#i barely talk as it is. and then he got mad for me “talking to much” so i guess ill go back into my box

[eupheme]

— you’re the one that I want

worst!wolverine/logan howlett x f!reader

tags: soulmate au, roommate!wade & neighbor!f!reader, valentine’s day fic, blind dates, use of alcohol, flirting, light misunderstanding, semi-public makeout

rated m - 2.6k

a/n: my submission for the loveuary challenge hosted by the wonderful @lubdubology and @yxtkiwiyxt! thank you so much, this was so fun 💘

“You really think there’s anyone worth my time at that shithole?”

Wade gasps in offense.

“Sister Margaret's is a New York institution. If America’s Sweetheart was a bar, she’d be it.” His eyes narrow, voice lilting as he adds, “Besides, you really want to miss out on the chance to meet your soulmate?”

“No fucking way.”

Wade’s groan stretches long, as his head lolls against the back of the sofa.

“Logan. Peanut. My sweet cheese, my good-time boyeh, please-” His voice strings out the syllables, “I need you to do this for me. I already set it all up, all you gotta to do is go.”

Logan’s scowl deepens, with a sharp jerk of his chin, “I’m not fucking going.”

A sigh then - Wade’s legs stretching wide, as he springs to his feet. Circling around to where Logan leans against the counter, looking every bit rooted to the apartment as the thing growing in the corner of their shared shower.

“I need this. I am finally back on track with Vanessa, and this is a real chance for me to knock it out of the park.” A finger raises, before poking him in the chest, “But I can’t have Mr. Grumpy Gus cramping our style. You feel me?”

An eyebrow arches up, but Wade barely pauses for a breath, “Besides, would you really stand a girl up on Valentine’s Day? Don’t you know what that could do to her psyche? What if that was her thirteenth reason? You really need that on your conscious?”

The filthy scowl Logan shoots him is like a three claw punch to the gut. Wade at least has the decency to look ashamed - fingers splaying wide in placation.

“Just give it a shot. If it all goes south you can just come right home. I won’t even be mad, even if it’s mid-coitus. Pinkie swear.”

The visual makes Logan’s lip curl. Arms crossing over his chest, as his head tilts, “You really think there’s anyone worth my time at that shithole?”

Wade gasps in offense.

“Sister Margaret's is a New York institution. If America’s Sweetheart was a bar, she’d be it.” His eyes narrow, voice lilting as he adds, “Besides, you really want to miss out on the chance to meet your soulmate?”

Wade misses the sharp look Logan shoots his way. His tone still teasing, missing just how deep his comment thrums through him.

How it meant something different in his world, rather than the shallow note of connection it seemed to mean here.

It didn’t matter, anyways. There’s only one person in the city he might not mind seeing, and surely you would have other plans.

Logan’s seen your recent date, stopping by the door down the hall in the evenings. Doesn’t much care for his goody-two-shoes vibe, the State University tone.

The memory sends his skin itching. An urge to move - and it’s enough that his arms are loosening.

Deep down, he really doesn’t want to stick around. Had been planning on hitting up a bar, anyways.

Can’t take much of this lovey-dovey shit, never been one of his favorite holidays.

And if his drinks are on Wade’s tab, then…

He’s sure he can let whoever the poor girl is down quick.

“Yes. Yes! Thank you, bestie.” The resignation must flick across his face, because Wade’s fist pumps with triumph, “This is gonna be great, I promise. Even better than the Tony Awards.”

Logan ignores another asinine reference - a final warning leveled his roommate’s way, as his hand curls around the doorframe.

“You got thirty minutes.”

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Wade grins.

“That’s twenty-nine too many.”

The heel of your boot bounces underneath the booth. Fingernails drumming on the surface of the sticky table, trying to keep your eyes from flicking to the door each and every time it opens.

This was stupid.

You don’t know how you let Wade talk you into this.

Sister Margaret’s was not your idea of a place to meet someone - romantically, at least. And therefore, the chances of this evening going well were historically low.

But it’d beat your second year of ordering in - the prices hiked up with the holiday. Of another movie marathon alone, picking apart the sordid end of your last relationship.

Anything was better than that, surely.

You’re double-checking your phone for the third time, confirming the text noting which booth to be in - the back left corner one next to the totally-not-a-bloodstain on the floor - when a shadow passes over the edge of your table.

Eyes catching on the flannel that creeps into your vision. Worn, in shades of brown and muted red - a slow drag upward across a broad chest, then higher. Your breath catching, as your mind whirrs - racing catching up.

You should tell your upstairs neighbor “hi”.

Something that resembles polite, normal conversation.

But you can’t seem to find the words.

Because as he slips into the booth, you’re quickly realizing he might just be here for you.

What you do find is -

“Is this a joke?”

Logan’s frown deepens.

A snarled out “what?” that sends a jolt though you, but you’re too confused to examine it. Left babbling, trying to make sense of this.

“Is this because I told Wade he’s a winter?” Your voice pitches higher, “Because his photo was really blurry, and I don’t even do that kind of color analysis-”

Logan scoffs, a hand braced on the table as if to push himself up. Hesitating for the briefest of moments, before he’s asking, “Why would this be a joke?”

Your lips part.

“Because-”

Because you’re here in the hopes of finding someone else. A distraction.

Unsure what to make of this magnetic feeling deep inside your chest when you see him. Having to hold yourself back from taking one step, and then another, when he lingers near the mail room.

You had hoped tonight would help you erase the man that surely does not even know you exist.

“…because I’m sure you have better things to do then uh, do this.”

“This?” He hedges, a brow arching.

“A blind date.”

Something in his eyes flicker, when you finally meet them. The little mark between his brows deepening with the rough rasp of his voice. ”You really didn’t know who you were meeting?”

“No,” Your head shakes, “No. Did you?”

His eyes drop for a beat, before they flick back up.

“No.”

Your tongue dips out to dampen your lip, and you miss the way his eyes track the movement. The question slipping from you without thought.

“Would you have come, if you did?”

The silence stretches out, tipping towards uncomfortable.

And yet, he does not leave. A leather jacket still slung across the back of the booth, as his fingers tap the table.

“I’m gonna grab a beer,” He deflects. “You want another?”

Logan’s head dips towards your drink, only the glittery dregs of red remaining, a cherry nestled against the ice.

Your shoulder lifts, about to answer that you probably shouldn’t. That you’ve already made enough of a fool of yourself.

His lips curl at the edges, before you can voice your answer. ”Wade’s buying. Thought we could make a dent in his wallet.”

“Oh.” The word draws out, as your smile stretches.

So, not a rejection.

It might just be an invitation, actually.

“Definitely.”

It’s not how he thought his night would go.

Should have peeled himself away twenty minutes ago, somewhere between your second and third drink and the wind of conversation.

Slunk back home, or to another bar.

Had thought about it, in that moment when you confessed that you hadn’t known he was meeting you.

The thought of it being a disappointment turning his stomach, until you had voiced your question. The hope that wound its way between your words.

Unable to answer, even if he knows what it would have been.

The alcohol flickers inside him, a brief respite to the burn of sore muscles and a bone-deep ache that he’s carried since his world.

Should stop drinking this shit, but he’s been taking it a day at a time. Swapping rubbing alcohol for anything with a kick. That for vodka. Vodka for beer.

It’s not progress, but it’s something.

The feeling never sticks around, but something about you almost mirrors it. A wash of calm as his chin cups in his palm. Senses narrowing down, blocking out all the noise around him.

