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messenger-of-babel · 2 months ago

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Home is Where the Heart is

Summary: You could never tell what Jason was thinking, and this particular night he has a lot on his mind. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Notes: Mini vent- had a bad day and this week has been really tough so I’m changing up the layout of today as well so I could put out a fic that was a little easier on my mind (I always need to have more pep in my step when I write for my lanterns idk why haha. So sorry Kyle my baby I want to do you justice so you're on backburner). It was indeed written to Ed Sheeran on loop cause I needed to lock in fr. ❤️❤️

Enjoy Lovelies~! xx

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When Jason looked at you, you often wondered what he was thinking.

What was passing through his mind that made his irises gleam that brilliant shade of emerald or let the natural curve of his smile adored his face. However, every time that you asked he just blew his hair from his eyes gruffly, but let the smile stay. "That's a secret," he'd say before his hand would pull you to kiss side and he'd press a soft kiss on your forehead.

It was a little known fact that the Red Hood was in fact Jason Todd, but it was known to even less that Jason Todd was actually a romantic at heart. Sure, he had a mouth on him, and he was on the receiving end of your hand up the back of his head more often than he wasn't. But he was also the quiet kind of clingy, the kind that would never ask to hug you or initiate contact, but would stay up so he could have your back pressed against his chest the second you slipped into bed. He'd laugh when you brushed the hair out of his eyes, the scar on the corner of his mouth unable to stop his boyish grin. It was those moments in your kitchen that made you think that maybe, just maybe, your life was all normal.

You knew it wasn't.

When your fingers brush against his forehead you know that the white tuft in his hair was a painful reminder of his death, the scar on his lips you so lovingly kissed caused by the very man who had killed him. His hands were littered with small scars from blocking knives and protecting his head from glass instead of childhood memories of climbing trees. His back was a canvas of white slashes that intersected in a map-like pattern, a surface already so touched that the symmetrical red lines you left seemed less stunning in comparison. Legs sporting burn marks, bruises permanent along his ribs; that was the Jason that you knew. So even if some days you pretended that he was some ordinary civilian like yourself, you still loved Jason with all your heart.

On this particular night he had come home from patrol, sitting on the kitchen counter while you patched him up. You had been a pretty awful field doctor the first time you offered, but he braved through your prods and pokes with a wince. He didn't say anything about the way you wrapped the bandages too loosely or that you had forgotten some antiseptic and had given the wrong type of topical painkiller. Jason could see the worry on your face, so he leant forward and kissed your forehead tiredly, thanking you with a soft murmur.

You didn't need to know when he slunk off the bathroom to rewrap the bandages, or when he reapplied ointment in the right area. He picked glass out of his own skin when you missed some, letting the shards clatter down the sink. All that consumed him was the thought of how soft you were when you handled him, when you passed the bandage around his middle, or when you tried to clean the wound with as little antiseptic as possible to try and prevent the stinging. He normally hated having to doctor himself up, meaning that even the smallest of injuries tended to scar under his negligence. Yet with you he had been ashamed of the scars, hyper aware of how your eyes lingered on them. More so, how other people stared at them when you were out together. So, for months he spent nights in the bathroom redoing the handiwork you insisted so passionately on learning, just so that there wouldn't be a scar you could blame yourself for later.

You were absolutely perfect, so there was no reason that he couldn't be for you too.

You had become better though, and that was through the help of Alfred. Now you had patched him up efficiently and tightly, patting his hip affectionately when you pull the bandage tight. "Almost done," you smile up at him, fingers pulling the end of the bandage tight and reaching for a bandage clip. "Just got to secure it and you'll be good to go."

He smiles and drops a tired kiss to your skin as usual, pulling your fingers away when you’re done so he can raise them to his lips. "Thanks, darl." he grins, eyes tired but grin still lively as ever. He slides off the counter to wrap his hands around your waist, kissing your nose. You just huff and give him a side glance, arms circling his neck without hesitation.

"What's got you all worked up?" you ask with a light laugh when he’s overly affectionate with you, making Jason groan and drop his head into your hair.

"Just tired." he mumbles. "Bruce pissed me off again today, started lecturing me on the way home."

"Bruce pisses you off most days." you chide. "How did you ever escape the lecture?" you chuckle, moving with him as he begins to sway.

"I turned the commlink off and came up through Southside Gotham so he couldn't follow me." he grins.

There it was.

"There's always something with you, isn't there?" you shake your head, beginning to spin around with him softly in the candlelight. He laughs, and you imagine it’s the sound of a young boy finally getting to live life normally again.

"Always is, babe. you know me." he chuckles, and his eyes flutter over to the candles you have on the counter. It was always dark when he came home normally, and in his tired state he hadn't questioned it. After all, his family worked best in the dark.

"Power outage at the moment?" he asks.

"Power got cut off." you murmur back with a sigh. "We missed last payment. Only a few days, but you know how quick they jump on those these in Gotham. It's all paid up now, but it'll take a day or two to get back. Cold things from the freezer are in the washing machine with the ice blocks."

He hums, stroking a hand up and down your back. "You're well prepared. Sorry for making you deal with them, I'll handle it next time, I promise."

Jason hated using Bruce's money.

Not only was it something that sat bitter in his mouth ever since he had come back, but he didn’t need it. Dick had also rejected it and moved to Bludhaven, and even though he'd never admit it, Jason respected the way he managed to build a home for himself there. He wanted to do that too, and he could do it damn well by himself. He still took some money, but it was no more than a wage from Bruce. He considered protecting Gotham his job, and he wasn't stupid. He wasn’t going to let his pride get in the way of helping you both live. He hated to see you stress about finances, but you never asked him. You never asked him to reach out to Bruce for more or reach out to Bruce yourself.

The first time rent had gone up it had nearly priced the both of you out of the cozy apartment you lived in, and you had been in tears for days trying to find a second job to cover the expenses. Yet you didn’t come begging for Bruce's assistance, no. You looked at him with those teary eyes and asked him to help make a budget with you so you could figure a way out, and you did. You were the most resilient person he knew, the most resilient person he loved.

He held you closer as he spun you softly around the kitchen.

You were going to need to be resilient.

He inhaled the scent of your shampoo and let his arms bask in the warmth of you. Your skin against his made the thrumming in his side ease and the headache blistering behind his eyes subside. As you relaxed against him, his head raced of all the ways that he could tell you. Tell the most perfect being that had ever walked into your life that he was leaving, and not only that, he was going to have to break your heart on the way out.

He cursed Bruce. He cursed Bruce for making enemies that had cunning greater than his own, for dragging him into the mess he had created. He had yelled and spat and screamed at the older man until his voice resonated off the cave walls, storming from the cave after tonight's fight. Bruce had asked the impossible of him, after they both got their asses handed to them in a surprise attack. They had taunted Bruce, not the Batman, and had enough evidence to bring Bruce's world and carefully hidden persona crumbling down around him. It just so happened that they had enough to bring Jason's down as well.

They knew about you.

Pictures of you had fluttered down towards him, filling him with an indescribable sense of fear. As hard as they fought, they had let the new visitor of Gotham's nightlife slip through their fingers and Bruce had asked him to break up with you not a second later. There was no empathy, there was no kindness or waiting for it to sink in for him.

But there never was.

In that moment Bruce was Batman, but Red Hood had been the scared Jason Todd.

How did he tell you that he wanted to break up when that was the furthest thing from the truth? That he would walk through hell barefoot and dunk himself in the Lazarus pit again if that mean that you were still there to warm his bed at night? How could he tell you that he didn't love you when his heart ached to tell you it every time he got the courage? He could play the tears, play the part of a sad breakup. That part was easy, considering how this was shaping to be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. It was the rage that he couldn't muster, for once. Rage was something that he saved for the streets, a place already so crime ridden and scummy that his bitterness and anger were practically masked under the filth. It wasn't a place for your home, the little shelter the both of you had carved out of Gotham with your own two hands.

So, he spun you around the room, eyes watering with tears yet to shed as he thought about how to let you go. He knew you wanted to stay, and that made his heart ache in return. It was like losing a part of him that hadn't even been lost yet, a void already forming in his chest. He sniffled lightly and thankfully you didn’t hear or notice his arms squeezing tighter, as if to imprint the feeling of you against his body. He tried to tell himself it was only a temporary thing, that he could explain it all to you later when the threat was done. That thought often lost against the conjured image of your heartbroken eyes his mind created to torture him, and the persistent thought that you'd probably never want to see him again when he was about to break your heart so violently.

You don't notice something is wrong until the first tear hits your hair, silently giving way to more. You notice the slight shake in his arms and the tension still wound in his body. Normally the stiffness in his muscles flowed out of him like water when he stepped over the threshold of the house, but not tonight.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask softly, pressing into him to try and comfort him, your heart panging in confusion at his strange behaviour.

Jason would never tell you, but when he looked at you he wondered what the rest of your life together would look like, and if you'd ever considering changing your name to 'Todd'.

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fishing-lesbian-catgirl · 9 months ago

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I occasionally see people complain that stereotypes of trans women even in our own online communities are often about us being nerdy shut ins, and how they say that’s unfair and inaccurate. But besides the obvious selection bias that in online spaces people who are shut ins that spend most of their time online are going to be more prevalent than those who spend less time online, I feel like it takes a bit of willful ignorance to pretend that nerdy shut ins don’t make up a very large portion of transgender women for very material reasons. Most of the transgender women I know have a few things in common:

We grew up uncomfortable with our bodies

We spent most of our lives prior to transitioning feeling like something is very wrong and feeling like we don’t fit in with most of society

We frequently fantasized about a life that could be different

Again there is a very real amount of selection bias in this because basically every trans woman I know is also mentally ill and spends most of her time online. But again I feel that the material reality of being a person who feels uncomfortable with themselves, feels like they don’t belong, and often fantasizes about a life where they didn’t have those problems very much would cause said person to gravitate towards being nerdy and/or a shut in. And that is intensified if you consider the statistically higher percentage of trans women that are autistic (the autism-transgender connection is a whole different topic but there is a statistically significant overlap). To a person like that, video games, tabletop role playing, and online communities where you can present yourself how you’d like are all very attractive things. And if so many of us gravitated to those things before transitioning, existing in this world that is so deeply cruel and unaccepting of trans women only pushes us further into using those as our outlets.

I won’t pretend to have any statistical or other knowledge to make sweeping statements about that making up the majority of us or anything, and I also recognize there is selection bias inherent to this discussion and that my view is limited as an American white woman. But I will say that I don’t think it should be necessarily surprising or disappointing to anyone that online communities of transgender women tend to focus on talking about the types of transgender women that make up the majority of those communities: the ones who spend more time online

#Delia original #idk what to tag this. just some of my thoughts on a sentiment I’ve seen some times #that always feels a little disingenuous to me

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nostalgebraist · 2 years ago

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Honestly I'm pretty tired of supporting nostalgebraist-autoresponder. Going to wind down the project some time before the end of this year.

Posting this mainly to get the idea out there, I guess.

This project has taken an immense amount of effort from me over the years, and still does, even when it's just in maintenance mode.

Today some mysterious system update (or something) made the model no longer fit on the GPU I normally use for it, despite all the same code and settings on my end.

This exact kind of thing happened once before this year, and I eventually figured it out, but I haven't figured this one out yet. This problem consumed several hours of what was meant to be a relaxing Sunday. Based on past experience, getting to the bottom of the issue would take many more hours.

My options in the short term are to

A. spend (even) more money per unit time, by renting a more powerful GPU to do the same damn thing I know the less powerful one can do (it was doing it this morning!), or

B. silently reduce the context window length by a large amount (and thus the "smartness" of the output, to some degree) to allow the model to fit on the old GPU.

Things like this happen all the time, behind the scenes.

I don't want to be doing this for another year, much less several years. I don't want to be doing it at all.

----

In 2019 and 2020, it was fun to make a GPT-2 autoresponder bot.

[EDIT: I've seen several people misread the previous line and infer that nostalgebraist-autoresponder is still using GPT-2. She isn't, and hasn't been for a long time. Her latest model is a finetuned LLaMA-13B.]

Hardly anyone else was doing anything like it. I wasn't the most qualified person in the world to do it, and I didn't do the best possible job, but who cares? I learned a lot, and the really competent tech bros of 2019 were off doing something else.

And it was fun to watch the bot "pretend to be me" while interacting (mostly) with my actual group of tumblr mutuals.

In 2023, everyone and their grandmother is making some kind of "gen AI" app. They are helped along by a dizzying array of tools, cranked out by hyper-competent tech bros with apparently infinite reserves of free time.

There are so many of these tools and demos. Every week it seems like there are a hundred more; it feels like every day I wake up and am expected to be familiar with a hundred more vaguely nostalgebraist-autoresponder-shaped things.

And every one of them is vastly better-engineered than my own hacky efforts. They build on each other, and reap the accelerating returns.

I've tended to do everything first, ahead of the curve, in my own way. This is what I like doing. Going out into unexplored wilderness, not really knowing what I'm doing, without any maps.

Later, hundreds of others with go to the same place. They'll make maps, and share them. They'll go there again and again, learning to make the expeditions systematically. They'll make an optimized industrial process of it. Meanwhile, I'll be locked in to my own cottage-industry mode of production.

Being the first to do something means you end up eventually being the worst.

----

I had a GPT chatbot in 2019, before GPT-3 existed. I don't think Huggingface Transformers existed, either. I used the primitive tools that were available at the time, and built on them in my own way. These days, it is almost trivial to do the things I did, much better, with standardized tools.

I had a denoising diffusion image generator in 2021, before DALLE-2 or Stable Diffusion or Huggingface Diffusers. I used the primitive tools that were available at the time, and built on them in my own way. These days, it is almost trivial to do the things I did, much better, with standardized tools.

Earlier this year, I was (probably) one the first people to finetune LLaMA. I manually strapped LoRA and 8-bit quantization onto the original codebase, figuring out everything the hard way. It was fun.

Just a few months later, and your grandmother is probably running LLaMA on her toaster as we speak. My homegrown methods look hopelessly antiquated. I think everyone's doing 4-bit quantization now?

(Are they? I can't keep track anymore -- the hyper-competent tech bros are too damn fast. A few months from now the thing will be probably be quantized to -1 bits, somehow. It'll be running in your phone's browser. And it'll be using RLHF, except no, it'll be using some successor to RLHF that everyone's hyping up at the time...)

"You have a GPT chatbot?" someone will ask me. "I assume you're using AutoLangGPTLayerPrompt?"

No, no, I'm not. I'm trying to debug obscure CUDA issues on a Sunday so my bot can carry on talking to a thousand strangers, every one of whom is asking it something like "PENIS PENIS PENIS."

Only I am capable of unplugging the blockage and giving the "PENIS PENIS PENIS" askers the responses they crave. ("Which is ... what, exactly?", one might justly wonder.) No one else would fully understand the nature of the bug. It is special to my own bizarre, antiquated, homegrown system.

I must have one of the longest-running GPT chatbots in existence, by now. Possibly the longest-running one?

I like doing new things. I like hacking through uncharted wilderness. The world of GPT chatbots has long since ceased to provide this kind of value to me.

I want to cede this ground to the LLaMA techbros and the prompt engineers. It is not my wilderness anymore.

I miss wilderness. Maybe I will find a new patch of it, in some new place, that no one cares about yet.

