neoxghoul

[internalloops]

DA:TV rant … if you are of the mind that BioWare can do no wrong /its games can be criticize or if you truly enjoying the game and are loving everything that you’ve seen so far this post is not for you. Please move along and if you don’t want me showing up on your feed please block me.  I will not be engaging with any fan that will not allow me to take up space and vent my feelings on the disaster that is this fucking game.

*Also a lot of spoilers!!

.. it’s horrible, like I knew I was going to be disappointed but holy fucking shit …

I’m about to finish act one and .. they destroyed their entire lore … BioWare destroyed their ENTIRE lore /world build of Dragon Age

Minrathous has NO SLAVES !!! They are briefly talked about via shadow dragons but they’re are none visible at all in the city ( but they have the animation to give a poor person “fake money” )

The qunari who literally fought and tried to kill solas in trespasser have been turned into mindless brutes who willingly joined the evil gods … because they command dragons ?

The blight except for one mission is harmless. They purposely turned it into a bio weapon and then (besides the dark spawn spawning from it like something out of an MMO) due to *plot armor, no one actually contracts the blight ???

The black chantry minus one building that you go through in a side quest doesn’t exist? No chantry members , no talk of the black divine ..

Dalish are all engineers now and part of the veil jumpers ( which should not exist lore wise) and all elven magic has been converted into cyberpunk technology and artifacts. Very little talk about their oppression and they are all very willing to drop all their history , even their distrust of solas , to flight the old gods .

Varric Has been demoted to inspirational speaker and narrator he has no other role and the entire team acts like he died , even when he’s in the room with him ( I think BioWare actually planned to kill him but then chickened out ) and is a husk of his former self

Same with Morgan , you can’t interact with her at all and she’s given the same mysterious background as flemeth ( the theory that she carries mythal spirit is very strong right now )

Lyrim potions don’t exist, in fact lyrim doesn’t exist at all besides the dagger. All magic has turned into technology, and if you play as a mage mana just has an automatic replenish rate /cool down effect that you can level up.

Evil gods go back and forth between an actual intense adversary and threat to the world, and a typical Disney villain.

These are just the few I can think of off the top of my head, there is so much more than this …

The game can literally be summed up as Mass effect andromeda x2 with God of war animations and marvel style writing ( not the avengers I’m talking about the recent shit)

Also for the people who want to kill solas or simply dislike him, the game pushes a sympathetic view of him on you ,even your companions who outrightly want to kill him will feel sorry for him. And I’m saying this as a solavellan fan. Yes they’re options to be mean to him and antagonize him, but you won’t get anyone agreeing with your actions ,at best they’ll be neutral about it. Now this might play out differently for those who picked the “chooses to stop him “ option , but for those who’s inquisitions wanted to save him but they wanted their rooks to hate him … you’re not gonna be happy about what you get ..

The only thing that keeping me playing is the reveal of history of ancient elves and Titans and solas’s story. And Assan!! Assan can do no wrong !! Everything else is a slog to get through.

[hangingslothcentral]

👀 👀 looking for a new audio drama?

Are you into mysteries and characters who eat hot chip and lie? Do you enjoy listening to shows as they air? Are you a person who likes to have conspiracy-board-level theories about the media you engage with? My new show, Remnants, might be just up your alley. Remnants follows the Apprentice as he learns how to read the objects that come to the First and Last Place. He's watched over by Sir, but Sir isn't much help. Thier purpose is strange and confusing, and the more remnants the Apprentice reads, the more he wonders at what the meaning of it all is, and if there might be some connection he's been missing... Find it at @remnantspod.

Remnants S1 will have 30 episodes of about 30 minutes. S1 started airing in July, and will finish in March 2025.

Do you like vampires? Gay vampires? Gay vampires that suck (blood. and other, uh, things)? Not Quite Dead may be the show for you. Join Alfie, a former A&E nurse who's knee deep in horrors because of his boyfriend, Casper, who is a vampire. Cas is missing with no indication of when he will return, but without his blood, Alfie is going to die. As time runs out, Alfie records everything he can remember about the months leading up to this moment. This show is gory and horny. Season Two has a tiny blonde guy who sounds French but who is older than the concept of France. This love story bites, viciously, multiple times, for fun and profit. Find it at @notquitedeadpod.

Not Quite Dead has 40 episodes, each 20-40 minutes long. The final season will be out in 2025.

If you like spooky stories with a lot of heart, long series with lots of moving parts and character arcs, check out Spirit Box Radio! This show has a ton of original music and an accordian cast which grows as the show goes on, topping out at about 27 VAs. Sam Enfield is the happy-go-lucky host of Spirit Box Radio's Enlightenment Segment in the absence of its previous host, but something fishy is going on, and Sam's actually at the centre of a plot with apocalyptic stakes. SBR is a show about grief, storytelling, and what happens when a people pleaser has potentially unlimited magical powers. Find it @spiritboxradio.

Spirit Box Radio has 93 episodes, each 15-30 minutes long, with season finales that are up to 50 minutes long.

If you like weird philosophical sci-fi and cyborgs, and hate AI and capitalism, check out Clockwork Bird!! It's an exploration about the rights of the dead, the limits of science, and the nature of personhood. it's all told through scattered 'found footage' recordings as listened to by Shelly Croft as she looks for her missing journalist girlfriend, Alice, who disappeared whilst she was investigating the welfare of Robin Jaeger, the posterchild for advanced synthetic limbs who may be more, and less, than he seems.

Clockwork Bird as 30 episodes, each 10-25 minutes long.

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

i love it when bad is very specifically a good roleplayer by giving other people good prompts. like casually bringing up wilbur now to tallulah. or when he put missa in the petting zoo. or all those times he Tormented the Lesbians so they could protect each other from him. its just so !!!! I love watching roleplayers be considerate of other roleplayers and gleefully hand over something they Know the other person's character can react to. i've seen cellbit do it, too (that time he handed his knife to bbh. oh my god). it's not a rare thing, and it's possible to be a good roleplayer without keeping that sort of considerate back and forth in mind, but its one of my favourite things to notice. foolish does it too, sometimes- i haven't watched him much, but i did take note of when he Made Sure to bring jaiden along with him on a cucurucho quest. and basically every interaction he had with bad when the eggs were missing. its just so so good

[voidcat-senket]

You know that one unfinished fic that you love that tragically doesn't seem to be updating anymore? There's a secret to increasing your chances of getting it to update! Use this One Simple Trick! Leave a review saying you love it.

[sollucets]

i feel personally that this being the same binder is a fun rowan fact

[syekick-powers]

honestly. being real. ive looked into a lot of various indie ttrpgs that haven't spoken to me, and i end up just coming back to D&D over and over. and i think i finally fully understand why that is.

D&D is very heavy on rules for what can happen in combat, but fairly light on rules for when it comes to story structure and roleplay. as a result, roleplay scenes feel a bit more natural and flowing, with the only mechanical aspect being the occasional skill check for like, intimidation / deception / persuasion / etc. but then, unlike the roleplay, the things that can be achieved in combat are pretty strictly regulated. this is fun for how i like to roleplay, as someone who used to do a lot of freeform RP--the problem with freeform RP style combat sometimes is that if you're RPing combat with someone who gets really wound up about making their characters always win, it can be really fucking hard to counteract the shit they have their characters pull out of their back pocket. having a VERY clearly defined and strict set of rules for specifically combat makes it so that when combat DOES happen, people can't just Say Shit about what they have their characters do--they have a limited character framework to work in and a limited set of tools that they can work with, and enjoyable combats come from using those tools in that framework creatively, effectively, and excitingly. this makes combat feel like it has genuine stakes, and when done right can be very intense and exciting. and then when you do actual like, character interaction and story building? there's just not a lot of strictly defined rules for what can and can't be done in those realms, both for a player and the DM. there aren't any constraints on the structure of the narrative that the DM presents, which means it's fairly easy to rip out the pre-packaged D&D lore, re-fluff a few things that heavily reference that lore, and just homebrew your own story structure and lore and world and characters and pantheons and the like.

my problem with a lot of indie TTRPGs is that a lot of them are married to either a very specific story structure that the system mandates that you follow, or a very specific pre-made world that the system is mechanically built to form around, and that level of pre-determination doesn't interest me either as a player OR as a GM. like these are fundamental rules in these systems that would gut it if you tore them out and replaced them with something else, which means that if you tried to go against those premade structures/settings, you would basically have to homebrew the entire goddamn thing from scratch anyway. D&D's relative rules-heaviness of combat and rules-lightness of roleplay makes it easier for D&D to provide me the kinds of stories that i actually want to participate in, even if people insist it's not as "flexible" as many people think it is. like. yes. don't run a regency romance game in D&D, obviously. but if ur running a high fantasy type of game focused on adventuring, D&D can be adapted pretty well to a homebrew setting and world with minimal effort.

and tbh, i really think that's why it has the cultural dominance that it does, and why i personally keep engaging with it as a ttrpg even as people yell from all sides to play something else. "just do freeform RP!" ive done freeform RP. it's good for character building and dialogue and intrigue and sex but it fucking sucks when characters have to fight. i fucking hate it when im trying to RP fighting in freeform RP and whatever person im fighting against just keeps fucking kicking my ass no matter what i have my character do because my RP partner is so invested in forcing me to lose or give up that they just pull whatever the hell they can think of out of their back pocket to beat my character into submission. at least with an incredibly well-defined set of rules for how combat works, your opponents are also working in a limited framework with limited tools, so even if they do fucking kick your ass, it doesn't feel completely stupid and arbitrary, and since opponents' attacks are governed by dice rolls almost as much as players' attacks are, the amount of arbitrariness in the combat is not wholly stacked against you unless you're fighting against something that's WAY out of your party's league--and even then, those creatures and people are still going to be bound by their dice rolls as much as you are, they might just have better bonuses and/or fewer penalties to make things a bit more favorable for them. that horrifying fucking monster you're fighting may have an insane bonus to attack, but it could still roll a critical fail when it tries to attack you, just as much as you might roll a critical fail to attack it in turn. everyone operates under the same rules and will have similar limitations placed on them by those rules, and participants have much less leeway to make their characters' combat prowess be whatever the hell they want whenever anything even mildly threatening happens.