Eyes snagged on the curl of your lips around the white straw, the pink tinge of gloss left behind.

Helpless, to the tug at his arm as you loosened. The point of your finger to the empty dart board, how he had followed two steps behind.

You’ve missed a handful of your throws. Two darts stuck between the numbers running around the rim. His lips twitching at the frown that pulls down the corner of your lips, the hand that braces at your hip.

“So, did Wade guilt you into coming?”

Your fingers brush his, as you hand over the darts.

“You could say that.” He grunts, eyes slipping towards the board. Still catching the scrunch of your nose, as he amends, “But, like I said. Didn’t know.”

It’s not an answer to your question before, but it’s something that tip-toes close to one. It’s enough that your expression softens - an excited touch against his shoulder when his throw flies true.

“Same.” Your fingers curl against his shirt, transfixed. Hazy - those walls around you from before unstacking one brick at a time, “Almost didn’t go. But you know Wade, and his puppy-dog eyes.”

Logan didn’t.

“-and I uh, thought it would be nice. To not be alone, this year.”

He missed his next throw. A side-eye shot your way.

“Alone?” The word comes out close to a scoff.

Can’t pretend it hasn’t been eating at him. Wondering what the hell Wade had been playing at, inviting you.

“Figured you’d be out with your boyfriend.”

The last dart sinks into the green rim around the red center.

“Very funny.” You hum, stepping up to take his place. A glance over your shoulder, to find him still watching you.

That frown back, as your head tilts.

“I really don’t know who you’re talking about.”

He wished he hadn’t asked. Should have just stayed silent, taken this night for what it was.

“Thought I’ve seen a guy around the last couple weeks.“ Logan hands shove into his back pockets, “Just figured…”

Your expression persists. His fingers tap his temple, “Grey streaks, suit.”

As if he doesn’t have some of his own.

“Oh!” Recognition flickers, as you spin back, “Definitely not boyfriend. He’s like, super married.”

Your shot flies wide, bouncing off the wooden walls behind the board - a little huff as you turn back, “They’re due to have their first in a couple months. Been helping them pick things out for the nursery.”

A finger pointed back towards yourself, in explanation, “Figured I could help. Interior designer, and all.”

Something like relief flickers in his chest. Another feeling - deeper, hungrier - almost drowns it out.

The words smooth, as they slip from his lips.

“No guy, then?”

The shake of your head is slow, and that sweet smell that clings to you curls around his senses. Thickens, even - betraying you.

It gives him the confidence to step into your space. Emboldened by the look you give him from beneath the thick fan of your lashes. Hope, burning once again in blown-dark pupils.

“Here.”

A hand touches at your hip, as he eases closer. Plucking the dart from limp fingers.

“You’re holding it too far back. Lemme show you.”

He never gave a damn about this game, but he’ll take any excuse to get closer. To feel the way you stiffen beneath his fingertips, the hitch of your breath.

The shot is lined up.

His wrist extends as he aims, chest brushing against your back, and suddenly - your palm curls around his forearm. Fingers splaying wide as a jolt arcs through his nervous system, shooting from his hand to his core.

Your words muted - it’s only his enhanced senses that have him catching the tail end.

“-like me.”

He makes a rough sound, and again you turn to face him. The prick of goosebumps as your finger trace the dots at his wrist.

“I said you have freckles like me.”

The knitted cuff of your sweater tugged back to show him how yours mirrors his, down to the very last mark.

Time stands still.

Logan’s dreamt about this moment for decades.

Using that little crisscross of dots like a compass.

Guiding him through life - thinking there had to be something about the mansion, its symbol, that tied it to him. Taking on the mantle that mirrored the shape, ink-like against his skin.

Thinking it would lead him somewhere.

Even if he’d been certain he had missed it, somewhere in those two-hundred years. Ships passing in the night, across a lifespan that has stretched far too long.

Always trying to push away those “what ifs”. Had stopped looking a long time ago. Never once, since he’d crossed over. Told himself he was luckier not to have a match.

Not to know love like that - because one day he’d have become acquainted with the loss of it, as well.

He’s had enough of that, in his lifetime.

And this - it’s not what he ever expected.

Finding you in a world that’s not his own. His match with a girl, living on the floor just below his.

It leaves him mute, as your eyes linger.

Not sure what to make of him, he’s certain. Of the part of his lips, his own heart hammering beneath his ribs.

Unsteady, for the first time in decades.

His name pulls him out of his thoughts. Cherry-sweet on your tongue, lilting into a question.

The dart is thrown by muscle memory.

Your fingers still pressed against his mark, as it hits dead center.

He takes his prize, back in the shadowed corner of the booth.

Your eyes already slipping shut, when his fingers tuck under your chin. Lips parting, and he finds himself grateful again for those animal-senses.

Permission in the galloping of your pulse beneath your skin. The held breath as you wait, balanced on the knife’s edge of anticipation.

The soft inhale of breath, when his mouth slants against yours. Fingers curling in his shirt once more, as you part for him.

Swallowing your moan, with the sweep of his tongue. Sweet - grenadine syrup blending with you, and it’s like he cannot get enough. The kiss drawing out, insistent and hungry - a shuddering breath when it finally breaks, as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

Pliable, in the way he tugs your thigh over his, seating you in his lap. How you follow, so easily.

Fitting against him as if you were meant to.

And maybe you were - the thought sending his fingers tightening, where they grip at your hips.

As if he won’t let you go, now that he’s found you.

You’re right there with him. Just as affected - your palms smoothing over his chest. Tracing the chain biting into his neck, sinking into his hair when they loop around his shoulders.

Letting your hips rock - a tentative movements, paired with the softest sighs.

Growing bolder when you feel him beneath you - how he encourages it, with the press of his palms. The tips of his fingers slipping under the hem of your sweater, a pulse of pleasure at the way you shiver with his touch.

The second gift of his name, and it’s the one he’ll remember most. Drawn-out. Needy, and it only makes him want to hear it more.

Another breath huffed out, a heady throb against the too-tight confines of his jeans.

There’s the crack of a pool cue, a cheer rising at the table across the room.

The bubble bursts.

Bringing him back - even in this dim corner, it’s still far too public for everything he needs to do to you tonight.

A shared thought, your lips kiss-swollen as they press against his neck.

“Can we go home?” You husk, into the shell of his ear.

Something deep inside him purrs at the word. Possessive, wrenching a growl from deep in his chest as he carefully eases you off him.

Pushing himself up from the booth - a hand coming to wrap around your wrist.

Thumb pressed against your pulse, feeling it thrum beneath your skin once more.

Right against your mark.

He’ll tell you tomorrow.

He’ll have time - he’s always had that.

Never been grateful for it.

Not until now.

thank you again, lub and kiwi! I am so excited to check out the fics for your event, and happy I was able to contribute one! I’ve wanted to write a soulmate fic for some time, this has me 👀💖 about writing more!

[ylangelegy]

hitting the brakes.

★ footnotes: fan fiction of fan fiction? likelier than you think (2). nobody perceive this because it is entirely for @diamonddaze01, in retaliation for invisible string and gratitude for her pedal to the metal series, which has been the gift that keeps on giving. word count: 1.3k

You’re seething. Fuming so hard that you’re convinced you’ll see red.

Ferrari red, your husband might even tease you, but that’s beside the point. Right now, your attention is fully on the smirking McLaren driver sitting opposite you. 

