie's 'bakery. She was the first to greet him and instantly was able to realize that there was more to his motives than what he was letting on.

She was cautious when dealing with him at first, but his charm soon enough chipped away that hesitant exterior she'd put up.

Neither could help but cross the line one late evening after a successful business dinner.

She thought that that would be the end of Tommy Shelby. But now he'd shown up at her door...when she was expecting her brother.

"Where's my brother?" (Y/N) asked, looking to either side of the doorway, hoping that Alfie would be close by.

He wasn't.

"He's busy," Tommy answered.

"So he sent you?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

"Not exactly," he shook his head.

"I'm not understanding what you're saying. Ollie told me that he'd take a note down for Alfie and that he'd inform him as soon as he became available." (Y/N) was confused now.

"I saw the note," he began, "took it upon myself to see what was needed to be discussed."

(Y/N)'s jaw just about dropped. "Tommy, why did you...would you, you shouldn't, you..."

"My name was on the note, love," he cut off her attempt to string words together.

"Just because it was on the note does not mean you were to be involved!" she couldn't stop her voice from raising, her eyes widening as she spoke. Now she was wondering how Ollie had phrased his note to Alfie. A few beats passed before a sigh escaped her lips. She ran a frustrated hand across her face before asking, "what...what did the note say?" Her thoughts had gotten the best of her.

"It said that you needed to speak about Shelby...had some information you wanted to be made known," he answered her, his eyes boring into hers. (Y/N) opened her mouth to say something but he didn't let her, taking a step inside, making her back up in the process. "What is it you wanted to tell him, hmm?"

His close proximity made her heartrate increase. She was quickly losing her ability to think. "Tommy, I..."

"What really was your goal last night, (Y/N)?" he asked her, his brows raising.

The willpower to keep her hands by her sides and not reach out to take hold of him was leaving (Y/N) by the second.

"I thought your intentions aligned with mine..." he trailed off, raising his hand so that he could run it down her jawline in a slow, teasing manner, "at least it seemed that way when you brought me back here."

Instead of dropping his hand when he reached her chin, he grasped it; taking it between his thumb and index finger so that he could raise her fleeing eyes to match his. This action made the breath get caught in (Y/N)'s throat, and every valid argument left her mind the second her eyes locked onto his icy blue ones. All hope was lost now.

"What are your intentions with me, (Y/N)?" he asked her.

"You know them, Tommy, I.." she couldn't quite string a thought together.

"Tell me."

"I.." she paused again, interally freaking out. Think of something, anything, (Y/N), come on! "I wanted to tell him about you...about us," she decided on telling him a lie, hoping that he would take it as the truth.

"Yeah?"

She couldn't decipher what he was truly thinking from his one word response. His widened eyes didn't help either, other than making her fall deeper into his trap with each second that passed. Now she was wracking her brain to think of ways to sell this.

The last thing she wanted to tell him was that she was going to sell him out...to tell Alfie what she felt his true intentions were.

"Yeah," she breathed, nodding her head as much as she could with his fingers still holding her chin. Sell it, (Y/N)!, her mind screamed before she raised her hands up to grip his lapels. All coherent thoughts flew out the window as she leaned in and kissed him.

This wasn't a loving kiss. It wasn't a slow one, unlike the ones they shared last night. She kissed him hard, hoping that the passion she put into it would be enough to get his mind off of the damn note and seal her lie for good.

His hold tightened on her chin, but he didn't break the kiss. In fact, his other hand moved from his side to her hip, where he began bunching up her skirt in order to make contact with her bare skin.

Success.

(Y/N) also became absorbed by the passion that they both were showing. It was hard not to given the fact that he was Tommy Shelby. The night they shared was one of the best she'd ever had. Conniving business man or not, she would remember it for the rest of her life.

"What in the bloody fucking hell is going on here?!"

What (Y/N) did not remember before getting sucked into this situation was to shut the door to her home.

Her eyes shot open and she became frantic, trying to break the kiss and move away from Tommy as quick as she could. "Alfie!" she shrieked, surprise clear on her face.

"Why're you fucking kissing my sister, mate?!" Alfie asked Tommy, speaking with a seething anger.

While (Y/N) was just about shaking from the shock of her brother showing up, Tommy didn't seem to be phased.

"Alfie he...he was just..."

"No," Alfie cut (Y/N) off, shaking his head and stopping her attempt to cover for the man now standing beside her, "I asked him not you. He knows family is off-fucking-limits, so I want him to answer me why."

Tommy said nothing. (Y/N) shrunk into herself more and more with each passing second. She'd never seen Alfie this angry.

"I said fucking answer me!" Alfie bellowed, drawing the revolver he had tucked into his waistband. He wasted no time in cocking it and holding it in Tommy's face.

Tommy still didn't move; didn't even flinch.

"You're going to fucking answer me," Alfie demanded, his voice low and menacing, "yeah, you're going to fucking answer me or it'll be your fucking brains blown out all over (Y/N)'s fucking foyer."

"Alfie, don't," (Y/N) begged her brother, reaching a shaky hand out in hopes that he would see it and lower his weapon.

"She called for you," Tommy spoke, his voice level and stoic.

"She fucking what?" Alfie asked, his brows furrowing slightly, confused by why Tommy was saying this.

“She called your office. You weren’t around. But my name was on the note,” Tommy shared more details.

“And what does that have fucking anything to do with you fucking kissing my sister?!” Alfie’s anger had returned.

“It has everything to do with it,” Tommy was still level-headed. “You see, she was going to tell you about this, about us,” he then dropped the bomb, motioning between himself and (Y/N) to emphasize the point he was making.

“I can explain,” (Y/N) was quick to blurt out, her eyes trained on the gun in Alfie’s hand, which he’d - thankfully - lowered from being aimed at Tommy’s head.

She couldn’t read the look in her brother’s eyes. The seconds felt like hours as they passed. She stood frozen as Alfie rose the revolver again and…….

Ok I’m evil, I know but……..

Don’t fret, if the poll’s closed by the time you’re reading this, you’re still more than welcome (and I’d encourage you, actually) to share what you think would happen next!!

p.s….this story won’t be getting continued. I’m just curious as to what y’all think.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @mischievouslittlecreature @stevie75

@lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick

@dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety

@justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader

@red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

@ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

[planetpedri]

Silver soul — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: When banter leads to an interesting chain of events.

Word count: 1.6k

Disclaimer/s: banter + fluff + light angst

A/N: i unfortunately did change the initial summary + plot but i’m too lazy to change the name

Annoyance seeped through your expression as your head turned to face Pedri’s. The two of you had been the last ones left outside when your friends has moved inside to do various things. You were expecting Pedri to leave along with them, wanting your moment of peace. Unfortunately, he was not going anywhere.

“You couldn’t possibly let me have any peace, could you?” Your eyes narrowed into slits as you shuffled in your seat, bringing your knees to your chest.

The fireplace casted a warm glow across the Tenerife man, making his face adorn a warm color that enunciated his features. You hated how good he looked, it make him so much harder to hate.

Pedri’s mouth forms a lazy grin. “What? You don’t appreciate my company?” He knew what to say to set you off, loving the way your face scrunched in annoyance.

“Not even in the slightest.”