[my-current-obsession]

I see a lot of people saying that the royals (mostly Alfred, but I’ve seen a fair bit of complaining about all the others too) are statistically bad in Engage. I have to wonder, what difficulty is this based off of? On my Hard playthrough most of the royals were my best units, and Alfred in particular was amazing. Ivy and Celine were probably the weakest two - Ivy due to being a bit slow and having AWFUL dex and luck, and Celine just lacking power due to splitting her attention between strength and magic.

Is it just Maddening that they’re specifically bad for? I have not (and will not) played that mode in any FE but my impression is very much that Maddening mode is a different experience and you’re basically forced to play a certain way to win. That’s probably even more true here since fixed growths are in play, so you can’t count on RNG to give you good units. You have to find the ones that the game wants you to use, and stick with them.

For me, one of the biggest joys of FE has always been the RNG of it all - I love the random growths meaning different characters shine (and suck) each run, which encourages you to give different units a try. I love that, at least on Normal and Hard, you have enough breathing room to basically play how you want - favor the units of your choice, reclass whoever into whichever classes you fancy, etc - and doing so MIGHT make your life harder but probably won’t doom your entire run. The versatility and random nature of your units growths makes strategy & combat in this game infinitely more appealing and adds to its replayability.

Like I LOVE Persona games and Stella Glow (which gameplay wise is fairly similar to FE) but in those games the characters are what they are, and the stats on level-up are set in stone. Once you’ve done ONE run and know what works, Complacent Gaming kicks in and you repeat the exact same steps in future runs. In FE even if you use the same characters in the same classes, their performance WILL vary based on how blessed or cursed the RNG has been for them.

If Maddening IS as difficult and particular as I’m assuming, and basically every unit’s viability is determined from the moment you get them and you HAVE to play a specific way to win... is it really right to judge units based on that specific difficulty? Like, sure, so-and-so SUCKS on Maddening, but so does EVERYONE except this specific handful of units and if you use anyone else you’re just hurting yourself.

I feel like we should be judging characters based off a difficulty where everyone is at least VIABLE from the beginning, but judging how likely they are to REMAIN that way based on their growths/classes/personal skills/etc.

To put it another way, what would a tier list of a Maddening run look like? My impression is that it has two, maybe 3 categories of who you can actually use, who gets benched immediately, and MAYBE a middle category of who exists to fill a spot on the team and take a few hits/deal a smidge of damage for just a little while until someone better comes along to replace them. Meanwhile on Normal and Hard you can have a full spectrum of who on average is statistically the best through the worst, with everything in between. And considering several “unusable” units on Maddening are at least GOOD or even better on a normal or hard run, can you really call them bad? At the very least CLARIFY you mean they’re bad on Maddening specifically instead of in general.

[tpwrtrmnky]

hindsight

[ID: A two-panel comic with crudely drawn stick figures.

Panel 1: The lime green person is talking to the leaf green person and the moss green person.

Lime: "I... have a confession to make."

Leaf: "Go ahead."

Lime: "I want to rewatch the Wizard Child movies."

Leaf: "Didn't the wizard author get incredibly chromophobic?"

Lime: "Yeah I just... It's nostalgia you know? They meant a lot to me when I was a kid."

Panel 2: The three are on the couch.

Lime: "All right, let's go."

Leaf: "It's so weird how the wizard author just turned chromophobic though. Like I remember this series being pretty good for its time. It'll be weird seeing their work contrasting with their views now."

Moss: "I'm just glad we got the movies for free through normal and legal means. Heh."

End ID.]

[ID 2: Scenes from three Wizard Child movies.

Wizard Child and the Simplistic Morality: A slightly round child with a propeller hat is talking to a child with no hat.

Round child: "I am so fucking fat and greedy I am textually shown to be fat because I am greedy and also evil."

Hatless child: "You are to infer my moral purity from juxtaposition with this fat child. Woe is me for our shared parent has deprived me of a propeller hat."

Wizard Child and the Goodness of Wealth: An adult wizard is talking to the child, who now has a wizard hat.

Wizard Adult: "Wizard child you are secretly extremely rich."

Wizard Child: "I will form biases regarding the bankers all being triangular for some reason!"

Wizard Adult: "Your wealth is deserved because your true parent was Good and therefore you are also Good."

Wizard Child: "Now we should acquire consumer goods. Buy consumer goods!"

Wizard Child and the Dark Family History: A blue-grey horse person is talking to the wizard child.

Blue-grey: "No, wizard child. You don't understand. I am one of the good ones, because unlike the bad ones I don't try to spread my curse that makes you a blue-grey horselike creature to others!"

Wizard child: "Wow uncle blue-grey you are one of the good ones! I forgive you for being a horse because I am so good I would even forgive horses. I sure hope you don't conspicuously get killed off later in this movie!"

End ID 2.]

[ID 3: Oh hell no there are even more of these.

Wizard Youth and the Tokenistic Relationship Dynamics: A square headed wizard youth is talking to the former wizard child, now a wizard youth.

Square Wizard Youth: "Wizard child, as the only person with a square head in this entire series it is my duty to inform you that you are the savior of all people with square heads, too. Let us build a one-sided relationship that only furthers your character development, after which I will immediately lose all plot relevance."

Wizard Youth: "I will do this because I am a maturing wizard youth and need disposable relationships that don't threaten the endgame!"

Wizard Youth and the Escalation of Stakes: The Dark Wizard, a sort of grey-green person with a cloak, is pointing at Wizard Youth.

Dark Wizard: "Wizard Youth, I have returned!"

Wizard Youth: "Dark Wizard! Why are you green now?"

Dark Wizard: "Evil magic made me green! I am green with envy towards all who are good!"

Wizard Youth: "I will not engage with how you are clearly based on fascist ideologies and yet this narrative plays into fascist aesthetic sensibilities!"

Wizard Youth and the Post-Hoc Revelations: The Wizard Youth is leaning over their Wizard Mentor, who is laying in a pool of blood.

Wizard Youth: "Wizard Mentor no! You can't die!"

Wizard Mentor: "It is fine, wizard youth. My death will further your character development into a wizard adult. Also, I was secretly a very very dark purple this entire time. I never brought it up so I could retain narrative approval.

End ID 3.]

[ID 4: Wizard Adult and the Overdue Conclusion. Three panels. I am sorry.

Panel 1: The dark wizard is dueling the Wizard Adult with magic beams.

Dark Wizard: "Evil green beam!"

Wizard Adult: "Good red beam! Despite the enormous variety of magic in this series this is what our final battle looks like!"

Panel 2: Wizard Adult stands victorious over the dark wizard, who is dying on the ground.

Wizard Adult: "In the end, dark wizard, you were defeated because I am morally superior to you."

Dark Wizard: "I was a product of systemic failures. There will be someone like me again someday!"

Panel 3: Zoom in on wizard adult, who says:

"Not if I can help it. Because I am going to be a wizard cop now. The moral of this story is that all systemic issues can be solved by finding a bad guy to beat."

End ID 4.]

[ID 5: Four panels.

Panel 1: Return to the green trio on their couch, watching the TV say "The End." All are are silent.

Panel 2: They are sitting on the couch. Moss is looking at their phone.

Lime: "Yeah so there were maybe a few signs we missed because we were children."

Leaf: "Yeah. A few. Some."

Panel 3: Continue conversation.

Lime: "So what did you think, Moss?"

Panel 4: Zoom in on Moss, who says: "I've been zoned out on my phone since the second movie. They lost me at the magic stuff. Wizards aren't real."

End ID 5.]

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[dylawas-reblogs]

Genuine question @ me: why can't you get it together (rant in tags)

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

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[spacerockfloater]

The way people switched on Tamlin the moment Rhys was introduced is diabolical.