Kim Mingyu is a vision to behold in his nylon orange race suit. He doesn’t look like somebody that just got an earful over the radio, which was already the talk of the media briefing room. Mingyu has done it again, the journalists had whispered to one another. Pissed off his race engineer to the point that she threatened to quit. 

If there’s anything you know about Mingyu, though, it’s that he’s always had a bit of a devil-may-care attitude. Why else would he make such a death-defying overtake in the final lap? 

It’d been the kind of move that could have cost someone their car, their career, their life. And yet Mingyu persisted, lunging into a gap that barely existed after Jeonghan had taken the racing line into the penultimate turn. 

McLaren dove up the inside. Jeonghan slammed on the brake to avoid contact. You swear your heart stopped in your chest when the Ferrari wobbled, kissing the rumble strip as Mingyu shot past. Half a second more, half a centimeter closer, and it would have been a disaster.

Mingyu had snatched a podium finish from Jeonghan against the advice of his engineer, and now you had to grill him on it. 

You weren’t mad that Jeonghan finished P4. This was the name of the game, after all. If anything, you were pissed that Mingyu— your friend since childhood— had done something so utterly stupid. 

But you’re not here to tell him off, no matter how much you want to. No, you’ve got a job to do, and you’re reminded of it as you hold the Sky Sports microphone out for Mingyu. 

“The overtake on the final lap,” you say, jumping right into business, “it was aggressive, risky. Some might even call it reckless.” 

Mingyu doesn’t flinch. “It won me the race.” 

You don’t let him off easy. You never have, and you’re not about to start today. “It could have ended badly,” you insist. 

There’s a flicker of something— a preemptive apology, you realize later— on Mingyu’s expression. It belays the casualness of his next words, the fact he speaks without missing a beat. 

“I knew he would hit the brakes because he has a wife at home.” 

Kim Mingyu is damn lucky the cameras are rolling. If he tried to pull that shit with you at any other time, you would have jumped out of your seat and socked him in the face. 

Your fingers flex around your microphone. The light catches on the golden wedding band, adding salt to the wound that Mingyu has so mercilessly cut into you. 

One might think it to be a little cruel. Just last week, Mingyu was among those who raised a toast to you and Jeonghan. He got so wine drunk that his coat ended up in the pool— a story for another time— and he tearfully told the two of you how happy he was, to see his close friend and ‘one of the best drivers he knew’ finally, finally married.

And so it may look like a bit of a cheap shot— this reminder that Jeonghan now had a reason for restraint. That you were the wife waiting at home. 

As much as it is a low blow, you also know that Mingyu is just stating a fact. You’re torn between defending Jeonghan and disparaging Mingyu, but neither of those demons win. You have a job to do, you repeatedly tell yourself, as you clear your throat and shove the microphone just a little more into Mingyu’s personal space. 

“Next question,” you go on, just a hint of flint now sparking in your tone. 

“‘I knew he would hit the brakes because he has a wife at home’? Are you kidding me? Do you hear yourself when you talk, or does the sound of your own engine drown out common sense?”

“Jesus Christ—” 

“You could’ve taken him out. You could’ve taken yourself out. But no, you had to pull that reckless, brainless, ‘McLaren-puts-all-their-budget-into-social-media’ move and pray to whatever racing gods you believe in that it worked.” 

A sharp laugh. This time, from Jeonghan. 

“And then, you sit there in that press room, all smug like you just orchestrated the greatest masterstroke in F1 history, when really, you just proved you’ve got the survival instincts of a fruit fly and the decision-making skills of McLaren’s pit wall.” 

“A lot to say about my team, huh?” 

“Shh,” says Jeonghan. “She’s still not done.” 

“You don’t get to say things like that, Mingyu. Not to me. Not about him. Not when you’re out there driving like you’ve got nine lives and an unlimited spare parts budget.”

“We do, though,” notes Mingyu. 

“Oh, shut up and listen.” 

“If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I hope you enjoy the sight of Ferrari’s rear wing, because that’s all you’ll be seeing for the rest of the season.” You pause. “Drive safe, dumbass.” 

The scathing voicemail ends. Mingyu vaguely feels like he got physically beat up, but you’ve always had that effect on him, anyway— a unique ability to drag him through the mud. Still, it’s a small grace that you’ve ended on a somewhat caring note. It goes to show that you’re not entirely out to wring his neck just yet. 

Your husband doesn’t seem to think he deserves the same courtesy. 

“She should’ve ended at the ‘Ferrari rear wing’ jab,” Jeonghan quips as he absentmindedly twirls the remnants of alcohol at the bottom of his glass. “I would’ve also shit on you for thinking being a ‘calculated risk’ is a personality trait.” 

Mingyu rolls his eyes. You and Jeonghan were such menaces to deal with. 

Years of being on the same grid has at least somewhat steeled Jeonghan to Mingyu’s impetuousness. It’s the only reason the two drivers are able to still grab a drink with each other in good faith, the race that happened earlier in the afternoon now an added bullet point to their years worth of rivalry. 

Mingyu moves to order another beer, but Jeonghan shakes his head. 

“What?” Mingyu whines. “It’s only—” He spares a quick glance at his wristwatch. “Half past ten.” 

There’s an easy grin on Jeonghan’s face as he gets to his feet. Somehow, Mingyu already knows the answer before it comes. 

“Right,” the Ferrari driver drawls. “But, as you so kindly pointed out— I’ve got a wife to go home to.” 

A low groan crawls its way out of Mingyu’s throat. “You’re no fun,” he grumbles. 

Jeonghan gives a wordless pat to his pocket. Mingyu doesn’t even have to know what he’s referring to. Everybody is aware of the polaroid picture wedged safely in Jeonghan’s wallet, the one featuring you and him at Baku’s Old City. 

Left to his own devices, Mingyu resists the urge to fish for his phone. He has a race engineer to apologize to— or maybe an apology is generous. He could tease her, hit her with something like Did you see that? I pulled it off, didn’t I? after her advice to not drive within an inch of his life. 

There’s a weight pressing on Mingyu’s chest, one he wants to deem guilt for what he said to you. Hell, he’ll even dub it crash-out from his maneuver. 

He’ll call it everything but what it really is.

That pang of knowing no one is praying for his safety, the same way all the other devoted girlfriends and wives might be.

That gnaw of finding comfort in his race engineer’s fury— because at least that means someone cares for him, even in some roundabout way. 

That ache of loneliness. Plain and simple. 

Mingyu raises his hand and asks for the bill.

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : chapter 022 !

one week passed in a blur.

by the time you got home from your latest interview, exhaustion clung to your limbs like a second skin. you barely had the energy to kick off your heels before stepping into your apartment, but the familiar scent of something warm and savory made you pause.

"you're finally home," mitsuki's voice rang from the kitchen.

you blinked, surprised. "su-?"

"don't act so shocked," she huffled, turning to face you with a wooden spoon in hand. "you barely eat properly when you're working, so i figured i'd make something before you shrivel away."

before you could respond, another voice chimed in.

"she's right, you know."

you turned toward your couch, where hyoma sat comfortably, scrolling through his phone like he belonged here.

"you too?" you sighed, setting your bag down.

hyoma smirked. "mitski dragged me here. but i won't complain if it means free food. ...and maybe gossip?"

