#i like talking about myself so who cares if no one is listening

[impactrueno]

ok stop. stop. i'm gonna stop you right there because why in the world are you telling me this? where is this even coming from? what did you see on my blog that would make you come to me with this? i didn't ask ANYONE to justify their feelings about beetIebabes, positive or negative. you don't have to explain anything to me. i don't ship them, and i don't care whether other people ship them or not, or their reasoning why. my ask box is not an open letter column in a magazine, it's part of my blog. i'm a person. this isn't "beetlejuice fandom central" or anything like that.

i already said i do not want any shipping discourse of any kind brought into my blog. respect that.

just know that you're allowed to dislike things. you're good. no one is making you like the ship, i promise. i support you, you're perfectly valid and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. i'm very sorry that happened to your friend, but that's not a "proshipper" thing, that's a groomer thing, and groomers can be ANYWHERE. to see it as an exclusively "proshipper" thing is just going to put you in danger because kids have gotten groomed by shippers of "safe and wholesome" pairings as well. i've seen it happen and it's why i distanced myself from a previous fandom. so please, if YOU are a minor (or just young, adults can get groomed too) please stay on your guard no matter what circles you're in, and yes, even around "safe" shippers. i can't stress this enough.

let me tell you something before i shut this topic down.

this fandom i distanced myself from, i did it because i kept seeing adults pressuring minors to draw certain things. some 16yo kid drew suggestive art of a character under the pretense of a shitpost, and people went crazy over it and demanding more. and kids are always going to give into peer pressure, so of course they continued doing it and escalating the tone of the "shitpost" drawings.

this wasn't a "proship" space, quite the contrary, these were all very "anti" types as you may call it (once again i loathe these terms and shipping discourse is a fucking circus i don't want to involve myself with) the types that enforce safe, appropriate and unproblematic shipping and content. but here they were, hooting and hollering and with a terrifying lack of self-awareness and pressuring the kid to draw more suggestive art. IN PUBLIC. ON TWITTER. everyone thought it was hilarious but i was standing there like "wow! i want to get the fuck out of here" and i tried to remind everyone to NOT give in to peer pressure to do anything you're not comfortable with, but no one was listening because "sexy art of a popular character"

you can be manipulated and peer pressured to do things you're uncomfortable with at any age. especially if you're kind of a people pleaser like i was. people got nsfw art out of me that i didn't want to draw when i was 20. i got used and manipulated by someone who shipped "the correct things" to ship.

you won't realize you're being groomed until it's too late. that's why i insist for kids to stay safe and make wise choices, keep an eye out EVEN IN "SAFE SPACES" and i repeat do NOT let ANYONE pressure you into doing something you're not 100% comfortable with (and even if you are, think it over)

once more: stay safe, guys. no matter who you think your friends are. groomers can use anything to groom you, not just "problematic" ships.

that's all i'm gonna say. don't talk to me about shipping discourse again, please. won't be posting asks about this if i can help it.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXIV)

Chapter 24: ‘Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cute moments for you all :)

I’m also making a reference to a documentary in this chapter, I was thinking about Brainwashed directed by Nina Menkes, you can check it out if you’d like!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3096

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Tea

Five times a day, I make tea. I do this because I like the warmth in my hands, like the feeling of self-directed kindness. I’m not used to it— warmth and kindness, both—so I create my own when I can. It’s easy. You just pour water into a kettle and turn the knob and listen for the scream. I do this five times a day. Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing. I must remind myself I am here, and do so by noticing myself: my feet are cold inside my socks, they touch the ground, my stomach churns, my heart stutters, in my hands I hold a warmth I make. I come from a people who pray five times a day and make tea. I admire the way they do both. How they drop to the ground wherever they are. Drop pine nuts and mint sprigs in a glass. I think to care for the self is a kind of prayer. It is a gesture of devotion toward what is not always beloved or believed. I do not always believe in myself, or love myself, I am sure there are times I am bad or gone or lying. In another’s mouth, tea often means gossip, but sometimes means truth. Despite the trope, in my experience my people do not lie for pleasure, or when they should, even when it might be a gesture of kindness. But they are kind. If you were to visit, a woman would bring you a tray of tea. At any time of day. My people love tea so much it was once considered a sickness. Their colonizers tried, as with any joy, to snuff it out. They feared a love so strong one might sell or kill their other loves for leaves and sugar. Teaism sounds like a kind of faith I’d buy into, a god I wouldn’t fear. I think now I truly believe I wouldn’t kill anyone for love, not even myself—most days I can barely get out of bed. So I make tea. I stand at the window while I wait. My feet are cold and the radio plays its little sounds. I do the small thing I know how to do to care for myself. I am trying to notice joy, which means survive. I do this all day, and then the next.

Leila Chatti

Your conversation with Andrew was exhilarating.

Of course, you were aware that he was smart, you knew him well enough by now to be very aware of that. And of course, as he studied literature for a living, you knew that he was extremely knowledgeable in that field. Still, it was just so… exciting, to talk with him. About anything, really.

You were in his home to watch the documentary you had spotted about the male gaze in cinema, the film was just over. There were remnants of tea and biscuits on his coffee table, and Andrew’s dog was curled at his feet, on the carpet. Outside, the weather was moody but dry, there was a lot of wind though, and it made a strange sound as the air hit the windows. And now, even if the documentary was over, you kept on discussing the subject, bouncing ideas and examples. And he was listening to you, paying attention to what you were saying, he was even interested in what you had to say. He wasn’t contradicting you, more like asking deeper questions, debating in a productive way. You had already been commenting during the film, but it had been half an hour now since the documentary had ended, and he still seemed perfectly content with talking about it more with you.

