#it's like 'i want her to pull a nettles!' but they actually mean they want her to keep sacking cities with drogon. buddy....

[atopvisenyashill]

ultimate hater take is that there are two types of targ nation people, there's the rabid twitter people who think every single targ except like three or four (usually aegon ii, aemond, aegon iv, sometimes maegor and aerys ii) are Undisputed Uncomplicated Heroes Of The Story and that the series will end with a targ restoration happy ending. then there's the targ nation people who think basically every single historical targ was a villain EXCEPT FOR dany and she is not only the Undisputed Uncomplicated Hero Of The Story but will absolutely burn/sack both Vaes Dothrak and Volantis but these will be Good Things because she's killing slavers.

[thecountesstribe]

HOTD 2X6 Review and Spoilers!!

Another slow episode. The episode dragged especially considering it's currently down to the last 3 episodes of the season.

Alicent got booted off the council, LMFAO. I don't take pleasure in seeing women suffer but older Alicent earned her shit, it's what she gets. Larys thinking he was gonna be named the hand of the Regent King LMFAO. Aemond said get your toad looking ass tf on and go call my grandfather. That was smart as much as I hate to admit it. Aegon definitely remembers his brother trying to kill him though. Larys is going to be protecting Aegon from now on because he knows that they can't control Aemond, I'm mad I gotta say something decent about him but he's actually thinking with his brain. The green council is still in a mess and divided and they know Aemond is going to be a tyrant king, hell Alicent knows and she's still somehow shocked by the monster she created like she didn't have a big part to do with him harboring his worst qualities and helping him mold into it. Delusional I tell you. The small folk are suffering already and got on their asses though, the only thing I didn't like is Helaena getting caught in the crossfire again. Another Daeron mention and did they just subtly hint at Criston being his father? Meaning Alicent was really sleeping with him before Vizzy T kicked the bucket? The writing for the show is all over the place, my God.

We were a diva down and I didn't like it one bit. WHERE TF WAS BAELA?! Like we saw her husband but where was she? Ugh. Rhaena and Joffrey sighting. They were so cute! Rhaena is still trying to convince herself she doesn't need a dragon to be important 💔 and Joff just wants his momma. Nettles looks like she's officially scrapped. I'm so pissed. They could've totally given Rhaena something else to do in the meantime, they didn't have to merge Nettles and her story together. Wtf Sara and Ryan?! This is why people say there is a Team green bias and they aren't beating those accusations. What does this mean for Rhaena hatching Morning? There were four eggs does that mean she still has a chance to do it? I'm so mad. Then again after what Dumbass and Dunderhead pulled in the final seasons of GOT why tf am I surprised!

We saw baby Stormcloud!!! I never realized how much I missed seeing baby dragons on screen. It's like having baby Viserion, Rhaegal and Drogon back. My heart did a little quick thump. He was so derpy too 🥺🤣 How Aegon's supposed to get away on him is beyond me, he's literally the size of a kitten. The timeline is so messed up as well.

Daemon is still in spooky land and although I'm over it, I understand it's a culmination of all his regrets and things he wishes he could've had and done differently. We saw Vizzy T and that scene where it showed Daemon wanted to be there for him, he just didn't know how.... Man I kinda teared up. At the end of the day Daemon just wanted his brother's love and approval, he went about it in the wrong way because he's chaos personified but that's what it was always about to him. Vizzy T was his parental figure, his everything really and man 💔. Miscommunication trope strikes again. Him and Alys becoming friends even though she's the one that's tormenting him wasn't on my bingo cards. Somebody come get Caraxes outta there, I know he's bored asf. Every time we catch a glimpse of him he looks more and more over the entire thing. 🤣