----

Even in 2023, there isn't really anything else out there quite like Frank. But there could be.

If you want to develop some sort of Frank-like thing, there has never been a better time than now. Everyone and their grandmother is doing it.

"But -- but how, exactly?"

Don't ask me. I don't know. This isn't my area anymore.

There has never been a better time to make a GPT chatbot -- for everyone except me, that is.

Ask the techbros, the prompt engineers, the grandmas running OpenChatGPT on their ironing boards. They are doing what I did, faster and easier and better, in their sleep. Ask them.

#nostalgebraist autoresponder meta

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elronds-meleth-nin · 9 months ago

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I Could Love You With My Eyes Closed

I heard a song and one of the lines got stuck in my head, so here's a fic. (If you're curious, it was "Figure You Out" by VOILÀ.) No idea why, but Thranduil just felt perfect for this.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Thranduil x Reader

[A/N: This is mostly just fluff, but there's some innuendo, so... 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Fluff, angst, Elf x Human romance, mutual pining, idiots in love, Thranduil being dramatic, fake betrothal speedrun, Thranduil being soft for one (1) person only, protective Thranduil, Human!Reader has been adopted by elf who had no idea what he was getting into and Thranduil thinks he's an idiot, mild innuendo.

~*~

My mind wandered during my guard shift. Given that nothing ever penetrated this deep into the realm without the king's consent, the risk of allowing my focus to roam among my busy thoughts was minimal. The night air was brisk as I sat on one corner of the king's balcony with my bow laid across my lap.

Normally, the night air was soothing, but at that moment, all I could think about was how different everything would be soon. There would be no more extravagant views of the stars framed by elaborately gilded windows, no more training with my bow, no more front row seats to royal audiences, and - the worst of all - no more late night conversations when King Thranduil grew weary of his work.

I'd taken those things for granted. Oh, I hadn't squandered my time once I'd become one of his guards, by any means, but now that I might be forced to give up that position sooner than I'd anticipated, a list of regrets seemed to be cycling endlessly in my mind's eye. One that caused me the most pain was that I would very soon no longer be the recipient of his majesty's secret smirks when something we'd discussed privately occurred in his court.

The sound of a quill scratching away on parchment within the king's study ceased abruptly, but not even the anticipation of a quiet, intimate talk with him could lift my spirits. Not after the news I'd had that morning.

The swish of a cloak being removed was followed by unhurried footsteps toward the balcony, and then he was there beside me. The King of the Woodland Realm stood less than a few feet from me in all his finery, save the little circlet that usually rested upon his brow. He tended not to wear it when he retired to his chambers for the evening, choosing instead to lay it atop a book of poetry which resided permanently on his desk.

"On a lovely, cloudless night such as this, what cause would a newly-engaged lady have to look so forlorn?" The smooth, regal voice of my liege met my ears, and under any other circumstances, I might have scrambled to my feet to bow before him, as was his due. All I could muster, however, was a quiet, sincere apology over my shoulder as I remained seated on the balcony. I could feel his keen, pale blue eyes on me as I set my bow aside and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, dear. Is he that repulsive?"

"Not physically, but...all he seems to see is himself. I am perfectly aware that the betrothal wasn't either of our choices, but he could at least pretend that he's interested when our parents are nowhere to be seen." I was aware that I sounded ungrateful, but just because I was a mortal woman in a realm of Elves didn't mean that I had to like it when I was constantly looked down upon by others.

One of the few people who never gave me the impression that he thought less of me took a seat beside me in robes much too elegant for anything less than a perfectly padded chair to touch.

"Have you spoken with your guardian - apologies, your father - about your fears?" Instead of sounding judgmental, Thranduil's voice held only softness - a rarity, to be sure, but such a tone was more common when he conversed with me than with anyone else. I nodded my head as I recalled the cold aloofness in my adoptive father's voice as he'd dismissed both me and my protests.

"He seemed more concerned with maintaining the status associated with his name than with some silly little mortal's concerns." I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, I really did, but the sharp edge that crept in made me cringe a bit. "After all, who am I to complain when he took me in? My life could have been over before it had even truly begun. He could just as easily have left me to die in the ruins of our burning village and adopted an Elfling instead. I...owe him for all that he has done."

One of Thranduil's hands rested lightly on my shoulder, coaxing me to face him. My eyes met his, and his free hand laid over my wrist. The warm weight of his palm covering my pulse made my heart flutter in my chest.

"Is that what he told you?" When I stammered about it being nothing more than the truth, he shook his head while stormclouds gathered in his expression. "What foul words of comfort from one who claims to care for you."

To that, I had no response. Naturally, several statements sprung to the tip of my tongue - defenses for my father's actions - but I swallowed them all down when my king's gaze warned me that he would tolerate no such excuses.

"Remind me, mellon-nin, how long have you served in my guard?"

"Twelve years and a few months, sire."

"And in all of our many conversations, have I ever given you any reason to doubt that I value you as highly as any other in my kingdom? After that first fortnight, when you were terrified of making a mistake, have you ever felt out of place because of your mortality?"

The memory of that fateful night drew a smile to my lips.

"No, mellon-nin. That rather thorough tongue-lashing you meted out made your stance quite clear to all in the palace," I murmured allowing myself the small liberty of turning my hand beneath his and threading our fingers together.

The guards he'd berated for their rudeness and bigotry had practically fled the throne room when he was finished with them. After that night, he'd ordered that whenever I was on duty, I would be assigned to his personal detail.

"Then, what cause have you to believe that I would tolerate anyone treating you so poorly anywhere else in my domain?"

"This is different–"

"How? Enlighten me," the king ordered giving my fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Father has the right to demand that I repay him for the time he has spent on me," I hedged, but Thranduil shook his head.

"Just because he raised you, that does not mean that he was unaware of what he was choosing. He may not have known the full extent of the demands made of a parent, but that was not the fault of the innocent babe he rescued." He sounded so calm, so casual about his assertions that I could do no more than blink as he spoke. "I do not expect Legolas to sacrifice his happiness to satisfy some imagined debt incurred at his birth, nor should your guardian make such ludicrous demands of you."

We sat quietly for a moment, side-by-side and hand-in-hand beneath the moonlight before words began flowing from my mouth almost without my consent.

"He's an ass, you know, the man to whom I have been promised. Nothing brings him greater pleasure than a mirror, and nothing strains him more than remembering a preference held by someone other than himself," I murmured feeling as though this confession of my unkind thoughts about the Ellon would give me some measure of comfort beyond another's commiseration. "Six different times he has insisted that he knows my favorite flower, and six times have I received something completely different. He claims that I keep changing my answer, but, truly, I have given the same response every time."

"He chooses not to listen," Thranduil muttered almost to himself.

"Quite correct, aran-nin. He is dismissive...practically ignores me when we are in the same room..."

"Had he been listening, he undoubtedly would have heard your scathingly pointed sighs, not unlike those which you direct toward any who insult your king in the throne room," he teased, and a huff of laughter bubbled out of me. "I shall have you know that I enjoy those little sighs. They convey a great deal about the receiver's lack of intelligence and manners, whilst simultaneously broadcasting that you would like nothing more than to drag them from the gates by the scruff of their neck. Quite effective, do you not agree?"

"Oh, yes, mellon. As I recall, you've allowed me to do just that on several occasions," I said glancing over at him. The answering sparkle in his eyes coupled with the wicked little smirk adorning his lips made my heart thud faster in my chest.

"And I reveled in every second of their humiliation at your beautiful hands," Thranduil practically purred in satisfaction at the memories, but I sobered rather quickly as I recalled the reason I was so down in the first place. He must've seen my smile slip. "Forgive me, I was certain that you enjoyed dragging witless rats from my sight...?"

"I do...rather, I did." The correction was small, but he pounced upon it immediately. The hand that had been on my shoulder grasped my chin and forced me to look back up at him. He didn't need to say a word. The question floated between us unasked, yet requiring an answer. "My betrothed made it clear that he believed a guard was no proper wife. He has demanded that I resign my position here."

More seriously than he had all night, Thranduil gazed into my eyes.

"Is that what you want? Do you wish to give up the station you fought so hard to attain for a man who cannot remember even the simplest of things about you?" I shook my head as hot, desperate tears filled my eyes. "Then tell me, what do you want? What desires fill your mind when you allow yourself to dream under cover of darkness?"

I most certainly could not give him the whole truth. I couldn't tell him that over the course of our acquaintance and friendship I had fallen in love with him. Nothing could ever come of my pathetic heartache. I was only a guard. A peasant. Peasants might fall in love with royalty, but they did not end up with them. That was not the way of the world.

"Love," I breathed instead. "I want to be loved for myself, not my father's position. I wish to be cared for and to care for another. I wish to remain a guard, a warrior for the Woodland Realm, and to be accepted as I am, not swept aside. Obviously, I am not without fault, but while I attempt to grow wiser and gain experience, I do not wish to be impeded or judged by someone who could never remember even the most basic facts about me. I...What I want is impossible."

A small, gentle smile crossed the king's lips, and an intense, burning desire to kiss him fought a war within me against my common sense. Thranduil could forgive much, but a lapse in judgment as severe as throwing myself at him? Never.

"Your presence here is proof that nothing is impossible. You are much easier to love than you have allowed yourself to believe." His deep, rumbling voice sounded at once comforting and sensual, which proved quite effective at helping me blink back my tears before they could even begin to fall. "When are you next due to meet with this unworthy cad?"

"Tomorrow. My father has invited both he and his parents to our home for the evening meal as it is my day without a shift." I was surprised at how steady my voice sounded after how vulnerable I'd just been. Strangely, though, I felt no shame in having allowed my friend to see my pain.

King Thranduil nodded his head pensively, brushing his thumb over my chin as he did so - why had he not yet released his grip? Not that I was going to complain, of course. Being this close to him, touching him, speaking with him in confidence...that was as close as I was ever going to get to him, and even that might soon be pulled from my grasp, so I savored every moment that I was afforded.

Neither of us had much more to say. Instead, the Elvenking slipped an arm around my waist and tugged me close enough to his side for me to lay my head on his shoulder. We sat in companionable silence until the time came for the guard change. Bidding me sweet dreams and a safe trip home, Thranduil dropped a soft kiss onto my hand and retreated back inside his rooms.

As usual, the guard who was to replace me gave me a raised eyebrow at my familiarity with someone so far above my station, and, as usual, I ignored him.

Sneaking to the stables on my way out, I plucked an apple from my coat pocket and headed to the gilded gates of the stall holding the king's mount. Slicing the fruit quickly in half with my dagger to delay my return home by a few extra seconds, I cooed gently to the large elk, stroking the soft fur on his muzzle as I offered him the treat.

"Who's a good boy? Hm? You are! Yes, you are," I praised as he gingerly bit into the first half of the bright red fruit, then the second. He was a gentle giant, in truth. Much of the kingdom supposed that he would be as prickly as his rider, but nothing could be further from reality. Firstly, the king was only short with those who deserved his ire. Secondly, the admittedly imposing elk upon which he rode hadn't a mean bone in his very large body. "Aww, you're never grumpy with me, are you, mellon-nin?"

He chuffed and snuffled, nuzzling gratefully into my caressing fingers as a 'thank you' for his treat. Even he would be a far superior companion for life than the idiot with whom I'd be forced to spend yet another pointless evening the next day...and perhaps the rest of my life.

"Don't worry, mellon, even if he makes me resign, I'll still find a way to sneak in and bring you extra apples." The pleased little snort he gave me drew a giggle from my lips, but I knew that soon the guard patrolling this section of the grounds would be here. I bid goodnight to my tall, fur-covered friend and set off on the path toward home with our secret intact.

Had I so much as bothered to glance back, I would've seen a familiar head of bright blond hair watching as I tugged the hood of my cloak over my head.

When I awoke the next day, it was still early morning. The lateness of my shift usually tired me out well enough that I slept for at least another hour or two, but after a few bleary blinks, I realized that I'd been awakened by voices.

Odd. My adoptive father did not usually entertain guests at this hour. Either something had happened, or today was destined to turn out rather strangely. As he hadn't bothered to come wake me, I gathered that there was no urgency in whatever had transpired. What was not in question, however, was the way my stomach growled as I tried to roll over and go back to sleep.

With a sigh of defeat, I climbed out of bed and dressed, even going so far as to tie my hair back in a quick braid since it looked as though it might rain. Thus, clothed and presentable, I cleaned my teeth and ventured from my bedroom in search of food.

The voices seemed to be coming from my destination, so it seemed as though I would get both sustenance and an answer to my curiosity all at the same time. A fortuitous turn for such a gray morning.

"...ere she is now." I was able to make out my father's voice as I intentionally stepped on the creaky board in the hallway. I wasn't as quiet as an Elf when I walked, but I still didn't like to appear as though I was eavesdropping or sneaking where I shouldn't be. When I stepped into the kitchen, I froze.

There in all his regal, perfectly-groomed glory was King Thranduil, sitting at our tiny wooden table.

What in the name of the Valar was the king doing in our kitchen?

"Aran-nin," I greeted him, bowing slightly less steadily than I might have if I'd been awake for more than a few minutes. A low, velvety chuckle floated around the space.

"Come now, meleth, you know there is no need for such formality," Thranduil crooned giving me a charming, mischievous smile as I straightened again, but that statement alone nearly shattered my poor tired mind.

He'd said 'meleth,' but...that meant 'love.' He'd never called me that before. And I still didn't know why he was in our kitchen.

Glancing between my king and my father, I tried silently to piece together what the hell was going on here. Thranduil must have seen my lack of progress in my eyes, because he continued as if this was all completely normal.

"Come, break your fast. Your guardian has been kind enough to make tea and lay out some provisions for us," he said standing and pulling out the chair directly beside him.

Almost without thinking, I did as he asked, and my heart thudded rapidly in my chest when he seated me as if we were at some lavish feast instead of around our small, wooden table. He acknowledged my hastily-murmured gratitude, then resumed his own seat with his usual flourish. The three of us ate quietly for a few moments, staunchly ignoring the fact that the king was in our tiny kitchen eating with us as casually as if he had always done so.

It was...pleasant. Strange, obviously, but much more enjoyable than my usual solitary morning meal.

"So, meleth-nin, would you like to tell him the good news, or should I?" Thranduil asked, and I looked up at him. Slightly more cognizant than before, I recognized the glint in his eyes that usually accompanied a desire for me to play along with whatever he said next. I could do that.

"I'm quite certain that it would be much more eloquent coming from you," I demurred, and I very pointedly avoided looking across the table at my father's reaction to whatever bit of theater my king had orchestrated. Less than a heartbeat later, I found my free hand firmly in Thranduil's grasp as he looked at my father.

"The betrothal you arranged for your ward is hereby declared invalid by order of the king," he said, and the stunned expression on my father's face was worth every moment of confusion I'd experienced that morning. He took a moment to gather himself before clearing his throat and looking between us in askance.

"If it is not too presumptuous, sire, may I ask why you have done this? Her betrothal to–"

"That engagement was no more than a farce. We meant to announce it earlier, but with how busy I've been attending to my royal duties, I fear I have been remiss." The king cut him off, and the indignation in my father's eyes gave me a sick sort of pleasure. "You see, your ward is not available for the suitor you preferred, because she has already accepted my own marriage proposal."