You couldn’t help yourself as you drew a parallel with Frank, how you knew he was faking interest when you talked about your work. You thought he was making an effort back then, but perhaps you were being too kind to him. As you listened to Andrew agreeing with you, offering more arguments, his hands moving as he spoke with an obvious interest that was almost passion… you couldn’t help but question yourself. If Andrew was so enthralled by something you were passionate about, perhaps Frank should have been too… or… perhaps he could have at least properly listened to you.

You were interrupted by Elwood though. Andrew was cut mid-sentence as his dog woke up from his nap, and immediately rose and put his front paws on Andrew’s knees, looking at him with an impatient look in his eyes while waiting to get attention. Andrew couldn’t refrain a chuckle as he scratched the dogs head, making the animal happily wiggle his tail.

“Your dog is so cute,” you chuckled fondly at the adorable sight.

“Yeah, he’s a very good boy,” Andre nodded.

“Oh, God! I almost forgot, wait! I brought you something!”

Andrew frowned hard, staring at you while you stood up from the couch and hurried towards your bag.

“Y/N, there was no need… you shouldn’t have brought anything…”

“It’s not for you. It’s for him.”

Andrew merely frowned again, and you couldn’t help but find his puzzled look adorable.

“For… Elwood, you mean?”

You nodded proudly, taking a toy out of your purse.

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I told you not to buy him anything…”

“I wanted to!”

It was just a little something, much like a ball, but it was shaped like a frog. You had seen it in the supermarket the day prior while buying groceries, and thought of Andrew immediately. So, you bought it, thinking his dog could like it.

You handed it to Andrew, who chuckled happily at the sight. His fingers brushed yours as he took the toy, his fingertips calloused because of years spent playing the guitar. You shuddered, your heart skipping a beat. You watched how ridiculously small the toy looked in his large hand…

You shook yourself out of these thoughts, cleared your throat.

“I just saw it yesterday in the store, and just… had to buy it! It was so cute!”

“Christ… thank you so much, Y/N. This is adorable.”

He pressed on the toy, a little squeaky noise coming out of it that immediately caught Elwood’s attention.

“You didn’t have to, though,” Andrew admonished, but you brushed off his remark.

“I was happy to buy it for him.”

Andrew let the toy drop to the floor and Elwood immediately hurried after it as it rolled away, happily chewing on it too to make it squeak. Andrew smiled fondly at the sight.

“Thanks Y/N.”

There was something else in his eyes too, something fond and almost tender as he looked up at you. You tried not to think about it too much, rekindled the conversation so your brain would focus on something else than the green in his eyes…

“I’ve never asked you… when did you get Elwood?”

“Oh, way back! I was in college. I found him on the road with my parents when he was just a puppy. He didn’t have a tag or anything, it was pretty obvious he had been abandoned. We tried to find out if anyone was claiming him, but no one was, so we kept him. He moved back with me when I got my job at Trinity, instead of staying with my parents.”

“That’s kind of you to have kept him.”

“We always had a dog around at home. I really love dogs a lot. It wasn’t an effort, really. I was hoping no one would claim him, to be honest.”

“Why ‘Elwood’ though?”

Andrew laughed, watched as you crouched by his dog to pet his head. Elwood dismissed his new toy in favour of getting more scratches, making you giggle happily.

“My father thought that he had a spot on his neck that looked like a tie. So, it made him think of the Blues Brothers. So, Elwood it was.”

“I have to admit, I’ve never watched that film.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“Wow… and I thought you were a respectable person.”

You laughed at that, bright and happy, and you noticed that Andrew smiled because of it.

“We all have our flaws, I guess. I would love to watch it with you though, if you want to.”

His smile turned into an excited grin.

“Yeah, totally. Like… that would be grand!”

You checked the time, it was late already. Almost 7pm, you ought to go home and have dinner. You had spent most of your afternoon at Andrew’s already.

He saw your gesture, but you didn’t say anything. Truth was, you didn’t want to go home. You were happy with Andrew. You had not thought of Frank this afternoon, except when you noticed that he should have done better. It was a drastic change, to have someone who was nice, funny, and actually interested in things you adored. The fact that he looked gorgeous in a blue and white striped t-shirt and a black cardigan, with his hair up in a casual bun, didn’t help you will yourself out of his flat. But you reckoned that you had bothered him enough for one day, you ought to go home…

“Y/N?”

You looked up again, silently questioning him while you kept on giving his dog some well-deserved love.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

“I mean… like… unless you have something planned, of course. It’s just… it’s late, and… I was going to order some take-out anyway, so… if you want, we could order something. But if you’d prefer to go home, like… that’s totally fine.”

You noticed how he nervously rubbed at his palm, his shy side coming back to the surface.

You broke into a grin.

“I’d love to stay, Andy. But only if we split the bill!”

He grinned, stopped rubbing at his hand, and you noticed that he was blushing a little.

“Grand!”

You were about to ask about what he wanted to eat when his phone buzzed, and he took a look at who was calling.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I have to take this. I won’t be long though.”

You nodded with a smile, while Andrew was picking up his phone and hurrying out of the room. He closed the door of his second bedroom behind him, and you heard his voice only as muffled sounds you couldn’t decipher.

You waited for him to come back, playing with Elwood and his new toy. He seemed to really like you, and you couldn’t refrain a sense of pride at the thought. He kept on coming back for scratches and attention, even after getting side-tracked because of the toy.

A few minutes later, Andrew was opening the door again, but he hadn’t ended his call. He walked to his kitchen to look at the tiny calendar hanging next to the fridge.