One of the highpoints of the episode was Seasmoke. Dragons have personality y'hear me. More of that! Seasmoke is a whole clown 🤣🤣🤣. Why would he do Ser Steffon like that? I mean sure he got a little cocky but intentionally bending his neck for him to get on and then essentially saying “BITCH YOU THOUGHT” AND THEN BURNING THEM TO A CRISP?!! He was so funny for that 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭. He said “get y'all mid looking asses on” I already got eyes for one person and he's so real for that. You guys think he used to have dragon conversations with momma Meleys about picking their riders? We know dragons pick their riders as much as riders claim their dragons but do you think Meleys taught him if the unfortunate should ever happen make sure and pick the baddest of the bunch? We know Meleys picked Rhaenys as Rhaenys picked Meleys, that was confirmed. Meleys said Pretty Women Only and do you think she told Seasmoke to get him a pretty rider to match his aesthetic if the need ever arises? I know Laenor hatched him but Laenor was pretty asf. Seasmoke saw Addam smiling on the beach once and said “yeah I gotta have that” plus it helps that he has dreads, a pretty smile, a pretty face and looks like Corlys. He said welcome back Laenor Velaryon. Addam being Laenor's brother makes it hysterical as hell too, I'm creased LMFAO. He didn't have to chase down Addam like that but I respect it, he saw what he wanted and shooters shoot. I too would chase down Addam until he accepts my advances and affection, Seasmoke been eyeing him for awhile.

Corlys is officially the hand of the rightful Queen of the 7 kingdoms.

We got canon bisexual Rhaenyra. Although I wish she was kissing another beautiful Velaryon instead, Laena I miss you so much baby, that was for me. Her and Mysaria kissing before Jace and Baela is egregious to me though. I'm just saying why everybody locking lips before the main og star couple?Rhaenyra smacking men, 100000s across the boards. She should've been doing that sooner but better late than never I suppose. That lady is still in her resentment of her husband era. Her face when Jace said they needed Daemon 🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭 She's sick of hearing about that man. He's right btw, Rhaenyra go get him, he's out there giving our diva Simon grief. Mysaria actually helping her with PR and actually giving her great advice. I love women supporting women! Her sending food with her banners for the common folk was so politically savvy. Mysaria being one of the few that is actually coming in clutch to help her to win the war 😉. I still don't trust her though, something about this entire thing tells me it's gonna end badly for her. I'll enjoy them trauma dumping and bonding on one another before the shit hits the fan though. I know doomed Yuri when I see it. Jace and that one guard immediately knowing something is up with both of them is sending me though. She took off at the end of the episode to go confront her ex-husband's new dragon rider and Syrax about to be screaming at her dragon ex husband too apparently. 🤣🤣

Since they're essentially changing the entire plot and the leaks that I thought were written like fanfiction might actually be true could we get Jace surviving the battle of the gullet? It's not slated for this season but I'm here to spread my agenda. Since we're essentially fucking canon atp instead of in certain scenarios and all this for Bran the broken to sit the Iron Throne (I'm still fuckin disgusted and furious at that btw, fuck you D&D) could they switch that shit up? Let's come together and manifest it guys.

Until next week guys. I better see Baela, Rhaena, Jace and more dragons though. I'm here for them and them only.

And another thing, could you guys stop leaking shit. I block words and myself from certain pages and sites but y'know how stuff still slips through the cracks. Have some decorum and etiquette please!

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Gentleness

Fandom: Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story Summary: Sometimes, he has a need that he has to ask for. Brimsely has never really been good at that. Warnings: Period-typical homophobia, anxiety, crying during sex, and romantic misunderstandings Word Count: 4,615 Ship(s): Brimsley/Reynolds

Archive link!

A/N: My first work in this part of the fandom! I don't know what these two are typically headcanoned to be or the way that they're always written, but I thought that this would be cute. I really liked writing them being soft with each other but I had to throw some angst in there because that's just who I am. Hope you guys enjoy! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

He could feel the need for something itching under his skin like nettles.