His low chuckle made you even more agitated. He was so likable and charming that it pissed you off, not to mention how easy conversations seemed to flow with him. Every time you spoke, hours would pass without you even realizing.

Pedri leaned back in his chair, head tilted to the side as he looked at your stoic face as you watched the flames dance. “Ay, guapa.” His words catch your attention, your head snapping in his direction. [beautiful]

“Ay, cabezón.” You shoot back, refusing to give into his flirtatious compliment. [big head]

The raven haired man laughed, his head falling forward, shaking slightly. “Okay, I was being nice and you just want to hurt me.”

Your shoulders move up and down, shrugging. “When will you realize you flirting isn’t going to make me dislike you any less?” You tug at the corners of your blanket to lift them over your shoulders to grow more comfortable.

“You know what I think?” Pedri asks, his eyes never leaving you, not even when you give him a hard, challenging glare. “I think you secretly like it.”

A laugh of disbelief leaves your lips, “and what makes you think that?”

Grinning wider, Pedri leans over in his chair. His elbows prop up on the armrest and he holds his head up with his palms. “You may not realize it, but your lips twitch every time I do.”

“Do you ever shut up?”

Pedri shakes his head, “no…” He was about to get real risky with what he says next, “but you can try and make me.”

Oh! Right, right. Funny.

Your lips pull into a thin line, eyes darting around his face. Is he being serious right now? But Pedri doesn’t look like he’s joking, his stupid smirk was gone, a serious look overtaking his face. He was.

“And how do you suppose I do that?” You nervously—wait. Nervous? Why were you nervous? Your knee had began to bounce, something that you did whenever you got anxious and, or nervous.

You were not anxious right now.

Your breathing slowed when Pedri’s gaze fell to your lips. He doesn’t say anything, just hums. He knew exactly what he was doing and you shake your head.

“Yeah, no.” You cough, turning away from him to look at the fire again. Your face was burning and it wasn’t because of the heat from the fire.

Pedri cracked up, finding it ever so amusing how flustered you’d gotten. He never realized how easy it would be to get you riled up like that.

And just like that, you’d stopped talking to Pedri. Completely. And every second of it was hell. All you could think about was his beautiful brown eyes that had a strong orange hue, the way his hair fell so softly on his head, the way he smiled with his teeth. It was so frustrating.

Pedri felt your absence the first time you didn’t show up to a gathering. Even when you didn’t come to a home game. Even when you said you hated him, you showed up periodically every three games.

He texted you, you didn’t respond. He asked your friends about you, they simply gave a, ‘she’s busy’ in response, but he noticed the slight questioning in their tone—like they didn’t believe what they were saying.

So, at his whits end, he stood outside your door in the rain. Pounding on the oak wood door, he progressingly got harsher and harsher until you finally swung it open.

“What—oh.” You falter, stepping back in surprise. “Pedri.”

“Yeah, Pedri. The guy you’ve avoided like I had a disease or something?” He snapped tightly, his hands moving as he spoke in frustration. “Tell me what I did wrong!”

You were taken aback, to say the least. You didn’t think your absence would affect him this much. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You answer quietly. “Are you cold?”

Pedri was befuddled. Cold? Was this your way of avoiding conversation? He was, of course. “What do you think? I’m drenched.”

“Come inside.” You step out of the way, motioning for him to come inside of your house.

Pedri’s mouth clamps shut. He strides inside and shrugs off his hoodie, leaving him clad in a white tee shirt that was still damp from the water that seeped through.

He’d never been to your house. It was exactly like he pictured. Neat, pops of color, random paraphernalia of the things you liked—yet subtle enough that nobody would know unless they liked those things or knew you well enough. It was all so.. you. He smiled a little.

“I can get you a blanket, coffee, tea? I don’t want you to get sick.” You were already moving toward the couch a few feet away, reaching for one.

Shaking his head, Pedri grips your arm, stopping you effectively. You glance back at him with furrowed eyebrows. “No. Stop stalling. Talk to me.”

Your eyes drift to his hand, ignoring the way his touch sent a bolt of electricity up your arm. “I have been busy. Not really feeling all the socializing. It’s not you.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it isn’t true.” Pedri demands, dropping his hand to give you the stage. His arms cross and he cocks his head to the side with a hard stare.

You play with the hem of your sleeve, reluctantly looking at him. “It’s not you.”

Confusion flashes across his face. “Then what is it?”

“It’s me!” You exclaim, rubbing your face. “It’s my complete and utter lack of ability to get you out of my head! It’s the way I can’t stop thinking about you! It is—“ You turn around and take a breath. “My head makes it so difficult to be around you.”

Pedri listens intently, ignoring his urge to reach out and shut you up. His heart races and his head pounds and God he just wanted to kiss you!

He says your name, softly. But you weren’t finished.

“—Not to mention, I want to forget you so bad and I can’t! You have always been annoying but it’s reaching an insufferable level!”

“Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“If you think this is one sided, you are dead wrong.” And that was all he had to say. He wasn’t going to waste your time and ramble about how deeply he felt your absence, or how he couldn’t sleep because your face was the last thing he pictured when he closes his eyes and he didn’t want it to go away.

Your mouth parts, your breath hitching in your throat. Words fail your tongue. When you can’t get anything out, your shoulders slump. Okay. Okay! This was good. Right?

He says your name again, snapping his fingers in your face. Blinking, you take a long breath, a slightly confused smile overtaking your lips. “Wow. Alright. Oh. Now what.”

“Now, I ask if I can have that blanket because I’m pretty fucking cold.” He says through a breathy laugh.

Your head dips when you chuckle, “yeah, yeah. You can sit on the couch. I’ll make you tea, too. You’ll probably catch a cold.”

You were so caring, even when you pretended you couldn’t stand him. You were caring all the time, Pedri supposed that was what he loved so much about you.

When you were back with the blanket and tea in hand, you plop down beside him. “I haven’t been busy. I’ve been miserable.” You confess, leaning your head back against the couch cushion with a loose smile.

“I’ve been miserable too.” Pedri admits, setting the mug aside and leans back as well. When he’s facing you, he takes the moment of silence to scan your face. Every small feature, he took in. Burned it into his brain.

Your stomach hurt with his examination because with it came the softest, most endearing smile. “Are you always going to creepy-stare at me? Or will this end after tonight?”

“Always.” Pedri shrugs, lifting his hand to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing your soft skin. “Don’t do this to me again. Don’t make me have to get upset at you, I hated every second of it.”

You nod, your eyes fluttering shut to sink in his every touch. “Never again.”

“And—“

“Can I shut you up?”

The call back to the conversation that happened only weeks ago had Pedri laughing. “Yes.” Without another word, your lips pressed to his.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you want to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @ar4ujos @joaoflms @gadriezmannsgirl @hrts4havertz @spidybaby @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie

[fuck-customers]

Had a customer today order a strawberry doughnut (among a few others), and I know she said “strawberry” because it sounds nothing like “rainbow” and not even in the same way that “two” and “three” sound nothing alike yet I may still mistake them if the road is loud enough. It was “strawberry” —my boss heard her say it too!