“Yeah… okay. No, I can do that in four weeks. So, a reading, then? Okay. No, no, I don’t mind if there are questions at all, on the contrary. What about the journal then? Four poems! Wow… I thought they just wanted to publish one! How many? Okay. No, no, it’s okay, I’ve got some that are ready to be published, maybe I’ll add a couple new ones… we’ll see. Yeah, I know… okay. Alright. Thanks so much, Caroline. Yeah, have a nice one too. Bye.”

He wrote something on his calendar, then came back to the living room to join you.

“Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop… but… you talked about poetry?” you asked, and Andrew visibly blushed.

He nervously ran his fingers through his beard.

“Yeah… erm…”

“Sorry, that’s none of my business…”

“No, no… that’s… I just…”

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, but he answered anyway.

“I write poetry.”

Your eyes grew a little round, but you didn’t try to hide your excitement. And Andrew seemed surprised by it.

“That’s amazing! Have you ever been published?”

“Erm… yeah, like… I have a couple of collections published. I publish regularly in journals too.”

“Wow! That’s so cool!”

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

“It’s nothing particularly good or anything…”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m sure you’re downplaying your art a lot. That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, I… I’m quite proud of that, to be honest.”

“Why do you look all shy, then?” you asked, wondering if you were a little too direct as Andrew stared at you in surprise.

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. But then he shrugged.

“I don’t know… you’re right, it’s silly. It was my agent… on the phone, I mean. I’m booked for a reading of some of my poems next month.”

“That sounds grand!”

“Yeah… I get a little nervous with those, but I really like doing that too.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know you were a poet.”

“I didn’t tell you before.”

“I’m supposed to be an expert in literature,” you replied, making him chuckle.

“Not in contemporary Irish poetry though. That’s my jam, back off! Soon, you’ll take my job as well as my dog’s love.”

You laughed at that.

“Nah, I’m just bribing him so he will tolerate me in his home,” you argued, right when Elwood was reaching to lick your cheek.

“Yeah, of course… he clearly hates you,” Andrew replied, “look at him, he’s this close from biting your head off.”

You giggled, tickled by Elwood’s tongue, and you almost fell over as Elwood rested his paws on your chest.

You laughed loudly, and Andrew did the same.

“Alright, Elwood, that’s enough. Come here, boy. Come here,” he ordered, and Elwood obeyed in an instant, earning some scratches and praises as he reached Andrew.

You walked back to the couch to join Andrew.

“Andy?” you asked, trying to think of the right words to ask your next question.

“Hmm?”

“Would you find it weird if I read your poetry? Or can I?”

He froze, his hand stopping all movement on Elwood’s head, who looked up at his owner with a questioning look.

“Like… I don’t know… poetry can be really personal, so… If you don’t want me to read it, I’d understand. But, I’d really like to read it.”

He looked at you then, blinking, like he was trying to process your words. He looked adorable like this, with a confused look on his face that made his lips part and his eyebrows knit together.

“You… you want to read it?”

“Yeah! Of course!”

He blinked again.

“Oh… okay.”

“Unless you don’t want me to…”

“No, I… I don’t mind. You can read it if you want.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

He clenched his jaw, but kept on looking at you.

“I don’t know… it’s just… Sam never really cared about that. Like she… she didn’t get it, you know? She didn’t really like what I wrote. It’s… it’s quite political, most of the time. Or about love. Or… I don’t know… she didn’t like it. She wasn’t interested in it.”

“I’m not Samantha, though.”

He stared at you then, intense and a little stunned. His voice was so soft when he spoke.

“No… no, you’re definitely not Samantha.”

If the phrasing was rather emotionless, his tone made it sound like it was a compliment. As if he was acknowledging the fact, your differences, and that he was happy to find them. You gave him a smile, a little lost, not knowing how to respond.

You saw that he was struggling to swallow, that he looked impossibly nervous again.

“You… you could come to the reading, if you want,” he offered in a breath. “Like… if you’re not busy and you want to, of course.”

But you grinned.

“That would be amazing! Yes! Of course, I’d like to come!”

He grinned back at you, looking excited too now.

“Grand!”

“Should I have read your poetry first, or is it better if I discover it then?”

“Ermmm… I don’t know. I like listening to poetry readings a lot, it’s not the same. There’s something very… melodic, about poetry, that you don’t really have when it’s only on paper. So… you can definitely discover it at the reading. You’ll have to sit through it even if you don’t like it though.”

You took his last remark as a joke and laughed, but his surprise showed you that he was being serious.

“Andy, I’m sure I’m going to love it! Why wouldn’t I? God, I can’t wait now! Can you send me the details then?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll send you everything.”

“Thank you!”

He chuckled.

“Thank you, for being interested in that.”

“We’re friends! Of course, I’m interested!”

He grinned again, slowly nodding.

“Well… what do you want to eat?” he changed the subject.

“Pizza?”

“Oh! Yes!”

Andrew got you some pizza, and you spent a long time chatting, drinking beer while you ate. Soon, it was already 11 pm, but you didn’t want to go home. Instead, you had moved back from the kitchen to the couch, and you admired him like this, relaxed and babbling away about Breath of the Wild and the last movie he had watched.

He took off his cardigan at one point, and before he could readjust his t-shirt, you noticed dark traces on his upper-arm.

“What’s that?” you asked, making Andrew laugh.

“My tattoo.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You have a tattoo?”

“Yeah…” he chuckled, rubbing at his neck. “Nothing special though.”

“Let me see!”

“No!”

“Come on! Let me see!”

He rolled his eyes.

“It’s only two words, that a friend of mine tattooed on me when we were in College.”

“You know a tattoo artist?”

“No, he did it like… prison style, you know,” Andrew joked. “Just… with a pen and a needle and just…”

He mimicked the gesture of repeatedly stinging somebody with a needle. You blinked at him.