"obviously," mitsuki said, placing a steaming bowl in front of you. "now, eat."

the three of you settled into the living room, plates balanced in your hands as you sat on the floor around the coffee table. mitsuki had made something comforting. stir-fried vegetables, crispy tofu and rice.

"you should just move in at this point," you mumbled between bites.

mitsuki grinned. "tempting. your apartment is so fancy and i'd get to eat dinner with a celebrity couple every day."

you shot her a look. "we're not-"

"yeah, yeah," she waved you off. "pr relationship, i know."

hyoma leaned back against the couch. "do you think it's working, though? the pr part, i mean."

you hesitated, setting down your chopsticks. "i mean... i guess? they still talk about the picture he posted and how it has to be me because i posted my outfit a few hours later."

mitsuki smirked, propping her chin up with her hand. "oh, they know it's you. the internet detectives are crazy. some of them even matched the museum's lighting to your story."

chigiri huffed a quiet laugh. "people are invested."

you sighed, dragging a hand down your face. "great. love that for me."

mitsuki grinned. "i mean, you did sign up for this. and let's be so for real right now, sae knew exactly what he was doing when he posted that picture."

chigiri nodded. "it was a smart move. subtle, but not too subtle. keeps the mystery going."

you rolled your eyes. "yeah, yeah. pr genius, whatever."

mitsuki tilted her head. "you sound... almost annoyed. don’t tell me you’re regretting it?"

you hesitated. were you? no. not really. it was just... complicated.

"i wouldn’t say that," you muttered. "it’s just weird, you know? everyone analyzing my every move, acting like they know we're together even though we didn't do anything yet."

mitsuki hummed, tapping her nails against her glass. "well, that’s the point, or not? keep people talking, keep the mystery alive. that’s what makes it fun."

you sighed, leaning back into the couch. "fun for them, maybe. i just have to sit there and pretend i don’t see the comments saying 'oh my god! sae's mine!' or 'back off!' like damn, you don't even have a chance, the fuck??"

"you did sign up for this," hyoma pointed out, shooting you a knowing look. "and let’s be real, it’s not like you haven’t dealt with this kind of thing before."

"yeah, but this is different," you frowned. "it’s not just me anymore. it’s him, too. and he’s not exactly making it easier."

mitsuki perked up. "oh? what’s sae doing?"

You waved a hand vaguely. "just… being flirty with me ...lowkey? he texts me almost every day and is chalant instead of nonchalant. everyone says he's a dick to everyone.and now, cryptic captions, just enough interaction to keep people guessing. and then he does stuff like take that picture of me at the museum and post it without tagging me, but making it obvious enough that everyone figured it out anyway."

"that’s called marketing, sweetheart," mitsuki teased. "besides, you don’t seem that mad about it."

you opened your mouth to argue but stopped yourself.

hyoma smirked. "see? you don’t even deny it."

"whatever," you muttered, picking up your chopsticks again. "enough about me. let’s talk about suki’s thing with michael."

mitsuki nearly choked on her drink. "I DO NOT HAVE A THING WITH MICHAEL."

hyoma grinned. "oh, please. you literally just admitted you liked kissing him."

"that is not what i said!" mitsuki protested, but her face was already turning pink.

you and hyoma exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.

—

later that night, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the soft hum of the city outside barely reaching your ears. the room was dark except for the dim glow of your phone screen resting beside you, notifications lighting up every few seconds, but you ignored them.

your mind was too loud.

the wedding was in two days.

your flight to kyoto was tomorrow morning.

you had to meet his whole family.

and you had to spend an entire weekend playing the perfect girlfriend to sae itoshi.

you exhaled sharply, rolling onto your side. it wasn’t that you couldn’t do i. you had played your part well so far. the public was eating up the “relationship,” and sae… well, he was playing along just fine. but this was different. this wasn’t just posting cryptic photos. this was attending a family wedding together. his family would be there. people who actually knew him. who would be watching you both closely, scanning every detail.

would they believe it?

would he even bother keeping up the act when no cameras were around?

you pressed a hand to your forehead, willing yourself to stop overthinking. it wasn’t like you had a choice. the flight was at 7 am, and you needed to wake up in a few hours.

still, sleep didn’t come easy.

—

the next morning, you forced yourself to get up despite the lack of sleep, dragging yourself through the motions of getting ready. you did your makeup with practiced ease, throwing on something comfortable for the flight, something that still made you look put-together.

after calling a cab, you made your way to the airport. the usual rush of airport energy, people moving in every direction, announcements echoing, felt almost comforting, like a routine you could disappear into. you breezed through security, checked in, and found your gate.

you grabbed a seat and plugged your airpods in, deciding to zone out and pass the time.

the gate area slowly filled with passengers, people bustling around, the soft murmur of voices mixing with the distant call of another flight being called. you settled in, the familiar feeling of travel settling over you.

you adjusted your bag and got comfortable in your seat, scrolling through your phone to distract yourself. the thought of sae and the wedding was still there in the back of your mind, but you didn’t let it take up too much space.

until someone slid into the seat next to you.

you glanced up, slightly annoyed that they had to sit right next to you, only for your eyes to meet a familiar pair of sharp, lazy ones.

sae.

your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him in disbelief. “what are you doing here?” you asked, barely able to mask the surprise in your voice. he was supposed to be in madrid, preparing for his own flight to kyoto.

sae, as nonchalant as ever, grinned at your reaction. “can't i fly with my girlfriend?” he asked, almost as if reading your mind. “it’s not every day i get to spend a few hours in the air with my favorite model."

chapter 021 > here > chapter 023

taglist is open ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

a/n: oh no forced proximity

taglist: @darling-dearesttt @saeslove @yuukiririix @sof888a @beepbopzlorp @luvrrin @narcjsistx @catukin @megumismyhusband @morgyyyyyyy @levihanmyotp @kaz-0e @nensi @vaelils @loverryxx @kunascutie @swagkittybear @alexiaray @kaidostwin @pookiei-bookie @syarc0re @vayahatesu @yangx2isawhore @pinkfqiry @treeguzzler @shumeow-h @modxbea @90s-belladonna @rory-cakes @sapph1r3x @yuiearyi @pctterheadd @thecallofmedusa @whisperofae @belovedfedya @anqelkoz @yukari1k @dontmindtheevie @pookalicious-hq @pan-kojiwa @spookysoowpprince @mivqko @chuuyalvover @viviinpt @h1sllvr @luvvmae @renchai @yourlocaleffy @x3nafix @saeglazer

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[seancekitsch]

Oh can I request for Jayce? Maybe there's some miscommunication.

“I thought you said he liked me, Vik,” you hiss, voice low enough that the sound wouldn’t carry but loud enough still to convey your frustration. Viktor just rolls his eyes as he refuses to look up from his papers to talk to you.

“He does.”

That’s all you’re given, your only reassurance. Some help, you think.

You sneer at Viktor, all curled lips and furrowed brows as you get back to dumping out the old coffee grounds in the filters and restocking the sugars. You look over to Jayce, lovely handsome Jayce, who looks just as disgruntled as you. But what reason does he have to be so annoyed? Hextech has been making some nice breakthroughs lately. You on the other hand, just got snubbed by the guy you have feelings for.

It was unlike Jayce to be so terse, but lately all you’ve gotten from him are snappy comments and short clipped greetings. Gone apparently are the days where he would greet you with a hug or the warmest smile. Gone are the flirty comments or passing touches. Maybe he’s mad at you, or worse, he’s shacked up with someone else.