Sam Brimsley almost physically shuddered when he realized the comparison that his mind had come up with. He had been very young when he had first encountered the plant in the back of his father’s home. Unfortunately, he wasn’t young enough to forget the painful way that the rash had spread over every part of his skin that had touched it. The tiny spines had wormed their way under his skin and then further throughout his body until they were trapped deep under his skin. His mother had to take one of her sewing needles, hot from her fingers and the fire, to his palm so that she could get all of them out.

It was an accurate description to how he was currently feeling, however. He could taste the desire that he had for something on the back of his tongue and his skin felt tender at the idea of getting it. It was almost painful, the way that his heart ached with the need of it.

He would never admit that was what he needed, not when his queen still had need of him. He had gone through all those years of schooling and months of grueling training, including on how to stand still with nothing to do for hours and how to exist on very little sleep, specifically so that he could always be five steps behind her. He was glad that Queen Charlotte had turned out to be the kind of royal that was willing to bid him back to his chambers and sent random people after him instead of always keeping him at his post, at least.

As soon as the door to the study shut and the normal noises that came on even days began to emit from it, Sam stepped further away from the door. He was glad that the royal couple was making progress on procuring an heir for their family and the people of the United Kingdom as a whole, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to hear it necessarily.

“Do you want to come back to my chambers?” Reynolds asked, his hard clear blue eyes flickering down to the other man.

Reynolds was about a head taller than him, with blond hair that was always perfectly styled around his face and pulled back into the traditional ponytail. He wore a similar uniform to what Sam did, but it was blue instead of the red that signified he was to be kept by the queen. Their status difference was so slight, nothing like what actual nobles had to go through, but he felt it every time they were standing as they were now. 

They had the same purpose, the same job, but they served different people. Sam was to be at Her Majesty’s side until death or punishment separated them, while Reynolds did the same for His Majesty. That slight difference, the ever-so-tiny change in pronouns for the title of who they served was the reason that the power imbalance hung between the two of them. It was the reason that Sam had always kept that fiercely burning desire stoked just enough to emerge inside of him instead of letting it die out. Sometimes, Reynolds needed to be put in his place and there was no better person in the entire world to do that than him.

“I think that we ought to head to mine today,” he replied just as quietly as the proposition had been given.

“Mine’s bigger,” the blond quipped. He had turned slightly so that they were facing each other, but it wasn’t enough that the guards would begin to panic about them breaking from their training. Everyone in Buckingham House was aware that they often snuck off when their masters were otherwise occupied anyway.

“That’s not what you said the other night,” Sam replied. He felt almost like Shakespeare, speaking something so obscene into the air without saying it outright.

Reynolds let out a snort in the back of his throat and then his cheeks tinted pink. As soon as he realized what he had done, he cleared his throat and then tilted his head down towards the hallway that would lead to the servant’s quarters. “Right, we best be on our way before they hear us talking and begin to yell,” he said.

“Of course,” Sam replied, stepping to the side so that he was able to pass. He almost waited for five paces to start going after the other man before he caught himself and hurried after him.

They walked in silence, as they always did when they were traveling to one of their quarters. The days where they spoke to each other in hushed arguments around kisses were reserved specifically for when they were very angry or frustrated about their jobs. It had only happened once or twice, and that was during the times that they never got to see each other. They now lived in the same building and could see each other whenever their masters were not being tended to by themselves. There was no need to incorporate their positions into their intimate relationship with each other.

Sam held the door open so that the other man could step through and then followed after. As soon as the heavy wood had swung back into its frame, he switched the lock into place so that no one could barge in on them. He focused on pulling off his gloves so that they could be as efficient as possible, not paying attention to what the other man was doing in the process.

“That’s new.”

He turned around when he heard the voice of his almost-lover, his eyes flickering around the room. He spent quite a bit of his time there, almost every waking moment that he wasn’t doing something with or for his queen. Finally he found it, the one thing that had been moved out of place from what the room had been the last time that Reynolds had occupied it.