I give her her order, she checks it over. “This is the rainbow?” Uh, what? I don’t remember her ordering one—I check my pad, there’s no rainbow, so either she forgot or I didn’t hear (it’s happened). “I got a glazed, a strawberry—” “That’s a rainbow.” All righty then. I take the box back, tell my boss the change, void the strawberry, and charge a rainbow. The difference in price is 95¢. I report this to the customer with an apology, and she does this little “Oh” (the little eye-rolling kind that could just be “Duh, me, would help if I got my wallet back out!” but in this case… probably wasn’t). She tells me she only has her card (we’ve got a card minimum of $3), and I wave her off since this is one of the cases we’ll waive the min, and accept her card.

She starts asking if there’ll be an extra charge for it only being 95¢, and I think she’s asking if the store will have to pay extra—we do, occasionally, get customers who are concerned about us. I don’t like speaking any more than I have to (I have speech issues, and talking takes a lot of breath and energy which I don’t always have), so I just shrug that off too since it’s nbd. She gets angry and starts yelling at me, and I realize she means will she for some reason have to pay more than the 95¢ I’m charging her, so I explain that it’s just the store, that the store has to pay a fee on all card transactions and for ones under $3 it isn’t worth it, but this is one of the situations we’ll accept it anyway. Thankfully, she seems mollified, and the remainder of the interaction passes smoothly.

But this isn’t the first time she’s pulled this shit, it’s just apparently the first time she’s actually had to pay for her upgraded doughnut, or at least the first time when she didn’t have cash.

Because when she did the “Is this the rainbow?” thing, my boss recognized her. She’ll come on Fridays, often during our rush so there’ll be a line of cars behind her, and she’ll order one doughnut and after paying claim she had actually ordered a rainbow. During those times, my boss will just hand her the rainbow doughnut no charge since she’s more worried about getting the line moving than about a single dollar. But after today my boss ain’t gonna let her get away with it anymore.

And like, seriously? Why the fuck would you do that at a small, one-location, family-owned shop? Go pull that sorta shit at a big chain. I thought everyone knew you steal from corporations, not local/ma-and-pa.

No but I hope I remember her next time I’m at the window when she drives up, so when she “conveniently” orders a cheaper doughnut instead of the specialty one she actually wants, I can sweetly ask her, “No rainbow today?” Unfortunately though, while I’m generally good at recognition, I’m shit at association. There are regulars who’ve been getting the same thing for years, and while I’ll recognize them as a regular, I still don’t know their order.

Posted by admin Rodney

[antianakin]

I recognize that these are very questionable things for Padme to have done, and I call it out when I talk about her quite often, so I don't deny that these choices on Padme's part CAN be interpreted as Padme being... somewhat darker.

And I do personally believe that Padme's choice to be with Anakin despite the obvious red flags in AOTC was intended to be seen as a selfish choice on her part, that her feelings for him (or, perhaps more accurately, for what he REPRESENTED to her) overrode her morals. So it's not like I think the narrative doesn't represent her with flaws ENTIRELY, but I don't know that I'd say that the narrative itself represents her as DARK.

Padme spends a lot of her time being nice, being sweet and kind, and when she's not doing that, she's often off making big impassioned speeches about how they shouldn't go to war or about justice and things like that. She is very much represented as, generally, morally GOOD, and morally BETTER than many of the people around her.

In TCW, she often got turned into an action Barbie of sorts, either fighting the good fight in the Senate or fighting the good fight in the streets somewhere. She's the one who goes to try to get the Separatists to talk about peace, she's one of the Senators involved in whatever summit is happening on Mandalore with the Separatists, she's the one who insists that Ahsoka should learn more about politics, so on and so forth.

So while you do not personally care for some of the decisions she makes regarding Anakin and the way she chooses to ignore or brush aside some of his behaviors (and I don't think you're WRONG to dislike them, I obviously also personally dislike them and I think that the narrative does in some ways question her decision and expects the audience to do so as well), I don't think it is accurate to claim that Padme is DARK and certainly not that the narrative expects you to see her as dark.

Padme makes some questionable decisions, yes, she makes some SELFISH decisions, yes, and those decisions do ultimately lead Anakin to find ways to excuse away his actions, but I also don't believe Padme intends for that to be the outcome of her choices. When she tells Anakin "To be angry is to be human" she's hoping that he'll calm down and figure himself out and that this will be a one-off event. Natalie Portman claimed that she played that scene as Padme sort-of feeling like she wants to SAVE him with her love, that she RECOGNIZES his anger has led him to do dangerous things, but that she believes she can fix him with kindness. While you can question that belief, it's clearly coming from a good place and a desire to help Anakin be BETTER rather than an intentional disregard for Tusken lives.

You can likely apply a similar thought process to why Padme reacts the way she does to Order 66. She can barely believe that Anakin WOULD do something like that (with the Tuskens, she sees how the Larses speak about the Tuskens and so she can understand that there's a clear hostility between the Tuskens and the human settlers that Anakin likely experienced himself, and the Tuskens DID capture an innocent unarmed woman and tortured her to death, so they've clearly done something pretty heinous that provoked Anakin's ire; but with the Jedi, NEITHER of those things are true since Anakin SHOULD be on good terms with the Jedi and they haven't done anything to specifically earn this kind of treatment from Anakin). She goes to Mustafar just to try to clear things up, knowing that Anakin is capable of ruthlessness, but hoping he isn't capable of this kind of BETRAYAL, and clearly recognizing that she might have to do some damage control again. You can see her switch from just asking him to deny what he did to trying to "save him" with love and kindness again, hence the option of just running away. It's only once Anakin refuses that kind of comfort that she starts to back away saying he's going down a path she can't follow. But even that line has been argued to be more of a WARNING than a THREAT, another entreaty for Anakin to come back to her rather than an ultimatum.

And you can tell that Padme IS horrified by what he did to the Jedi, it DOES bother her on a moral level, but she has invested so much of herself into this relationship that she can't really let go of it any more than Anakin can in some ways. She is not without her flaws. But I don't see Padme committing her OWN genocide to save Anakin. The closest she gets is in TCW when she chooses to trade Grievous for Anakin, but this is a choice that's backed up by both Jar Jar and the Gungan leader (more accurately, they literally convince her INTO IT when Padme hesitates over making the trade).

Padme isn't dark in canon. She is flawed. There's a difference.

What I WANT when I say I'd like Padme to have gone dark is to see Padme be CORRUPT. One of the ways I think the Anidala relationship storyline in AOTC could've been helped was if we saw more of Padme being politically corrupt so that her choice to be selfish with Anakin felt more in line with her stated morals. Perhaps she's not necessarily out there murdering people, but she's not above, say, taking bribes or things like that. She's not a perfectly pure politician who always fights for what's right. This would perhaps make her a simpler character, less complex and nuanced, but I also don't find that there was enough time or space for Padme's complexity and nuances to be explored in a way that really made a lot of sense, so instead of being complex she's just sort-of contradictory. You find her "sociopathic" because her morals and motives seem to vacillate wildly depending on what the scene requires of her, rather than being more clear and coherent from one scene to the next.