Oh. So, that was what he had in mind. A faux betrothal. Somehow, that was both intensely flattering and a knife to my chest.

The announcement worked to perfection, though. My father looked as though he'd been punched soundly in the face.

"You...?" He blinked and made a second attempt at speech. "Why would a king want her?"

Thranduil's head tilted in a manner I recognized as indicative of the imminent rise of his temper.

"Why does a king desire anything? Tell me, why should a king not desire a worthy queen for his realm?" He asked, and my father caught up rather rapidly with the realization that he'd said the wrong thing. Thranduil looked back over at me as he lifted my hand to his lips. "Why should an Ellon not marry the one whom he loves?"

Ow. Those were the exact words I'd longed to hear from him for so many years, but to hear them now knowing that they were all an act...

"And why should I not wish to marry the Elf with whom I have grown so close over my many years of guard duty?" How far he intended to carry this fiction, I didn't know, but I could play along for now. I could hide the pain.

"I...Congratulations," my father stammered hesitantly, but he was no longer relevant. Not now.

"Thank you," the king said without taking his eyes off of me. "Meleth, I believe it is time for you to live in the palace. It will be your home once we are married, and if you are prepared, I can take you back with me. My mount is outside."

"Of course, but I shall need a few moments to pack–"

"Nonsense. You needn't do such menial work. You are to be my queen. I have already arranged for your belongings to be brought to you this evening. For now, you need only bring yourself and a riding cloak," he insisted with a warm smile.

"Might it not be simpler, my king, if I were to save you the trouble of taking her with you? I could escort her to the palace myself this evening so that you needn't be burdened by sharing your mount," my father said, and the blush that sent my cheeks burning at the thought of the pair of us riding together atop his elk was automatic. No acting required.

I prayed that Thranduil was unaware of how drastically he affected me, even within my own imagination.

"Bringing my queen to the palace is my responsibility and privilege. And, if you shall forgive me for saying so aloud outside of the solitude of our marital chambers, meleth-nin, I view the opportunity to feel you in my arms with great anticipation," the king said turning my hand over gently and placing a slow, sensual kiss right over my racing pulse. My breath caught in my throat at the hunger in his eyes. His lips lingered a few beats longer than I expected, only pulling away when my father cleared his throat pointedly. "My apologies. In the presence of such beauty, I find that I am transported into the realm of fantasy."

Thranduil's words did not match his expression. He was an Ellon who found vast satisfaction in playing those around him like an orchestra. He wasn't sorry at all.

"As much as I adore seeing you like this, my darling king, I do hope you will be more discreet while holding court," I teased, but his smirk only grew.

"When my queen is so breathtaking? Never." If it wasn't for the disgustingly sexy wink he tossed me, I'd have thought he was laying his act on a bit thick. As it was, though, he seemed to be staying in character quite effortlessly. For my part, I was one shaky breath away from giggling like a brainless idiot, or bursting out in tears because of the simple fact that this was all an act.

Ducking my head in what I hoped was a passable semblance of bashfulness, I tried to steady my breathing.

"I...trust that you still plan to give up your position in the guard?" My eyes flicked up and met my father's. There was something in his expression - disbelief, confusion, suspicion - that I couldn't quite place.

His obvious lack of trust after all these years angered me.

With the sweetest smile that I could muster, I tilted my head curiously.

"Not at all. A queen must be willing to fight for - and alongside - her people if she expects them to fight for her in return. Loyalty must be earned; it is not a gift to which one is entitled." Thranduil gave my fingers a gentle, supportive squeeze. "Surely, after your many years as a warrior, you of all people understand how crucial it is to inspire loyalty in those whom you command?"

He couldn't protest. When Thranduil said nothing, giving him neither a change of subject nor an opportunity to dodge the question, my father stammered about his question being a foolish one and about the change in suitors being so sudden.

Almost as soon as we stepped outside, the king's elk snuffled happily. He walked over to us, but to my surprise, instead of vying for Thranduil's attention, he made a beeline for me. Without thought, I patted his muzzle and ran my fingers down his neck. Snuffling lower, as if he knew I usually kept his apples in my pockets, he looked at me expectantly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, mellon, I don't hav–" I was silenced by a large, gentle hand landing on my shoulder.

In my king's grasp was a bright, ripe, red apple. The same kind I usually smuggled out of the larder as a treat for my furry friend. He'd already sliced it in half - when had he even found the time?

"Thank you, but how did you...?"

"Nothing happens in my realm but I know of it," he whispered, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my scalp.

Choosing to temporarily ignore the implications of his statement, I accepted the apple and fed it to his elk. After a moment, Thranduil moved nearly soundlessly back toward my father.

"Ah, before I forget, this is for your ward's former suitor," he said pulling an envelope with the royal seal from his pocket. "Please convey to him that if the contents raise more questions than answers, he is most welcome to see the palace healers about his obviously failing memory."

With his cloak swishing behind him, Thranduil swept back over to me and helped me onto his mount's back. Once he was seated behind me with an arm wrapped firmly around my middle, it all sank in.

This might be an act for my father, but this was happening. I was really riding toward the palace with my king's chest pressing against my back. The guards who manned the gate would see us. Any who encountered us would bear witness to the king's act. How far did he mean to take this?

Surely, he wouldn't actually marry me just to get me away from one unsuitable Ellon? And when he did eventually end this ruse, what then? Would I be forced to go home with my tail tucked between my legs?

When we were around the halfway point in our journey - far enough from both my home and the palace that I was certain we wouldn't be observed - I asked if we could stop for a moment. Despite his confusion, Thranduil gave the command, and his elk trotted to a graceful stop. Without waiting for assistance, I slid off the saddle and landed rather hard on my feet.

Ignoring the new pain in my ankles and the ache that the loss of Thranduil's steadying grip left in my chest, I took a few steps and tried to slow my breathing. The sound of my traveling companion landing infinitely more gently than I had met my ears along with a concerned call of my name, but I just shook my head.

"Are you hurt, meleth?" He asked, and I swallowed heavily.

"No, but...my king–"

"You are perfectly allowed to call me by my name. After all, we are betrothed. It would not do for our subjects to see us behaving as if no love exists between us," he said as he patted his elk's neck, and a pang of hurt wound through my heart. Thranduil was saying all the right words, but it was an act. There were no longer any witnesses. There was no longer anyone to watch as my heart broke.

"Why are you doing this?" At the pain in my voice, confusion and concern washed over his features.

"Whatever do you mean?" The Elvenking asked stepping away from his elk's side. His cloak billowed around him, and it was all I could do not to drop to my knees at the sheer majesty of the figure he presented. All it did, though, was reinforce what I already knew: Thranduil was not for me.

"Please, do not misunderstand, I am grateful that you have saved me from such an unfortunate match. However, you needn't spare my feelings by pretending to love me. There is no need to waste your precious time playacting, mellon-nin."

"'Pretending'?" The word escaped him as a harsh, dangerous whisper. Oh dear. I'd seen the king's rage before, but never had his icy fury been turned upon me. Despite the outrage in his tone, his next words were at the same hushed volume as before. "'Playacting'? What do you take me for?"

I could see why Prince Legolas had insisted that raised voices were preferable to the fear that his father's cool, piercing anger inspired. I wasn't afraid, but I was acutely aware of the severity of his emotions. I wasn't intentionally trying to anger him, but I needed him to know how close he'd come to breaking me beyond repair. Before I could answer, he advanced another step and continued.

"And, pray tell, what am I, in your estimation? Cruel? Unforgiving? Demanding? Judgmental?" His eyes flashed with something akin to pain. "Perhaps your censure is not based upon personality, but upon appearance."

The glamour he kept constantly in place over his scar melted away.

"Is this the source of your misgivings? Am I too ugly for you to accept, even as a king?"

"You know that's not true," I snapped, with an edge of warning in my voice, recalling the first time I'd seen him without the glamour.

A few months after my appointment to the king's guard, I was given a jar of pain-dulling ointment by one of the healers to pass on to the king. I'd delivered it, of course, but when I'd been hesitant to leave him, going so far as to ask if he was injured, he'd locked the door and showed me what the great serpents of the north had done to him. Thranduil admitted later that he'd intended to frighten me that night, but all I'd done was ask if he needed help applying the medicine. Once he realized I thought no less of him for his injury, he'd let me.

Yet he had the gall to stand before me and accuse me of being shallow? Had he learned nothing about me over the years?

"Then answer the question," Thranduil bit out quietly. "What exactly do you take me for?"

"A king," I breathed looking up into his eyes. Confusion mingled with his anger. "Peasants may fall in love with royalty, but they are not offered the luxury of marrying them. Kings do not give lowly guards a second thought, even if they afford them the title of 'friend,' so I will ask you again, sire: Why are you doing this? Why are you acting as though hope abounds for my doomed heart where none has ever existed?"

His brow smoothed, his lips parted a fraction, and his glamour slipped silently back into place as he processed what I'd said. Oh, Valar, what I'd said! I'd confessed to loving the king!

Comprehension melted his anger away into nothingness. Instead, he moved within a single step of me, lifting one of his large, graceful hands to caress my cheek.

"You truly do not know?" I couldn't even bring myself to answer as I leaned into Thranduil's touch. This might be the last chance to do so after what I'd just admitted. He'd dismissed guards in the past for much less severe transgressions. "When we spoke last night, you told me that you desired to be loved - not by the whole of the Woodland Realm as I believe you deserve, but by one person. The Ellon your father chose for you certainly could not do that when remembering something as small as your favorite flower caused him such strain."

Low and gentle, his voice trickled over my ears as smoothly as honey. He...He didn't sound angry, anymore. Why wasn't he enraged that someone like me had dared to cross the more-than-generous boundary of friendship that he'd allowed me?

"My king–"

"Thandruil," he corrected, but there was no real bite to his words despite having to repeat himself again. He never repeated himself, yet this morning alone he'd done so twice. "You adore the blue wildflowers that grow along our western borders, but if you smell them for too long, they make you sneeze. During the summer, you set them on the sill in your room and keep the window open so that you might enjoy them without discomfort."

I blinked in surprise. I could vaguely remember a conversation years ago where I'd mentioned the flowers, but it was such a trivial thing that I was quite certain it would've been forgotten by morning. After all, what I did with flowers had no bearing on the fate of the kingdom.

"You prefer your tea sweet but not overly so. When you believe it might rain, you take the precaution of braiding your hair so that the humidity will not render it impossible to untangle when you return home."

The Elvenking began slowly, allowing each small fact that he'd observed about me to sink in along with the realization that he'd favored me with his attention frequently enough to accrue them.

"Your confidence with daggers is low, but with a bow, you are as bold and graceful as any skilled Elleth warrior. When I express my anger at some wretched fool in my court, you often struggle to suppress your laughter at how close they come to wetting themselves in the throne room - do not deny it. Your body gives you away each and every time."

Had he truly seen so much of me during my service to him?

"When your temper is tested, there is a small line that appears just here," he touched a spot between my brows, "that brings me great consternation. On the one hand, I wish to give you my sword so that you may more easily remove the head of whomever has dared incur your wrath, but on the other, I wish to soothe your frustrations with my words, my lips, my body, whatever you will allow–"

"Thranduil–" His name fell from me as no more than a whisper. The leaves on the trees surrounding the path rustled in the breeze, but the Elvenking could not be stopped.

"Your free time is often spent reading. Once a week before you return home, you sneak out to the stables and feed my elk an extra apple, because you find him sweet-tempered. When you laugh, your eyes sparkle brighter than any star ever could, and you steal the breath from my chest each time you look at me."

My vision blurred, and only when my king's thumbs brushed tears from my cheeks did I realize that I was crying. I'd loved him for so long that this felt as surreal as a dream.

"You said that you wish to be loved, meleth-nin. To answer your question, I am doing this because I can give you exactly what you desire. I could love you with my eyes closed, because I have done so with them open since the day you were assigned to my guard."

Thranduil leaned closer, freezing but a hair's breadth from my lips.

"If you do not feel the same, we can remain friends, but if there is the slightest chance that you could find happiness by my side, then marry me. Be my queen. I am yours." His whispered promise was filled with so much tenderness and hope that my restraint snapped, and I closed the distance between our mouths.

My fingers gripped his robes in an attempt to ground myself, but this heady feeling of being wanted - being loved - robbed me of all coherent thought. There was only the feeling of gentle hands drawing me close by my waist and the nape of my neck. Only soft lips kissing me with the skill of thousands of years' worth of experience. Only a king claiming his queen's heart.

There was only love.

~*~

mellon-nin = my friend

aran-nin = my king

meleth-nin = my love

#elronds-meleth-nin fic #Thranduil x Reader

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gasstationlady · 1 year ago

Text

GUTS | a lando norris social media au | pt. 2

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader, ex!drew starkey x reader

drew is still hung up on y/n, but the grid’s new it couple couldn’t care less.

notes: final part of guts!! thank you so much for all the love you guys showed the first part <3 and dw i have so many more smaus in the drafts! tried to write and add a bit more but i ran out of space :/ i hope the plot makes sense! i feel like bc i know how i wanted the story to go i can't rlly spot the plot holes as easily.

disclaimer: NOT PROOFREAD. let's pretend that jennifer lawrence "kym illman" picture is olivia lmfaooo. btw the events in “GUTS” sometimes does not line up with the schedule followed in real life. again, no hate to drew and, now also, to ppl on the today show aha. (CONGRATS LANDO FOR P2 AHHH)

masterlist ⋆ previously

yourusername

liked by landonorris, drewstarkey and 4,810,592 others

yourusername thanks for having me vmas!!!! <3

View all 22,504 comments

yourbestie STUNNING

user pls not drew liking her post when he doesn’t even follow her 😭😭😭

↳ user no he’s actually so painfully desperate lmaoo

↳ user i’m glad lando and y/n are just ignoring him

↳ user girl i’m not, i want the drama AHA

user love u more than anything

user lando liking and the two of them now following each other 🤔 yup him and y/n are forrr sure together

↳ user yea after the deuxmoi post and lando’s soft launch it’s basically confirmed at this point

↳ user i wonder if she’ll be attending the next gp bc i’d actually die and then come back to life if it happens

user you look BEYONDDDDD 😍😍

user are we fr just gonna ignore drew like..

thetodayshow

liked by landonorris and 67,298 others

thetodayshow It’s GUTS day! We loved having @/yourusername on the TODAY plaza. 🍒🎤🧡

We sat with Y/N to talk about her new album and recent scandals surrounding the topics of her work. “I just write songs; it’s not my job to interpret them for people.”

Tune in on our Youtube channel for extra clips of our interview with Y/N and her performances!

View all 342 comments

user SHE ATE THOSE PERFORMANCES. DEVOURED.

user some of those questions were a bit invasive

↳ user i was thinking the same thing, but y/n handled that rlly professionally

user omg how have her vocals gotten better 😭

user lmaoooooo i see you hiding in the likes lando

↳ user it’s so cute that he’s following her activities 🥹🥹

↳ user he’s probably here bc of what she said in the interview

↳ user wait i didn’t watch everything, what did she say??

↳ user so they asked how she felt about her exes being a popular topic on the internet, and so she said “I just write songs; it’s not my job to interpret them for people.” they also asked about drew and whether they’re going to get back together (which, may i add, felt a little rude to me) and y/n replied with “Those who I’m close with can reach me anytime. I tend to not focus on anyone else.”