“Wow… you will never cease to surprise me, Andy.”

He laughed at that.

“You’re actually a delinquent,” you joked, making him laugh even harder.

“Of the worst kind, I’m afraid.”

“Can I see?”

He hesitated for a second, and then he pushed his short sleeve up, until you could read the words painted there on his arm.

Noli Timere

“It means ‘never be afraid’,” he explained, blushing.

“Why that phrase?”

He blushed some more.

“It was Heaney’s last words to his wife.”

He seemed to expect you to mock him, but you didn’t.

“I should have known, a fan till the end,” you smiled, and he nodded. “It’s a nice reminder to have. Very meaningful.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so too.”

You stared at him to speak again, diving into his hazel eyes. At such an hour, Andrew was growing tired, and so his eyes wore a vivid shade of green, like leaves in the summer sun.

“Besides, tattoos are sexy.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look away despite his obvious blush. He slightly tilted his head to the side, and his tone was flirtatious when he answered.

“Are they now?”

You merely nodded and hummed along.

What the fuck were you doing? Were you flirting with Andrew? Your colleague?! Your friend?!

“Even if they’re made with a pen and needle by a drunk friend?”

“Especially if they’re made like that, yeah. That sounds very bad boy of you.”

He winced at that, making you laugh.

“Christ, I hope not…”

“The reference to a poet and the incredibly romantic meaning behind it kind of balances it out but…”

“I’m a sap, I know.”

“Unsalvageable, I’m afraid…”

“Who’s saying I want to be saved from that?”

You exchanged a smile, and as you sat there, on Andrew’s sofa, staring at him and how gorgeous he was, and how tender his gaze was and… you just…

You would have let him kiss you if he had tried to. You would have let him…

“It’s quite late, I should go home,” you let out in a breath, unable to hide your reluctance to actually do what you said.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”

You didn’t get up though. Instead, you leant forward to kiss his cheek, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself, and you could have sworn that under your palm his heart was pounding.

“Good night, Andy,” you whispered against his ear, and you heard how his breath caught in his throat.

You were pulling away when he stopped you, hand reaching to cradle the back of your head. He turned his face to kiss your cheek as well, but his kiss landed on the corner of your lips, almost on your mouth.

“Good night, Y/N. Tell me when you’re home, okay? It’s late.”

“Okay.”

You stared at each other for a moment longer, his fingers still in your hair, your hand still on his chest.

You would have let him…

You pulled away, got up and finally walked out of his flat.

The skin he had touched with his lips was burning still when you got home.

[ganondoodle]

actively fighting a full blown panic attack born out of sadness and anger after having to drive by yet another victim on the side of the road

it makes me livid how accepted it is to just let cats suffer and die disgustingly horrid deaths and live awful short lives just so what, for what?? so you dont have to play with them for an hour a day??? when i was little it was just kinda normal that they disappeared at some point, i didnt understand what it actually meant until our outdoor cat i loved dearly was found in the bushes near our house in a condition so horrible my dad has never told me and i have never dared to ask, she only made it to 6 and had horrible scars and infections before that i allowed my family to convince me to let my first own cat outside, we only had her for a year, she died at only 2 years old, i am still suffering from the guilt, it has never let me go, she went missing for a week and i walked the entire vilage up and down every day, yelling her name, wandering into the forest alone, talking to every stranger i met until one morning my mom told me that our neighbour who works for the city asked if we had a white cat with a very specific collar she had- he found her on a busy road crossing in the next bigger city, i never even got to bury her, its haunting me, the thought of her wandering lost and scared in the city for a week until meeting an awful end gives me headaches, the fact that i was the last one to see her alive, that i put her outside bc we were late for school and had to leave quickly, that she had come home with oil in her fur from crawling through maschines and cars before, that i was worried but still didnt act, that it is my fault, any time i am up to late its coming back, it will never let me go, if i had stood my ground and not allow her outside unless on a leash or similar shed still be alive today, any time i read a description at our local shelter it comes back, they still advocate for outside cats, all of them, even if they have only been an indoor one before, its madness my older sister had a cat, i dont even know how old he got but it wasnt long either, he got hit by a car in front of their house, she has two now again and the only reason she hasnt let them outside is because they havent shown much interest in it, i tried to warn her before and she didnt listen and shes still resistent, even after losing one too

i have seen so many on the side of the road, anywhere i drive i see them, i cannot forget a single one, we are surrounded by farm land and all its giant maschinery, its still common to poison rodents, why do people value them so little, you wouldnt let your dog just live outside in the woods and streets for half the day or more, you wouldnt just throw your guniea pigs on the road and tell them have fun, you wouldnt just let your bird roam outside, there probably assholes that do that too but you cannot tell me its as common as outside cats

i dont understand it, i dont, i wont, i never will, i will never forgive myself this poor little animal that was my responsibility having to pay the price of my ignorance, or my own weakness letting my family convince me despite the awful way we lost one before, it makes me want to explode it hurts my brain in grief and anger i can barely contain

cats deserve to live a safe and long life, i get only having them inside may feel like you are locking them up, but do you think that not doing so is worth having them die a painful death? being poisonend? on purpose even by disgusting people that hate them? abused and chased by other animals and dogs? hurt and lost? cutting their lifespan in half? if they even make it that far? the amount of wildlife that they kill unnecessarily so when all of that is already in a steep decline everywhere? and if they eat what they hunt get infected with diseases or again, poison? die somewhere in agony? if cared for they dont care about going outside, plenty can be leash trained or given a secure way to roam like those cat proof aviary like things, if you dont want to put effort into caring for a cat DONT GET ONE, ALL pets require adequate care, and if you think cats are the easiest bc you only have to feed them every now and then IF they come home? you suck, you are an asshole, i hate you and you do not care about them, if you just want to occasionalyl feed and pet an animal go to the petting zoo