“Just a bunch of letters that I haven’t gotten around to replying to yet. I was going to work on it this morning but the queen rose before I was expecting her to,” he explained. He sat down on the edge of his bed and began to work on the fiddlier buttons that were hidden above his chest. The waistline of his coat had to be taken in again, he had lost more weight since the queen and king had moved in together, so those buttons had gotten substantially easier.

“If you’re letting your work escape you so that we can have a romp together then perhaps I should retire back to my chambers. Alone,” Reynolds said, eyeing him in that way that he always did. It was hungry and hard at the same time, like he held some kind of disdain for the man that he was always running off with.

“I would never leave my work to do until after I had relations,” he scoffed. He couldn’t imagine why he had ever given the impression that he was so flippant about the things that he had been assigned to do as the queen’s man. Just because he didn’t have some grand secret to keep the same way that Reynolds did didn’t mean that what he was doing wasn’t important.

“Then what are they?” While he spoke, Reynolds was trailing his hands over the front of his jacket. He undid the buttons with quick, harried flicks of his fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the entire world. It made Sam want to bite him, he could almost feel the itching in his teeth over it.

Sam didn’t really want to answer, not when it could possibly get him in more trouble. He was so exhausted, had been for weeks, that the only thing he wanted was a big of pleasure before he had to return to work. He didn’t have to deal with an interrogation from someone that didn’t like him very much. “Personal letters. From friends that I studied with and my family. Now are you going to come over here or not?”

“Perhaps having you be the queen’s man was a mistake when the woman that the princess chose is so bossy,” Reynolds nearly snarled. He had such a feral animalistic side to him, it was as enthralling and sexy as it was annoying and tiring.

“You don’t like it when someone else finally has the upper hand, do you?” Sam asked, tilting his head to the side. He had grown up with three older brothers, one who had died in war and two who had gone on to be servants in other houses across the Empire, so he knew what it was like to be at the bottom of the pecking order. He had worked long and hard to refine his skill enough to work with the best of the best. Reynolds may have served the king, but Sam was going to be serving every king they had going forward by tending to Her Majesty when she was expecting.

“I wish you would just stop talking,” Reynolds replied. He leaned down and their mouths connected in a fiery, passionate kiss just as they had every time before. Tongues danced and pushed at each other while teeth nipped and pulled at every bit of skin that they could get any access to. While their mouths were occupied, their hands went to work. Both of them had been raised as servants so there was nothing that they could do that would settle them more than multitasking. Reynolds quickly pushed back the fabric of his coat so that it tumbled down to the ground and he was left in nothing but his thin white cotton shirt.

Eventually they had to break apart so that they could both gasp for breath. Instead of taking that time to snipe back and forth at each other even more than they had before, Reynolds began to trail nips and kisses down Sam’s neck. He whimpered and tossed his head to the side, allowing the other man more access. Even though he had been smart before, even though he had been snappish and short, there was nothing more that he needed in that moment than to have the control taken from him.

Sam reached out and grasped both of his arms so that he could take the other man with him as they tumbled down onto the bed. It was cushioned by the amount of quilts that he had snuck into his space to make it more inviting, but the mattress was so thin that it was still quite uncomfortable. “We’re doing this in my room next time,” Reynolds informed him as if he was the only one in the relationship that got to have any kind of a say in how it worked.

“Mine is closer to this side of Buckingham House,” he protested.

“But the Queen always has to come to the King on even days,” Reynolds replied. He ended the conversation by smashing their lips together in another long kiss. Sam was, for once, too tired to let the conversation continue. Usually when they got like this with each other he was more than willing to show his teeth and bite back just as passionately. This time, though, he was too worn down to try and get hot and bothered over an argument. It was just making him feel sad.

They shifted further back on the bed so that their entire bodies were encompassed by the sheets and pillows, before the disrobing continued. The shoes and socks came next, then the pants and smalls, all dumped down onto the ground beside the bedframe where their coats and shirts had already been.