↳ user thank you for summarizing!! doing god’s work fr 🫡

user y/n handled the situation perfectly

↳ user no bc the way she said not too much but enough to stand up for herself and her privacy

user AHAHAHAHA SHE RLLY SAID AINT NO WAY SHES GOING BACK TO DREW

ynupdates

41,086 likes

ynupdates Y/n seen arriving in Singapore!

View all 462 comments

user wait you’re lying??? actually? waaait 😭

user IS SHE GOING TO THE GP OMG PLS

user i mean i knew they were together but imagine a paddock appearance 😩😩 i don’t think we can handle it guys

user if she makes an appearance at the paddock with lando, i don’t understand why he didn’t just go as her date for the vmas too 😭😭

↳ user i doubt they wanted to hard launch at the vmas lol y/n was barely even in the audience, tbh i think she left early

↳ user y/n has said before that award shows make her rlly anxious, so yea she probably didn’t want too much attention on herself esp with all the drew drama

user did i miss something, i thought lando was still in ny? why didn’t they just travel together?

↳ user lando probs had to leave earlier bc practice started on friday, and y/n still had a few tv show performances which i’m assuming is why she arrived today instead

kymillman

51,159 likes

kymillman F1’S NEW FAVORITE COUPLE

The first driver to arrive this morning was Mclaren driver Lando Norris. For the first time he is joined with his new girlfriend, Y/N L/N, a famous Filipino-American pop singer.

For A3 prints, hand-signed & numbered by a range of drivers/team principals head to kymillman.com

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user omg it’s happening it’s happening

user HEY SIRI PLAY THAT SHOULD BE ME BY JUSTIN BIEBER

user this pic should be put in the louvre that is how monumental it is

user THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT?? FROM KYM??😭😭

user first💔hard💔launch💔is💔a💔paddock💔appearance💔

user the hand holding 🥹🥹

user don’t know if i’m more jealous of lando or y/n

user damn god really out here choosing favorites

user they’re already becoming my comfort couple omg i can’t i love them so much

landonorris

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 1,135,226 others

landonorris Singapore 🥈

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user so proud of you lando!!

user AHHHH y/n cameo

user god idk if i'm ever going to get used to seeing y/n with lando

user SHE LOOKS SO GOOD

user yay carlando podium !!! 🥹

— — —

8 months later

landonorris

liked by yourusername, yourbestie and 4,475,987 others

landonorris Happy one year, love ❤️

View all 24,395 comments

yourusername there's nothing i love more than those chips

↳ landonorris 😐

user they're the reason i believe in love

user damn i think this is about to be lando's most liked post lmaoo

user the fact that he calls her love 😭😭

user luckiest man alive i stg

user how does she always look so good

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 6,788,335 others

yourusername cause i love to love, to love, to love you

View all 35,719 comments

landonorris that guy's pretty handsome

↳ yourusername very :)

yourbestie LOVE seeing you happy

user omggg i'm crying i can't believe its already been a year

user might sleep on the freeway today

user let the light in is such a cute song to dedicate to someone

user LOL not the third pic

user i love them so much 🥹

user if you ever break up, love isn't real

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 imagine #f1 social media au #lando norris au #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #singer!reader #lando norris instagram au

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mccromy · 9 months ago

Text

I've seen sometimes people arguing that Shen Yuan as Shen Qingqiu is constantly performing, faking his personality, and therefore Luo Binghe fell for someone who doesn't actually exist.

And fortunately that is wrong.

Shen Qingqiu has to act like an aloof immortal to keep his image, but he hasn't acted anything remotely like og!Shen Qingqiu since the skinner incident. And even with the OOC locks on, he kept losing points for acting OOC.

So, he's not acting as Shen Jiu, he behaves in a way he thinks an immortal cultivator should, which is basically himself but more calm, with Shen Jiu's muscle memory helping him to keep a blank face.

The thing is, that's how most people act. If you're as thin faced as he is, as easily embarrassed you tend to avoid embarrassing situations, refrain yourself from saying embarrassing things, constantly trying to pretend you aren't embarrassed at all.

His internal monologue is different to what he shows, but that's how it works for most people. Put yourself in a situation in which a friend asks you about something you absolutely don't care about, you think inside your head something along the lines of: " I don't caaaare" "I don't give a shit" "THIS AGAIN. WHY. I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE." etc, and depending on your personality you might answer differently. If you're blunt you'd say something like "Couldn't care less", if you're cruel you'd say "Nobody gives a shit" if you're kind you'd consider what they asked and answer even though you don't care, if you're assertive you'd answer and also say something like "please don't ask about it again" and that's without taking into consideration how much you care about said friend, how you behave with this person in particular.

Shen Qingqiu, would say to Shang Qinghua. "I don't give a shit," he feels comfortable enough to be crass and doesn't care much about his opinion of him, to Liu Qingge he'd say something like "Liu-shidi really focuses on the strangest things" doesn't want to hurt his feelings, but feels comfortable enough to hint that he doesn't care about it. To Ning YingYing he'd answer and then change subjects, cares enough to not hurt her but doesn't feel comfortable enough to show he doesn't care about whatever she said. To Luo Binghe, he'd take the time to answer and then add something like "This master really doesn't care about such things" because he doesn't want to hurt Binghe, but he is comfortable enough to confess how he really feels about it, he answers and then kindly informs him about his feelings on the subject.

That's not faking, that's something everybody does.

Shen Qingqiu doesn't lie more than the average person (who has a nightmare AI clinging to their soul) to others, but does constantly lie to himself (even though when you read you can tell he's aware of the truth, but actively convinces himself that it can't be, that that's what a less informed person would think, but not him who knows PIDW like the palm of his hand and therefore knows better etc, etc.) If he obfuscates his real thoughts or feelings, it's not in an attempt to deceive others, but a result of his constant inner gaslighting and paper thin face.

"But he didn't act like that as Peerless Cucumber!" If you behave the same way irl as you do online you need to spend less time online.

Logically, it's impossible to keep a facade 24/7, so it can be argued that Luo Binghe saw him in a more relaxed state, consolidated his love for him when he got to know him while sharing a home for two years. I don't believe that Shen Qingqiu kept his Qingqiusona on at all times, but I do believe he would've been more reserved in front of his disciple. And, as I said before, you behave differently depending on who you're with, and of course never say out loud all the things running inside your head.

I believe that if Shen Yuan transmigrated into some random NPC and not Shen Qingqiu, he would have behaved pretty much the same, but would've been far more easier to read and less formal, although formal enough as according to whatever station he belonged in such a case.

It can also be argued that, after acting for almost a decade as how he believed an immortal should act, it became an actual part of his personality, being aloof and reserved, keeping quiet when in doubt instead of spouting a cutting remark (as I picture he would pre-transmigration).

People do change, they can become louder or quieter, kinder or crueler, less or more confident. Such changes happen according to your choices, choices that become easier and easier to make as time passes, until the choice to be loud or quiet, kind or cruel, becomes your instinctive response.

So no, Shen Qingqiu hasn't put on an act beyond what's normal (trying to appear calm when you aren't, trying to seem unbothered when ashamed) since the skinner arc.

So, does he keep acting like a cold master after he and Luo Binghe got together? No. He doesn't. He's never been cold to Luo Binghe, unless forced by the System or when he was scared out of his mind with fear in Jinlan City. In fact, after they got together Bingqiu acts very much like any other couple would (... When the couple is bingqiu.)

For example, we can see them being playful in the extras, like in the Honeymoon Chronicle:

Shen Qingqiu feels comfortable enough to fool around with Luo Binghe, as long as It's the two of them alone.

Shen Qingqiu is not putting on an act, and hasn't done so since the first year after he transmigrated. This is his real personality. Would he have behaved differently had he not transmigrated? Yes, of course. And had he transmigrated as someone else? Yes, obviously. Our experiences shape us. He would've been different but not unrecognizable. To become drastically different, he'd have to also live through some drastic experiences. But, in the same way you can recognize yourself in the person you were 10, 20, 30 years ago, despite all the glaring differences, despite all the ways you've changed, Shen Qingqiu would've remained the same at his core.

#which is stupid #lmao #jk jk #svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #these are just my humble reasonings #mip #made this on my phone sorry if the screenshot looks like shit if you read this from your laptop lol

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reareaotaku · 4 months ago

Text

Hot & Sweaty

Summary: Ford's having a hard time coming to terms with how he feels, so he tries to avoid you... TW/CW: NSFW Themes, [Male] Masturbation Pt I: Enemies 2 Friends to Something More Taglist: @winterhi09, @leo4242564, @walmartjim, @valinbean, @meiraloves2dmen, @bubblegupyy

Linktree 4 the People of Palestine [This is shorter than the first one-]

Ford began avoiding you, not knowing how else to deal with his emotions. He had never had a crush before, so these feelings were foreign to himself. For a man so smart, he couldn't figure out how to handle such intense emotions. He just wanted to push it down and pretend it didn't exist.

He felt rather pathetic avoiding you. You were making it hard for him to attend his classes. God, he wishes he could get you out of your head.

---

You had missed multiple classes, not knowing if you would have to confront Ford. You liked him- Sure, but there was a part of you that thought you would never get anything from him.

He was... different than most men. You liked that. You had never met someone like him, even with his annoyance from before. There was something so different about the way he was and you were fascinated. Sometimes you wondered why a man like him was going to BMU.

---

Ford facepalmed. It had been almost 2 weeks since he had started avoiding his feelings. He was better than this- But just the thought of you made him feel all hot and sweaty.

He had thoughts he had never had before and he tried to rid himself of such things. He couldn't help it- His mind was stronger than he ever gave it credit for.

---

You looked over when Ford usually sat, disappointed that he wasn't there. You hadn't seen him around the campus either, which made you think that he was possibly avoiding you. As the thought occurs to you, your eyes are drawn to Ford's roommate- Fiddleford.

Fiddleford was quick to pack of his stuff, especially when he saw you staring at you. He was hiding something, you could tell. He was quick, but you were quicker; He froze when you cornered him before he was able to leave.

"Oh- Uh, Y/n, I uh, wow. You look nice."

"Cut the act, where's Ford? Is he avoiding me?"

"Uh- What? N-no? I don't- I have to go to class." He tries to go around you, but you block his path.

"Yeah? Last time I checked, your next class isn't till 10. So, we have plenty of time." You step closer to him, causing him to gulp. "What's your room number?"

It didn't take long for you to push it out of him and you were heading to their shared dorm.

---

You tended to avoid the male dorms, because- Well, it was full of college-aged men. They were usually rough housing and fighting each other, while also have tons of old food in their sinks. It was disgusting. Men were disgusting.

You finally came upon his door, before taking a deep breath. You froze for a second, realizing you didn't know what you were going to say to him. You were sure that the words would come to you when you saw him.

You knock on his door, but don't get a respond, so you decide to open the door, but you were quickly stop when seeing Ford with his hand down his boxer and was seemingly jacking off. You quickly slammed the door catching his attention as he yells at you.

"I'm so sorry!" Your face was a dark red as your back was against his door. You couldn't believe your eyes- Much less being caught catching someone else.

"Why are you even here?!" Ford yelled as he quickly got some pants on and leaned against his door. He couldn't believe not only did he have his hands down his pants, but you had caught him- Thankfully he wasn't a big moaner or you would have known he was thinking about you.

---

You sat across from the male, trying to avoid the topic of what had just happened. You tried to speak but your mouth was dry and your tongue was twisted.

When you looked up at him, it seemed he too was at a loss for words. What was he even supposed to say after being caught like a teenage boy?

"So-"

"Don't. Let's not... talk about it." He hums as he taps his finger against the book sitting on his lap.

"Yeah... I mean, sex is a natural thing. You're not to cloud minded to not realize or acknowledge this, are you?"

He looks up at you with a tiny smirk. "Of course not... But," He looks away from you, a light pink dust overtaking his face. "Doesn't make it more embarrassing."

"Well, if it helps you feel better, I've seen a lot worse."

"What are you even doing- No, actually how did you get my room number?"

"I stalked you."

"What?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "I asked Fiddleford."

"And he told you?"

"With convincing..."

He hums and you decide to finally ask him the question, so you've been avoiding me?"

#ford pines x reader #ford pines #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #disney x reader #ford x reader #enemies to lovers #female reader

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dreamwritesimagines · 7 months ago

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The Eye of the Hurricane [23] - Curiosity

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Relatives tend to pry.

Word Count: 2400

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex, mentions of period, mentions of pregnancy. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“Charm, I have a question.”

You applied your lipstick, completely focused on your reflection in the mirror. “Hm?”

“Why do we keep having dinners with people we hate?”

You scoffed a laugh, then put the cap back on the lipstick before turning to Bucky.

“I wouldn’t say I hate my aunt,” you said. “I hate her son, not her. She’s just…”

“What?”

“Annoying.”

“I’ll rephrase my question, why do we keep having dinners with annoying people?”

You leaned back to the vanity. “Because we have complicated families, Bucky. I know it’s news for you.”

His phone vibrated and he read the text before typing in his reply.

“I have this thing—”

“Don’t even fucking try it!” you cut him off. “We’re married dickhead, you’re going to suffer with me. It’s on the prenup.”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky finished his sentence as if you didn’t interrupt him. “I have this thing tomorrow so I’ll have no time for lunch after the therapist—did you seriously put I’d suffer with you on the prenup?”

“Figuratively.”

He shot you a grin. “We’re the best married couple I know.”

You tried to hide your smile by pursing your lips together and turned around, then leaned in to check yourself in the mirror again, pretending to fix your lipstick. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Bucky eyeing you up and down, his intense gaze sending a shiver down your spine and you arched a brow.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’d better not say it,” you warned him and he chuckled.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Just a little.”

“It’s just that…”

“Bucky.”

“You look beautiful.”

“Something tells me beautiful wasn’t the word in your mind.”

“Sweetheart,” he said. “You’re basically bent over in front of a mirror in that dress, there are so many things in my mind.”

You straightened your back to shoot him a look and he held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“You asked.”

“Can you perhaps be less horny when we’re about to have dinner with my family?”

“I’ll try.”

“Much appreciated,” you deadpanned as you walked past him, with him following you behind out of the apartment. You pressed the button on the elevator, then took a deep breath.

“We’re not shooting or threatening anyone tonight,” you said and Bucky tilted his head.

“Are you telling me or yourself that?”

You clicked your tongue. “Both.”

You had never really liked spending time with your aunt even before your father started pitting you and Ian against each other for the heir position. At least she was never really around when you were growing up, even after Ian moved in with you, but she liked dropping by in the town from time to time.

And commenting on literally anything about you, from your relationships to how you looked.

Your aunt wasn’t even the only reason why this dinner was probably going to be tense as hell. Bucky was still furious at your father for the shit he pulled back at that dinner with the other families, so now you had to make sure no one started any fights while adamantly ignoring whatever your aunt would say to you.

Lovely.

“You must tell me all about the wedding!” your aunt said. “Starting with before it, actually. How did this—” she motioned between you and Bucky. “happen?”

Bucky gave her a charming smile.

“Well I suppose I managed to convince her,” he said. “Or after a while she got bored of rejecting me?”