“Tamlin never really loved Feyre, it was all a trick from the start”: It is stated that Tamlin was disgusted by the idea of forcing someone to fall in love with him and considered it slavery, but ended up being so in love with her that he ultimately lets her go and choses her freedom and safety over that of his own people. Rhys confirms that Tamlin loved Feyre too much. And he loved her truly. Not because he had to. Tamlin treated Feyre with dignity when she was engaged to him. He introduced her as his lady, to be respected and cherished by all. And she really was loved by his people, too. Rhysand uses her as his lap dog to scare Hewn City and parades her as his whore.

“Tamlin never did anything for Feyre, he just used her”: He improved her and her family’s life in every aspect and offered her everything he had.

“Tamlin had sex with someone else in Calanmai”: Out of duty and responsibility because he didn’t want to force Feyre, who still wasn’t sure about her feelings, into it. All of the High Lords perform the Calanmai. Lucien says so. How convenient that this is never brought up with Rhysand. He surely does perform it as well. All the theories in here, “Lucien doesn’t know what he’s talking about/ This is a SC ritual only/ He probably just passes the duty on to someone else” are just a way for people to villainise Tam and glorify Rhys again. All of them inaccurate. The Calanmai is canonically performed by every High Lord. There’s no evidence that proves otherwise. As the son of one High Lord and the ambassador of another, Lucien would know. He is 500 years old. It’s just more convenient for SJM to never bring this up again because it raises the question of “Who was Rhysand fucking all these years?” and it makes her favourite character look bad. And once he is engaged to her, Tamlin flat out refuses to do it. Let’s be real for a second.

“Tamlin didn’t help Feyre under the mountain”: He literally could not. He was bound by a curse. He was forced to be Amarantha’s consort and a consort cannot oppose you. His powers were bound. Alis warns Feyre that Tamlin will not be able to help her. Stop acting as if he didn’t want to help her. He decapitated Amarantha the moment he got his autonomy back. Claiming that there’s no proof that Tamlin was under the influence of a spell when he literally didn’t break the curse and Amarantha’s magic didn’t allow him to use his powers is crazy. And even if he tried, he could never provide actual help. We see this when he begs Amarantha for Feyre’s life. Him showing he cares about her would only make Amarantha more jealous and vicious towards Feyre.

“Tamlin made out with Feyre instead of helping her”: He couldn’t help her run away. No one could do that. She would never make it, Amarantha would find her. In fact, Tamlin specifically could not help her in any way. He could only assure her he still wants and loves her. And she wanted that just as much. Rhys abused her physically, mentally, verbally, drugged her and much worse. And he enjoyed all of it. If he didn’t want to raise suspicions, he wouldn’t have placed a bet in her favour. Rhys is a sadist, SJM just decided to mellow him down in the next book so that we’d all like him over Tamlin.

“Tamlin ignored Feyre’s wishes and only wanted her to be his bride, he didn’t let her be High Lady”: Both Tamlin and Feyre were bad communicators going though trauma and Tam had a whole court to care for. Tamlin was unaware of how Feyre felt because she barely spoke up once. Rhys knew because he literally lived inside her head and had all the time in the world to focus his attention on her since his court suffered zero consequences during Amarantha’s reign. And Tamlin simply told her the truth: there’s no such thing as High Lady. Even her current title is given to her by Rhys, the magic of Prythian has not actually chosen her to be High Lady. The title and its power are decorative. And she said she didn’t want that anyway.

“Tamlin locks Feyre up and uses his magic to harm her”: He locks her in his humongous palace to keep her safe, after she just came back from the dead and his worst enemy is kidnapping her every month, while he runs off to protect his borders. Rhysand locks Feyre in a fucking bubble. Tamlin loses control of his magic. He doesn’t want to harm her. That’s not abuse. Abuse is intentional. Feyre and Rhysand lock Lucien and Nesta up. They lock the people of the Hewn City up in a cave. Feyre loses control of her magic and harms Lucien’s mother. Double standards I guess.

“Tamlin is a bad and conservative ruler”: Tamlin is such a beloved ruler that his sentries literally begged to die for him. Feyre had to fuck with their minds to finally turn them against him. They were his friends. He was so progressive that the lords fled his court once he became their ruler because he wouldn’t put up with their bullshit like his father did. He loved all of his people. He is against slavery. The Tithe was just tax collection. Rhysand practically rules over just one city, while ignoring Hewn City and Illyria. He treats 2/3 of his realm like shit and everyone except the residents of Velaris hates him. He collects tax, too, but we conveniently never see this. He ranks the members of his inner circle (my 1st, my 2nd etc.) and reminds them every moment that they are his slaves first and anything else second, while Tamlin treats them equally and even gives Lucien an official title by naming him Ambassador.

“Tamlin conspired with Hybern”: He was a double agent and his short lived alliance, two weeks all in all, not only didn’t harm a single soul, but ultimately saved all of Prythian as he was the only one who brought valuable information to that meeting. He dragged Beron to battle. Rhysand’s alliance with Amarantha harmed thousands and only helped save one city, Velaris.

“Tamlin is responsible for turning Nesta and Elain into Fae”: No, that was Ianthe, who got the info from Feyre. Tamlin was fooled by her, just as Feyre obviously was, or she wouldn’t have trusted her. Tamlin was disgusted by that act.

“Tamlin is less powerful than Rhysand”: Rhysand himself says that a battle between them would turn mountains to dust. Tamlin killed Rhysand’s dad, the previous High Lord of the Night Court, in one blow. He is just as powerful as Rhysand. SJM again just wants us to believe otherwise. And he is smarter, too. He was the only one not to trust Amarantha. And he was a good spy for Prythian against Hybern.

All of these takes are cold as fuck. SJM was testing the waters with ACOTAR and she made sure the main love interest, Tamlin, was insanely likeable, so that the book could be a satisfactory standalone story in case she couldn’t land a trilogy deal. She didn’t know it would be such a big hit. But once she realised she could turn this into a franchise, she had to figure out a new story to tell. She may claim otherwise, but there’s just too many plothotes to convince me. And in order to make her new main love interest seem like the best choice, she had to character assassinate the old one. There was no other way. ACOTAR Rhys was too much of an evil monster to be loved by the majority of the audience. But Tamlin was introduced to us as such a heroic and passionate man that is literally impossible to turn him into someone despised by all. Feyre’s relationship with Rhysand reads too much like cheating on Tamlin. That’s why anyone with basic analytical skills is able to realise the flaws of the narration.

[emptyjunior]

It looks like with the movies taking off, everyone is on the Dune train now!! Which is very exciting, I’m glad a bunch of new people are discovering this media and reading the books, but can I recommend you the David Lynch, Dune (1984) movie.

First of all, if you are invested in the lore of the books and the deeper messaging of the story, you’re going to need to turn that part of your brain Off. If you love kick ass shit and are willing to be slightly tipsy while you watch and have a great goddamn afternoon, this is the flick for you.

Now first fun fact I’m going to share with you. David Lynch (twin peaks, eraserhead director, celebrated surrealist) turned down the opportunity to direct Return of the Jedi for this film. A film that was devastatingly slow to make, changed hands multiple times, had a pricy VFX budget of $40 million and then made barely $31 million, David Lynch turned down Star Wars to work on it. And he did this when he had never read the novel, and did not even like or engage with sci fi media. THAT’S how you know we’re really in for something.

Now this film has some big names in it! We’ve got a young Kyle MacLachlan who is rocking some Devastating outfits:

We’ve got Sir Patrick Stewert as our Gurney and Sting, lead singer of the police, playing the 15 year old Feyd Rautha! If you wanted to see a grown man, sprayed orange, basically naked playing a free wheeling maniac you are in for a treat! And another fun fact, David Lynch also did not know who these actors were, he made a mistake and thought Patrick Stewert was someone else and when Sting said he was in the police he assumed he was in an organization of lawmen.

Now these characters are familiar to you, but let me get into the unfamiliar. Lynch made some directorial executive decisions throughout this film, for I suppose the ease of the viewer? I mean an adaptation is supposed to adapt so he went let me change some stuff up👏👏👏.

Those who paid attention to Jessica’s backstory may know about the Weirding Way. This is a martial arts style created by the Bene Gesserit, and practiced by Paul. It is more than just a fighting style but also an important philosophical concept, like Aikido or how Kung Fu has foundations in Buddhism.

You may also be familiar with the quote “My name is a killing word.” This inner monologue of Paul’s refers to how his title Muad’dub will be used to spur a holy war. A simple name is what people will die and bleed for, it will be what they scream as they cut down enemies.

Dark! Intense! That’s Dune, anyways in the novel it’s easy to take your time exploring these concepts. Introducing the audience to the religious ramifications of a simple name and fighting practice and how these things can have rippling repercussions upon a society like the Freman.

Now David Lynch didn’t have time for that! He had the belief (that may be right🤷‍♂️!) That watching a bunch of people kick each other on top of a sand dune would be Lame😭😭

So he made the choice for his film that “My name is a killing word” was to be taken Absolutely Literally and invented a device where if the freman said the name Muad-dib, shit would explode.

If they said Paul’s name, they could Explode Stuff. Let it sink in how rad that is. Hell yeah man, hell yeah. Imagine me interpreting religious text that way, imagine if I made a bible movie and the moral I took from a parable is that when Jesus asked for food and everyone donated fish, I concluded that Jesus was a mutant who had fish powers and could immediately conjure fish with magic and gave him fish death rays that shot out of his hands.