Sam could do nothing more than let his hands fall down onto the pillows above his head, fingers grasping at the loose fabric so that he had something to ground himself. His cock was already painfully hard, weeping against the course dark hair that lined the bottom part of his stomach. He was gasping, throwing his head back so hard that his neck began to crook.

Reynolds continued the work that he had been doing without saying a single thing. His teeth, tongue, and lips all worked in conjunction with each other to make Sam feel as though he was going insane. The other man trailed kisses down from his neck, sucking a dark bruise onto his collarbone on the way, stopping only he reached Sam’s nipples. Reynolds then took the bud into his mouth and grazed his teeth over it until it was pert and darkly pink, blossoming obscenely against his skin.

While he was working with his mouth, his hands also continued their harried movements. He trailed his hands down Sam’s body until he reached the divots of his hips, holding them down and yanking him around whenever he began to squirm too much. He only continued his work when he had grown bored of just teasing his sort-of lover. His hands, calloused and rough as they were, contained nothing but gentleness as they reached for his cock and then began to stroke it.

It was an overwhelming sensation as it always was. Sam could feel his breath coming in gasps as fingers brushed over his cockhead and dragged his foreskin down before releasing all of it at once. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do other than whine when he felt a tongue flickering over his other nipple and then nails brushing against his ballsack.

Suddenly, it was all too much. The overwhelming pleasure that he usually felt when he was being manhandled turned to the awful overstimulation that he got when he had masturbated too much as young teenager. His skin felt like it was on fire and his throat was constricting around nothing. He needed to be free, he needed something that would soothe the aching burning hurt that was now coursing through him.

“Rey-Reynolds!” he cried, the tears that had been collecting in the corners of his eyes now pouring down his face like water boiled for a bath. He was shaking, all of his muscles constricting and loosening all at once.

This wasn’t the first time that he had cried during sex and he doubted that it would be the last. There was always something, on the back of his tongue and buried within the thoughts of his job in his mind. He knew that what they were doing was a sin against God and the church, it was dirty and shameful. But it felt so good that he couldn’t believe that it was inherently bad, that God had tempted them into something that they both enjoyed so fully only to condemn them for it by falling.

“Do you like that?” Reynolds asked, pulling his mouth away from where he had been teasing Sam’s nipple within an inch of his life. His beautiful lips, swollen and bruised from their kisses earlier, twisted into a smirk. The look immediately dropped from his features when he saw what his lover was going through.

Sam had barely even registered the fact that he had opened his eyes again, or that the hand on his now soft cock had been removed. The arousal that had tightened like a coil in his gut was long gone, instead of releasing so that it sent energy throughout his system dissipating like sugar in tea. He would have kept going or changed how things were going if it turned out that his body was simply too tired to maintain an erection. It was clear to both him and Reynolds that something was wrong.

“What is the matter with you?” the other man asked as he righted himself. His lovely golden hair had escaped the pompous hairdo that he contained it in every morning, allowing the long locks to brush against Sam’s face as their eyes leveled.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I… I am so tired.”

He knew that wasn’t the whole reason. He knew that there was more behind his sudden fit of crying, that he was upset for many other reasons. He couldn’t let a single one of them pass his lips, not to Reynolds. The other man wanted him for a quick fuck and nothing more. They had never shared more than an hour or two passed out next to each other and they never would. He had already tried to make his peace with that.

“I do not believe that hysteria and crying are something that comes with general exhaustion,” the blond replied. He slowly lowered himself down onto the bed next to Sam, and there he was able to feel the other man’s stiff member slowly loosing the arousal.

It should have been a relief to him, to know that he was no longer going to be expected to have the vulnerability of a man’s cock in his mouth when he felt so fragile and broken. Instead, he was simply overwhelmed with an unbelievable amount of grief and hurt. “I’ve ruined this whole evening.”

“Brimsely, you have done no such thing,” Reynolds replied. His usually harsh voice was so gentle, and that only made him cry harder.