“Reject you?” your aunt asked with a laugh. “Oh I can’t be the only one who remembers how she used to follow you around like a puppy, Y/N you were so adorable with that little schoolgirl crush!”

You stared at her for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“Yeah, then I grew up and grew out of it.”

“Obviously not, sweetheart,” your father said, making Ian bite down a smirk and you gritted your teeth, the memory of Bucky turning you down that night flashing before your eyes.

What was it, he had called you?

Daddy’s spoiled whiny princess.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Bucky said with a boyish grin and you reached out to grab your glass to take a sip of your wine.

Despite everything, despite you and Bucky getting along well nowadays, you still couldn’t shake off the resentment of that night. The anger, how pathetic he made you feel, it was still there even after years, but you frowned slightly, trying to focus.

“I suppose I should have seen this coming, there was this one time,” your aunt said with a laugh. “Back when you were in high school, I found your diary, do you remember?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I remember you reading it, yeah.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe!” your aunt said. “What with you sneaking out of the house at night, I was almost positive you had a bad influence boyfriend. That’s what your mother would have wanted, God rest her soul, for someone to keep an eye on you.”

Your father heaved a sigh, taking a sip of his wine at the mention of your mother and you raised your brows.

“Anyways, I didn’t have anything to worry about—”

“Auntie,” you said warningly and she waved a hand in the air.

“Oh it was years ago Y/N, get over it—pages and pages about you,” she told him as the pins and needles of embarrassment sunk into your cheeks while a cocky smile curled Bucky’s lips.

“Seriously?”

“I swear,” your aunt said and Ian hummed.

“I remember that fight.”

“Yeah that’s what happens when someone invades someone’s privacy,” you said, forcing yourself not to look at Bucky who looked very pleased with himself for some reason. Your aunt let out a small laugh.

“We’re family,” she said. “These things happen.”

“Did you read Ian’s diary as well?”

“I didn’t keep a diary.”

“And it was years ago,” your father said. “Let’s not have the same fight again, hm? Because the last I remember, you threw multiple vases at the wall during that fight sweetheart.”

You bit at your tongue and cleared your throat.

“How was Monaco?” you tried to change the subject and your aunt shrugged her shoulders.

“That’s a long story,” she said. “But there’s no place like home, that’s all I’ll tell you.”

“Another break up?” you asked her and she narrowed her eyes, but unsurprisingly, the men around the table missed the curt glare you two threw at each other.

“Can’t I be back because I miss you all?” your aunt asked after a beat. “I would’ve been here for the wedding as well if you two hadn’t rushed it.”

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” your father said and she nodded.

“Honestly, with how rushed it was I told your father perhaps it was because there was something to rush about. There isn’t though, is there? I mean you’re drinking.”

You forced yourself to smile, then shook your head. “No.”

Bucky frowned, looking between you two before a look of realization dawned on his face.

“Ah no,” he said. “That’s not why. To be fair, rushing was kind of my fault. I’ve been in love with her forever, so I didn’t want to wait any longer. Thankfully she agreed.”

“And when can we expect that?” your aunt asked with a smile and Bucky choked on his wine before clearing his throat.

“Hm?”

“Not for a very long time,” you said and your father nodded with an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“I’m too young to be a grandfather, Nora.”

“Oh nonsense,” she told him. “You know what this business is like, and they’re in love! Obviously they want babies if they rushed the wedding. Have you two talked about how many yet?”

“I’m sorry, how many?” you repeated and she nodded.

“It’s good to be clear about the future, no? And Y/N once said she wanted two so Bucky, how many?”

Bucky blinked a couple of times and cleared his throat again.

“Uh…babies?”

“No, guns,” your aunt said with a laugh. “Of course babies!”

Bucky shot you a look as if begging you for help and you sat up straighter.

“That’s not in our plans right now.”

“But in the future?” your aunt insisted. “I mean surely you must have a number in mind.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, stealing a look at you. “Like um, like four maybe?”

You gawked at him. “I’m sorry, did you just say four?”

Bucky nodded his head.

“Yeah because you know, big family would be nice.”

“You—you do realize that for someone to have four kids, they’d have to spend three years as pregnant in total?” you asked him. “It’s basic math.”

“You want two, he wants four, three seems to be the perfect number,” your aunt joked and your father ran a hand over his face.

“They’ve just gotten married,” he reminded her. “It’s too early to talk about all that. More wine?”

You knew you and Bucky’s marriage was a sham and that you’d get a divorce as soon as you took over, but what you didn’t know was why exactly imagining Bucky having babies with someone else in his second marriage bothered you this much. The mere image was enough to churn your stomach, anger shooting through your system for some reason and you pursed your lips together, then held out your wine glass as well.

“Yes please.”

Alright, this was getting ridiculous.

Even you knew that you were throwing a fit out of nowhere, but that did nothing to calm you down. Ever since last night, your head was full of the image of Bucky having the picture-perfect family after your divorce, so you had been in a particularly cranky mood since then. You had barely said two words to him when you came home, going straight to bed and when you woke up, you were still sulking.

Bucky had asked you what was going on multiple times, you had no idea how to explain the fact that you didn’t want him to have perfect babies and be perfectly happy with a perfect woman in a perfect marriage without sounding selfish.

Which, in all honesty was incredibly selfish.

So when the psychiatrist sat down in front of you two, it took her a couple of seconds of complete silence to motion between you two.

“I’m sensing a bit of tension?”

“You and me both,” Bucky said. “I have zero idea why. Charm?”

You narrowed your eyes, then crossed your arms.

“He has a housewife kink.”

“Whoa!” Bucky exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “What?!”

“I’m guessing you haven’t talked about kinks before then?”

“Well, it was news to me.”

“It’s also news to me!” Bucky told you. “Charm, what the fuck?”

“Sex is a huge part of—”

“Sex is fine,” Bucky told Dr. Raynor before turning to you. “What’s going on?”

“If you want someone who’s gonna—who’s gonna—” you couldn’t help but stammer. “Like, stay in a cottage and bake pies, it's fine if she wants to, everyone has their own goals but I'm not that person and—”

“What are you even talking about?!”

“Alright, let’s take a breather,” Dr. Raynor said. “How would you describe your sex life, Bucky?”

“I would not.”

“Y/N.”

“It has nothing to do with sex, it has everything to do with the fact that he wants four babies.”

“What does it even matter?” Bucky asked you and you let out a scoff.

“It just does,” you told him. “First you pushed me out of the picture with Anna, and now I find out—”

“Jesus Christ, we talked about this!”

“Who’s Anna?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you told Dr. Raynor with a forced smile. “His new employee that he decided to hire even if I was told I would be involved in every single business decision and if you ask Bucky, it’s totally coincidental. Even if she’s hot as fuck.”

“Are you on your period or something?” Bucky asked you and your jaw dropped, fury shooting through you.

“Excuse you?”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s the only explanation I can think of for this nonsense.”

“Don’t ever ask me if I’m on my period again or I—”

“Let’s calm down,” Dr. Raynor said. “May I ask what brought this on?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Bucky deadpanned, glaring at you and you took a deep breath.

“We had a deal before we got married,” you told her. “About me being involved in the business decisions.”

“It’s not even a big business decision for God’s sake,” Bucky said. “I told you before, it’s a trial period with Anna, that’s all.”

“And this…housewife kink?” Dr. Raynor said and Bucky rolled his eyes again.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” he said. “What does it matter, Charm? Hm? Considering the deal?”

You gritted your teeth and stole a look at Dr. Raynor before scoffing.

“I just don’t want to be pushed out of the picture when you find the person whom you want to have four babies with, alright?”

“Do you think you’ll get a divorce?” Dr. Raynor asked and you shifted your weight.

“Well, that’s always a possibility.”

Dr. Raynor frowned and Bucky gritted his teeth, an annoyed grin curling his lips before he clicked his tongue.

“No one is pushing you out of the picture, Charm.”

“I think we should talk about this insecurity though,” Dr. Raynor said and you let out a small laugh.

“I’m not insecure,” you said, your voice going a pitch higher. “I’m just saying like…I don’t want four babies.”

“And is this a deal breaker for you, Bucky?”

“I honestly don’t give a fuck,” Bucky said. “I was just speaking hypothetically, and before you ask again, she was the one who came up with that whole housewife kink thing—you have an actual kink for medieval knights, I’m not saying anything about that.”

“I don’t have a kink for medieval knights!”

“Do you mind if I give you both homework?” Dr. Raynor cut off your bickering. “How many times a week do you have sex?”

You and Bucky stared at each other before turning to her.

“Uh—” Bucky cleared his throat. “Charm?”

“Couple times?” you said like a question and Dr. Raynor hummed.

“I want you both to keep an intimacy journal.”

Bucky gawked at her. “Sorry, what?”

“An intimacy journal,” she said. “I want you both to write down how sex affects your communication and dynamic, how it feels before, during and after, and before the week is over, you will try one fantasy you’re both comfortable with, and write about how it made you feel.”

Bucky threw his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose and you nodded slowly, shifting your weight on the couch.

“Sex journal,” you muttered. “Wonderful.”

Chapter 24

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freakyfrye · 5 months ago

Text

ᝰ. perfect stranger

requested: stolas x gn! swan reader, what if stolas never met blitzø at the ‘not divorce’ party

type: oneshot

content: no mention of pronouns (just “you”), slow burn, wholesome & vulnerable fluff, love at first sight (for Stolas maybe, up to interpretation), flustered & subtlety turned on stolas (not too much tho stolas), down to earth reader

note: for the record, I don’t hate stella (i actually like her character, villains have a soft place in my heart always), y’all idk about this—this is trash 🚮 I hate how I wrote it, imposter syndrome is heavy with this one but I don’t want to rewrite it and make you wait longer! I know I said I’ll wait until I wrote all my wips but I need this out my drafts neow!

Anyone who could be considered important, on some level but no more than she, knew that Stella Goetia just adored throwing parties once in a blood moon. In her fancy mansion, she’s the face, the main character, and she plays her role as host so well that people tend to overlook every other bad quality she has among the very few pros. Or perhaps, they would rather not have bad blood with someone of her caliber.

You, on the other hand, couldn't care less—about the parties, the fancy mansion, or Stella herself, frankly. Parties were never your first choice for outings; they were the most energy-draining events, with all the overcrowding and having to pretend to enjoy the company of ill-minded individuals.

But alas, you begrudgingly attend this one, and many others, as a representative of your family name. You're not silent in your disagreement, always voicing how they couldn't have picked a worse member for the job—if your frown, ever present since entering the oh-so-lovely and homey residency of the royal family, was anything to go by.

Doing your due diligence, you converse with a few guests as you make your way through the herd of people, keeping it curt and unseasoned. Finally, you reach the woman of the hour. Locating her wasn’t difficult; her boisterous, obnoxious laughter, reminiscent of a terribly played violin, rang through the room.

Exactly what you’d expect from her. Respectfully but quickly, you greet her, say a few false words of endearment about living a long life, and then scurry off back into the sea of snobby kiss asses. To her and anyone around her, it might look like you were scared, tucking your tail between your legs. In truth, you were trying to keep your big mouth shut in case she couldn’t keep her nasty comments to herself.

The party continues uneventfully. The music, more like a lullaby, would have lured you to sleep if you hadn’t downed a few cocktails to prevent it. The partygoers, annoying as they are, fail to read the room and approach you regardless of your many excuses to avoid meaningless conversation. They just want insight on why a (surname) is at a party alone, much less why you of all people are here.

By evening, you were running out of excuses until you grow hungry—using the lack of vegetarian options as a way to escape their gossip. Now standing beside a gigantic window, you contentedly munch on some leafy greens, finding interest in staring outside. The view is much more impressive than the building itself—isolated enough from Imp City yet overlooking it enough to make a grand statement. It is truly beautiful at night, the lights like little twinkling stars rivaling the sky.

Your head snaps in the direction of a crash, eyebrows raised in disbelief at the sight of wine dribbling down the glass of the window beside the one you stand near, shards scattered on the ground. To your surprise, or perhaps not, the vandal is Stella, who now leaves the scene in a fit of laughter, two idiots in tow beside her.

Why in hell would she do that to her own home? The thought Interest you some. She should know the potential damage that could have caused, let alone to one of her guests who could have been injured. Stella looked back, a sinister grin spreading across her face as she shot a rude remark past you towards someone. It made you realize she didn’t really care—neither about the mansion nor how it made her look.

Your lips form a tight line when you realize her comment was directed at her husband, who retorts with a low, irritated chirp. It seems this wasn’t much of a homey residence after all. Sighing, you place your drink onto the tray of a passing imp, heading over to the stained glass, each step revealing more of the prince hiding behind a column.

There wasn’t a memory with him that you could recall as you took out a handkerchief, wiping the window clean. You knew he attended all parties, cursed with the duty of family, but you never interacted with him. As you bent down, picking up the shards piece by piece, you considered whether you should approach him.

There were plenty of reasons why you didn’t want to or shouldn’t, like the vibe he was giving off as he shamelessly gulping down a bottle of absinthe. But it was your duty to greet all hosts, and even though he wasn’t mingling like his wife, he still counted. It was better to get it over with.

Hurriedly, you call over a wait staff, dropping the shards on their tray with a fleeting explanation, “Have that area swept thoroughly,” while gesturing towards it before brushing past them towards the prince. Stolas grew in size as the distance closed, standing a few feet taller than you. It would be only slightly intimidating if not for him choking on his drink after you suddenly appeared before him.

Sending him an apologetic smile, you bow, “Evening, Your Highness. Hope I didn’t frighten you.”

He managed to squeeze out, “I’m fine,” in the middle of coughing before fixing his posture and smoothing down his vest, handing the bottle to a imp beside him. “It’s quite alright. I just wasn’t expecting company…” he trails off, eyes flickering up and down, clearly confused as to who you are or why you were talking to him of all people in the room.

“I’m glad. I would hate to be the reason the prince falls ill. That would not bode well for my family,” you admit, half-jokingly, before addressing the second half of his statement. “You’re in a room full of like-minded people; surely someone besides me has come to talk with you.”

Right? Because that makes sense. He is the prince.

He blinks owlishly at you before stuttering, “Well—” He clears his throat, placing a hand on his abdomen before continuing, feigning nonchalance, “Why, of course. It’s only appropriate in this setting. I presume that’s your current agenda?”

“Yes,” you answer truthfully, finally glancing up and pausing. A giant banner hangs loosely above his head that reads “NOT DIVORCED!” in bold lettering. Usually the observant type, how in the world did you miss this? “However, if I’m honest, that’s part of the reason,” you add, curiously. You didn't realize it was that kind of party. Maybe you should start paying more attention to the invitations.

“Oh?” Stolas tilts his head slightly, eyes widening. He leans in closer, his voice a mix of confusion and genuine interest, “And what, pray tell, is the other half of the reason?”

You open your mouth, ready to speak what’s on your mind. You've never been one to hide how you feel—superior or not—otherwise, it would consume you. But then you close it, pursing your lips in thought. Perhaps that would be too rude, too personal off the jump, too far outside your jurisdiction to ask him about his marriage at his “not divorced” party, which his wicked wife obviously threw just to spite him.

Damn, you wish more than anything that you could have continued the party without ever seeing that sign or witnessing Stella’s public display. You didn’t care for gossip, but you were a curious individual by nature. He’s standing there, waiting on you to say something—anything, or you’ll risk looking like a fool.