So, yeah, I think Padme can get a LOT darker. I think you could really look at whether Padme would've ultimately gone along with what Anakin would've asked of her if she'd survived Mustafar or if she'd never GONE to Mustafar. What would she have done if Anakin had made her an Empress? How much would she have allowed and how desensitized might she become to certain atrocities over time? Would she ever get to a point where she didn't just allow murder, but actually ASKED for it? Could she be pushed to feel like it was necessary for one reason or another? If Anakin made her feel like this was her perfect dream, or that her family was being threatened, would she be willing to defend it with oppression and murder? Would she start to maybe enjoy the power she'd been granted as an Empress, would it start to change her to someone very different from who she'd been before she married Anakin? Would her parents and her sister and her nieces even recognize her when they saw her in broadcasts anymore?

Come on, we can get more creative than just... what's in the films. Making her darker and more morally corrupt is a way to make her more likable and more coherent. Maybe she's not quite as against dictatorships as she thought she was, maybe her frustrations with the Senate and the Corporate Alliance are starting to tear down the passionate young Queen that fought for her people's freedom. Maybe she feels like she IS fighting for people's freedoms still, but she's willing to do a heck of a lot more to get it. Maybe she's far more sympathetic to the Separatist side of things than she is in canon and nearly lets them win a few times because... what if. What if they DID just burn it all down and start again? Would it truly be so bad?

THAT'S what I mean when I say I want her darker. I don't just want a young romantic woman getting swept up in what she thinks is an epic romance that she's willing to believe that her love can fix a dangerous man just because he says things to her like "I'm haunted by the kiss you should never have given me." I want someone who is attracted to this dangerous man because she's not truly all that different from him and she's already slipping down her own slope towards darkness. I want a Padme who's already made some moral concessions in the name of justice or freedom and figured out how to sleep at night still. I want a Padme who is willing to achieve a victory at nearly any cost. I want a Padme who is perhaps not all that devastated by her handmaiden's death because, well, that's what she's for isn't it? I want a Padme already becoming desensitized to things that would've appalled her ten years ago and Anakin's shaking simmering rage about the state of the world echoes her own.

Characters that would be improved if they were darker, more evil, or morally corrupt:

Ahsoka Tano

Satine Kryze

Padme Amidala

Characters that would NOT be improved if they were darker, more evil, or morally corrupt:

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Leia Organa

Mace Windu

Yoda

Luke Skywalker

[atopvisenyashill]

@amethyinst wait let’s TALK ABOUT IT bc everything you’re saying is CORRECT and OBVIOUS, and i wasn’t expecting it to be SO OBVIOUS and YET i feel like it gets really glossed over!

the “harsh journey across barren wasteland” thing is practically jumping off the page here, down to bran losing rickon & osha early in the journey and dany losing doreah early in hers, & the kicking off point being a fight between several factions of what’s left of drogo’s khalasar & dany’s, and the final sack of Winterfell being this kind of three way issue between what’s left of the iron islanders, the stark loyalists theon left alive, & ramsay. dany & bran really escape death here through like, oodles of luck and quick thinking from the people around them.

but ALSO you have dany currently on the dothraki sea and bran in the far north, and both of them are just kind of looking away when meat of a questionable source is given to them. and i think there’s something more here, in that dany shows up to qarth & it’s an oasis in the sea, only every door is shut in her face and the warlocks are there ~lurking. meanwhile you have bran showing up to the far north hoping for a miracle cure to his legs and to get all the magical answers he seeks only to get some very shitty answers from the cotf while bloodraven is ~lurking. this is why i think there’s a chance bran is leaving the cave p quickly in twow - like dany in the dothraki sea, he’s going to have an extended journey where it’s just him (and maybe Summer) using his warging abilities and trying to get his body to the wall. probably doing a lot of reflecting, and possibly learning the wrong lesson as he reflects!

and there’s a lot between hotu & the cave too - learning the old gods are just greenseers, seeing with his own eyes that the first men sacrificed people to fuel their magic, seeing his father talking about jon, seeing lyanna & benjen spar. meanwhile dany is having visions that include her brother talking about tptwp, her father yelling to burn everyone,and the “false wizards” who try to trick her. both of them being shown but not quite processing that all their visions are linked to their own history. there’s the elusive, suspicious way the warlocks & quaithe speak with dany, always in riddles, and bloodraven is equally suspicious and cagey. but they’re both learning, they’re both progressing in their magic, and they’re both really struggling with placing where ~the line is morally when it comes to how they use their magic - but look at their mentors lmao, they have the world’s shadiest teachers.

and YEAH everyone loves to talk about the targaryen connection & jon and dany both being born towards the end of the rebellion, but i think it’s glossed over that both dany & bran are kinda In The Shit when their parents get murdered during a succession war and have to go underground or get killed. dany’s fondest memories are the ones from when she’s bran’s age and younger, with willem darry there to care for her (like the ONLY capable adult she ever interacts with 😭). and you have osha, who like willem darry isn’t really a sworn sword type, they’re just very loyal people who were close at hand and did what they could for the children in their care. there’s something that links them when it comes to, idk exactly how to phrase it, but physical trauma & their magic coming in, basically. both of their childhoods whittling their support systems down until they’re alone - only when they’ve experienced physical traumas & lost everything can they access magic on a stronger scale. and the fact that they both reach for it sooo readily! jon doesn’t want anything to do with it, he’s spent nearly every book actively running from it, but dany and bran turn right into the arms of their magic as a refuge.

they’re also just both clearly the prophecy children lol no offense to jon (or tyrion for that matter) but i think even IF jon or tyrion or aegon (or euron 💀) manage to get a dragon, the capital p Prophecy Children are dany & bran as the last dragon and the last greenseer. and they’re so much THERE too - bran looks like an andal & dreamt more ~andal-ish dreams but inherits the legacy of the first men’s magic after being disabled and socially de masculinized bc of that disability, while dany looks a consummate valyrian but she’s a girl and inherits the mantle of last dragon after every man in her line fails. everyone wants to be THEM but they are the only ones capable of that power - and that’s a good thing but also a very bad thing.

[creatingblackcharacters]

hi there; first, thank you for making this blog and all the lessons you do, i really appreciate them as a Black person because it highlights a lot of struggles i face with fandoms in general, and why i dont interact more in certain spaces. it makes me feel seen

with regards to your questions, i'd also like answers to them from nonblack fans, especially nonblack anime fans. i don't even mean consuming anime with overtly racist caricatures of black characters (because numerous anime fans pirate their anime and never send a cent to the creators anyway), i mean how can they make fanworks of it?

how can they look at something that they are told is wildly offensive, but then defend with "well, this is how it looks in canon"? where is the line drawn between what's okay and what isn't? as long as it's slow and gradual, is there no line at all?

these are probably just rehashings of your own followup questions, so please excuse that, but i do have an anecdote

i joined a casual anime server the other day and a lot of folks were lamenting one Black character's racist design and how often those on social media will replicate it without thinking/caring. The thing that struck me is that, I've checked this character's tumblr tag regularly for a long time. There are always people who will post art/fanworks of this character with his racist design. Yet hardly ever, if ever, (outside of Black fans) have I seen any of these folks- the ones in the discord server- try to talk to artists/writers/fan creators/etc via asks/replies/etc. There's a notable amount of people in that server and a notable amount that agreed the design was outright racist and that they'll never make fanworks like that, and yet still silence

i'm not entirely sure what would be the line, or the "okay, that's enough" moment to spur any of these folks into action. i'm not sure if there is one. the only reason i don't make my own "hey what is wrong with all of you" post and blow up is because I've made a wonderful little friend group in this fandom who get it, and I don't want them to get caught up in whatever happens if I were to make a post like that