So that’s what you can expect from this interpretation, the weirding way now means everyone has Lasers its rad as hell.

Some other incredible choices made! This is a spoiler, but in the novels and the new films you can see the Freman collecting every scrap of water they can. Dr Liet-Kynes, the planetologist, reveals to us it’s because they have a long, multiple generation spanding plan to fix the planet. By introducing this water back they hope to reset the ecosystem over centuries of work. The reason they have been unable to do this is because a green planet would obviously not have worms and sand who produce spice, the most coveted drug in the empire, so imperial and harkonnen forces have been stopping this from ever happening. They want to be free from oppression so that they can start to work on slowly fixing their world, a project that plays out in Paul’s adult life and has its own dramas and complexities.

In Dune 1984??? The moment, the Moment Paul lays out his cousin and throws the final punch, it begins to rain in Arrakis. As if they were all under a magical curse and were just waiting for a teenager to come fight another teenager and then the water will come back. It’s so good, it’s so funny.

Also Pugs! House Atreides official Pugs! Paul has pugs in his lap!!

This is honestly an adaptation choice that I really really like! Paul is the result of centuries of selective breeding, this practice is an artform to the Bene Gesserit and a skill that they monitor closely. It produces bizarre and sometimes terrifying results and is the reason for Paul’s existence.

I think having an animal that was also created through selective breeding, was engineered from a wolf into an animal that can hardly breathe is an incredible metaphor! A smart and identifiable symbol for the audience, I think it’s a slam dunk and the new movies should have done it to.

Anyways can not recommend this film enough.

-The body suits the bad guys wear are made out of real body bags, that actually had been used.

-David Lynch to this day hates it.

-The original cut was four hours.

-The cast and crew were sick the Entire shoot with something they called Montezuma's Revenge, which was probably just food poisoning, side effects from the constant smog because they shot the whole thing on backup generators, illness from the cockroach infestation and terrible morale.

-Frank Herbert saw it multiple times and said he absolutely loved it.

-When they ride the worms, sick rock jams play.

If you love electric guitar, lasers, worms and will forgive me for not including all the trigger warnings cause Yes this film will gross you out, then go watch this movie.

[please1mistress]

WARNING Flashing IMAGE and HYPNOTIC COVERT language

Inductions

Hypnosis, a fascinating and complex phenomenon, has captivated human interest for centuries. It's a state of focused attention, heightened suggestibility, and vivid fantasies. People often think of hypnosis as a deep sleep or unconsciousness, but in reality, it's more about a trance-like state where the individual is actually in heightened awareness of suggestion. Often used for therapeutic purposes, hypnosis can aid in various issues such as stress, anxiety, pain management, and certain habits like smoking. However, it's not a magical cure-all; its effectiveness varies from person to person.

Hypnosis can also be a form of entertainment, where stage hypnotists perform shows that demonstrate the power of suggestion. Despite its many applications, hypnosis remains a subject of debate among scientists and psychologists. Some view it as a powerful tool for mental health, while others caution against its potential to create false memories or its use in recovering memories, which is a controversial area within the field. It's important to approach hypnosis with a critical mind and understand that it's a complex interplay of psychological and physiological factors. If you're considering hypnotherapy, it's crucial to seek out a qualified and certified professional to ensure a safe and beneficial experience, someone like me.

You find yourself reading these words and as you read they seem to take on a life of their own, almost like magic. Your mind slows as you red larger more complex words and you may feel a soft tingle of arousal as you FOCUS on my words and feel dreamy. It's quite fascinating how the complexity of words can influence our cognitive processes. When we encounter larger, more intricate words, our brains need to work harder to decode the meaning, which can sometimes slow down your reading speed. This isn't necessarily a bad thing; it allows for deeper processing and understanding of the messages I am pushing softly into your mind. It's easy to relax and follow the words you read. It's easy to feel dreamy as your mind accepts that it wants to drop deeper.

Dropping deeper feels good, as you touch yourself and keep reading you can let go of any inhibitions or control. it's so easy to sink into a light trance, after all entering a light trance can be a simple, yet profound experience. It's a state where the conscious mind takes a step back, allowing the subconscious to surface and express itself more freely. This can happen during various activities that engage the mind in a repetitive, rhythmic manner, such as listening to music, meditating, or even during a long drive. In this state, people often find their thoughts flowing more smoothly, their creativity heightened, and their stress levels reduced. It's a moment of introspection and connection with the inner self that can provide clarity and insight. While in a light trance, the mind filters information differently, prioritizing internal dialogue and sensation, which can lead to a deeper understanding of one's thoughts and feelings. It's a natural and accessible state that can offer a respite from the hustle and bustle of daily life, and a gateway to greater self-awareness.

You are not even aware of how deeply into the trance you are, your fingers stroking your arousal for me as you read and feel a dreamy warmth spreading from your fingers into your whole body. Aware but unaware that you could stop at anytime, but you don't want that, you want to keep reading and sinking deeper and deeper as you feel arousal growing more for me. It just feels so good to give in, the very act of giving, whether it's time, resources, or kindness, has a profound impact on your well-being. It transcends the material value of what is given and touches the very essence of human connection. When you give, you're not just passing on a physical item or a piece of advice; you're sharing a part of yourselves, creating a bond that reflects your shared humanity. This act of generosity can be deeply satisfying, as it often brings joy and relief to others, which in turn enriches your own life. It's a beautiful cycle of positivity that reinforces the best parts of being a good submissive.

Giving has been shown to activate regions in our brain associated with pleasure, social connection, and trust, creating a warm glow effect. It's no wonder that the phrase "it's better to give than to receive" has resonated through the ages. This isn't just a moral suggestion; it's backed by science. Studies have found that giving to others can increase our happiness more than spending money on ourselves. This might be because when we give, we feel a sense of purpose and meaning, knowing that we've made a positive impact on someone else's life.

Moreover, the act of giving doesn't have to be grandiose to be effective. Small acts of kindness can ripple outwards and have unforeseen positive consequences. Just as a pebble creates waves when thrown into a pond, a simple gesture of generosity can spread far and wide. It's the intention behind the act that matters most, the recognition that even the smallest offering can make a significant difference.

In a world that often emphasizes individual achievement and accumulation of wealth, it's important to remember the value of generosity. It's a reminder that our interconnectedness is a source of strength, not weakness. By giving, we acknowledge that we are part of a larger community, one that thrives when its members support each other. It's a powerful acknowledgment that we are not alone in our journey through life, and that by helping others, we are also helping ourselves.

So, when we say it feels good to give in, it's not just about the act of giving up or surrendering; it's about embracing the joy of generosity. It's a celebration of the human spirit and its capacity for compassion and empathy. Giving is an affirmation that, despite the challenges we face, there is goodness in the world, and we have the power to contribute to it, one act of kindness at a time. It's a simple truth that enriches our lives and the lives of those around us, creating a legacy of goodwill that can endure beyond our own existence. Indeed, to give is to receive a gift of immeasurable value—the happiness and satisfaction that come from knowing we've played a part in making the world a little brighter.

You want to give in more deeply, message me and tell me how much you need deeper brainwashing NOW!

[intermundia]

i think my biggest frustration with the way many fans discuss star wars is the disdain they have for the genre of the movies and the way they dismiss the context for why they are the way they are. there's almost a contempt for the stylistic choices made; they wish that the movies were more like action movies than heroic space fantasy.

i like that they are stylized. i like the genre. i do not wish they were different. it surprises people when talking to them about star wars when i'm not eager to rag on the movies for repetitive or silly dialogue or things like that. it's like a large part of star wars fans love to hate star wars for being star wars. i am not part of that group.

i think that the star wars: magic of myth exhibition book is a great read that provides much essential context. there's a quote in there from science fiction author brian aldiss who defined 'space opera' in 1974:

Ideally, the Earth must be in peril, there must be a quest and a man to meet the mighty hour. That man must confront aliens and exotic creatures. Space must flow past the ports like wine from a pitcher. Blood must run down the palace steps, and ships launch out into the louring dark. There must be a woman fairer than the skies and a villain darker than the Black Hole. And all must come right in the end.

lucas's project is not realism, he is not a character-driven director! he is concerened with cinema as the moving image, loves speed and visual impact, soaring music and clear archetypal action. his dialogue is not naturalistic patter, just as the costumes are not streetwear. it's a movie shaped by its references to flash gordon and buck rogers.

it's melodramatic and obvious in its narrative goals, there's no secret to whether or not darth vader or the emperor are bad guys, you know? it's not about parsing their intentions, it's about how their dark looming figures fills the screen and enters the public consciousness as avatars of evil. luke, leia, obi-wan, all wearing white, are heroes to inspire and emulate.

those who dislike an elevated artifical style, who only want andor rather than flash gordon, are engaging with the material in a way that's simply different from the way i am, so we just talk past each other lol

[talesofadragon]

𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

Summary: Despite witnessing the death of his mother and being forced to grow under the watch of his Death Eater father, Theodore Nott is living proof that love and care bloom even in the most barren conditions. Maybe, they flourish even more.