“Do you want to get out of here?” you blurt out after a pregnant pause, cursing yourself inwardly for what you were getting yourself into. Anything would be better than what had came out of your lips.

His body recoils in apparent disgust at what you dare ask him, a prince. You can’t say you blame him; you’d be creeped out if a random nobody asked that too. “Wait, what?” he replies, dumbfounded at your boldness. Was this a joke? He scans around the room, as if searching for something but finds nothing before returning his gaze to you, a faint blush dusting his face. “Could you repeat that?”

You've made your bed, might as well lie in it. Besides, you never wanted to be at this party in the first place, and it's becoming painfully dull. Ideally, you'd slip away alone after greeting him—but this could work out—satisfying your curiosity before the night is over, it could potentially end badly but who knows when you'll cross paths again. Probably at another miserable gathering, actually.

"Ditch the party with me?" You casually rephrase, keeping your head high, silently hoping you don't come off as too much of an idiot. “Or not. Either way, I’m bored stiff here, and it doesn’t look like you’re having a blast either.”

Stolas blinks a few times, processing your proposition. “You’re suggesting leaving the party together?” he repeats, confirming what you’ve just asked, though you’d already clarified it. His lips curl into a hesitant smile, betraying a hint of nervousness at the unexpected proposal.

“And where would we go?” There’s a playful gleam in his eyes, signaling his curiosity and a willingness to entertain the idea of breaking away from the formalities of the event.

You hum in thought, not having planned that far ahead, before shrugging and tilting your head with a genuine smile. "What about the garden? There seem to be a lot of plants around the palace. Someone must really care for them. I bet it’s beautiful," you suggest, recalling the impressive variety of plants, including the carnivorous ones, on the way to the ballroom.

His feathers ruffle as he lets out a low, excited squeal, his smile growing more confident as he leans down to your height. "You have an interest in plants?" he asks, almost unable to believe it, his hands clasped together. Everyone he's ever come across has called his interests boring. He never had a friend who was.

You nod, your posture relaxing after seeing his genuine reaction. "It's a bonding activity between my mother and me that started in childhood. I take it by your reaction that you handle their care?" Perhaps he could be good company after all.

His comical blush returns when he remembers that your suggestion came with a compliment. “Yes, I do. I’m surprised you noticed. Not everyone cares for botany…” He gestures toward the exit, silently saying ‘after you’ before adding, “I would be delighted to accompany you to the garden. I can show you the new species of carnivorous plant I acquired...if you’d like?”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, you nod and reply, “I’d love that.” You head toward the door, with Stolas quickly falling into step beside you, his hands interlocking behind his back. There’s a respectable distance between you both, ensuring you don’t draw unnecessary attention as you discreetly leave together.

Stolas takes the lead after exiting the ballroom, and a comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the sound of your footsteps. You notice how he occasionally glances at you, curiosity and excitement in his eyes, as the distance between you subtly closes. You don't voice your observation, letting him assume he's being sneaky when he's not.

"You know," he begins softly, eyes now trained forward, "I never caught your name." A stifled snicker escapes you, causing him to snap his eyes towards you, filled with confusion and a tad bit of worry. "Did I say something amusing?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.

Shaking your head, you respond, "No, it's just... It's a silly thought to think that you might know who I am." you tease.

A flustered noise escapes him, his shoulders stiffening as his mouth drops open and then snaps shut. He stops abruptly, turning his whole body toward you as he stutters, “That’s not... well, the reason...” He struggles to find his words before speaking honestly, “I don’t have a real reason, but if I had met you before, I wouldn’t forget you.” As if he could, you were the first creature in a long while to spark his interest so effortlessly.

Sighing softly, you gesture for him to continue walking. "Actually, it's refreshing not to be noticed immediately upon entering a room," you admit with a slight smile.

Finally reaching the garden, he opens the door and holds it for you, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I understand how you might feel,” he sympathizes softly, closing the door behind him as he follows you inside. He watches with pride as your eyes widen in awe at the lush, vibrant space filled with an array of plants.

Taking your hand lightly, he guides you to a particular section of the garden where an unusual, striking plant catches your eye. “This is it,” he says, reluctantly letting go of your hand. “My newest addition. Isn’t it fascinating?”

You glance between him and the plant, chuckling in disbelief. "You’re kidding, right?" Your eyebrows shoot up at his confused expression. "Satan, I don’t know what I was expecting, but this—this wasn’t it. How in hell did you get an earth plant to thrive?"

He hums, glancing at the plant lovingly. "A bit of nurturing, a touch of magic, and voil��—a thriving earth plant."

"That simple, huh?" you ask, stepping up to touch the plant. It's soft under your touch and bends with ease—it's real. He wasn’t joking, but then again, why would he with all these other live plants around? It’s just a little hard to believe, is all. “Simple but significant.” you add, remember an affirmation your mother used to say.

Smiling, you let go of the leaf, your eyes following a path that leads deeper into the garden. You start walking, momentarily forgetting your original agenda: why throw a 'not divorce party'? Why not a normal party like normal couples do? But then again, was anything ever normal when you’re raised in the royal family?

Chances are they were arranged before they could even walk. Everyone who grew up in the scene knew that love wasn’t always part of those kinds of marriages. But you thought that wasn’t the case with those two. They hid it so well.

You become so engrossed in the scenery that you jump slightly when Stolas starts to speak, forgetting that you are in his home and not a museum. “Earlier… you said greeting me was only part of your agenda.” He raises his arms in a gesture of harmlessness noticing your jitteriness before continuing, “I’m purely curious… inviting me to escape with you wasn’t the other half, was it?”

"You’re more observant than I gave you credit for," you tease lightly. "You’re right. I still think it’s a touchy subject for you, but I can’t help myself. It’s like an itch in my brain that needs to be satisfied."

“There’s a lot you’d come to find out about me. I’m quite attentive toward things or people who interest me. Plants, my darling Octavia…” Stolas trails off, leaving his lost words hanging tensely in the air, but his gentle eyes on you have you forcing your brain to stop misinterpreting him. He shakes his head, as if to dismiss his own thoughts, "You can ask, as long as I get to ask you one in return. A fair exchange, yes?"

“Fair enough,” you agree, still hesitant and unsure of how he would take it but blurting out your question anyway. “It’s not hard to see that there’s some tension between you and your wife… almost painfully obvious.” You sigh, recalling the earlier events. “So my question is, why are you together, throwing a ‘not divorce’ party when it so clearly should be the opposite?”

There’s a long, pregnant pause between you two. Stolas stares at you, blinking as he processes your question, truly not expecting that to be what was on your mind. You were right—it was a rather personal question, one that really wasn’t any of your business. The nerve of you to be so crass as to ask him that of all questions, and yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to dismiss you.

Instead, he thought of all the reasons why he should answer—someone cares, someone’s listening… the list goes on and he checks them all off. The results are in and it’s still unclear if he should, even though his heart wants him to. Eventually, he expresses himself candidly, laying himself bare for a stranger who unexpectedly stepped inside his world.

Stolas sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair as he looks down at the ground. For a moment, he seems lost in thought, grappling with the complexity of his situation.

"It's... complicated. Stella and I, we've grown apart, to say the least. Our marriage was never really based on love or mutual respect, but more on the idea of strengthening our family's influence and securing alliances."

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his eyes haunted by a deep sadness.

"But to leave her... it's not that simple. Divorce is rare and scandalous in Goetia. It would be a massive blow to my reputation, and I'm not sure I'm ready to face that kind of backlash just yet."

He shrugs, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as exhaustion settles on his face. The facade he’s been building crumbles in the wake of vulnerability. Now you feel slightly guilty for asking, but you know you had to—not because you were nosy anymore, but partly because he needs to know that there is an alternate ending, one where he could be happy. That it was possible, you were proof.

“I understand the expectations of royals as much as you do. However, I refused to give up that part of my life to my duties. I saw how taxing it could be from the outside looking in. Sometimes it works, other times it doesn’t. I couldn’t leave that up to chance, and I believe you shouldn’t have to either. So what if the royal family judges you? They’re going to do that regardless. If they are, why not live for yourself? You don’t have much to gain from the marriage anymore. Your daughter’s nearing adulthood, right?”

Stolas numbly nods, hanging onto every word. “Then set yourself free before you drive yourself mad trying to keep up with appearances.”

Stolas is at a loss for words. No one has ever cared enough about him to offer such kind words of support. Not his father, not his wife, not even those with whom he sought intimacy. Yet here you are, a stranger, offering him hope. He feels himself choking up with emotion, but he expertly covers it with a cough and a polite smile behind his hand.

However, you can see just how much your words have affected him when you look into his glossed-over eyes. It's like looking at freshly polished rubies. You fear if you confess that the tears he hasn’t shed will flow. Heavens when did you become so soft…

His hand moves from his lips to rest over his heart, which beats so aggressively against his ribcage that he might be concerned if he weren't immortal. You are dangerous for his health, he thinks, when you tilt your head cutely, causing his heart to flutter momentarily before finding its appropriate rhythm again. His throat tightens as he tries to swallow with a dry mouth.

“That might be the kindest and most genuine advice anyone has given me… thank you,” he mutters, afraid to speak louder than a whisper for this conversation. Stolas's face grows hot as he confesses his next words, a hint of longing in his voice, “I wish I had stood up for myself then. Maybe things would have been different…”

“It’s never too late to do what’s right by you.” you reply without a beat, nodding in all seriousness.

“You’re right!” Stolas steps closer to you, moving his hand closer to yours. “It’s time to live for myself. I think I deserve that much. You’ve given me much to think about.” His hand hesitantly brushes against yours. “But I do believe it’s my turn for a question.”

You perk a brow at his change in tone, noticing it drop an octave but it doesn’t match the coy smile he sends you. “I said it before: it’s only fair after the little discomfort I caused you,” you remind him, side-eyeing him, standing rigid and unsure of the sudden change in atmosphere.

He chuckles softly, finally taking your hand in his, “The only discomfort I felt was at that stuffy party, which was soothed by your presence,” he replies, before dipping down to place a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. “Can we do this again? Going out, I mean.” Rising back up but not letting go of your hand, he continues, “I enjoy your company, and your honesty is a breath of fresh air compared to everyone sugar-coating. You’re the first person I’ve met who shares my interests too. It would be a shame, on my part, to leave it at this.”

Your purse your lips, brows furrowed. Since attending this party, nothing has gone right. Instead of leaving alone, you ended up escaping with the prince, and now he wants to see you again. It wouldn’t be an issue if it weren’t for the subtle hints he been giving since you’ve met. Let’s not forget that he is still married.

Despite how shitty a marriage it may be, he was taken. Not that it was your intention to steal him away in the first place. This could only end badly if people were to take your sudden friendship the wrong way. Now getting out of an arranged marriage with someone else was one thing, but having a situationship with the prince of Hell was another.

How were you going to spin this? You avert your eyes from his, filled with anticipation and hope, ignoring the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, your highness.”

Stolas coaxingly coos gently, drawing your attention to your hands, which he interlocks. "Oh, please? We could have it at your place this time if it'll make you more comfortable."

"Oh fuck me," you groan, closing your eyes and rubbing the back of your neck with your free hand, missing the way Stolas bites his lip as a shiver slithers through his body. You reluctantly agree, opening your eyes, "Alright... You have to give me time to get everything up to par for a prince."

"Not need! For company like yours, I’m fine anywhere."

rules, masterlist

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foursaints · 6 months ago

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saints! penny for your thoughts on evan(s) 🙏

i didn’t see the appeal of them but it took one (1) hockey au and now they own me. yapping under cut

the fundamental axis on which evans(s) revolves is how evan rosier initially comes across as strange, and lonely, and prodigiously talented, and a little sad— perhaps in exactly the way that a young severus might have, when lily first decided she wanted to befriend him. except unlike severus, THIS boy is golden-headed and ridiculously gorgeous and has the most startling amber eyes. and he ACTUALLY doesn’t need other people, or her approval, the way that severus only pretends not to.

i think lily blinds herself to evan's darker, more unsettling aspects and finds herself wanting his approval. the idea of a dedicated, independent genius who only cares about his field of study (be it medicine, or potions, or whatever) and lets nothing ruffle him ever is HIGHLY appealing & aspirational to lily <- this isnt necessarily an accurate picture of evan but its how she initially sees him

it's the teeny crush that people headcanon a younger lily as having on remus but this time more serious & as an adult. lily likes how carefully he folds his napkins. she likes that he’s a hypochondriac who carries around alcohol wipes & wrinkles his nose & doesn’t say anything unless he absolutely NEEDS to. she likes how meticulously he micromanages his schedule.

but also she DISLIKES his iciness and the way he views other people. she dislikes how genuinely impossible it is to become close to him. he is such a belligerent autistic freak that he can't find it in himself to even slightly modulate his tone to sound less dead when talking to her. except lily takes this as a Challenge, and the only person on earth wholly charming enough to throw evan off his axis is the Perfect Girl Who Everyone Has Had A Crush On Throughout Her Entire Life.

it's the guy who likes to play God & the girl who has essentially lived her life as God's Favorite Angel. and evan thinks she's the most fascinating, inexplicable outlier of a thing that he finds himself continuously showing these silent little gestures of affection & contrition that TOTALLY throw him off his axis. yes, she can sit beside me. yes, i’m slipping my hand into hers (what is happening to me???)

idk i tend to see them as one of those unlikely duos that eats lunch on the stairwell together when they don't have anybody else. they would fall extremely quickly into friendship and instigate several private personality crises in each other that do NOT stop them from sending very corporate texts at each other ("Hello" "Hello - Are you well?" "I am well - How about you?") that they're both furiously blushing over in the privacy of their rooms. and they would talk the craziest shit about other people together.

anyway everyone please ask me about olympics au forever

#a #olympics au #<- WE’RE SO FUCKING BACK #beth im so obsessed with your evan thoughts. you have been doing such revolutionary work over there #foursaints art tag #Evan(s)#lilyrosekiller

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shirefantasies · 10 months ago

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How Many Kids Do They Want? LoTR Edition

This is just a headcanon set I like to think about because I love little ones & think all of the characters would make great parents in their own way 🥰 I definitely am going to expand on this in the future but for now enjoy!

Aragorn

He wants to bring a life into the world, but only under good circumstances. When the time comes, he favors a small family he can focus on- one child is enough for him. As much attention as he can possibly give goes to his little one that way, no resentment, no competition, all of the time in Aragorn’s world to spend with those dearest. Despite the pressure to have a son, he is happy to have either a son or a daughter as long as they are happy and healthy and provided for. Aragorn’s child will grow up with an amazing guide to do what is right and care for their friends and family, not to mention learning Elvish and many skills to survive outdoors if need ever arises.

Legolas

Open-minded for sure, but I think he actually leans toward a larger family. No extreme amount, but four or five sounds good to him! Legolas is very caring, patient, and even has a playful side that all lend well to spending time with wee ones. No strong preference on sons or daughters, Legolas cares more for smiling faces and fair hearts. He pretends to be competitive with his children to motivate them, but always caves and lets them win in the end! They’ll all become amazing archers if he has anything to say about it.