Sam was unable to keep the sobs down in his chest, locked away below his throat where no one would ever be able to hear them. It was something that all servants learned how to do so that they would not end up wailing in front of the cruel masters that signed their paystubs and housed them.

“Please, do not call me that right now,” he whispered. Usually the name and the way that it was said gave him a sense of pride. He was doing something that provided for the family that he had left a hundred miles away, but now it brought him nothing but sorrow.

“Then will you finally tell me your name so that I can call you something else?” Reynolds asked.

Where their skin was touching felt like it was electrocuting and burning him at the same time. He had never known what it was to feel lightning through one’s blood, but he had to guess that it would feel something as he did now. He was exhausted and his heart and soul ached, but somehow being close to the other man in the way that he was now soothed it. “Sam,” he finally managed to get out.

Reynolds tilted Sam’s face up towards him like he had many times before when they were having some of their other daliances. “Please, tell me what is the matter, Sam.”

The words, thoughts, and feelings, had been trying to rise to the top of his skin since he had realized what they were the day before. He had tried to bite and swallow them back down so that he wouldn’t get threatened for being treasonous, even if one couldn’t police their own thoughts that far. Now that he was being asked, it all came tumbling out of him at once. 

“I do not feel as though I am wanted here, I feel as though my only purpose on this earth is to be used. I know that is the point of being a servant, but Queen Charlotte so often tells me that she does not want me with her and she dismisses me every time we have a moment where she might begin to trust me more. She has only very recently allowed me to start speaking freely with her when she is having a problem. I was told to expect the worst because no one had any idea what kind of a woman she would be. When she arrived, she was so young and so obviously scared of what being Queen would mean for her. I tried to be there to support her but everything that I did was wrong. She does not want my help and that is the only thing I can offer her. Day in and day out, I follow five paces behind her and I wait for her to need something from me. I cannot give her anything.

“The only person that I can give something to is you. You take and it’s rough but at least you actually want something and I know what it is,” he finally ended his tirade. He had shared more than he had meant to, dug deeper into feelings that he had only prodded at until that point. He should have stopped long before he had spilled his entire heart out between them on the bed, but there was not a single way to unspeak something.

“Sam,” Reynolds whispered. “I was doing that because I thought that it was what you wanted. You are always so ready to argue with me that I just kiss you when I’m finished or can’t think of anything.”

“You’re so demanding when we come in here, I thought that you wanted to argue with me. I know that you do not see me as an equal, but I thought that you wanted someone who would push back and yet know his place,” Sam replied. “It is why I have never asked anything of you, not even your name.”

Before he could wince and hide his face away, ashamed of all the things that he had spoken when he had meant to keep them a closely guarded next to his heart, Reynolds was speaking again. “I’m sorry that I made you feel that way, Sam. It was never my intention, I hope that you know that. You are the first man that I ever felt safe being my true self around. I had a single dalliance before you and it was with someone that was gone the next day, while I was traveling down here from my school in Wales. I… I suppose that I should have started this apology by telling you what my name was, shouldn’t I have?”

“It’s alright, you don’t have to be perfect all the time,” Sam replied. He reached one of his hands up so that he could caress the other man’s face. This was mode tender and intimate than anything they had ever done, including the day where Reynolds had been inside of him while they bathed together.

“My name is Frederick. You may call me Freddy if you so wish,” the king’s man said, his voice still soft but in that deep baritone that made Sam feel as if he were falling apart.

“I think I would like that very much,” he smiled shyly.

“I should be the one that’s telling you that you don’t have to be perfect, because you do not. I know that you are newer to the job than I am. Serving royalty, especially being the head valet to the queen or king, is a very difficult job. We are expected to see them at their worst and at their best. We are expected to know what they want before they say it because they should not have to ask. They were appointed by God to rule the land that we and our families live in, which means that they have more power than either of us could ever dream of,” Freddy said. He was speaking more than he had since their first initial argument. It was the kind of sound and affection that Sam wanted to drown himself in.