And this is just for getting people to stop using the canon design of the character, i.e., to stop drawing him as a racist caricature. This isn't touching on the people who 1) lighten his skintone [he's been horribly whitewashed over time, which has been reflected in some fanarts and fan merch], or 2) give him a looser hair/straight hair texture, rather than his type 4 hair (there's also #3, which is fanfiction with straight up slurs, and horribly racist writing in it that my friend heavily warned me not to read, but that was more of a one-off case and I've had the creator blocked a long time now).

my point being, we (Black fans) can't even get folks to stop with the caricatures, which we have to start with, and then there's even more of an annoying uphill battle with the other stuff. I'm just so tired of all of this; it makes me want delete my own works and turn away from fandom all together because i can't stand it.

trying for polite and assuming ignorance hardly ever works, speaking bluntly doesnt work at all, making public posts hardly goes anywhere (partly because of how rarely people reblog things anymore, partly because it makes people 'uncomfortable' to share this information with others). Black fans so obviously need help to combat this, and yet it's like sitting at a tea party and hearing all these pretty words in this one setting, yet nobody does anything different/better when the party's over/outside this setting.

sorry for dooming a bit, but like, genuinely i would like to know where the line is for nonblack folks? what is the point/are the points where you would speak up against antiblack racism? have you ever considered speaking up? if there's ever a moment you recognized antiblack racism and didn't say anything, why didn't you? did you consider how your lack of speaking up might affect your fellow Black fans? or how Black fans may be interpret this as silent agreement with the racists/with the racist 'norm'?

..those could maybe be alternative ways of asking your last followup question?

(if i've made any blunders or overstepped here, please let me know!)

No, I'm glad you spoke up! I too would like to see answers!

[mymegrokosmos]

a little soft bf minghao brainrot bc i felt like it. super era shoulder injury hao.

you set your bags down on the counter, dropping your keys by the front door and going to put your things away. by the time you've shrugged out of your jacket, hung it up in the front closet and put your purse in its usual spot on the credenza table in the hallway you're ready to melt into the sofa but there's still more to do before you can relax.

when you get to the kitchen, halfway through tying your hair up out of your face, you find yourself smiling. the familiar sight of your boyfriend's back, clad in his usual leisure attire of grey sleeveless top that leaves just a hint of his shoulders visible, peeks out of the fridge. he's already started putting the groceries away before anything gets too warm. just when you think your fondness for him can’t melt your heart any more than it already has he leans back to look at you from around the door and his soft smile has your heart in shambles.

if it’s possible to become one with the floor you're doing it. you've become a puddle. his shaggy mullet is in disarray, fluffy from where he's run his hands through it, and his face is bare. his usually sharp eyes are framed by big round glasses, softening his gaze as he closes the fridge in favour of coming over to press a kiss to your forehead.

"hi darling, welcome home. how was your day?"

you'd think after all this time you'd be used to how tall he was but it was still always a bit of a surprise just how much he towered over you up close. you sighed, letting him pull you into a hug and sliding your arms around his slim waist.

"hi. it was okay, very long."

he chuckles and you close your eyes, head resting against his chest. you're careful to lay it against the side of his good shoulder, nuzzling against the soft cotton of his shirt as his hand comes up to rest against the back of your head.

"i'm glad to finally be home. what did you get up to today handsome?"

the hand on your waist squeezes lightly and he holds you close for a minute before stepping back with another kiss to the top of your head.

"physio this morning again and then practice, even though I can't do a lot of the choreo yet they still need me for blocking when I can make it. mingyu came by earlier and dropped off some hotpot. why don't you go get into something more comfortable and we can talk about it over dinner?"

sometimes there was nothing better than coming home to everything already being taken care of. you know he misses being at work but being home more means minghao needs things to do. his physiotherapist also says that getting some movement in is good for his progress, so he's been taking care of household chores and spending a lot more time meditating lately to keep himself busy.

the members have been helping when they can. mingyu comes by or gets your boyfriend out of the house at least three times a week now. jun's often over in his free time to run lines with hao or catch up on the latest cdrama you're watching together. you think joshua has even dragged him out to a pottery class or two in their spare time. it's been good for him and the rest is doing him good, even if it makes him a little bit restless sometimes.

you nod. "i'll be right back. do you need me to help with anything?"

"no, just relax and leave the day at the office jagiya."

easier said than done but minghao always made you feel less guilty about sticking by work life balance and keeping them mostly separate. it's also been fun spending more time cooking together, he's good in the kitchen just a little impatient and you're enjoying getting to try out some of his mother's recipes. she's often on video call when you get home, minghao pouting about something while she scolds him playfully or they catch up on their weeks with each other. it's sweet and you love that their relationship only seems to get stronger as time goes on.

"you're still coming to the company dinner next week with me, right?"

another soft smile as he nods. "I'll be there darling. I didn't pick us out matching outfits just to not show up. now stop worrying and go change. you're hovering again."

you are, just a little bit. it's a habit you're still trying to work your way out of. you were a little traumatized when you got the call that hao was in the hospital at first and, though you both know he's fine and capable now, the instinct to make sure he's okay still lingers a little bit.

you sigh and make a face at him. "okay, okay. I'm going."

he just chuckles as you head towards your shared bedroom. makeup and weight of the day finally removed it's time to slip into one of hao's oversized tshirts and the matching cotton pyjama pants he bought for you last christmas. it feels like a cozy day so you take the time to find your slippers too before shuffling back towards the kitchen.

you find minghao stirring a pot of what seems to be mingyu's latest attempt at comfort food and slip your arms around his waist from behind, face pressed lightly against his warm back.

"smells good."

he hums in agreement, hand patting yours where it rests on his stomach. "I think he made enough to feed about seven more people than we currently have in the apartment."

you laugh and lean around him to peek at the food over his arm. "gyu probably plans to use it as an excuse to come over for lunch tomorrow or something. oh no guess you need someone else to help you eat it all."

that makes your boyfriend scoff. "why would he do that when he can just say he wants to come over? he knows where we live."

you kiss his bicep and move to get down some bowls for you both. "because he's kim mingyu and you're you myungho."

your boyfriend stops to look at you, blinking as he pauses his stirring. "I'm still not seeing your point love."

"you know how you don't like when people get too presumptuous about you?" you smile softly. "I wouldn't say he's intimidated because gyu knows you love him but... sometimes he's a little insecure and sometimes you can be a little cold."

he considers this. "he's never let that stop him before."

you smile and let him guide you, one hand on your hip as you slide between him and the pot on the stove to fill your bowls.

"and he won't, I don't think, because at the end of the day he knows that it isn't that you don't like his affection you just don't always know what to do with it and it needs time to process. but I think, and maybe this is just my take, he sometimes worries a little about intruding too much. especially now that you have a relationship outside of just your family and the members and your other friends."

it's quiet for a minute as he takes that in. you dish up hot pot for both of you and take the bowls over to your small dining table. minghao slowly follows behind, face impassive. you'd worry that you upset him but you know that expression. it's not anger or annoyance, he's just lost in thought. you take his hand, press a kiss to the back of it, and watch as he blinks back into the present.