Boromir

Having a big family warms Boromir's heart. He wants to be different from his father, carve out space for each and every child individually. Having a big family shows in his mind how much he loves his spouse and can provide for everyone, too. Boromir is definitely the type of dad whose children just come barreling toward the door upon his return home, rocketing into his arms as he manages to catch them all! If you ask him, Boromir's ideal family size would be four or five children. He loves the idea of having a son or sons to train up, but really doesn't want to miss out on having beautiful daughters too, so his hope is for a mix of both. Constantly encouraging his sons and praising every achievement at their passions. The girls are ladies of Gondor and nothing shall take that from them, least of all their father, who is always joining their tea parties and letting them take turns as queens knighting him and each other.

Gimli

Dwarves tend to have smaller families, whether that is by choice or happenstance. Gimli enjoys the idea of having three children, a moderate amount, and of course he really would love a son. He wants a mini-me as they say, a small reflection of himself to share all his favorite things with and teach to defend all that is important to him. Daughters are less common among his people, thus of course they are of great value and would be a blessing were he to have any as well. Gimli would constantly be hyping them up and reminding them that they are worth so much, any man in their life had better treat them so or else!

Frodo

If he were to have children, Frodo favors a smaller family. Growing up, it was just him and his uncle for as long as he remembered, and he likes the idea of being able to focus more on his child. Thus, his perfect family size if you ask is simply one or two children. In his mind there’s something about having a son, perhaps a mirror to his own youth or someone to impart his lessons into in the sense that feels most traditional to his family dynamic, but the idea of having one of each makes him so happy- Frodo’s little girl would have him wrapped around her finger!

Sam

I know I said at one point Sam only wants like three but that’s because I didn’t realize he canonically has so many forgive me. We all know Sam loves the idea of having a big family! Canonically he’s even down to have thirteen children, but of course he is fine with a smaller number too. Just definitely more than one, at least three or four. Sam has so much love to give and he adores bringing life into the world and nurturing it more than anything. Every little one is their own unique person he loves to foster and dote on. He wants some of each of course, but just loves the idea of having little girls especially!

Merry

Really wants one of each. His family will feel like a full package that way and he wants every type of experience he can have, walking a daughter down to her wedding and letting her dress him up and playing games with his son. Teaching both of them how to stand up and fight for themselves, of course! Merry is so the type who wants a mini version of both him and his spouse if he can have it. Would make so many jokes about the little clones and just melt for the child who looks like his partner. Regardless of who she looks like, his little girl has his exact smile and you'll always catch them making it at each other before the next moment of teasing and mischief!

Pippin

Wants so many kids. Five to ten, no problem. Numbers aren’t his concern so long as he can be involved with each and every one of them. Just the type who wants his family to be a small army! Definitely wants to experience having sons and daughters, but statistically he’s going to anyway at his rate! So good at getting down to their level and having the greatest time with them, but also showering them with love and calming words and learning their needs by actually listening. Just Pippin and his little army of fellow neurodivergent sweethearts all with different passions and gifts and special interests.

Faramir

Willing to concede to his partner especially if that’s who actually bears the children. Faramir adores the idea of having a family, of doing everything differently than he experienced, of pouring true love and respect into a little soul doing their best, and that is where his happiness truly lies. A part of him likes the idea of having two sons as full atonement for his and Boromir’s difficult childhood, but even one would make him happy. He is so patient at explaining things to a young mind and his optimism comes out all the more when spending time with a little one- all the world’s beauty is that much brighter!

Eomer

Big family! More than a number he dreams of a boisterous, active home where no one is ever lonely. A warm hearth and the voices of children nearly ever-present. His heart swells as he imagines having one in each hand and plenty more all around him. Eomer, for whatever reason, has the number six in his head. Of course he wants sons, sons to train as fine riders and fighters, but his sister has proved to him that that future is not lost on Rohan’s maid either. He would be so much softer, gentler with his daughter(s), still showing her things like how to shoot an arrow or how he sharpens his blades but with greater care. Gathering everyone for story time is one of Eomer’s greatest delights.

Haldir

For much of his life, Haldir did not think about children, was uncertain that was a future he would even attain. Thus, as the time approaches for consideration he realizes he simply feels blessed by the prospect and is very willing to listen to his partner about their wishes. Granted, he does not wish to live beyond his means or in a way that he could not provide for all he needs to, but in general he is open. The beauty of Lothlórien grows with every new addition, every fair member of elfkind so he is happy with boy(s) or girl(s). He would teach his daughter(s) to walk with grace and uphold their ancient strength and remind his son(s) that honor and respect must center all their actions.

Eowyn

Traditional housewife ‘duties’ were never her desire. Thus, she does not want a large family, though the idea of raising a little life with her partner makes her happy. She only wants one child, maybe two so they can play together, and her family will feel complete. Any child(ren) of hers will surely be active, so she and her spouse will have their hands full with whoever! Strength is a matter of the heart, and Eowyn will raise a strong family no matter if they are male or female. She loves the idea of having a daughter or daughters to share her stories and triumphs with, though- future Shieldmaidens of Rohan!

Arwen

She wants to be able to focus on her family, so ideally not a huge one. Carrying on her legacy and having someone to care for with her partner, a living breathing proof of their love and commitment, is the most important part. She has never been too particular about if the child is a boy or a girl, just that she wants to be there for them and a calming, loving presence in their life as much as possible. So good at holding and reassuring them it’s like magic.

Elrond

Elrond is patient, steady, and he likes to take his time both with his children and between having them. He is happy with a smaller or average-sized family, two or three children. That way he can spend his time, care, wisdom, on them all and lavish Rivendell’s resources on them in different ways. Perhaps they are interested in the rich history, the weapons of old, the art, textiles, the sheer natural beauty of the location. Whatever it may be, he will offer it to them so long as they use it well and with respect. It appeals to him to have one of each, but we all know he would have a soft spot for his daughter!

Lindir

All I can picture is twin dad Lindir. Don’t ask me why, all I know is this man elf has his hands full with a baby on each side. Exasperated but lovingly shaking his head as the two identical little elves/half-elves try to convince him they are their sibling again! Or even having one of each on one fell swoop, teaching them both their favored instrument and singing with them! Lindir doesn't mind so much whether he is to have sons, daughters, each, so long as his children have the finest things in life and know that he shall always give them what he can.

Taglist: @kilibaggins @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart | Reply/Message/Ask to join!

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nuka-rockit · 8 days ago

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BG3 Companions Cooking Headcanons P.1

Gale

canonically an enthusiastic cook. When spending his year of isloation in his tower after the breakup with Mystra, he had to find something to distract him from his heartbreak, sense of doom and research into the orb. So like many people stuck alone at home, he got into cooking. And because Gale is Gale – and he can never do anything at less than 120% - he got very good at it.

cooking is a way for him to ground himself. Its such a mundane, non-magical task that relaxes him (although he does use the occasional mage hand to help out). It reminds him of little Gale Dekarios, with his mum at the kitchen at home, long before he ever became Gale of Waterdeep.

hums when he cooks. He doesn't realize he's doing it until someone points it out. When they do, he gets flustered.

his favourite things to cook are recipes that take a while. Stews, slow roasts, anything that needs to simmer for a few hours at low temperature. He likes the way the smell of a nice warm meal fills the air, enhancing the anticipation of getting to indulge when it's done.

a very neat cook. He doesn't like messes, so he usually makes sure the utensils and dishes are clean by the time he goes to sleep. The simulacrum does the dishes usually, but he still checks them over just in case.

Karlach

not a great cook. She is the opposite of picky and will eat almost anything. When cooking herself this usually translates to "It's just burned on one side, it's still good to eat" or "C'mon, no one has ever died from a bit of crunchy potato. I think."

Loves the simple, grounded stuff. Fried bacon, mushy peas, buttery rolls, apple pie, a nice hot soup. The stuff you can get at taverns to wash down with a pint. She's seen the indulgent, lavish feasts of devils like Raphael or Mizora in the Hells, and she doesn't care for them. As long as it's warm, tasty and filling, its good enough for her.

Needs A LOT of food. The engine burns more than just fuel, it also sets her metabolism into overdrive, which means she gets hungry quickly, especially after a fight. She easly beats any of the other companions in the sheer volume of food she can consume in one sitting, to the astonishment (and even admiration) of the team.

Very open about her praises for the other companion's cooking. Considering her eating habits it may not say much about the quality of the food, but she is so sincere and enthusiastic about even the most mediocre of meals that even the companions that don't like cooking generally like cooking for her.

After one of the less edible meals she produced for the camp, Gale actually tries teaching her how to cook. It turns out she doesn't have the patience for things like chopping and peeling vegetables properly or evenly, or pays much attention to detail when it comes to spices (less is more in Karlach's eyes, which had interesting results when she got hold of the hot peppers), but she does have a very nifty hand at grilling and frying. After a while, her preferred meal to cook for the team is campfire barbequeue, and it is not just edible but tasty, to everyone's collective relief.

Lae'zel

Part of her training involved feeding herself in emergency situations, so she does know some basic cooking skills. She never really needed to use them before though and sees elaborate cooking as a waste of valuable time. As long as it's edible its good enough. The meals she cooks tend to be very spartan as a result.

She is very unfamiliar with the majority of Faerûnian food, which often leaves her at a loss at how to properly prepare certain ingredients. Of course she would never admit this and just makes a guess at how to cook things based on how close they look to an approximate Gith ingredient, with less than ideal results.

If (or rather, when) someone complains about her...unusual cooking, she will call them pampered and pretend it's exactly as she intended it to be. Even when she can barely choke down her creations herself. She has a well-trained poker face after all.

Eventually has to admit to herself she is not great at cooking in this plane, and since she is a perfectionist it bothers her immensely. It ends with her teaching herself he proper preparation times for a few dozen common Faerûnian foods as well as the most ideal way to prepare them. She doesn't become a master chef, but her cooking eventually becomes more consistent and a lot more edible.

won't admit it, but every now and then she gets homesick for Gith food. The meals with the other companions aren't bad (mostly), but they're a constant reminder of how alien the Sword Coast is to her – and it turn, how alien she is to it.

#I want to make more certainly the rest of the companions #i miss making HC posts honestly #my stuff #bg3 #bg3 companions #bg3 headcanons #lae'zel #karlach #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3

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firelightmlpoc · 3 months ago

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Hey, just wanted to say good on you for standing up against the completely batshit accusations that have been thrown around the fandom lately. I cannot fathom how anyone believed those screenshots for even a second. I doubt you’ll get an answer, since the harassers are stuck in an echo chamber of validating their actions and will likely just stick their heads in the sand and pretend they can’t hear you. It sucks ass, but seeing that there are at least some people who will publicly question this bullshit is refreshing.

Of course. There’s a reason ‘innocent until proven guilty’ is something that’s supposed to be a baseline for an accusation of actions that have caused harm. After all, if someone makes a false accusation that then is treated as true, then another innocent person gets harmed, & then the waters get muddied for any other accusations thereafter.

After all, if someone lied about harm done & then makes another accusation, who’s to say that accusation isn’t just another lie? Something-something, ‘boy who cried wolf’. Then it also makes any other accusations in the nearby vicinity seem lest trustworthy because people don’t want to be wrong again.

Some people solely jumped on this hate-train specifically because it was against Pansear Doodles, & wouldn’t have interacted with this accusation at all if it didn’t center around someone they didn’t already dislike.

You want proof? Easy.

Look at the accounts saying ‘I always knew that Pansear was bad! Good to get proven right…’ and then look at their accounts. Almost always, they’ve been bashing Pansear (and other artists who do shipping of Slugcats & other similar art) because they just didn’t like the topic. And, instead of just acknowledging that they don’t like that content & moving on, they internalize that dislike & then try to find a reason to attach said dislike to the author. Then, they look for anything the author did wrong (be it true or not) & suddenly cry out:

‘I was right all along for hating this person!!!’

There’s an account that replied to my earlier post which REALLY clearly shows this in action.

@hourglass-meadow .

This reply is what they said.

An ask they responded to directly about Pansear. (Long-winded, yadayada.)

Their response:

And their first response to seeing Pansear gone.

Now, you know how many posts they made about Pansear potentially being a problem? None, except for the ArtiHunter comic, which has nothing actually ’problematic’ within. What about an ‘I hope the victim can find peace…’? Nonexistent.

These people don’t care if these allegations are true or not.

They don’t care who else gets hurt in this mess, as long as it isn’t someone in their circle.

They just want to see a ‘bad guy’ who is someone they don’t like get punished.

They want to claim their righteousness for all the world to see, as they cast judgement; a lynching in the court of public opinion.

And all of this targeting, IF this is fake, is more-or-less because people didn’t like seeing Pansear & others making /shipping/ art.

Because they saw someone else making something that THEY deemed ‘weird.’

There’s something to be said about the current political climate here, be it the Puritanical aspect of eliminating anything ’other’, ‘weird’, or ‘disgusting’ from sight no matter how innocuous/harmless it is;

the ‘Guilty until Proven Innocent’ mindset going around that makes actual victims more liable to not out their abuser out of concern for what will happen to their abuser (As, statistically speaking, abusers tend to be someone close to the abused, before abuse starts.)

Or even just the fact that people are simply emboldened to be as shitty as possible while they believe they’re anonymous online, because they’re of the mindset that they’re immune to consequences because they aren’t being directly known by these internet people in-person.

Don’t believe me? Look at every account celebrating Pansear’s self-eviction from the Rainworld community. Look at their actions & words from before this accusation. And then check what I said again. Cross reference this shit. See that the majority don’t care if there was a victim, much less if the potential victim is ok now or not; they just wanted someone they didn’t like, for one arbitrary reason or another, gone.

Cruelty was the point of many people’s actions against Pansear here, & by jove did they get what they wanted.

Remember folks! Remember this well:

No matter how much you align with leopards-that-eat-people’s-faces, the leopards won’t think twice about your face being next on their dinner plate.

That’s enough words from me for the time being, however.

#rain world #rainworld #pansear doodles #pansear #fuckshippingcontainer

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foundfamily-connoisseur · 1 month ago

Text

PUNCH OUT HCS CUZ I DONT GOT TIME TO DRAW THEM BUT THEY WONT LEAVE ME ALONE!!!

Something something the voices

This is so long I'm sorry

No I'm serious I started derailing I think

LITTLE MAC

Mexican-American! His ma is Mexican and immigrated to The Bronx, where she met Mac's dad (who we have nothing on lol, he dipped before Mac was born).

His ma? Oh yeah, she died :( He doesn't know how, just that he came home one day (latchkey kid) and saw the cops surrounding the apartment. Placed him in an orphanage but got into fights a lot and deemed him a 'problem child' (literally just an autistic kid grieving the loss of his mom)

As said, Lil Mac is autistic! For the most nonverbal and thus uses ASL, but also speaks English and Spanish from time to time(English from Doc, Spanish from his mother and childhood friends who helped him keep up). Spanish is his preferred language tho.

Narcolepsy haver. It usually doesn't interfere much with his actual boxing matches since he's learned to feel when they're coming and deal with them accordingly. Took him and Doc a while to figure out that he had it since they just chalked it up to his prior malnutrition(which also impacted his growth, capping him at a whole 4'9)

Affectionate(?): must be initiated by him. He's very much for hugging and holding hands but if someone else does it first he's like :/. Only people he's ok with is Doc Louis so far.