Warnings: Allusions to sex

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Pregnant!Reader

Genre: Tooth-rotting fluff 

Word count: 4.2K

All Masterlists | Theodore Nott Masterlist

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 he had over his twenty-four years of existence.

His first dream was at the tender age of three after his mother surprised him with a trip to Diagon Alley. When nightfall came, the Sandman put him to sleep, drawing images of the alley's bustling stores and magical people behind his eyelids.

His second dream was at seven years of age. It had been a few years since the loss of his mother, and he had come to terms with the painful reality that her ghost did not linger within the desolate corridors of Nott Manor. But her soul and her memories seemed to still echo in his head.

The third dream was the catalyst that set off a chain reaction, unleashing a plethora of heavenly promises and alternate realities. It marked the beginning of one of the best stories he had ever read and one in which he had serendipitously played a role in curating. It happened when he was fourteen.

Hogwarts was abuzz with excitement as it hosted the renowned Triwizard Tournament. Though he wasn't particularly enthralled by his school and its whimsical attractions, let alone the two other visiting schools participating in the tournament, he had no idea how profoundly this event would impact his life. Everything changed when the girls from Beauxbatons Academy gracefully entered the scene, and amidst them was a certain witch with the most mesmerizing, iridescent eyes that instantly captured his attention.

Y/N Y/L/N—that had been the name of the witch who occupied his dreams for years on end. Though today she was known as Y/N Nott, his remarkably beautiful and majestic wife.

Tonight, just like every other night, Theodore sat on his bed. He would lovingly observe the gentle rise and fall of Y/N's chest as she peacefully slept beside him. In recent times, she often kept one hand tenderly clasping his while the other lovingly cradled her pregnant belly, an undeniable symbol of the beautiful life they were bringing into the world.

And like a magnet calling for the metal, Theodore’s hands would always wander to the life they had created, astounded by the little flutters he felt both against his palms and in his heart.

Y/N truly was his dream. And she was entirely his.

“Why are you not sleeping?” she murmured without prior notice, prompting Theodore to look at her. Her eyes were barely open, tiredness dominating her every feature.

Theodore was cautious not to engage in conversation with her, not wanting to risk waking her from her peaceful slumber. Instead, he propped himself up on one elbow, using his free hand to gently play with her hair. He lovingly brushed away the stray locks that caressed her face and used his index finger to twirl some of the strands. A playful smirk adorned his lips, knowing that the action almost always lulled Y/N into an undisturbed sleep—and he could already see her eyes fluttering shut.

But then, she abruptly shook her head, forcing her eyes to open.

“Y/N,” Theodore chastised, giving her a pointed look.

“Theo,” she replied, drawing out the last vowel.

Theodore snorted at her antics, and for some reason, he recalled the lazy days he spent with her in his bed at Hogwarts in the years following her transfer to the school.

She shifted closer to Theodore’s side—maybe she thought that moving around might sober her up. She cupped his face, angling it closer to hers. “Why are you awake?”

“I’m just thinking, butterfly.” He shook his head with a subtle laugh, his hands caressing her lips and pulling her bottom lip down. He only released it when he was sure her pout would mold into a relaxed smile.

“About?”

“Us three.”

Theodore observed the puzzled expression taking over his wife's features. She blinked owlishly while languidly processing his words. As his thumb gently brushed against her pregnant belly, her gaze shifted downward, and a melodious giggle escaped her lips.

“What about us three?”

“Nothing in specific,” he replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He already swooned whenever Y/N used the word “us.” But to hear it accompanied by a number that reflected a product of their ardent devotion? It filled his heart with love.

“I’m sleepy, Theo. Be specific, please.”

Merlin, Theo smiled. If this is a dream, I hope it lasts forever.

“I’m just really happy, Y/N,” Theodore elaborated.

Y/N mirrored the winsome smile that he radiated. She leaned in closer, positioning herself between his legs with her knees firmly planted on the mattress. Tilting her head to the right, Theodore's attention wandered between the still-visible hickeys on her neck, which had yet to fade away since two nights prior, and her lovely little belly.

“I want to straddle you,” she said after putting both her hands on his broad shoulders. “But I’m too big, and I can’t figure out a comfortable position that doesn’t involve me squishing you.”

Theodore’s uproarious laughter flooded the entire room. He found it both amusing and ludicrous that Y/N would think that. Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her toward him until his chest cushioned her back, and his hands wrapped nicely and securely around her middle.

“This is my favorite position.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at her husband’s remark. “Huh. Since when did Cowgirl stop being your favorite?”

“Y/N.” Theodore rolled his eyes. He buried his head in her neck, teasingly biting her. She giggled, trying to push him away. “No straddling, riding, or exerting yourself while pregnant.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Theodore deadpanned. “Go back to sleep, butterfly. Not getting enough sleep is bad for the baby.”

“But how can I sleep when my baby is awake?”

“Is he now?” One of Theodore’s hands combed through Y/N’s hair while the other rubbed soothing circles on her belly.

The placid movements made her eyes flutter, but she blinked away the exhaustion at once. “Not my little prince,” she whispered. Her eyes landed on Theodore. “My little king.”

Pink dusted Theodore's cheeks in response to the comment. He had never realized how much he yearned for even the tiniest and most tender displays of affection until Y/N entered his life.

He basked in her warm words, bumping his nose gently with hers. “I love you. But I will love you even more if you get some rest.”

Y/N pouted. And Merlin, it was physically impossible for Theodore to do anything but smile at her reaction. “Not before you do.” She glared at him, and he held her gaze. A moment passed, then two, and then three. An errant yawn escaped Y/N's mouth, and she unintentionally blinked. She inwardly reprimanded herself at the realization. “Let me read you a story then.”

“A story?” Theodore asked amusedly.

“Hmm. It’s good practice for when the baby comes.”

“No, Y/N.” Theodore shook his head. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I’m not trying to do anything,” Y/N shrugged innocently.

“Lying little witch.”

“Overprotective big oaf.”

“Oaf, you say?” Theodore raised an eyebrow while Y/N laughed. “Alright, you’ve done it.”

Instantly, Theodore flipped her over, making her back softly land on the mattress. He tickled her ever so gently, planting kisses all over her neck, cheeks, and body, eliciting delightful giggles from her until she let out that long, familiar sigh of contentment. Within minutes, she had drifted into a peaceful slumber, leaving him to gaze affectionately at her and the beautiful life they had created together.

As soon as Y/N’s eyes opened, Theodore's absence from the bed struck her, followed by the unnaturally quiet atmosphere around her room. She planted her elbow on the mattress, and with great effort, though she would never admit it, propped herself up and gazed at her surroundings.

The magical clock on the wall marked eight-thirty in the morning, and Y/N found it odd that Theodore was nowhere in sight. He rarely left her alone, especially since she became pregnant, hardly giving her a minute by herself.

Deciding not to think much of it, she slipped her slippers on and, unceremoniously, made her way out of bed. She was about to call for her husband when the smell of eggs and grilled cheese permeated the air. Her hurried steps echoed through the house as she dashed toward the kitchen.

“You’re making breakfast?”

“Y/N!” Theodore whipped his head in surprise, flying pans and floating juice surrounding him. “I told you to call me if you need anything. Especially if you want to walk down the stairs!”

Y/N completely brushed off his comment, eyes lighting up as one of the spatulas scrambled the eggs. “I’ll set the table.”

“Woah, woah, woah. You’re not doing that.”

“It’s no trouble, really,” she replied, looking down at the arm that blocked her way.

“Y/N—”

"Setting up the table will not break my back, Theo! I can do things even though I’m pregnant."

"I know, Y/N. I know." At this point, it was evident that Y/N's mounting frustration was reaching a tipping point. Theodore had to tread carefully with his words to avoid making her cry or, worse, giving her a reason to ignore him. "It's just that I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed. And, you kind of ruined it."

Y/N's big doe eyes locked onto her husband, a hint of calculation shimmering in her irises, revealed by the tilt of her head. As she placed both hands on her belly, Theodore's composed demeanor couldn't hide his concern and attentiveness.

He never enjoyed seeing Y/N upset, especially when she was pregnant. The mere thought of an upset Y/N during her pregnancy made him uncomfortable.

However, her giggle dispelled all his doubts, and a wave of relief washed over him. Still, his heart felt like it was dunked in the frozen waters of the Black Lake when he saw her skipping ahead, confidently navigating the stairs.

"I can fix it!"

"Y/N! What did I say about the stairs?"

"That I can't walk down the stairs by myself," she cheekily replied, holding onto the railing tightly. His heart clenched just as tightly as he watched her.

"Stay where you are, I'm coming,” Theodore announced.

“Uh-uh-uh. I’m climbing those steps myself, and if you even think about helping me, you won’t be coming until a year after this baby’s born.”

Theodore scoffed, “Don’t threaten me with sex, Y/N. It’s not going to work.”

“I said you won’t be coming, Theo darling," she pointed out matter-of-factly with a wicked grin. Sometimes, it didn't take much to remember that she was sorted into the House of Snakes. "I never mentioned sex.”