"think about it all you need but let's eat first. like I said, maybe I'm just reading too much into it. maybe he has other reasons. we can finish that new drama and call him later if you want."

your boyfriend nods and joins you at the table, filling you in on his day. you can tell he's only half present but that's okay. by the time you finish and wash up he seems to have come to a decision.

"love?"

"yes myungho?"

he scrunches his nose. "try again please darling."

you laugh but the arms he crosses over his chest tell you he's serious. you smile softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

"yes, seo myungho great love of my life and most wondrous of boyfriends?"

he snorts. "closer but still not correct."

"baobei?"

he blinks. "close enough."

you laugh and brush a hand over his cheek, melting a little when he leans into the touch and takes your hand in his.

"you know I'm only teasing you, right?"

he nods. "I do."

you lace your fingers and press a kiss to the back of his hand. "what did you want to say honey?"

"do you mind if mingyu comes over tomorrow? I know it's your day off."

"babe, this is your apartment too."

minghao sighs. you know that look. the exasperated 'are you being serious right now?' stare. you smile.

"no, I don't mind if gyu comes over. just maybe warn me beforehand so I can make sure I have pants and a bra on this time."

that makes him smile, just a little, even as he rolls his eyes at you.

"come help me with my skincare?"

"only if you let me use the good stuff."

"mm we can even wear those matching headbands you like."

"lead the way love."

sometimes all you need after a long day is xu minghao ready with a hot meal, a long hug and a silly fuzzy frog headband keeping the bangs out of his face as he applies 6 layers of different creams to your face.

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Eps 30-33 Commentary

No meta, just reactions! I have less to say about some eps so I'm combining several episodes worth. To make up for my head-emptiness and lack of meta, I've included more pictures lmao. Spoilers under the cut!

Ep 30:

"You really are pitiful." Li Lun waking up thinking of ZYC's words oooh they did that opening line for Li Lun/ZYC lovers (me)

What a homoerotic way to give the Truth Eye

ZYC and ZYZ having their first drink(s) together here, ZYZ and Li Lun having one last game of chess here. Gay ppl will go “I know a place” and take you to a damp cave and a little stone table in the Wilderness

Oof. The apparent inherence of winning/losing in their activity of choice compared to the drinks that took place here between ZYC and ZYZ. Even with a draw, it’s competitive by nature. If Li Lun knew about the three (very intense, very intimate) toasts that came before in this very spot, I wonder how aggrieved he’d feel.

Ah well there goes the date spot /:

I’m so happy to see LZY (Bai Jiu’s actor) get to fight! His fight scenes in MTJY were awesome and he continues to impress here as well. It’s so fun to watch!

………..to revisit my question from previous commentary about when the grievances against Ying Lei will end, the answer is never ;-;

Damn…For ZYC to promise to spare Li Lun after all that Li Lun has put him through specifically and personally. ZYC really fucking loves ZYZ doesn’t he.

I’m so fucked up over Ying Lei’s last words jesus christ.

ZYC sobbing and feeling the fleeting warmth of the rock Ying Lei was just leaning against…when will the world stop taking away his family members??? His brothers???

That scene of everyone looking at Bai Jiu after Ying Lei dissipates. The fact that he's right there. And it’s like they traded one life for another. The two babies of the group. Goddammit.

Do NOT hit me with Bai Jiu’s actor singing “Broken-Tailed Bird” right now oh my god

So like…regarding ZYZ losing his demonic power, does he still count as the most evil demon of ZYC’s time? Can someone ring Ying Long and ask?

ZYC crybaby oh no I can’t believe he’s crying over ZYZ being so weakened aw I love him

My god, Bai Jiu running after Ying Lei and into ZYC’s arms has to be one of my favorite sequences in the whole show. So so good. So so painful. Between this scene, all the flashbacks, and ZYC’s reaction when he died, I’m at least glad the show is spending so much screen time and significance on Ying Lei’s send-off, even if I’m heartbroken that he’s gone. We couldn’t even have the whole family reunited for one moment.

Also have you ever seen a man so mother?

No but seriously "Cry if you want...[tears] have to do with our hearts" ZYC my healthy masculinity king!!!

This song fucking hurtssssssssss this cheese (it's buttermilk) hurts everything hurts

I’m glad PSJ gets time and space to react. Her lines about being a mortal and not being needed are so good but also ow!!! And oh WX always knows exactly what to say to her 🥹

I love everything ZYC says to Bai Jiu about each family member (like yeahhh WX is unlucky 😭 and yeaahHH PSJ does need support too) but MAN the way he says ZYZ’s name is so fucking good. The fact that it gets so much emotion across without saying a single word further as he gets interrupted. His voice and his expression both collapsing a little in that moment. Efficiency of acting strikes again.

Is it even possible for ZYC to cherish this little family more?

Yo this dramatic ass lighting on ZYZ and ZYC standing in the doorway. Why y’all need so much drama just to talk? Also oughhhh ZYC’s gaze is a mess looking every which way while discussing WX’s poison. He is such a bad liar (but he looks so good doing it). Is that why they gotta talk about this like ten feet apart so ZYZ can’t see him lying? Lmao

Okay also tho if ZYC's coming around looking like this I am not hearing a single thing he's saying:

They flashed back to the previous time ZYC held his hand out but cut away from ZYZ taking it this time. Is it bc the absolutely unfettered tension between them can’t pass censors anymore? Haha god but that shot of ZYC slowly meeting ZYZ’s eyes from ZYZ’s POV whewwww we don’t got the skinship but their gazes are kind of insane??? TJR in blue contacts is too powerful I'm shaking somebody needs to stop him.

Ep 31:

Trying so hard not to be driven a little crazy by the lapses in continuity in this show (‘: It’s just tonal and costuming stuff that are a little difficult for me to ignore, just the fact that it’s kind of apparent which scenes were filmed in what order based on their costume/styling changes + the sets, and how sometimes the tone from the previous events don’t smoothly carry over because of this. But it's momentary, I just gotta. Power through.

YO the Pei siblings sparring was so cool and for what. They should have had WX spectating instead of staring at nothing in the previous scene (-:

Damn how long has it been since they played the fun music. Also feels kind of wrong without Ying Lei though fml

Awwww Qing Geng I missed her she’s so cute!! I wasn't doing ep commentaries during her arc so I gotta make up for it here. Her actress is so talented and adorable, and her costuming in this show is stunning!! Her lashes!! Her colors!!

THE TREE BRANCHES lmfaooo ZYC what happened to being worried for ZYZ’s weak body?? We really haven't had a moment like this in so long though (':

Well I do like the reason why WZY had a fake out death, that’s pretty clever and narratively sound, but also oh god what in the AOT??? The inner cores hidden in the medicine is some odious fucking work dear lord

I also like that the endgame is coming about from what initially seemed like another small-time case. Of course the evil physician's huge scheme at the end weaponizes plague and poison and medicine.

Ayeee fun that they used the teleporter on WZY instead of as a getaway

Lmfao ZYC just standing there taking a huge hit of the poison smoke. Poor baby doesn’t watch movies and doesn’t know smoke from a bad guy always means some kind of poison

Why does poisoned!ZYC have such an incredible smokey-eye siren look I’m shook

After knowing the poison is about indulging in your greatest wishes, the first moment ZYC woke up and approached ZYZ they sure looked like they were about to indulge in something sorry ignore me

The way this is so similar to ZYZ’s imaginings where he and WX always turn around and look at the camera. The show wants censors to believe they’re looking at ZYZ but we've known all along who the third POV is here

Also why aren’t ZYC’s bro and dad in the wish illusion?