That would be your luck though: that Jayce had kissed you so sweetly after some wine one night and then proceeded to ignore you for two weeks straight. The nicest man in Piltover had kissed you and then decided you were worth avoiding.

The day stretches long into the evening, and you feel bad, really you do. You cannot help but continue to pester Viktor, as Jayce will barely spare you a glance. It’s unlike him, and it grates on you.

When one of the lamps starts to flicker, Viktor slams his notebook shut.

“I have to go, ah— sort out my medications,” Viktor announces, “I expect the two of you to fill the oil in the lamps before you go. You can do this, yes?”

Right, every two weeks he goes to see some nurse or something that he’s got the hots for. That’s exactly how you landed yourself in this predicament. Viktor leaves without waiting for your responses, his bag slung across his frame and his crutch tapping against the tile floor.

The lamp flickers again.

“I’ll handle it, you can go,” Jayce offers, practically gesturing to your belongings to gather them up.

“It’s fine, really. It’ll get done faster if we work together,” you insist, reaching into one of the lower cupboards for where you keep the oil. More than once you’d accidentally kicked and shattered one of the bottles, yet none of you have moved their storage.

“I really don’t mind if—“

“Why don’t you want me around anymore?” your mouth works faster than your mind, and you blurt the words out.

“That’s not true!” Jayce looks genuinely upset by your words, as if his actions haven’t been telling a different story, “I always want you around.”

You laugh in disbelief.

“It sure doesn’t feel that way. I’ll put in paperwork to transfer labs if I’m really that big of a pain to you,” you tell him, not at all trying to hide your scowl.

Jayce continues to look around, at your face, the ground, the lamps, his eyes becoming a little frantic

“I— I feel bad, okay?” Jayce stumbles over his words slightly, “Okay I shouldn’t have kissed you that night.”

Okay, ouch. That stings way more than it should. Tears prick at your eyes, stinging as they mix with your mascara.

“Then why did you?” there’s no anger left in your voice, no fight. You’re defeated. You’re going to have to ask Viktor for help finding a different lab to transfer to.

“Because it felt right, but now you’re with Vik. I shouldn’t get in the way of that!”

You can’t help the laugh that again leaves your lips. With Viktor? You? You laugh harder, grabbing the edge of the table as it escapes you.

“I’m not— really? You think I’m dating him?”

Jayce looks offended, saving face he offers an explanation.

“Well you’re always talking to each other. I notice the way you whisper when you think I’m not looking,” Jayce explains, you you want to hit the both of you. You’ve been actively trying to dress up and bat your eyelashes at Jayce and he’s been thinking that you’ve done it to impress Viktor. We’re both fucking idiots, you think.

“We’re whispering about you! Viktor’s seeing some woman that helps him with his medicine. I’ve been driving him insane asking about how to impress you,” you explain, a tear leaving your eye out of sheer exasperation at the entire situation.

“But you already impress me.”

“And I’m not dating Viktor, but I want to date you.”

Jayce steps forward, his hand reaching for your shoulder as he pulls you to his chest in a hug. His arms are warm as they wrap around your waist and squeeze.

“I’m so glad I’m not being a bad friend right now,” Jayce sighs, pressing his lips to your temple.

“Shut up,” you laugh, your hands grabbing the collar of his shirt, wrinkling the material as you pull him down to your level.

“We have two weeks of being stupid to make up for.”

His lips find yours as one of the lamps in the lab dies and bathes you in the darkness.

[somuchforahobby]

what didn't stay in vegas

Summary: Ever since your arrival at the BAU Derek had been constantly flirting with you, but not his usual Garcia-sweet talk, he was all in. You had gotten used to it and actually rehearsed your comebacks. But there was someone who wasn’t so fond of it. Tags: Secret relationship / Derek is a flirttt / Hotch is jealous Warnings: once again I did not dare to write s m u t Words: 1.5K GIFS belong to: @hqtchner Read on AO3

“Hey, babygirl, how about we head for some drinks to relax after this?” He asked you as the team walked out of the precinct. 

“Oh, that’d be great! Spence can give us some tricks to survive in his hometown” You actually were interested in the offer.

“I meant in my room, sweetheart.”  He winked at you.

“Nice try, Morgan.” You laughed on his face. “We’re in sin city and I ain’t no saint.” You turned to see your secret boyfriend for a second before anybody could notice. His eyes darkened and a small smile appeared on his face.

“Sin with me, darling. I swear it’ll be worth it.” His hand landed on your waist but you removed it with your elbow.

“Those who brag are never good.” You answered over your shoulder.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“My God, get a damn room.” Emily broke the tension, tired of the exchange, and the rest of the team went quiet.

~

“It’s starting to get annoying” Aaron said against your lips once you were alone in his hotel room. “I will suspend him” he punctuated every word with a kiss.

“Don’t be so resentful, he doesn’t know I’m yours” 

“He doesn’t know what?” He pretended not to listen so you’d repeat. You laughed.

“That I’m yours” You gave him a peck on the lips.

“Besides, you can’t blame a man for trying” You kissed him again and your hands quickly worked his tie to undo the knot. A soft moan left his mouth.

“No, I can’t” he pushed you against the wall to attack your neck, while unbuttoning your shirt.

“Just because you got there earlier” 

He stopped his way to your chest to stand back and looked you in the eyes.

“Is that the only reason why?” His hand was on your jaw, holding your face upwards to maintain eye contact. He was analyzing you.

“Of course not” you bit your lower lip aware of the effect it had on him but with his thumb set it free by pulling your chin.

His eyes dangled through your face, not certain of what he was looking for.

“Oh, come on, honey, just fuck my brain’s out.” Your hands were working on his buckle but he grabbed both your wrists, lifting them above your head, holding them with one hand while the other returned to cup your cheek.

“Mmm” his furrowed brows accusing you of a crime you didn’t commit. “I don’t think you’ve earned it”

“I was real’ good today!” He smiled at your attempt. “I did not tease you in front of the team and I almost didn’t look at you.” Your innocent eyes were driving him mad.

“But you flirted with other men.”

“No, I rejected the flirtations from other men.”

“Mmm” he kept you in the same position, examining your micro expressions.

After a few seconds in silence he kissed you devotedly and softly. “I’m not really in the mood for a role-play today, honey.” He let go of your wrists and wrapped his arms around you, “I really need you.” He’d barely separate your mouths to talk. You just followed his lead to the bed, mimicking the same tenderness he was applying on your body.

~

“Is everything okay?” You asked after you finally came down from your high, head resting on his chest.

“Yeah, it’s just—“ he yawned, “not in the mood to tie you and spank you after all we saw today” he kissed your head sweetly. “Rest, you need it.” He tickled your ribs before turning your body sideways to spoon you.

As it was usual, you fell asleep in his arms.

~

His lips tracing your spine woke you up.

“What time is it?” You asked, still half asleep.

“5:45” He answered and kept kissing your bare back.

“Time for my walk of shame” you turned to see him and placed a peck on his lips. You adored the sight of him in the morning, without stress, without furrowed brows, all half lidded eyes, disheveled hair and warm skin.

“What if I steal this for today?” You asked, trying on his discarded shirt from last night.

“Why would you?” He asked, amused, still lying on the bed.

“So I can brag about the amazing man I spent the night with.” You teased him.

“It has my initials embroidered in the cuffs, I don’t think it’s a good idea” 

“I can fold them”

“No.” It was an order. “I wore it the whole day, it’s dirty.” You smelled the arms.