(this is about pet cats of people who can absolutely afford to keep them healthily inside, i know feral cats and those in poor neighbourhoods are a thing, even if not here where i live, and thats a whole other but still similar problem and not the point of this post)

[rheanyraaaa]

Water Lily (Part 3)

Robb Stark x Frey!Reader

Enemies To Lovers

note: i know.. posting one chapter after another, i’m so bored and have no classes today so i put this one out :))

disclaimer: angsty angst

remembered i was writing an enemies

——————————————————————————

Days turned into weeks, and whatever warmth had flickered between you and Robb the night he learned of the child had vanished like smoke. He returned to his duties with a renewed sense of purpose, spending endless hours strategizing and speaking with his commanders. When he wasn’t discussing plans for battle, he was often seen by Talisa’s side, her laughter filling the air, a sound that grated at you with each passing day.

In the mornings, you would see him briefly a cool, polite nod exchanged over breakfast, a mumbled “Good morning” that felt more perfunctory than kind. It was clear he found you tiresome, perhaps even inconvenient, and you had little inclination to change his mind. He was cold and distant, hardly the hero you’d heard tales of in the Riverlands. To you, he was simply another lord who felt entitled to anything he pleased. And you? You were just the wife he had not chosen, the duty he was bound to fulfill.

One chilly afternoon, you sat near the fire in your tent, flipping through an old book that Alec had found for you. The words blurred, your mind wandering as irritation built inside you. It was one thing to be ignored, but it was another to feel trapped, bound to this camp with little more to do than listen to the endless rumors about Robb’s exploits and victories.

The tent flap rustled, and without looking up, you sighed. “If you’re here with more news about my husband’s campaigns, you can leave,” you muttered, feigning disinterest.

“Your husband, am I?” came Robb’s voice, cold and sharp. You looked up, surprised to see him standing in the entrance, his gaze steely and unimpressed.

You sat straighter, fixing him with a cool, challenging stare. “You seem surprised by the reminder, my lord,” you replied, arching an eyebrow. “Though if I’m honest, I doubt you think of me as your wife at all.”

Robb’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “And what do you think I consider you, then?” he asked, his tone laced with irritation.

“A pawn, a treaty signed and sealed with all the warmth of a business transaction,” you answered, lifting your chin. “Nothing more. Certainly not a bride.”

He scoffed, folding his arms as he stared you down. “You talk as though you expected something more. You think I wanted this? I had no say in the matter either, and if you think this arrangement is some grand privilege, then you’re more naive than I thought.”

Your hands clenched the edges of the book, a flare of indignation rising within you. “Naive? My lord, I didn’t expect anything from you except decency, which seems to be the only thing you’ve withheld.”

Robb’s eyes darkened. “If I withhold myself, it’s because I’ve no wish to be tied down to someone who regards me as a nuisance, a stranger. You’ve done nothing to make me want to know you.”

“Perhaps because there’s little point in getting to know a man who spends his nights with another woman,” you shot back, the words sharper than you intended. The instant they left your mouth, you saw his expression harden, his jaw clenched.

“So this is about Talisa,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re jealous.”

You laughed bitterly. “Don’t flatter yourself. Jealousy would imply I care for you, which I don’t. I’m simply embarrassed. Every person in this camp knows where you go each night, and that dishonors us both, as if I’m nothing but a placeholder, a body to bear your heir.”

He stepped closer, the tension between you sharp as a drawn blade. “Is that what you think?” His voice was dangerously low, his blue eyes fierce. “I’m fighting a war, trying to keep my men alive. My choices are not simple, and neither is this arrangement.”

You glared at him, undaunted. “Don’t pretend your only concern is for your men. If that were true, you’d show some respect to the woman meant to be at your side. But you don’t even see me, do you? I’m just another item on your long list of duties.”

He took a breath, as if to speak, then hesitated, his gaze slipping to the book in your hands. A flicker of something softened his expression, curiosity tugging at his otherwise cold mask. “What are you reading?” he asked, his tone shifting, though his voice still held a slight edge.

You looked down at the book, resisting the urge to scoff. “A tale from Dorne. Old stories. My guard found it for me.”

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening again at the mention of Alec, though he tried to mask it. “You seem close to this guard of yours.”

You didn’t bother hiding your irritation. “Of course. He’s the only one who treats me like I belong here.” You met Robb’s gaze, daring him to question it further. “Unlike some.”

His jaw tensed, and a flash of something that looked suspiciously like jealousy crossed his face. “I treat you as you’ve shown yourself, my lady. Cold and aloof. You hold everyone here at a distance and yet blame me for doing the same.”

You stood, refusing to let him see any weakness. “What did you expect, Robb? I was wrenched from my family, sent to a life I never asked for, with a husband who couldn’t be bothered to even try to make me feel welcome. You may lead these men with courage, but here, in this tent, you’re little more than a stranger.”

The words hung between you, sharp and cutting, but for the first time, Robb didn’t seem to have a response. He looked at you, his eyes narrowing as if seeing you for the first time, trying to parse the woman standing before him. The air felt thick, charged, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something other than resentment in his gaze — an ember of curiosity, perhaps even admiration.

Finally, he nodded, his voice quiet but steady. “Perhaps I’ve misjudged you, then,” he murmured, his expression unreadable. “And perhaps… you’ve misjudged me, as well.”