Ohh the eerie instrumental rendition of the OST when ZYC draws his sword is too good. And yesss we were so due for some more crazy dream fuckery like is this real? Is this real??

Ep 32:

The team is spread so thin )-: One man (mountain god) down and a whole town to save and an immortal villain to vanquish.

WZY's eagerness in trying to goad ZYC into killing himself while poisoned is so so sinister goddamn. I love how disturbing it is to slowly realize what he wants without any lines at all

ZYZ shielding ZYC from a huge fucking fireball with just his hand is adorable and sad:

I already normally love Li Lun's whole leaf-swirly entrances and exits but you know I cheered when he deus ex machina-ed his way here!!! With that bgm too!!!

Li Lun came back to accept ZYC into their throuple. He's had some time to think and yeah he's decided ZYC's kinda hot and maybe shouldn't die or else ZYZ will be sad.

):

ZYC's soft and anguished, "Qing Geng" when he realizes she gave him her inner core. That's my bleeding heart hero ;-;

Throuple of the fucking yearrrrrr:

Spoiler for ep 33/34 but—watching Bai Jiu watch the three of them and realize he can't do anything to help here... It would have been dangerous for him to stay, but I wonder if things could have ended differently ):

Ep 33:

Oughhhhh Pei Siheng ))): The cruel fucking poetry of PSJ, the most emotionally closed-off character, having her heart, her brother, made into her armor. And then to lose him once more.

ZYC proving time and again that his heart is entirely boundless and he'll shelter anyone from the rain and he just wants everyone to live:

LI LUN/ZYC LOVERS HOW ARE WE FEELIN'?!?

Did not expect MORE ZYC choking now that they're on the same side but yeah Li Lun is not one to let go of a good thing I get it. I'm screaming but I get it. "I'm giving you half my demonic power" yeah right just admit you like doing this dw Li Lun this is a safe space.

Literally what am I watching and also no don't mind me, keep going. Feral over ZYC dropping his hand and letting it happen.

But lmfao the way Li Lun did not need to be doing all that, like he sends his power out to ZYZ without even making physical contact. He could've just grabbed ZYC by the shoulder.

Can't believe I just keep winning:

ZYC didn't even know what Li Lun was doing putting his arms around him and he just let it happen. That's some next level trust.

Ah goodbye Li Lun, presumably another victim of the "(ex-)villains can't have good endings" brand of censorship

Oof I love that the initial horror after the seeming victory is reserved first for the simple fact that ZYC and ZYZ are separated, that ZYC can't go to him the way he was intending to. Even when it's unclear yet that WZY is still alive, just the wrongness of them being divided this way is so poignant. ZYC has such a helpless look about him when he says ZYZ's name.

Goddammit WZY saw Li Lun choke ZYC and got ideas.

Oh I love the uncertainty of whether the One-Word Spell works on ZYC or not. ZYZ's sudden and intense fear. Also though WZY tries to use ZYC dying as a deterrent for ZYZ blowing up the barrier but he's literally choking the life out of ZYC as we speak

Bai Jiu's completely unrestrained screaming and crying in pain is so brutal to listen to. His scenes go on forever. Also, the choice of having some of his flashbacks be blurred and vague in the background, once again something privately kept for the character

ZYC holding out his hand to ZYZ a third time ;-; The utter relief of being able to reach each other again paralleling that previous horror of separation.

ZYC physically feeling Bai Jiu's death oh god. We do not get a single moment of happiness and victory in this drama everything is bought with pain and returns pain I hate it here.

Also another post-finale thought (spoilers for the end of the drama)—If ZYZ remained in his weakened state, I really am curious if he would have still met the conditions of the prophecy (ZYC being cursed to kill the most evil demon of his time, if the prophecy is indeed conditional like that, of course). If that could have been a technical loophole, did Li Lun giving both of them his power and then ZYC giving ZYZ his as well basically fulfill it again? I mean, logistically speaking, without that extra power, I'm not sure if ZYZ would have been able to trigger the Baize cycle again (or whatever it is he did to save the town). So the show's final tragedy can be traced all the way back to these moments of giving out of love and protection, just as Bai Jiu being in the perfect place for his final sacrifice came about because ZYC, ZYZ, and Li Lun were trying to protect him and get him out of danger. The way love and grief are so helplessly, inevitably intertwined that one begets the other. They were all just trying to save each other.

On that completely painful note, that's 30-33! And it'll be downhill from here for the next one (-:

[leifyposting]

Klee’s fortnightly sleepover at the Gunnhildr mansion, originally some scheme cooked up by Lisa to force Jean to bed on time at least once every two weeks, has devolved somewhat into an opportunity for all the people who love Klee to gather for dinner at Jean’s place and swap stories and gossip far too late into the night.

But now Klee is in bed and the dining room is quiet, and Albedo, who is the last one out, having had the honour of putting Klee to bed tonight, is stepping out into the crisp fall air.

He turns around and looks up at the figure of the Acting Grand Master silhouetted in the doorframe. She seems softer, like this, with the strong lines of her body blurred by the golden light of her foyer lamp.

“Thank you for coming, Albedo,” she says. “I had a lovely evening. I know Klee did too.”

“It was my pleasure,” he says, the polite human response coming instantly to his tongue. 

It is almost too easy, these days, blending in among the humans. He is a far cry from the awkward, socially inept homunculus he was only a few years ago, the one whose mannerisms marked him out as other even if not necessarily as inhuman. The vendors in the marketplace smile at him now when he passes — and, which is more, he finds himself smiling back.

And he forgets, day by day, little by little, who he really is. And he forgets that he does not belong here.

Which is perhaps why he says: “Master Jean, can I ask you a question?”

She shifts, her head tilting. “Of course.”

“How far would you go to protect Mondstadt?”

She blinks down at him, apparently thrown. “How do you mean?”

“I mean,” he clarifies, “if for some reason Mondstadt was in danger because of me. Or, to make it more tangible, if I had put Klee in danger somehow. Would you kill me?”

She makes a tiny, horrified noise. “Why are we talking about this hypothetical?”

“I’m a man of science,” he says, letting his voice tip halfway to joking. “Humour me.”

He watches the protests hover on her tongue before she swallows them down. “Walk me through the scenario again.”

“It’s quite simple,” he says. “The context doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that I have put Klee and the rest of Mondstadt in danger somehow, and the only way to save her is to kill me. Would you?”

Jean swallows, but he can see her answer in the set of her jaw even before she opens her mouth. “Yes,” she says. “I would.”

Albedo nods. This is the answer he was looking for. He is the anomaly, the transgression, the liability; she must be willing to kill him to save the people they both love. He shouldn’t feel as betrayed as he does.

“Still,” Jean says, before he can thank her and turn to leave, “there must be other options.”

“Pardon?”

“Either I kill you or I let Klee die. Why are those my only two choices?”

“I…” He trails off. “Just because.”

She shakes her head. “From a man of science, that’s not very scientific.”