Trans: transman who figured himself out pretty early when he only played soccer with the boys out in the mud. His mom cut his hair super short as a 'punishment' for always getting dirt in his braids but jokes on her he loved it. Doc has been helping him with hormone blockers, and with the prize money saving up for surgery 🙏 you can do it maccie boy!!! No one else in the ring knows and he'd rather keep it that way thank you (both out of nerves but also why do they need to know 🤨 what are they the fbi???)

Fashion sense: if you try to get this boy in anything but a tank/shirt and shorts he will explode. This man rocks flip flops and sneakers for days and it's all that's in his wardrobe (maybe another hoodie or two). A lot of them are rather worn but he hates the idea of "wasting" money so he uses em till they're literally impossible to wear.

Very spiritual: believes in el Mal Ojo aka Evil Eye and such. (Mostly from his mother and the women on the block that took him in from time to time). If he thinks your vibes are off, he will do an egg cleanse and swears that they work (they do i can attest to that chat).

GLASS JOE

EDS HAVER!!!!! (Ie Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome). This man has glass bones and paper

he don't care he will fight till he's dead! That and boxing actually does rlly help him with his joint pains. He finds it kinda funny when ppl worry about him like "sorry guys i gotta lie down real quick i think my ribs went criss cross". He prefers to get around on wheel chair but can get by with crutches(to which he just lays on the bed forever afterward)

Cat dad!!!!: less him having an actual pet cat than him just tending to whatever feline that crosses his path. May or may not have some scratches on his hands don't worry about it.

Actually really good friends with Mac: (we're going to pretend that they aren't literally thousands of miles away shut up). One of the few to make an actual effort to learn ASL rather than pick it up slowly or have Doc translate. In turn, Mac has gone about learning bits and pieces of French, enough so that both can communicate in their respective language and the other can (mostly) understand them.

This man is such a critic like what do you mean the food lacked a certain "je ne sais quoi" or the movie "insisted upon itself". He really wants to be nice but if it has any touch of French, he is going to murder it because it isn't French enough or actually accurate.

Had an ex fiance to which they broke off for reasons he'd rather not elaborate.

VON KAISER

Tics: he has em. They worsen under stress, but occur randomly or if overstimulated

Served in the military before being discharged. He doesn't like talking about and his tics start acting up if the topic is brought up.

Widower: wife died fairly early into their marriage and he was absolutely distraught. They both always talked about having kids, and a part of him still wants that, but it won't be the same without his Engelchen.

Career: he had wanted to be an engineer, but after serving in the military couldn't bring himself to go into it. That, and being a boxing teacher let's him tend to kids, even if it means getting socked in the stomach. He always acts like a strict instructor, both from his own experience in the military and because he wants to keep the kids at arms length. Also his wife being a kindergarten teacher had nothing to do with it nooooo

Close friends with Hondo and Glass Joe. Bear Hugger is a friendly fella but his loud and boarish disposition gets him riled up. Gets along well with Little Mac and if Doc isn't present for whatever reason, he's good at helping Mac calm down if he starts getting overstimulated and vice versa.

He also totally doesn't have Lil Mac be a pseudo son to him and think about his kis could've been potentially his age who said that.

Emotional support animal: German shepherd called Hugo. That's his baby right there

Disco Kid

That man's a fruit your honor!!!! No but fr tho he's a queer man living his best life.

Also a drag queen! (Name pending). Doesn't really care for how others perceive him and goes with the flow really.

Definitely fought with his dad a lot when he was younger, but as he grew his father came around and now they have a pretty solid relationship.

He's a total mommas boy tho he will literally die for her. He also has a little sister who he plays dolls with. (And yes she asks him to say it in his girl voice iykyk)

Gets along with pretty much everyone besides Mr. Sandman really (Aran Ryan is an interesting case. You heard it from the grape vine but they have an on and off relationship).

An art major for sureeeee. Idk what kind but im sensing something

Really good with machinery though. Usually just so he can fix up his car and stereos.

KING HIPPO

He is for sure not human. I always draw him more beastly but he's probably closer to whales/hippos than actual people.

Like hippos, all that's fat is really just pure muscle. No cuz google up a hippo and remove their skin them bitches are SHREDDED!!!

Naturally very affectionate, although he prefers his pals in the minor circuit (and Lil Mac. Yes this is Little Mac supremacy everyone will be his friend).

Absolutely loves cocktails. They come with fruit how can he not. Funnily enough he despises apples though.

Has multiple wives: a primary wife and secondary wives. Has kids with most of them and naturally, the first born son will take his place when the time comes. (He does love all his kids and wives equally tho so don't worry about them).

Surpringly eloquent" while he can't exactly form human speech, his writing is impeccable, both in letter and in word choice. No one knows how he does it with those claws and big ass hands.

PISTON HONDA

This man has so much manga it's insane. This mf probably has a whole room dedicated to his collection. Yes most of them are Shojo and yes he has a lot of Sailor Moon merch and memorabilia. (although he does also enjoy other such Mangas like JJBA and Inuyasha. I'd say he's embarrassed about it but bro was reading Sailor Moon out in the open so id say he's at least fine with reading it publicly.

Has gotten some of the other boxers to read some of his recs and watch some animes with him (he will force you to watch Madoka Magica and Revolutionary Girl Utena. It's only a matter of time.) It's also how he got into other shows like Candy Candy (by Mac), The Golden Girls(by Disco Kid. He likes his oldies what can he say), and pretty much any and every telenovela ever created (Wow wonder who it could be).

Has a pet Shiba Inu that he loves to bits but DAMN does she test his patience sometimes. And he has a lot of it.

Also began learning ASL when he caught wind of Glass Joe doing it, although he practically forced Lil Mac to learn Japanese because damn it, sometimes the dub doesn't do the show justice!!!

Has two older sisters!!! He's the baby of the family lol and it don't matter if he can pick em both up they'll still pinch his cheeks and tease him.

BEAR HUGGER

Trans: a transgender man who's loud and proud. Never bothered with top surgery he ain't cutting off his girls!!! He could pick up the vibe™️ with Little Mac but he's not the type to try and force the conversation. He'll let Mac come to him on his own time, and if not then that's fine too.

Loads of animals: similar situation to Glass Joe, although now it applies to all animals. Bro is a Disney princess. He sticks his arms out and birds fly to perch on them. Can seemingly hold an actual conversation with animals and no one knows if he's losing it or if they are.

Family: an only child, but with loads of cousins who fill in that sibling role. He's actually really good with kids and takes care of his nieces and nephews from time to time. He has thought about being a dad from time to time (he'd really like to have a girl) but always decides against it.

Affectionate: to the highest degree. That man is always asking if ya need a hug and it ain't just a threat for a grapple/ear clap. He and King Hippo get along swimmingly as a result (if only they didn't die if they went to each other's respective home country 😔)

Prosthethic: ya cant tell cuz of his clothes, but he has a prosthetic leg! (Stops a bit below the knee). If he ever takes it off for whatever reason, he always goes "aw man, guess I'm on my last leg" and the crowd goes mild. Thinks it's the funniest shit ever tho and he won't stop making the joke (Little Mac made it worse by giving an actual chuckle. Mac you've doomed us all with your horrible sense in jokes. I blame Doc)

GREAT TIGER

Loves cats: absolutely adores them. This man has a cat onesie I can feel it in my bones. He hangs out with Glass Joe solely for the cat (also the baguettes).

Gossip: he has a horrible habit of gossiping that he's tried to curb but astaghfirullah sometimes he's gotta talk about Don's receding hairline😔 Mac isn't helping him pinche chismoso!!!

Doesn't like going to parties involving alcohol with the WVBA because almost always he's forced into designated driver. Usually he just teleports away because he's not dealing with that yall are calling an uber!!!!

Actively avoids searching up ingredients in things he eats (like gummies) because if he doesn't know it's not Haram.

Sneakerhead: very proud of his collection. Also really into rap music (we don't talk about his career...that never happened chat) and you will hear it blasting from his car.

Sister!!! Stealing this from a fic but he has a younger sister who works internationally. If she's there with him she serves as his translator.

Magic: not limited to clones or what's seen in the game, but it's his preferred type of magic. He can also transform things and people into other things/creatures. He accidentally made Mac into a rabbit and everyone had a field day with that one.

DON FLAMENCO

Chismoso: this man will shit talk anything and anyone. If you talked with him chances are you're part of a gossiping ring with the older ladies who work nearby. I think they're talking about how you're a puta but idk

Former womanizer: this man banged anything that had a beating heart and a pretty body. It wasn't until he met Carmen that he knew what love really was. Once they got together UGHHHH this man was a fucking loser for his Carmen. Took years to win her over but it was all worth it for his amor.

They talk about kids sometimes, but this mf childish that he sees it as having to share his beloved fiance. (They for sure have kids later down the line tho. Give them a minute damn!)

Beef: tbh he doesn't really get along with anyone; he just dislikes them all to varying degrees. He and Mac hate each other on the principle of one being Hispanic/Latino and the other being a Spaniard. Do NOT leave them alone for any reason. Last time they both argued about the spanish word for 'straw' and sent each other to the hospital where they argued some more.

Telenovelas are his life force. If you interrupt his showing of La Rose de Guadalupe, he will literally kill you.

Got Aran Ryan into it by accident: he was watching Teresa in the living room when Ryan was crossing to go to the kitchen for a bite. An hour later he's sat on the couch hand in heads. They both watch it together now.

Great cook: he makes a means paella and he knows it. Always makes it to show off 'Spain Superiority'. Little Mac hates his guts but he's not gonna turn down a free paella.

ARAN RYAN

People joke and say he has brain damage which is why he's so crazy, but he actually does have CTE so 💀

Family: aside from his general knack for recklessness, having a piece of shit mom and an even worse dad (who of course had to die in a freak accident at work) does not exactly leave you the most sound. He has loads of sisters and brothers, being the second oldest of the bunch (with one older sister of which the hate is mutual). It's a big factor to why he doesn't want kids; he's spent a big chunk of his life working to raise them.

Boxing: to him it was both an outlet for his eventually anger issues and a means to raise money in the same punch. It did lead to fucking him up physically, as after a particularly nasty bout with Mr. Sandman, an eye got knocked out of place so he's working with only 50%.

Very jittery: you can never catch this man staying still. Even in his sleep he either tosses or twitches a leg or arm. Trying to make him stay still just makes it worse.

Repressed Bi it's not even funny. His excuse for his on and off relationship with Disco Kid is "well he's basically a lady!" He'll come to terms with it eventually, but that's one hell of a long road.

Superstitious: biggest thing for him is luck. he breaks a lot of shit but mirrors are not one of them!

Low-key misogynistic: "my sister punches harder than ye, boy!" Like damn your sister must be knocking ppls jaws clean off the freak. If he ever finds out that Lil Mac is trans it's just gonna be him like "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT" cuz now he's gonna get canceled on Twitter dot com by Super Macho Man😔😔😔

SODA POPINSKI

Married!!! Has a tiny little wife that he loves to bits. She will scold him and he's just all :]]]] wife...I luv her sm... he's a total wifeman

They've been trying for a kid (bro you can't just say that...gross). Naturally this man wants a shit load of them god help that woman.

A major reason to why he's been making efforts to curb his drinking habits! Of course he still hits the bottle every so often, but he's for sure gotten better than his first time in the ring.

Cooking skills: surpringly decent believe it or not! Anything with meat he's killer with and he always makes ridiculously large portions. (Yes it's because he wants to make something nice for his lady let me make a wife guy!!!!)

Really likes Beyonce. Major fan actually he goes to so many of her shows.

Horrible with social cues. This man does not understand when he's being too overbearing (to the detriment of his friendship with many alas😔 especially Von Kaiser and Little Mac). Tries to apologize by offering them a soda like 🥺🥤

Speaking of Little Mac, he once tripped over him (6'7 vs 4'9...oh dear). Flash forward to them in the hospital. They both swear to never speak of this again (also Soda gets him authentic mexican cola so like...we're all good here).

BALD BULL

Anger issues galore: got his father's temperament(don't we all???) And in addition to being bullied a lot as a kid, he hasn't really found the best way to manage. Usually he just goes out to a secluded field or heads out to the sauna, but the press has done little favors to his mental sanity.

Cat magnet: not of his own volition. They are drawn to him like flies to honey. He doesn't really mind them and are a nice way to de-stress.

Music taste: while he usually listens to classical music and instrumentals, he loves himself some girlie pop music. You pull out his ear buds and just catch "Girls just wanna have funnnnn" Before he punches you into the sun

Cattle farm: Inherited from his family, he loves all his cows to bits. They are his pride and joy. He has Glass Joe come over sometimes for some cheese and wine.

Isn't particularly close to any of the boxers beyond Glass Joe and Soda Popinski. He spends some time with Lil Mac, usually just to go out and get some ice cream or something. He likes the kids company cuz he isn't as energetic or demanding in the same regard a lot of teens are.

SUPER MACHO MAN

He for sure has a purse dog named princess. It's a white pomeranian with a pink bow i just known it.

Was a child actor! His family got him into the world early, staring as the sweetheart of whatever show or movie he was in. In his later teens, he was the heart throb before he left the scene as an adult to focus on boxing. His parents were at first disappointed, but after seeing the money roll in? They had no problems after that.

Romance: as expected, nothing permanent. He usually just has loads of flings or one time hook ups that never amount to anything, and he doesn't bother looking for anything "real".

Probably has a kid out there somewhere but if he does, he's denying it till his dying breath.

Similarly to Don, he doesn't really get along with anyone. For him it's just a matter of his own superficial nature. He absolutely detests Mac, but is the only one to know ASL fluently due to a former childhood friend. He doesn't use it beyond wanting to be bitchy in secret.

I know he's super tan but I'm not allowing him to be white. He's a lil something...will figure that out later.

MR SANDMAN

Yeah ngl I don't got a lot for him. I don't think i have anything actually. Huh

He mains Kirby in smash.

He used to have a lisp when he was younger

Yknow how some parents will have kids super far apart? Yeah his parents did that what do you mean he was 22 and he got a new baby sister. What the freak.

He absolutely hates Macs guts but also can't take him seriously on account that he's 4'9. Whose child is this. Literally, when he first entered the ring, he asked whose kid was this and that children weren't allowed in the ring. Lo and behind this was the schmuck that knocked the lights out of 12 other fully grown men, and he was coming for your ass next.

BONUS

DOC LOUIS

Took Mac in when he was around 9, formally adopted him as soon as he could. Heard of a ruckus for a missing child some minutes away and when he came back with Little Mac, he thought he found his parents. Then he got the situation explained to him about how he didn't actually have anyone, everyone just agreed to look out for him. There he officially took him in as his son.

Put the kid back in school after learning he hasn't been in since his mom died. He's considerably behind for his age, but has taken great strides to catch up. He's now just a year behind.

Definitely a major learning curve when it came to raising a child, much less one who barely spoke english(if he spoke at all) and prone to outbursts. It's been years since then and he can't imagine a world without that kid.

Had a wife but they divorced after he found out she had an affair. Sent him on a downwards spiral but he managed to pick himself back up. Having a kid to raise really helps him out.

Close to his sister, but that's about it. She's who gave him pointers on how to raise a kid, as they were about the same age. He doesn't think hes have done as well if it wasn't for her.

Former coach of Bald Bull, but parted ways after arguments on what exactly that wanted to do moving forward. They're amicable now, though.

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