“It smells like you.”

“So, sweat” He laughed.

“Lotion,” you started walking round the bed “soap”, another step, “manly”, another step and he laughed, “smells like amazingly hot man” you straddled his lap and his hands quickly found your legs.

“I don’t approve”

“You’re not my boss in here.” You leaned down for another passionate kiss.

~

“Why have you chosen to punish me today?” Derek asked you the minute you crossed the precinct door.

“What you mean?” You asked, puzzled.

“You are hiding your body, babygirl, that’s just mean.” His face was filled with fake pain.

You ended up styling the shirt with straight jeans and converse, folding the cuffs to your elbow. It almost looked like a normal oversized shirt.

You took a glimpse of Aaron and he was reading some files in front of him, completely ignoring the conversation.

“That’s a man’s shirt” Spencer pointed out and the edges of your boyfriend’s mouth curled up.

“Is it?” Emily grabbed your shoulder and looked in your eyes. You only nodded. “You dirty girl.” She clapped and smiled.

“I also take trophies from my victims.” You gave the team a proud grin. Derek sighed in frustration.

When you looked up again, Aaron still had a proud smile on his lips.

~

You ended up wrapping the case that day and flying back at night.

“Now that we’re free, let’s talk about your victim.” Emily asked, she was in the seat in front of you.

“Well, he is great in bed.” You started off strong and saw Aaron blush on the other side of the plane as he read the newspaper. “A true gentleman, can’t wait to see him again.”

“Too bad you left him in Vegas” Derek interrupted your conversation.

“Yeah, maybe he could’ve given you some tips on how to treat women.” You answered, amused.

“And, where did you meet him?” JJ continued the interrogation after Morgan walked away.

“Uh” You struggled finding an answer and saw Aaron smiling even harder. “In the hotel.”

“What? Where? How?” Emily was yelling at this point. “You always get laid with random guys on the way and I never understand how you even meet them.”

“I’mma tell Hotch you’re not focused on the cases but on crossing all the states off your list!” JJ threatened.

“We eyed each other during dinner in the hotel, after you guys left to the Casino we got to talking, one thing led to another and that’s that.” You were a great storyteller and even better liar.

“Damn, you. Maybe I’m getting old and rusty.” Emily was analyzing you.

“I happen to know that it is not a problem” you teased. 

“How old?”

“I didn’t ask, my guess is around 45” 

“Single?”

“Mmm” you certainly had not thought about the civil status of your fake fuck buddy. “Yeah, he wasn’t wearing a ring.” 

“Nobody wears a ring in Vegas.”

“Baby, you out there fucking married man instead of staying home, ts ts ts” Derek scolded you.

“Fuck, it’s freezing here.” You wanted to shift the conversation & started unfolding your cuffs to cover yourself but you remembered the embroidery and decided to stand up and get a sweater from your bag. When you passed through Derek, he caught your wrists screaming.

“It has his name embroidered!” You freed yourself before he could read it.

“Leave me alone, Derek.” You were getting upset and Aaron raised his eyes from what he was reading to check on you.

“Morgan” he alerted, bossely.

You were opening the luggage compartment trying to reach for your bag, Derek chased you trying to read your cuffs.

“Derek, leave me alone” You were squirming under him while reaching for your bag.

“Babygirl” him laughing was the only thing avoiding him to restrain you. “Let me read it!”

“Get over it!” He grabbed your wrist and brought it close to his eyes.

“Morgan!” Your boyfriend’s voice made him drop your wrist and take a step back. Aaron was already standing next to you two with his usual frown. “Leave my girl the fuck alone.” He put an arm around your waist while the other got your bag and handed it to you. All while maintaining eye contact with Derek.

Derek showed his palms in surrender and walked away, the rest of the team all had their mouths open in shock.

Once you were alone enough you turned to see Aaron, surely surprised as well.

“I had enough of hiding” he said before leaning down to kiss you.

“Well that didn’t stay in Vegas” you heard Emily’s voice chuckling in the back.

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Hey mate, how are ya? Wanted to ask if you had any stupid head canons for Dallas Winston, and I mean as stupid as possible (I run a character acc on here so I need stupid ideas lol (Only if your ok with people using your head canon ideas of course!)) Have a great day! :D

Sure, I’ve got a handful >:)

-Dally doesn’t know you’re supposed to change your sheets. He’s slept on the same ones since he was twelve

-He’s afraid of dogs but would never admit it

-His handwriting is illegible and he cannot spell. He isn’t dyslexic he’s legit just lazy

-There’s a horse at the stable he hangs at who straight up bullies him. Like that horse cannot and will not take him seriously no matter what he does. Dally will try to groom and tack it, and it’ll just walk away. He’ll try to clean its hooves, and it refuses to pick them up off the ground. He’ll try to kick it into a trot and it’ll either ignore him, or be so bouncy that Dally falls off. Dally loves this horse anyway, but knows full well it hates his guts. He still gives it apples and treats- horses are the only creatures he has a hard time being mad at

-Dally read Little Women because Sylvia told him to. He wasn’t gonna, but she told him he reminded her of one of the characters (Which one?? Idk I’ve never read it im sorry) and he got curious. He cried when Beth died, and then bullied himself for crying over a book called “Little Women” (in case ur curious Sylvia related to Amy- wish I could back that up but I’ve only seen the movie once like six years ago n all I know is Amy was an asshole and also my favorite one)

-He goes through phases of wearing and not wearing his rings because sometimes he’ll look at them and think “Woah this jewelry stuff is girly as hell I gotta quit wearin’ this shit”. Then other times he’ll look at them and think “Oh man this is so badass I can punch people like 10x more painfully AND they look tuff”. So yeah that’s not me projecting

-He’s nearsighted but has no clue. I’ve said this abt Steve before, but I feel like it also applies to Dally

-He has horrible dental health. There’s this scene in It’s Always Sunny where the character Charlie just straight up removes random teeth out of his mouth with barely any effort because his teeth are so fucked- that’s Dally right there. He thinks it’s normal to feel immense tooth pain when you eat food

-Dally knows nothing about girls. Sure he’s dated ‘em, but I don’t think he knows what periods are or any of that stuff. So he’ll talk big game, and then he’ll see Steve buying Evie pads or something and he’ll genuinely be so confused. Like “Wtf is that what are you buying Randle what’s goin’ on??”

-He’s got pointy ears, right? (I do too it’s very cool) Well at some point Pony reads Lord of the Rings and keeps accidentally picturing Legolas as Dally

-Johnny actually has way more game than he does and neither of them know it

[ateezyuri]

"WE LISTEN AND WE DONT JUDGE" - with yuri & mingi

i’m so late for this trend but i thought it would be such a cute thing for our besties!

"Ok, you swear to me, whatever we say, you won't get mad at me?" Mingi asked, looking over at his best friend with a slight look of concern. Yuri just laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

"I can't promise anything, but I'll try my best to let it go." Yuri said, and Mingi only sighed.

"We listen and we don't judge." The pair said together.

"You know when your favorite mug that you bought from Japan got broke? Well, I blamed it on Leo (Yuri's cat)...but it was actually me. I was trying to be helpful and put away your dishes, but it slipped out of my hands." Mingi said, chuckling when Yuri looked at him with shock.

"That''s so rude! You blame things on my cat, who can't even defend himself? I didn't get him any treats that day because I thought he broke it!" Yuri said, shaking her head.