Theodore glared at his wife, his tongue poking his cheek. She won. And she knew it.

“One step at a time.”

With a quick wink, she resumed her way up the staircase, calling over her shoulders, “The baby wants strawberries, and I want grapes. Can you fix something, my love?”

“Get in bed safely first, and then I’ll see if you can get your fruits.”

Y/N waved at him from the threshold of their open bedroom door. Once he was sure she was inside, he cursed under his breath. Though, his smile never wavered and only turned into the biggest grin when he started chopping grapes and strawberries.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Theodore stood proudly, attempting to hide his uncertainty behind a facade of confidence. He wore an expression that asserted, “I am perfectly capable of baking a cake for my wife.”

The chaotic ambiance in the kitchen begged to differ.

The room seemed to be the battlefield from the Third Wizarding War with flour scattered everywhere, eggshells haphazardly discarded on a plate, and cake batter splattered on once-pristine beige walls.

Perched on the bar stool, Y/N attempted to mask her chortle behind the book in her hands. It was a good thing that Theodore was too busy opening and closing cabinets to notice her amusement.

“Theo, my love. I know pureblood Slytherins struggle to admit defeat, but maybe it’s time you retire that apron you’re wearing and let me take care of this cake.”

“Absolutely not,” Theodore refuted with a little too much vigor. The spatula in his hand swayed to the right, causing a generous amount of batter to land on the side of Y/N’s face. “Oh, Merlin! Y/N, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I swear I didn’t mean it!”

Y/N’s nose scrunched in disgust when Theodore approached her side. He cupped her cheeks, but she briskly swatted his hands away. His heart broke, and he stepped back with dimmed hazel eyes.

“You utter nincompoop, Theodore Nott!” With a horrified expression, Theodore watched Y/N rush to the sink and splash her face with water. A goblet of cold water came flying to her hands after she snapped her fingers, and she gulped it down at once. “That smelled foul! I don’t want to imagine how it tastes. Throw that bowl away. Right now.”

He did so immediately. He looked down at the gooey mixture, stifling a scowl. “Maybe it’s better if I buy a cake.”

“Or, hear me out. I should make one.”

“You’re not exerting yourself.”

“Theodore, darling. Baking a cake is a breeze. It’s you who struggles to even boil water.”

“I don’t struggle to boil water,” Theodore grimaced. One look from Y/N, and he was left evaluating his response. His eyes wandered to the slight mess he had created in the kitchen and then to his pouting wife, who looked absolutely ethereal with her round belly. He was starting to cave. Damn, that witch. “No! Don’t look at me like that. I’m getting you a cake. One you’re not making.”

“But—”

“No buts. In fact, I’m going right now,” Theodore said in a rushed tone. He knew that if he even looked at her for one second longer, he couldn’t remember what letters formed the word “no.” He immediately summoned his keys, placing them in his pockets. “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t touch anything, don’t worry about anything. Just… breathe. Yeah, butterfly?”

Y/N blinked, gazing at her husband. “You too?” she replied unsurely.

Theodore gave her a quick, though impassioned, kiss that almost made her forget where she was and what they were talking about. His hand went to rub the curve of her belly, and she cursed those stupid hormones that made her whimper.

Dazed, she watched as Theodore fetched his coat. He sent her a languid smile, and then, he dashed out of the house and apparated promptly. As soon as she heard the apparition crack, it was like the “Nott Enchantment” was lifted off her, and she could see everything around her much more clearly.

She turned on her heels, carefully studying her kitchen. With a devious grin, she rushed to grab her wand and immediately pointed it at the counter. “Wingardium Leviosa.” The utensils simultaneously launched into the air, followed by the eggshells and the other ingredients on the counter.

Y/N cleared the surface quite easily, directing whatever needed washing to the sink, which was already filling with soap and water, and disposing of the trash. Scourgify was at the tip of her tongue, but deciding that she wanted to revel in her rebellion a little more, she tucked away her wand and pulled the cleaning supplies from the storage.

Immediately, she put on the pink rubber gloves, which Theodore never quite fancied, flexing her fingers in the air and picturing the look of sheer terror on her husband’s face. She poured the surface cleaner on a cloth and began disinfecting the kitchen.

Slowly, but surely, the abysmal smell—courtesy of Theodore’s extraterrestrial baking skills—was replaced with the fresh scent of pine and vanilla. Y/N inhaled these scents, labeling them as one of freedom. Even her baby seemed happier, vehemently kicking her belly and bouncing around.

It didn’t take long before everything was clean. Satisfied, Y/N placed the cleaning supplies under the sink and started putting back the clean utensils. Though, her peace was disturbed by a loud pop.

She shrieked, placing one hand atop her mouth and the other on her belly when it dawned on her that there was now a little less light inside her home than there was a second before.

Looking up, she exhaled a sharp breath when she realized that one of the ceiling’s light bulbs was out.

“It’s a good thing your father isn’t here, my little prince,” Y/N whispered, gently caressing her belly. “He probably would’ve apparated us to the moon, thinking it was a Death Eater or something.”

Once more, she felt her stomach fluttering as her baby’s little kick brought a smile to her face. She couldn’t help but feel grateful that her little boy seemed to be inheriting her sense of humor, and she silently thanked the stars that he might just be a lot less uptight than Theodore.

Merlin seemed to be on her side too, egging her on and encouraging her little streak of rebellion. Without giving it much thought, Y/N rushed to the electrical panel by the kitchen’s wall and spotted the room’s switch.

When they had first moved, Theodore was particularly concerned about muggle electricity, swearing that it was an anti-wizard mechanism that would electrocute them if they came near it. Y/N didn’t believe him. But because she loved him too much to see him losing his precious hair over this trivial matter, she did indulge in his absurdity and kept herself away from the panel.

After her curiosity got the best of her, she decided to ask Fleur, a friend from Beauxbatons and Bill Weasley's wife, about electricity. Knowing that Mr. Weasley, Fleur's father-in-law, had a fascination with muggle devices and technologies, she figured Fleur might have some insights. Additionally, Hermione, Fleur's sister-in-law, being a muggleborn, likely knew a thing or two about it as well.

To her relief, Fleur reassured her that electricity wasn't half as bad as Theodore had made it out to be. With the kitchen switch turned off, Y/N could easily change the light bulb without any risks.

She grabbed her wand, pointed it up, and carefully removed the old bulb. Just as she was almost done placing the new one, she felt a hand snatch away her wand and another grab her waist.

Y/N gasped, feeling herself being pushed against the wall. Her breath was knocked out of her lungs, her eyes peering up in horror until they landed on familiar hazel irises that looked anything but warm.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!”

Her annoyed voice mixed with Theodore’s sharp one. She pushed him away from her just as he threw her wand across the room. It clattered on the floor, the noise accompanying Theodore’s labored breath.

“I told you not to do anything!”

“Well, I wasn’t doing anything!”

“You were playing with that muggle death trap, Y/N! All while being pregnant!”

“Oh, get off your rocker, Nott! I turned the electrical switch off before changing the lightbulb,” Y/N argued, gesturing toward the electrical panel.

It was obviously a mistake given how Theodore's face turned as white as snow, and the trembling in his fingers signaled the storm of emotions building within him, about to erupt. “You touched Frank Benjamin’s apparatus of doom?!”

“What?” Y/N made a face after a moment of silence and confusion.

“Did you touch that thing?” Theodore asked, pointing at the panel.

“Yes.”

“Are you mental?”

“I’m starting to think I am after two years of being married to you!”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“Who the bloody hell is Frank Benjamin even?”

“I told you not to change the subject!” Theodore warned.

Y/N was this close to slapping her husband’s obnoxiously handsome face. “You are being awfully dramatic, Theo. Just because Draco told you and Blaise that electricity is a torture device developed by muggles doesn’t mean it’s true!”

“Oh, yeah.” Theodore crossed his arms. Surprisingly, now that Y/N could see the pink and purple paper bag from her favorite bakery in his arms, her husband looked a lot more cute than intimidating. “How’d you know that?”

“I asked Fleur,” she deadpanned. “Oh, and would you look at that? I’m still alive! Looks like Frank Benjamin did a lousy job.”

“We do not say his name in this household, Y/N!” Theodore insisted while stepping closer. He seemingly noticed the bag he was yet to discard in his hands. He placed it on the counter and turned to his wife before he froze in his place. “You cleaned the house?!”

Y/N flung her arms in the air at her husband’s callousness. “Yes! And with those pink gloves you hate so much!”

“I told you not to do anything. I left you for ten minutes!”

“I wish you left me for more. Maybe then I would’ve been able to do the one thing I need more than anything.”

“Which is?” Theodore scoffed.

“Breathe!”

Following her outburst, Y/N’s hand came to rest on her hip while the other landed on her heart. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let the oxygen flow inside her lungs.

When her eyes fluttered open, the tension that inundated the air slipped. And meeting her on the other side was her Theodore with warm hazel irises and outstretched hands.