“I just wanted to be the best servant that I could be,” Sam sighed. “I think I’ve failed on that, and being what you needed from me.”

“What I needed was a companion, which was why I refused to be near you when other people were watching. I have to make sure that we are both kept safe, when the world is such a hostile place to people like us,” Freddy murmured. He leaned down and pressed a kiss so tender and full of love to Sam’s brow that he felt as if he might die on the spot. “I do not want to lose you. You are not just a rider to me, you are someone that I cherish deeply. I was overjoyed when I found out that the king and queen were going to move back in together and it would result in us being able to live together. You do not know how hard it was for me to restrain my jubilation.”

“I was scared, I thought that you would grow tired of me if I was no longer something you only got on special occasions,” the smaller man answered with a small shake of his head.

The phrase that he had used seemed to anger Freddy. Without realizing it, they had moved so that they were laying together as a married couple might. Freddy’s head was pillowed by the headboard and some of the sheets that had been rucked up, his back supported by the pillow. Sam was resting with the side of his head against Freddy’s shoulder and left pectoral, his middle pressed against the other man’s hip. Freddy’s arm was around his shoulders and brushing soft lines that might have been shapes or words on the skin of his upper arm.

“I wish that you would not refer to yourself in that way,” Freddy said gently. “You are not something that someone gets to have, like you are chattel to be bought and sold. You are a person and anyone that is blessed enough to get to spend time in your presence should be grateful for it.”

He had wanted someone to say that to him since he was a little boy. He was the fourth boy in his family, absolutely no prospects were going to be passed down to him even if something terrible happened to the rest of his brothers. He had always been treated as something that another family could use, a husband for an errant daughter or a hand for a struggling farm. Even when he had risen to the top of his class during his training to become a servant, he had been treated as if he was a tool for some noble that would never learn his name or age would use.

But Freddy saw him as the person that he was. Despite him grandly misconstruing what their relationship was going to be so that neither of them were getting or giving what they wanted, Freddy had seen through it and to him. He was able to speak the affirmation into the air like it was both a promise and something that should have been a given. 

It made Sam feel as though he was disintegrating. He tilted his head up so that he could stare into those crystalline blue eyes that his lover held, finding the words that would have usually come so easily to him. “I’m sorry that I created a disaster out of our relationship, Freddy.”

Freddy pressed his nose down into Sam’s hair, “Again, love, you do not have to be perfect. I am as much at fault for the way that our dalliances were going as you were. I would only ask that you promise to tell me when you need gentleness in the future so I do not have to see you cry and worry it was something I had done.”

It was the easiest thing he had ever had to say, both in their current conversation and throughout his entire life. He tilted his head up, a kiss on his lips and breath flooding into his lungs for the first time in days.

“I promise.”

[bohemian-nights]

did you hear the rumor that nettles might not be played by a black woman? rumor is its rhianne barreto, shes white and a quarter indian

Unfortunately yes🤦🏽‍♀️ All I can say is that it’s mostly “fans” cheering this on and actively wanting her to be Nettles because for some reason tan equals brown, Black people are never brown-skinned or can be described as such, therefore Nettles definitely isn’t Black even though she looks like this in canon:

The casting speculation is based on social media follows which haven’t always been the most accurate. I mean people said that Jessica Brown Findlay was going to play Alys based on the fact that she started following some of the cast(and I believe some of the crew). We saw how that turned out🤷🏽‍♀️

There are actually two Black women that I know of who are following some of the cast. Corinna Brown(left) and Karla-Simone Spence(right).

Either would be awesome if they were/are Nettles, but for some odd reason hardly anyone has pointed this out and no one is making(sh!t stirring) Reddit threads or tweeting up a storm and saying that they are Nettles🙃

In the event that Rhianne, a tan woman, who in addition to not being black, up until like two years ago only ever identified as white🙃 is Nettles, well it’s bye-bye HOTD and this racist fandom for me✌🏽Yeah I definitely won’t be watching or supporting the show after all the anti-Black and especially anti-Black women stunts they have pulled.