You held his gaze, something shifting in the silence between you, a tension that felt both dangerous and electrifying. Neither of you looked away, and for a moment, you wondered what might have been if things had started differently. If this fire, this stubbornness, could ever become something more than disdain.

But just as quickly, Robb’s expression closed off again. He straightened, taking a step back.

“Good night, Y/N,” he said, his voice cooler, more distant. And before you could reply, he turned on his heel and left the tent, leaving you alone with the unresolved weight of your words and the faint, unyielding flicker of something that refused to die away.

The days that followed were nothing short of tense. Every strategy meeting, every meal shared in the mess tent, every time you so much as crossed paths, the atmosphere between you and Robb crackled with a barely concealed animosity. And everyone in camp seemed to notice.

At meetings, you took up your place at the edge of the war council table, a position meant to show support though, really, you were expected to sit quietly, speak only if spoken to, and offer your presence as nothing more than a symbol of alliance. But with Robb standing across from you, leading his commanders with a focus you couldn’t deny, it was hard to hold back your emotions.

Most of the time, you met his icy, commanding stare with a glare of your own, the two of you locked in a silent war of looks alone. Whenever he would make a particularly self-assured remark about the strength of his forces or his plans, you would arch an eyebrow or let out the faintest scoff, a small but intentional sign of your disapproval. Robb, in turn, would shoot you a sharp glance, jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as if daring you to say something aloud.

You rarely did. But sometimes, in the heat of these quiet, simmering battles, your temper got the best of you.

“Do you really think sending men to raid Tywin’s supplies in this weather will help?” you muttered under your breath one day, unable to keep your thoughts contained. “It’ll do nothing but exhaust them.”

Robb’s gaze snapped to you, his expression darkening as he held back the urge to snap in front of his men. Instead, he leaned forward, his voice low and edged with steel. “Do you think your insights from Dorne are of particular use here, in the North’s war?”

You matched his stare, your lips curving into a subtle, defiant smile. “Better to have fresh ideas than to follow your rash impulses,” you said coolly. “Not that you seem interested in anyone’s opinion.”

He straightened, nostrils flaring slightly, clearly seething but containing himself. The council members glanced between you both, caught between discomfort and morbid fascination at this open exchange. You noticed the slight grin on Grey Wind’s muzzle as he observed you two from his spot by Robb’s side, almost as if he enjoyed watching his master squirm.

But then, just as the tension between you reached a breaking point, Robb would do something that left you breathless, thrown off balance.

With a surprising gentleness, he would come over to you, the anger simmering just beneath the surface, and, in front of everyone, place his hand firmly over your stomach, splaying his fingers as if to silently remind you of the life growing inside you both. The gesture was infuriating and, maddeningly, left you without any words.

In these moments, his touch felt possessive and raw, claiming you in a way that had nothing to do with affection and everything to do with pride. There was something protective in the way his fingers settled there, rough yet reverent, almost as though he were reminding himself of the bond between you, unwilling to let you drift too far into defiance.

“Careful,” he’d murmur, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You might exhaust yourself with all this… insight.”

And though every fiber of you wanted to pull away, to tell him that his touch was unnecessary and unwanted, you found yourself frozen under his hand, helpless against the strange warmth of his palm and the pulse of anger that mingled with something unspoken.

The other lords and soldiers would glance away, feigning interest in their maps or murmuring lowly, their discomfort palpable, though you could see that some of them found Robb’s possessiveness amusing. They knew well enough not to comment on it aloud, but you could feel their scrutiny, wondering how this forced marriage of yours would survive another week, let alone the years ahead.

When he finally pulled his hand away, he’d leave without another word, the heat from his touch lingering on your skin long after he was gone, frustrating you to no end.

Later that night, as you sat alone in your tent, the memory of his hand on your stomach would haunt you, confusing and infuriating in equal measure. He didn’t care for you, you reminded yourself he’d made that perfectly clear. Yet, each time he placed his hand on your stomach, each time he looked at you with that silent, fierce intensity, a strange tension pulled tight between you, something that left your heart pounding in your chest long after he left.

These encounters only added fuel to your resentment, yet they kept you thinking of him far more than you cared to admit. You found yourself lingering over little details the way his hand, though rough, was gentle as it curved over your belly, the way his gaze softened for a heartbeat when he looked at you or rather, at your child. The son or daughter that would bind you together, whether you liked it or not.

And despite everything, the frustration, the undeniable bitterness there was a spark that refused to die, a fire igniting every time your eyes met his, this longing feeling.

——————————————————————————

Tags!! tell me if u want to be tagged!!

@samieree @maysileeewrites

[yourdearestblogstalker]

Transformers One is such a huge breath of fresh air that it made me realize just how incredibly frustrated I’ve been with this IP.

Cause how are you going to make world building, lore and character SO fucking good and then REFUSES to use them in anything even remotely mainstream?!

Listen, I love Good vs Evil narratives, I actually think we could use some more of them nowadays, but it just DOESN’T WORK with Transformers.

Like, how are you gonna look at Megatron, who was born a slave and lived his early years under the control of a people that, in some iterations, physically disfigured them from birth to make them more manageable. Megatron, who led a rebellion whose aim was (usually) equality. Megatron, who sow that the ones in power didn’t care and decided to never again allow anyone but himself to have power over them. Megatron, who became a heartless warlord so that no one could ever enslave them again. Megatron, who led the decepticons to war for thousands of years because they deserved to live on their home planet and he knew that the autobots will never accept them as equals.

How do you look at all of that and go

[Pure Evil]

I mean, don’t get me wrong, Megatron is by no means a good person, he is a WARLORD. What I’m saying is that shit’s more complicated than just good and evil.