"We listen and we don't judge."

"Ok, a couple of weeks ago when we went to the bar, I told you that I wanted to go home because I felt like I was too drunk already. But in reality, I had to poop really bad, and I was too scared to use the bathroom at the bar." Yuri said, chuckling.

"That's not even bad!" Mingi exclaimed.

"We listen and we don't judge."

"When we went on vacation together last summer you got really mad at me because I spilled my drink all over you, and you wouldn't talk to me the rest of the night. I was feeling really lonely so while you were in the shower I hid your phone, wallet, keys, and even the remotes so you had no other choice than to talk to me." Mingi said, awkwardly smiling.

"And you know what, that barely even worked. I thought I was loosing my mind!" Yuri scoffed, smiling slightly.

"This sounds a lot like you are judging me."

"We listen and we don't judge."

"On your birthday, you know how I said that my order got delayed in shipping so I didn't have it yet? Well the reality was that I really didn't buy anything yet. I kinda forgot and had absolutely no idea what to get you." Yuri said.

"You know what, I'm not even surprised."

"We listen and we don't judge."

"You know how you always have the icecream you really like in your freezer? Well the last time I went over to your apartment and you were taking a nap, I ate the whole pint and didn't want you to get mad at me so I convinced you you slept walked and ate it." Mingi said,

"What the hell! I can't believe I listened to you."

"We listen and we don't judge."

"I got really sick a little after Treasure was released, do you remember that?" Yuri asked, biting her lip when Mingi nodded. "Well, no one wanted to spend time with me because I was really sick, so while you were out I snuck in your room and slept in your bed and drank from your water so you would get sick and then would be okay with spending time with me." Yuri said, laughing nervously.

"That's so evil!" Mingi said, rolling his eyes, "Next time I get sick i'm sneezing on everything you own."

"We listen and we don't judge."

"One time I was upset with you, and to be honest I don't really what I was so upset about but I was feeling really petty, so I went into your studio and changed your computer password and I stole the wine you had there." Mingi said.

"Bro, I was on the phone for 5 hours trying to get back into my computer, when I could have just asked you what it was? I'm changing the code to my studio door and never telling you what it is."

"We listen and we don't judge."

"When we went on tour last, I ran out of my perfume, so I just wore your cologne for the rest of the trip. And I also used your face wash, because I forgot mine. And your body soap, because it smelled really good. And I ordered room service and charged your card because I couldn't remember my card information." Yuri said, grinning.

"You couldn't remember your card information but you remembered mine?" Mingi asked, rolling his eyes when Yuri only shrugged.

"We listen and we don't judge."

"One time, when you were driving me and Yunho around, I accidentally spilled my coffee in the backseat of your car, but I didn't say anything. So the next day I bought car cleaning supplies and went to your apartment at like 1am because I knew you would be asleep and I cleaned the spill up because I felt so bad." Mingi said.

"Aw, that's so nice! I wouldn't be mad, but I would make you pay for the whole car to get cleaned, so maybe it's a good thing you didn't tell me." Yuri said, chuckling.

"We listen and we don't judge."

"Another bar story, when we went to the bar a couple of months ago, I was really tipsy and I thought the shot glasses they gave us tequila in were cute, they really weren't they were just basic shot glasses, so I put the glasses in my purse to take home with me. When I woke the next morning I thought that they were going to like show up to my apartment to arrest me so I hid the shot glasses in your apartment when I went there for our debrief." Yuri said, laughing when Mingi just shook his head.

"Of course you would try to blame me for your crimes."

"Thanks for watching!" Yuri said, waving and ending the video.

tags — @chaerincore @atzaria @ateezjuliet @m00niesk7 @btsnvra @softieteez @shinyddeonghwa @girlzwfun @still-astray @txt-yaomi @billboard-singer @justmochi [send an ask to be included or removed]

[forsakenwitchery]

bts of these photos Aemond: ElvenDen Helaena by me

I know that gifs look weirdly cropped, that's because no one was looking how vids were recording, and it's a miracle some bts are salvageble at least as far as heads go. even without the necks. :c

still cute tho. and not-so-cute, the 2nd one will forever be whoa in gif or photo form for me.

My cosplay tags:

Photos, gifs, videos from costests/cos shoots/cons

Inprogresses (costumes, 3d printing etc)

since it's my blog and I can talk at length about anything, here's a story of how I came to ship Helaemond TL;DR: fanarts and actors. & my anti S2 / Condal & Hess musings again. Wasn't planning on venting, but TG treatment still makes me so mad that I can't do one without the other.

Okay so my friend kept telling me her friend looks a lot like Aemond. I've met him once before this costest at the elven photo planner & he really does, but I still wasn't fully prepared for how uncanny it will be in costest. 😹 It's uncanny to be point it's CRAZY especially as up close as in the gifs above. Y'all are not ready for the full cosplay.

ANYWAY. So I sort of started thinking who among HotD characters I could try putting together for a costest for this to make sense. Alicent was out of the question since I don't look like her at all, and with me tending to look younger than I am, it would have looked even weirder than in the show. Eventually, I was choosing between Hel and Alys. I didn't ship Helaemond at the time, and we had no stills of Alys back then, so Hel seemed like an easier choice, plus I had my Dany wig.

And then I realized people actually shipped them, and at first I was like, 'huh'? Since they barely had any scenes and whatnot. Not that the greens had a lot of scenes together even back then. I wasn't particularly in the fandom, too thank god, I wish I could unsee some TB's hot takes. ANYWAY. I genuinely wasn't planning for this costest to be shipping galore at first, because I didn't know this was even a thing. Then I started looking up the fanarts and started to see the appeal. xD No joke, it legit happened when I was looking for references in a span of a few days. Then I saw how Ewan and Phia were hyping them up for S2 and talking about them in S1, and I was fully on board... Only for S2 to turn out to be so underwelming and character assassinating for all the greens blacks too, I really liked Rhaenyra in S1 and it's insane how much of a nothing sandwich she is after S2. By the time we shot the costest right before S2 finale, I had so little hope we'll get anything. Or more like. I knew we still haven't seen the scenes Phia and Ewan were talking about, so I knew we were getting something, just probably something that will simultaneously shit on Aemond and the ship since TG can't have nice things or feel anything but disdain for one another per S2 aside from Alicent and Hel because they aren't male therefore can be nice to each other. And at that point, I was so invested that I'm in my delulu land now, surrounded by my plans to do Helaemond justice in the best way I can. With maybe some side plans to try gathering the whole TG to ya know. Annoy people who hate them even more. xD Jokes aside, I'd really love to do that, I'd love to at least shoot Targtower kids as, you know, not hating each other. Shippery or not, doesn't matter. I'd just really like to do some wholesome green things, but yeah atm we're just Hel, Aemond & Alicent, and tbh I don't think it's possible to find an Aegon over here. I tried reaching out to my friend in another city, but got more of a 'no', than 'yes' answer, so idk where to find Aegon unfortunately.