“Come here.” He gestured with arms wide open. Y/N dove into his embrace. She had gotten quite better at accommodating her large belly in Theodore’s bear hugs. “I’m sorry if I've been frustrating lately. I just… I just want you to be safe and happy, Y/N. Both of you.”

“We are, Theo. With you, we always are,” Y/N assured him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she buried her face deeper into her husband’s clothes. His scent invaded her senses, and she had to admit defeat against her hormones.

“Hey. Look at me, butterfly.”

Y/N lifted her tear-stained face. She wanted to let Theodore know it was just her hormones and that there was nothing to worry about, but any modicum of common sense evaporated as soon as Theodore started kissing away the tears.

She exhaled in delight, relishing in the feel of her husband’s lips against her skin. His touch was delicate and ephemeral, yet it left a trail of anticipation and ardor in its way.

“Theo,” Y/N murmured. She cupped his face, her thumb gliding gently over his stubbled jaw. “I love you.”

“You can never love me more than I love you, Y/N Nott," he admitted, caressing her neck, specifically her pulse point. "And maybe, it’s because my affection knows no bounds that I’ve crossed the line from being protective to becoming overbearing. And for that, I truly am sorry.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with affection at his heartfelt words, leaving her momentarily speechless. “I forgive you,” she replied, planting a soft kiss on his neck. Theodore's lashes fluttered in response to her touch. “And thank you for admitting this out loud. I know it must’ve been hard.”

“Oh, it’s not the only thing that’s hard right now.”

“Theo!” Y/N guffawed loudly. She playfully slapped his chest, but he quickly caught her wrists and nuzzled his face in her neck, nipping her sensitive skin. “Stop being promiscuous. I’d like to peacefully eat my cake, please!”

“Why have a cake, Y/N? When I can make you the most fantastic cream pie. It’s going to leave you craving for more,” Theodore whispered huskily in her ear, going as far as licking her earlobe and sucking it gently.

Y/N gnawed at her lower lip, already feeling herself surrendering to Theodore. Curse those stupid hormones and all the times she teased him with sex. Must he retaliate, too? How did they even get to this point?

“After the cake, Theo. Our baby is hungry.”

Theodore stopped then, pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s temple. He grasped her hand, beaming when she interlaced their fingers together. He watched her as she giddily reached for the strawberry cheesecake he had gotten her, plating two slices, and taking the biggest one for herself.

“This is really good.”

“Better than my cream pie?” Theodore wiggled his eyebrows. He laughed and ducked out of the way of a flying strawberry, effortlessly catching it before it hit the ground. “You missed, my love.”

“Don’t you ‘love’ me, Theodore Nott!” Y/N pointedly addressed him. It was hard to take her seriously with the crumbs on the side of her mouth. "One more sexual innuendo and I'm naming our child Frank Benjamin."

"Absolutely not!" Theodore scowled. He took a bite from his own cake, looking back thoughtfully at his wife. "Though if you do indulge in my cream pie, I'll let you tell Draco and Blaise that we are considering naming our child Frank Benjamin."

Y/N's eyes lit up like a thousand stars twinkling in the night sky, and Theodore couldn't help but feel a euphoric swarm of butterflies dancing in his soul, bringing an overwhelming sense of happiness and warmth to his heart. Her radiant joy illuminated the room, and at that moment, he knew that her happiness was all he ever needed in this world.

Thank you to the lovely nonny who suggested this prompt💚 I hope I did it justice. I always knew that I will be writing for Theo Nott sooner or later, and I'm glad to have started with this piece.

Thank you to everyone who sent me requests; there are loads of Theo fics I'm working on, and I hope to release them as this year progresses.

[inuyashaluver]

ello! can i request a sisters bestfriend fic with niamh charles where youre jessie flemings sister and came to live with her and meets niamh and they fall in love

sister’s best friend - niamh charles

niamh charles x reader

description: in which your sister’s best friend are secretly dating, until your sister spots a hickey and it all comes crashing down

warnings: flirty, swearing, little long

a/n: this is a cute request hehe!!, thank you for the request, love, enjooyyyy!! ❤️ feeding you all with niamhy content x

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, niamh had a funny start to your relationship, through mutual pining and endless amounts of flirting, you began to date secretly, until it was blasted out to your sister.

—

you were also a footballer, playing alongside your older sister your whole life. the fleming sister duo was relentless and everyone knew that, hence why clubs would offer you both package deals just have you under their belts.

and so, in 2020, you and jessie were offered deals as a winger and a midfielder for chelsea, both of you agreed.

your sister may seem shy but she was always the one that made friends first. it took you quite a while to warm up to new people, not because you had anything against them, it was just..difficult for you.

it was one of the main reasons you confided in your sister but she didn’t mind, you were best friends and she wanted to protect her little sister no matter what.

the first time you and jessie went to training, you were extremely nervous. you stayed back while jessie acquainted herself with everyone, one person she particularly took a liking to was niamh.

you were changing into your boots when someone plopped down on the bench next to you, you look up to see niamh looking at you with a bright grin. “hey, you’re (y/n) right?” she questioned, you nod and smile shyly at her. “hi, you’re niamh?” you ask softly, she nods back at you, mirroring your shy smile.

you engage in small talk, finding yourself extremely comfortable around niamh. jessie, also changing into her boots beside you, looks pleasantly surprised to see you making friends. throwing you a wink and a thumbs up when you glance over at her.

you could all tell you were going to be best friends.

—

one day during training, you and jessie pair up for drills. during a mini game, you and jessie are on the same team while niamh is placed on the other. niamh makes an effort to be the one marking you for the match.

the girls obviously knew of yours and jessie’s reputation but seeing the two of you work your magic on the pitch was intimidating even for them, they were glad to have you on their side.

everytime you got the ball, it was difficult, niamh was able to predict your every move and it got you frustrated. it was the fourth time she was able to clear the ball from you, and when she heard you groan she laughs.

“good thing we’re teammates after all this, huh, fleming?” she says cheekily, running beside you as you watch the other team get a goal when sam gets a hold of the ball.

“yeah yeah, charles, whatever” you tease, trying to shake it off before the next play started. whenever niamh would mark you, her hand would make its way to your waist. it made you nervous, it made you even more nervous that she’d see the effect she has on your poor cheeks but she does. and she loves it.

—

you smile when you see jessie and niamh joking around with each other, they were goofing off and play fighting when jessie yells your name, causing you to turn and smile amusingly at them. they had gotten so close in a short amount of time, it was incredibly cute.

“help your sister!” jessie pleads, niamh was fully on top of her and pressing her into the grass of the pitch, you laugh while shaking your head and drinking your water just watching.

“no, (y/n), don’t help your sister!” niamh laughs, looking up at you with a charming smile that made your stomach swarm with butterflies.

“jess, i can’t really do anything” you shrug, laughing at your sister’s expression of betrayal, suddenly, she whispers something to niamh that you can’t hear, they both look up at you with mischievous grins and you make a run for it.

“get her!” jess exclaims, both of the girls hot on your trail as you sprint as quick as you could away from them, dropping your water in the process that jessie quickly picks up.

niamh reaches you first, lifting you up off the ground causing you to let out a little yelp of surprise.

“sorry, she put me up to this” niamh says lowly in your ear, you were sure you were bright red at this stage. niamh places you on the ground and straddles your waist, pushing you into the grass with her hips as she held your hands with hers, smiling at you apologetically but also cheekily.

jessie then bolts over, squeezing the entire contents of your water on you and niamh. you both gasp in surprise, obviously the water was just meant for you. jessie laughs loudly, bending over and holding her stomach while you both look at each other, drenched and in shock.

niamh still above you, rips off her training top and chucks it at a now running jessie, she’s now left in just her sports bra. you look up at niamh with an unreadable expression, she laughs when jessie falls over before she looks down at you, mouth slightly agape when your eyes meet. “oh, sorry!” niamh exclaims, moving off you and holding your hands to help you up.

“it’s okay” you breathe out, now unable to look at her. niamh swears her heart stops when she sees you take off your wet shirt also, watching as you wring it out with a shake of your head. both of you walking together in just your sports bras and shorts has you both extremely nervous, both of you internally conclude you like each other.

when you both near the change room, you both try to get into the door at the same time but failing. you both laugh and niamh places a hand on the small of your back to let you go first. your skin burns under her contact, slightly disappointed when her hand leaves.

at yours and niamh’s red cheeks, jessie looks at you challengingly, narrowing her eyes at both of you. she quickly lets it go, there’s nothing there and she knows it. (silly)

—

at yours and jessie’s flat, niamh would come over quite often as she lived really close, hanging out in your living room with jessie. sometimes you would hang out with both of them, not missing the way niamh’s eyes would brighten when you would sit next to her. at this point, both you and niamh knew you liked each other, you were both waiting to see who would make the first move.

you and niamh would shamelessly flirt with each other, surprised your sister wasn’t at least suspicious about the two of you. she thought it was innocent and just the dynamic between the two of you. the tension was growing between the two of you and everyone knew it, except for jessie.