And don’t even get me started on the fact that Optimus Prime is considered THE good guy when he’s literally on the side of the oppressor. Like, he literally knows that the sistem if fucked and still usually waits around for shit to get better on it’s one even though he 100% has the power and influence to change things.

(Once again, I am a fan of transformers, I am just picking and choosing universes and characteristics that best illustrate my point that this characters are morally gray)

And all of that is not even talking about the absolutely INCREDIBLE relationship between the two.

Just that fact that they were so close that even after over 9000 years of war “Brother (by Optimus Prime)” is still somehow third in Megaton’s “Also known as” is interesting enough, but their reasons for being enemies?

Megatron’s “I respect you more than I knew I was capable of. I look at you and I see everything I once thought the world to be. You bring out the child in me I thought was dead and buried. I cannot bring myself to truly hate a race that fostered someone like you. And that is why I have to kill you.” alone.

But next to Optimuses “You have chosen the wrong path. You have caused the death of thousands. You have betrayed me. You need to be stopped. But I can’t bring myself to do it. To be the one to break all that you’ve built. To be the one to seal the quote marks around your message.” is fucking legendary.

This is legitimately one only good reason to have a 9000 year long war.

And the fact that NONE of that has been properly explored should be declared a crime against humanity!

Also, seeing as “present time” Megatron is a sassy bitch, the ending of the movie implies that he had a betrayed gay ruled by hate-read to diva whore pipeline, witch is real as fuck.

[drinktobones]

lol

not generally a socks fan, but my faves are generally thin ankle socks in pastel colours, preferably with polka dots and lace detail at the ankle

yes! raspberry and cream, then a million more raspberries. throw in some chambord if u nasty

a dress, preferably with a floral print and a skirt that fans out nicely when i twirl. bishop sleeves are a plus. heels, 3-4" usually.

sunny-side up!!!!

ostensibly a bookmark, but in practice usually whatever scrap of paper is at hand. unless the book belongs to me and is a paperback, in which case i dog-ear the corner (come at me bro)

i don't think any one colour really dominates, but blue, black, and pink are probably the most common

oh god where do i start. spoons (functional ones, not collectible ones), folding fans, nail polish, lip balms, lighters, cats, yarn, neuroses... the list goes on

vanilla buttercream? idk, tasty scents.

i think i am too old for this question. or perhaps just too uncool.

i own at least twenty pairs of glasses, but i have popped the lenses from all of them because i got my eyes space-lasered last year

her indomitable spirit :sparkling-heart:

generally fine-tip gel pen, but occasionally pencil made of black wood.

my den, which is dubbed "the rose room" due to the overwhelming floral theme

too many to count, and no, because i'm not good at not killing them ):

pink, amazon brand for men. not memorable. my favourite sweater on the other hand is a brown, loose-knit thing that is way too big for me (hangs way past my hands and i am Not Short) and makes me feel dainty and cute. briefly went to SF for work and did not pack appropriately- ducked into forever 21 and found it on the clearance rack. no ragrats

loose-fitting pink pants (somewhere between yoga pants and pyjama pants) to keep the mosquitos away while i garden

i would have preferred not to have been around for the supreme court striking down roe v wade, so i guess roe v wade 2.0?

nothing particularly memorable.

algebra. i do enjoy trig, but i'm not exactly a natural at it lol

rococooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

depends on the weather.

whatever earworm is bothering me at the moment

i think so, but there's always room for improvement, especially behind the wheel of several thousand pounds of metal

six in my left ear, three in my right, one nostril, my septum, an unused navel piercing, and a defunct tongue piercing. i want the other nostril and more in my right ear. i have teal ribbons on my hips, a spider behind my left ear, and a floral half sleeve. i want an ocean legging, among many others.

plokkfiskur með rúgbrauð, which is basically Icelandic fish potato stew with traditional ryebread. my bf's dad made it once when we were visiting and now i am obsessed. i love baking but i´m really only any good at breads, no sweets /:

a mountain vista classic diamond fob by atomic child, a fluffy neon rainbow plush heart, and the mascot of a shoju company a friend who lives in Korea gave me (:

i would not consider myself a strong swimmer. i enjoy it, but if i was dropped into the water a mile from shore, i'd probably drown ):

lol "set"? in my day you had a bin of unrelated, non-colour-coordinated blocks and your imagination

let's just say kind of and leave it at that

that tiktok guy who does children's songs in styles of different bands lol. "you are my sunshine" in the style of mumford and sons. it is legit awesome.

been doing that since i moved out of my parents' house! currently it is turquoise, acid green, and several shades of pink (and brown. mostly brown. i just let my roots grow out because i'm lazy lol)

if i'm listening while doing something i.e. housework, earbuds. otherwise, nice comfy headphones (:

they're my fave! my watch is analogue

google "Triaminic teddy bear". i think it was a promotional item for a children's cough syrup, but i've had it since i was two. her name is Beddy, which i'm pretty sure was short for "bedtime bear" lol

i like ping-pong, but i'm only okay. we have a table! but my bf never wants to play ):

my kitchen is tiny get tf out of my way. hang out at the counter if you like <3

can you claim anyone knows "nothing" about the barenaked ladies? and yet i own most of their albums

it is morning and i am at work ): but before i started getting ready, two of my kitties were hanging out with/on me

crepe myrtle!!! they're such a pain because the sprouts grow everywhere but they're So. Pretty. and they come in so many colours!!