I might eventually do Alys since my face works for both Hel and Alys & I can pull off one hell of a bitchface I'm actually surprised how I somehow come off so soft as Hel, but I have a feeling the show will make her TB she practically already is, and since Aemond is the eViLeSt person to ever evil in Westeros per Condal & Hess aka the only character making sense amids ongoing war with magic medieval nukes ffs, and doesn't deserve good things... I don't see a universe in which Alysmond will be really inspiring, not fucked up from the get go. I don't trust them. At all. So like. Giant question mark there. Helaemond priority. Fuck this show. Like if I had the resources to, I'd honestly shoot a bunch of scenes, not just photos. Hell, I'd reshoot S2, TB included, lol. But my ass is broke and I'm doing both mine and Aemond's cosplays so. 🤷🏼‍♀️

'Cause not that they haven't fucked up Helaemond… Or Alicent's relationships with her sons... Every single relationship of the greens went down the drain so fast it's like. The. Fuck? No, seriously, it still enrages me Hel helped Daemon of all people?? And seemed to almost wish Aemond would just drop dead right there. ANYHOW yeah… Yeah. I legit have so many ideas. I love using props and all that, and with her needlework, love for bugs & her overall tragic story (plus the dreamer storyline on the show the show doesn't touch like AT ALL), I want to do so much!

TL;DR again: the fandom made me do it. Just like the fandom made me dislike TB a lot. Or more like, the loudest TB stans with double standarts and zero understanding of how Westeros and people in it should function. And that it's not real world and no one is 'coded' anything related to our world or politics (or at least they shouldn't be no matter how much Condal & Hess try to push contemporary problems into the show to pat themselves on the back).

I realize there are dubious people on both sides of the fandom, but really not even Condal & Hess can make people like or dislike characters as much as their stans can. Oh also, WHY THE FUCK ARE THERE EVEN SIDES. They literally pitted the fandom against each other, it's so sick and twisted and all sorts of fucked up.

Back to Condal & Hess, them trying to sink TG so much made me sympathize even with those on it I didn't care about at first, like Criston, and simultaniosly dislike the Saint-RhaeRhae side and it's vicious vocal part of the fanbase... I even liked Daemyra in S1, but after S2 I don't want to touch anything or anyone related to her with a ten-foot pole. Even tho I still like some characters on TB, they just ruined everyone. To some extent on both sides, but for TG I sort of want to do things in support of them and in spite of Condal & Hess. Thereas for TB... After S1 I was thinking of cosplaying Rhae, but LMAO NO. Just no.

Tagged this with all the anti tags I mention, so don't come at me, I don't have time, and do have a block list. You can argue with the wall or those who want to argue. If you can't disagree with someone & be civil about it, it's not my problem.

[bunnyboy-juice]

spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner

[bayofwolves]

they did this to shane

[faaun]

i feel rly sad and conflicted abt one of my best friends on earth but idk who to ask for advice bc i usually would have consulted her in this situation lmao

[the-cpu-system]

Local teenage girl hates her dad and seeks comfort in the idealized AI version of him 🤣🤣🤣😝😝😝⁉️⁉️⁉️

Dialogue from an rp !!

[nenoname]

i'm ngl i feel like a lot of people are just saying 'the stan o' war wouldn't work out' because they just want ford off the boat so they can ship him with fiddleford or something. like come on didn't we watch the same show . the same ending . it pains me that fandoms are so obsessed with shipping all the time.

god im so far from the gf shipping circles that that being the reason why some folks are resistant to them living on the stan o war didnt even occur to me lmaoooooo (plus if they want to ship, they could at least accept that long distance relationships is perfectly fine)

the reason i tend to see is "oh the stan twins havent been on good terms for that long!! it'd be a disaster just because of that!!!" but there's an implication that they spent months planning out their trip with both of them getting closer with soos, which emphasises the importance of family idk

[paperlovesadness]

Me seeing all the comments under Glasto-themed posts blaming Alex for being sick and calling off Dublin

I'm barely able to fold that knife though.... And I'm not trusting myself that it'll stay folded.

[tr0ubl3d-tr4n53nd3r]

I opened up about my body image issues and people called me a horrible person, told me I'm invalidating people with eds and that I'm body shaming people? God what the fuck? Ive got no fucking support system in real life and the Internet just hates me I guess.

[here-there-were-dragons]

my mother is absolutely convinced of some nonsense conspiracy theory that (in her words) "originally humanity lived in peaceful all-woman societies of goddess worshippers who took care of eachother and lived in harmony, while males were roving loners that had no society and never cooperated. that changed when the men banded together and overthrew the peaceful woman-dominated societies, and enslaved us all." and, according to her, this is proof that a woman-dominated world would be innately more peaceful, and that men are innately violent and evil and should be either barred from holding any legal power or leadership roles or at least should be (again in her words) "gelded like bulls" to remove their testosterone before even being considered for such a thing.

she also evidently believes that the problem with all religions today is primarily that they aren't "goddess worshippers", because she seems to think goddess religions are inherently peaceful and pure too and seems to be especially obsessed with "Isis" in particular. the very very few times she's openly considered it unambiguously bad for some population or another to have been exterminated (she's got a bad case of devil's advocating genocide brain), she's gone out of her way to make up some crap about how said people were a peaceful society of goddess-worshippers, almost always of isis. delusions of isis-worship seem to be the only thing that ever causes her to consider any arab or middle-eastern culture, society, or ethnicity to be relatively uncomplicatedly undeserving of extermination, in fact, because every fucking time she doesn't immediately start devils-advocating it and making remarks about how "the rest of the world should box them in and let them blow eachother up" it's when she's whinging on about how whatever specific micro-ethnicity she's thinking about are or were traditional persecuted isis-worshippers.

the sole major exception to her weird fixation on isis worship justifying worthiness of life is the whole israel thing going on, in which she has consistently made very obvious that literally the only reason she's against the genocide of palestine is because it gives her an excuse to even more openly hate jewish people than she already did. and honestly i'm not sure even that's true because i think she's made some offhand remarks about palestinians having probably been peaceful isis worshipers before the jews infected them with christianity or something anyway.

so for the last, however fucking long it's been i've been constantly having to listen to her go off about how this behavior is in the jew's blood or whatever and that they literally invented all genocide because somehow the concept didn't exist before them and wouldn't have ever been invented by the rest of humanity without those jewish aliens dropping it in i fucking guess apparently and she furthermore goes on about how every single genocide and mass-oppression movement in history is directly inspired by them, ESPECIALLY the nazis, and THEN i have to listen to her rant about how, basically, wwii was something they entirely brought on themselves by "dominating the economy and treating everyone not them like shit" and the nazis were just "using their own tactics back at them". and then she goes on a rant about how the people the original jews exterminated back in the day (aka the first ever genocide, which they invented, because jews invented genocide and hate according to her) in the middle east region were peaceful matriarchal isis-worshipers.

and then she starts making comments about arabs being backwards and palestinians either being mysogynist muslims that should be boxed in to blow eachother up with everyone else or secret peaceful isis worshippers corrupted by men's cruel hand, sometimes in the same sentence, entirely dependent on which group she's more in the mood to hate at the time.

it's exhausting. beyond exhausting. her sole purpose in existence seems to be to have the singularly most exhausting set of politics physically possible to fit into one person.

just, sometimes i think, if there really is anything at all to the incredibly stupid and inexplicably popular idea that anyone or anything has a Purpose tm to exist for, i feel like my mother's purpose is to be walking proof to me of a Type Of Guy That Is Real, cause i sure as fuck would have trouble inventing this mess if it wasn't standing right in front of me spewing confusingly bipartisan hate. all of her thoughts and opinions are these long winding nonsense chains that feel like if that man carrying thing sketch about the friend with confusing politics was a person. on meth.