He laughs a little incredulously. “I suppose I never saw any other way forward.”

“Well, the forced dilemma is part of the fun,” Jean allows graciously. “But real life is messier than that.”

“I think, in this hypothetical, there would be no other options.”

She makes a low, noncommittal noise. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just saying that maybe you aren’t seeing the whole picture.”

“How do you mean?” he asks, echoing her earlier words.

“I mean…” She pauses. “Eula is out in the field a lot, so she sees much more of the day-to-day workings of the Knights than I do. But as the Acting Grand Master, I have a bird’s-eye view of the organization as a whole. As a result, when faced with a quandary, she often offers solutions I would never have come up with on my own, and vice versa.” She makes a small motion with her hand, like she’s going to touch his shoulder, then drops it again. “That’s why we have people around us. So they can catch things we miss.”

“I see,” Albedo says. 

Jean’s blue-grey eyes, shadowed in the dim light, search his face. He fights the urge to look away from that piercing gaze. 

“I would hope,” she says finally, her voice low, “that if you believed you were a danger to yourself or others, you would come to me. I’m not saying I can always help. But the Knights look after our own, Captain.”

“I see,” Albedo says again. His chest is tight. “Thank you, Master Jean.”

She scrutinizes him for a moment more, then smiles a small smile. “I hope my answer was satisfactory?”

“Very much so.”

She looks relieved. “Oh, good. I was worried I wasn’t making much sense there.” 

“You made perfect sense,” he reassures her, strangely endeared by her earnestness. “But now it’s late, and you should get to bed. I’ll take my leave.”

“Very well. Have a good night, Albedo,” she says.

He turns away, and watches the sliver of golden light from the foyer fade into shadow as the door shuts. The chill autumn air threads around his ankles as he sets his feet towards home.

If he ever loses control, she will not be able to save him. He knows that already. 

Still, it is nice to know that she would try.

[the-great-papyru]

been thinking about how going through and getting used to the resets would genuinely limit flowey’s ability to do… well, basic things. like form conversations.

think about it. he’s scripted everything. and he’s had all the time in the world to work on scripts, too.

what if he hears someone talk, and through unrelated circumstances they say something they usually say in another, unrelated scenario. like… i dunno, when toriel gets killed in a certain way, she’ll say something along the lines of “how could anyone do something like this?” and flowey’s prone to responding with “oh, you haven’t even SEEN what i’ve done to papyrus!” because he knows if he does she’ll remember papyrus’ name and, if he times it right, warn sans, and that has a snowball affect that leads to his run being much more interesting.

and then toriel says the line post-pacifist for whatever reason (maybe she’s reading the news) and absentmindedly flowey immediately responds with his usual reply.

he gets several strong looks, and papyrus checks his back to make sure flowey didn’t attach a sticky note with the words “kick me” on it again.

or, okay, he’s used to thinking through responses until he finds the perfect one. sans gives him a “heya” and he spends 2 minutes trying to figure out what he means by that greeting, what he knows (flowey’s been struggling maintaining his pre-prepared facial expressions lately for some reason, no idea why) and how to respond in a way that doesn’t let on that he knows sans knows, but also let him know that he’s not letting down his guard, not to mention figuring out what face to say it with… by then, of course, sans has muttered a brief “uh. okay then” and walked away. and flowey can’t just reload to finally let loose his carefully crafted reply like he’s used to, either.

he honestly probably finds it easiest to talk to frisk. he doesn’t have a running tally of their likes and dislikes. so he doesn’t have enough to base lines on, and he’ll sometimes even end up saying the first thing that comes to his mind. crazy.

also. i don’t know about you, but when i get multiple choices in a video game i often choose the clearly “wrong” answer just to see what people say. you can’t progress after choosing it, anyway, so there’s no real loss.

i wonder if flowey has that same mentality. it might do a lot more than make people angry, though. like… let’s say toriel asks him “what would you like to eat for dinner today?” and he goes with eggplant parmigiana, he hates eggplant parmigiana it’s gross and chewy and obviously the wrong answer. and he just wants to see what she’ll say before he reloads and chooses the right answer (snails). he realizes too late what he just did.

so yeah, flowey would really struggle with talking, i think. it’d be a learning curve for sure. he’ll figure it out, of course, but it’ll take a while.

[asarajaa]

Hola reinona, hermosa, guapísima y todos los elogios hermosos que se te pueden ocurrir. Can you please, PLEASE write some headcanons or maybe a one-shot for our baby Conner Kent?? I feel like there isn't enough of them. I just want a simple one with a lot of fluff pretty please. Maybe something in the line of reader watching him train or something like that. Thank you so much gorgeous 🫶🫶🫶.

Ps: Can I be your 🐍 anon? Every time you see a snake emoji isn't me jeje.

Of course! I hope you like it!

Warnings: gen!reader, it can be planotic or romantical (whatever you like the most), friends to lovers (?) Words: 461 Disclaimer: English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

₊˚ෆ Conner Kent is a show off. Like please, I dare you to say that it’s not true.

₊˚ෆ He’s gonna invite you to a training session so that he can act like he’s too focused on the training to even look at you but in reality his making all the good moves he knows so that he could “impress” you. Not like he needed, but you let him be.

₊˚ෆ After some “watching him training sessions”, he would slowly but firmly starting to teach you some moves for self defense. If you already know some, he would be more than happy to train with you or help you to improve.

₊˚ෆ Kon likes to think he's just a shout away, but he knows how unpredictable life could be. That’s why he would  insist on teaching you self defense, he hopes you never get to use them, but you know, just in case.

₊˚ෆ You two would be on the training room, sparring, an speaker on full volume with a playlist both of you made.

₊˚ෆ You reached a point where he actually began to think his movements better, since you were improving so much.

₊˚ෆ Of course, you two could cheat at every chance you got, let’s be for real.

₊˚ෆ A little moment where Kon he got too distracted by your closeness? He was down.

₊˚ෆ A little moment where you felt your body burn on the part he was touching? You were down.

“Conner!” you shouted with a laugh in between, your back hitting the training mat, Conner on top of you as he began to tickle you “Tha-That’s cheating!” you said as you began to try to get him off and stop him.

“Oh, so now i’m the cheater, huh?” he teased with a little smirk, loving your laugh. “At least i’m not using a kiss on the cheek as an attack”

You couldn’t help but laugh at both his tickles and comments.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!” you said as quickly as you felt your abdomen hurt for laughing so much, eyes watery by the laughs. “I surrender!”

“There you go, how much did it cost, you little cheater?” Conner said as his hands stopped tickling, now just caressing gently your sides, a little genuine and innocent show of comfort.

“I’m never training with you again” you huffled with a smile, relaxing by his caresses.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, sweetheart.” he rolled his eyes, smirking at your dramatic answer.

₊˚ෆ You tend to lose, but when you win? He’s the first one to smile proudly at you, showering you with compliments, trying to get you to repeat the move and always pushing you to your limit.

₊˚ෆ At least, he can go to missions at peace knowing that you know how to take care of yourself.

So sorry ofr makeing it so short anon :(, right now i'm in my finals and I decided to write a quick hc with the excuse of taking a break. Maybe i'll add more things with the pass of the time (?), i'm not sure.

© asarajaa — Please, do not copy, translate or reuse my work without my permission.