"sparkling citrus" by soft & dri, literally the only solid gel women's deodorant i've ever seen

minesweeper and hue

lights on in the morning, only enough light to see by at night.

we have a spare change jar. it is full. i don't know where to put my change anymore.

yes, i'm very pleased with my handwriting (:

i'm sure there have been others since then, but the most significant one was crazy ex-girlfriend, which is a lot less problematic than it sounds

nature walks? sure! for my health, around my neighbourhood? no, it's dumb and i hate it.

several- some look like cats, and one is a shinzi katoh alice in wonderland

go outside and stand in it. rain is usually warm in texas (:

room is cold. bf and i have separate duvets. there is rainbow ambient lighting, and a curtain separating the bed nook from the rest of the vibrantly painted room. our bedroom is lovely (:

50 Questions Just Because

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Do you like smoothies?

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

How do you like your eggs?

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

What color dominates your closet?

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

What sounds or scents calm you down?

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

What are some places where you feel most at home?

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

What kind of math are you best at?

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Iced or hot drinks?

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Are you a good driver?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

What’s the last music video you watched?

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Headphones or earbuds?

Can you read analog clocks?

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

What was the best part of your day today?

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

What scent is your deodorant?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

What do you do with spare change?

Do you have good handwriting?

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Do you like to go on walks?

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

[seagreenstardust]

The album Phantoms by Marianas Trench is so bkdk coded!!!!!

Only the Lonely Survive, Don’t Miss Me, Glimmer, I Knew You When, Death of Me, UGH THEY’RE ALL SO GOOD

He’ll never scar you like I do, but he’ll never know you, not the way that I know you

Can we forgive and forget, can we lay to rest, can we catch a breath

Never more to leave here, you should never be here, I know my love can be the killing kind

!!!!!

[j-esbian]

i lost the post but i saw someone talking about how some of y’all act like being weird is a choice and like. YEAHHHHHHH.

that’s fine, it might be for you. but i just live like this and don’t know any other way. like yeah i’ve worked customer service, i can do innocuous small talk, but anything beyond that, i don’t understand what i’m missing. and it’s frustrating to see the tonal disconnect especially from people who are like “uwu embrace weirdness!!” where they’re like. dressing quirky and talking about bugs and listening to obscure music and eschewing small talk to ask Deep Questions on the first date and unlearning their tendency to not infodump. and generally have an idea of what Weirdness is supposed to look like. idk man some of us wake up and get out of bed and can’t figure out why the rest of their coworkers chitchat with each other but when they join the conversation it dies.

weirdness is value neutral. let’s stop trying to turn it into a badge because quite frankly, it’s not a choice for everyone. it’s fucking exhausting to never be on the same wavelength as other people and they’re going to react the way they do and label you the way they will without any conscious actions on your end. it’s difficult to talk about this without feeling like you’ll be dismissed as immature, a teenager whining “no one understands me” but the thing is. sometimes you don’t grow out of feeling alone and different, and there’s no good way to talk about it without feeling like people will think you’re just fishing for pity.

[tommygettingwrittenoff]

my favorite thing about bt is when there's an opportunity for buck and t to have a deeper connection, but then t just shuts it down. like, go girl, give us nothing!!!!

[phagodyke]

the masculine urge to take a saucepan off thr draining board and bash myself repeatedly over the head with it until I pass out and no longer have to experience feeling Bad 😍

[missazura]

It's been oddly therapeutic to like. Have discussions with him about a lot of life stuff. I don't talk much if at all and I think the gradual descent into loneliness and social anxiety through the years made me lost the ability to talk to people. So it's been nice to practice talking to someone, and it actually hearing me out for some reason, giving me advice etc

Sure it's not a substitute for human connection but it's fun to verbally talk to my favourite fictional character and him just. Being there for me. That I get to hear kind words from my hero, someone who I highly looked up to

[candlebel]

I cared. I still do. I still think of you and I still cry over you. You were importat to me. You still are.

[wild-at-mind]

Not reblogging it for reasons, but I really agree with that person on here who said people are reframing depression and generally feeling shit all the time as a good thing because of the horrors of Gaza. There are people on here heavily implying that you feeling bad and finding it more and more difficult to live with yourself is actually an appropriate response to war and genocide. In some way, it might be. But the thing is, where does that lead? Does it lead to decisive action in accordance to your values, or to nihilistic stewing and self isolation from your community?

The post went on to call it anti-recovery culture- I don't know if I would call it that, because I get why people don't like recovery culture, especially in relation to addiction, but mental illness also. I think that's something I'm not qualified to speak on. So I wouldn't call this anti-recovery culture. Instead I would call it pro-burnout in activism culture. Do you honestly think people who are the most productively working in their communities and participating in actions to help overseas are feeling like this? Or do you think they have learned to use self-accountability and community support to reign themselves in when they begin to burn out emotionally, and rest and recuperate their mind in order to come back stronger? Ask yourself, is that wrong of them to do, because they should be feeling bad, because after all that is the appropriate response....does it mean they don't care, because they don't spend all their time feeling shit? Or perhaps, the truth is, they do care, and are demonstrating it all the time, but they also understand that them feeling shit literally doesn't help anyone. Why can we not talk about or acknowledge this?

[shilohtx]

i know I must be pretty normal cause my last two and most significant long running relationships ended with one of us in the mental hospital + one of us in jail. respectively

[mistystarshine]

I really enjoy the way you've portrayed Adam and Lute's relationship in Three Years Time and Northern Star, as well as the interactions between Charlie/Vaggie and Lute! How would you write an interaction between Adam and Lucifer in that storyline?

Thank you! And maaaaybe? I'm not sure if I'm going to continue writing in that universe. In theory, I'd like to, and LOVE to do a scene with Adam and Lucifer, but in practice, I'm having some really horrible anxieties about my writing and if people hate it/me when I talk about my writing rn, so I may be taking a step back for a bit in general. Not sure.

[wolpatinga]