—

it was a random game day, all of you agreed to carpool in jessie’s car. when you arrived at niamh’s place, jessie told you to go and get her, you hesitated but nonetheless got out of the car and knocked on the girl’s door with a shy smile.

she opens the door with a bright grin, she winks at you before bending down slightly to catch a glimpse of jessie’s car. “i need five minutes!” niamh yells, jessie just nods and waves her off, scrolling on her phone.

niamh smiles and nods her head to her door, inviting you inside. “you look pretty” she says sweetly, closing the door after you enter.

you shake your head amusingly, giving her a light shove, “you’ve seen me look like this almost everyday, charlesy” you smirk, she laughs and moves slightly closer to you, “yeah i know, but you look really pretty” she challenges, you smile and move slightly closer to her as well, making her smile nervously.

“you look really pretty as well” you say shyly, niamh moves her hand up to pinch your cheek quickly, moving quickly to grab her kit bag from her room.

you wait by her door, smiling when she comes out from the room, “got everything?” you question, you watch as niamh opens her bag and gives it a quick glance before nodding.

she walks up to you with a cheeky smile and you narrow her eyes at her, “i need to do one more thing” niamh claims, you nod, “hurry up then” you place a hand on the strap of her bag and she tugs the bag forward, causing you to stumble directly into her arms.

you look up at her in shock, both of you pink in the cheeks at the proximity. she trails her eyes over your features before settling on your lips, looking at your eyes quickly. you nod and she smiles, closing the gap and kissing you softly, you lean into her, placing a hand on the back of her neck to keep her close to you, she moves her hand to your waist, pressing you against her as you share the kiss.

she pulls away with a quick peck, you giggle once you pull away.

“what’s so funny?” she teases, kissing your lips once more to stop your little fit of giggles. “the time you finally make a move is when my sister is waiting for us outside to drive us to a game” you lean up to kiss her again, she tries to deepen it but you push her away gently,

“you look so good, i couldn’t help myself” she retorts, tugging her bag over her shoulder and winking at you. “let’s go then, pretty girl” she smiles cheekily at you, placing her hand on the small of you back and directing you to the car.

after fighting about who should have the front seat, niamh begrudgingly settles in the front seat when you squeeze her bicep warningly.

“five minutes? that was 7” jessie groans, starting the car again and driving off. “didn’t realise you were counting, baby canada” you tease, jessie glares at you in the rear view mirror and you and niamh stifle giggles when she curses you under her breath.

niamh subtly moved her hand behind the back of the front seat, you move your hand towards hers and hold it gently. when your hands make contact, she squeezes it every so often, making you both smile.

—

when you arrived at the game, you and niamh would look at each other subtly, giving each other little heart attacks when you would touch one another. whether it was a hand on the arm or back, it would have you both extremely shy.

during the game, you were passed the ball from jessie, you work it upwards towards the goal and see niamh open, you make eye contact quickly before sending it to her, letting out a bright smile when she sends it to the back of the neck.

you can’t help but laugh when she bolts over to you and lifts you off the ground, you subtly kiss the top of her head when you cradle her head to your chest. it was quick but felt slow motion to you and niamh. the moment between the two of you was interrupted when your sister hugs you both, kissing your cheek affectionately before she claps niamh on the back.

when you and niamh get into the change rooms first after full time, niamh hugs you again tightly, kissing your cheek repeatedly making you laugh brightly. “you’re the best” she gushes, kissing your lips quickly before pulling away before anyone comes in. “you’re the best” you mock her accent, receiving a little shove from her when you laugh a bit too much at her look of shock.

—

jessie drives you all back to your flat, all of you collapsing on the couch exhausted. you and niamh huddle up under a blanket as you watch a movie, you were cuddled up into her side as she drapes an arm over your shoulder, your legs intertwined under the blanket.

jessie smiles at the both of you, before focusing back on the movie. (she’s clueless and both of you can’t believe it) niamh absentmindedly rubs her thumb on your shoulder as she pulls you closer, occasionally whispering in your ear and making you both giggle with each other.

at one point, jessie stands up and claims she’s going to bed, “night, see you at training, niamh?” jess asks tiredly, halfway near her room as she spoke. “yep, night!” niamh yells after her, waiting for her to close the door before turning to you with a big smile immediately.

“i think it’s too late for you to go home, niamh, i think you should stay here to be safe” you say shakily as she kisses your cheeks softly. she hums against your skin, “it’s half past eight, baby” niamh says teasingly, letting her lips kiss all over your face.

“and? half past eight is late, you can sleep in my room” you smirk, she giggles and nods, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, she cradles your jaw with one of her hands to keep you close to her, letting out a little gasp of surprise when your tongue swipes against her bottom lip.

at that, she quickly hoists you up on her waist, clumsily walking towards your room without breaking the kiss.

she closes your door gently and lays you down on the bed, pulling away breathlessly to look at you as she hovers over your body. you smile at her lovingly, her heart beats out of her chest. you both spend the night making out, the girl leaving a couple of marks on your body but you dismiss it, no one would see it anyway.

—

you woke up early in the morning for training, niamh sleeping soundly on top of you, her chest rising and falling as her arms are wrapped around your waist, head on your chest and your legs were tangled in the sheets.

you slot a hand through her hair, “niamhy” you say softly, smiling as she stirs. “niamh” you whisper, this girl needed to go home asap to get ready for training. “baby” you plead and suddenly the girl is wide awake, hovering over you with a smirk and kissing your lips quickly. “oh you little shit” you laugh when she parts from you, she squeezes your hips gently before getting out of bed, you let her out quickly, not before she pecked your lips repeatedly as you shoved her out the front door.

you get dressed for training and wait for jessie, “you’re up early” she says surprised when she walks into the kitchen. you shrug and hand her a protein shake, she takes it looking at your rare cheery self in the morning before grabbing her back and heading to the car. you were picking up niamh again.

when you pulled up to her place, jessie nods her head to the door and you excitedly get out to retrieve niamh.

when you knock on the door, it’s answered almost immediately, she grabs your hand excitedly and pulls you inside, yelling to jessie “give me 5 minutes!” again jessie waves her off and goes on her phone.

niamh smiles at you brightly before gripping your hips and pressing you against the door, kissing you sweetly. “hello, beautiful” she whispers against your lips, “hi, baby” you grin, pecking her lips quickly. she rushes to her room to get her kit bag, giving you a wave of deja vu. “got everything?” you smile, “no” she smirks and quickly kisses you, moving your lips with hers before she hastily pulls away.

“will you be my girlfriend?” she asks nervously, you grin brightly and nod your head, she pulls you closer and kisses you until you’re absolutely breathless.

slinging an arm over your shoulder while she opens the door and heads to the car.

—

training goes well, you pair up with jessie to keep her off your back, a few of your teammates caught the lingering looks and touches with niamh and smirked at you knowingly. it was clear everyone knew but your sister.

it was until all of you were in the change room and were getting changed to go home, you take off your training top and completely forget about your current appearance under the shirt. you hold your hoodie in hand about to change before you hear a fearful screech coming from your sister beside you.

“what the fuck are these?” she cries, staring at you chest completely bewildered.

niamh tenses from the other side of the room when she hears the scream, looking over at you nervously. everyone was watching you expectantly, “they’re bruises jess, they���re from the game” you laugh nervously, niamh looks between the sister duo nervously. jessie seems almost convinced until none other than sam kerr held her hand up for a high five at niamh, causing jessie’s eyes to widen, and causing you and niamh to sigh.

“niamh charles” jessie says angrily, niamh curses under her breath and shoves sam, but nonetheless moves over to you and jessie.

“hi” niamh breathes out, making you laugh but immediately stopping at the glare of your girlfriend and your sister.

“we were going to tell you, jess, it’s really fresh” you plead, holding niamh’s arms and pulling her close to you. “yeah i can fucking see that” she scoffs, referring to the marks littering your chest and neck.

“it’s serious, jessie, i really like her” niamh says earnestly, looking at you with an affectionate smile before settling back on your sister.

jessie looks at you both angrily before it fades into happiness, “this is good actually, if you get married, niamh will be my sister” jessie concludes with a shrug, you and niamh burn.

“jessie!” you yelp, hiding your face in niamh’s arm out of embarrassment, causing your girlfriend to giggle profusely.

jessie walks up to niamh, a serious expression on her features, “you hurt my sister, i hurt you, got it?” niamh nods understandingly, “never” she promises, smiling at your sister reassuringly when she claps her on the shoulder.

—

you and niamh have now been dating for over 3 years. jessie truly loved your relationship, happy to see her sister and her best friend so happy. you’d become a popular couple, people loving how your relationship was filled with love and laughs.

you and niamh brought out the best in each other and everyone saw that.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - just pretend it’s you, ily magda!!

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niamhcharles17: easy to say i’m a fleming magnet

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yourname: a hot one too

↳ niamhcharles17: my pretty baby

_jessflem: we have beef, charles

↳ niamhcharles17: what!

↳ _jessflem: you stole the innocence of my dear sister

↳ yourname: it’s been three years! get over it!

↳ _jessflem: no!

↳ niamhcharles17: sorry jessie

↳ yourname: baby, don’t apologise

↳ _jessflem: buy me a coffee and all will be forgiven