I for one haven’t forgotten how they lit Laena on fire and tried to make it seem like it was the “feminist” thing to do(thanks Sara Hess and whoever else approved that mess😊) along with turning her into an unloved wife which wasn’t in the book(s) when she was a white woman🙃 Decisions which mind you a lot of the fandom went along with and feverishly approved of for reasons that we won’t get into☺️

Anyway, it’s all just speculation from (primarily) rabidly anti-Black fans. Until we actually get a confirmed casting nothing is certain🤷🏽‍♀️

[handfulofmuses]

One of the reasons why I love Watership Down so much is because of how it portrays trauma, fear and pain. Because it’s not always about being terrified or crying with despair. All these emotions have their ugly sides.

And every rabbit shows it in different ways.

Woundwort had his parents killed and later was captured, put in a cage. That is not something the netflix series and tv series randomly pulled out of their sleeve, it was already like that in the book.

Pipkin mentions it himself - all these terrible things Woundwort does, it’s because of his fear. Of humans and predators. Like Pipkin said, he was hurt and it made him hate the whole world. Even in season three, character development doesn’t have to mean changing for the better. Sometimes you change for the worst. He tried to stop the war, it failed, his warren ended up in ruins. So he thought destruction was his legacy.

And he is still afraid. Note that Spartina asks why Woundwort is so afraid of Hazel.

Even in the Netflix series, he claims he is not afraid. But his words contradict his actions, as I said before and that’s why Netflix Woundwort has grown on me. I just love when a characters words contradict their actions!

Hyzenthlay was suspicious, distant and cold towards new rabbits out of fear they could be a spy. She didn’t trust anybody that was not part of her family and she did make sure Clover was ostracized from the rest of the group.

Nelthilta, in her own way, is scared too. Yes, Hyzenthlay says she views everything as a game and the fact that she drops hints to their escape proves that. But Nelthilta also says it herself - the presence of officers overwhelms her. She’s excited to let everyone know she is friends with rebels because they might be stronger in numbers. Her cheeky behavior feels almost as if she hides her fear behind sass.

Nettle became a spy for Orchis out of fear the does would get hurt. It’s obvious she is upset over it, that she actually wants to escape as well. But we see the metaphorical chains Orchis has on her so she cannot stop. Heck, she tells him: “We are going to break out west side of the warren” not “they”. She doesn’t exclude herself from it. And she apologizes to Hyzenthlay - while still lying in the same breath.

Orchis became so blinded with rage for Hyzenthlay and the others after the death of his brother that he stuck with his General until the end - and he would lash out if someone would say something nice about the outsiders. He becomes more unhinged as it goes on.

Vervain would have done everything for his general. You can see how he has a majority of Woundwort’s bad traits. His fear causes him to abuse his power because the punishment of failing scares him. His rank goes to his head because the way Vervain treats his Owsla is exactly how Woundwort treats him and others all the time. He takes his own frustration out on them. His fear is what caused him to rejoin Woundwort as a survival tactic.

Campion became withdrawn from everyone and even downright depressed in season three to a point where he would have prefered to stay dead.

Blackavar‘s whole mental condition in the book is so bad, I don’t even know where to start. He’s with different rabbits now and his advice doesn’t get taken, so he just forgets about it like his opinion never mattered.

Bluebell was hiding behind jokes as a coping mechanism, to get himself and Holly going. Telling his story as the only survivor from underground is the only serious moment he has.

Hawkbit’s snark moments are almost always because he is afraid of the unknown and because he is stressed - it’s the whole reason he keeps lashing out at Fiver. His visions are cryptic.

Pipkin, no matter what he goes through, remains full with kindness. He is good at talking to people, he is good at getting them to open up. But he never extends that kindness to himself. His issues usually fester and then he just blurts them out, something that becomes even worse when Campion makes him promise not to tell everyone he is alive.

“I did everything wrong,” he says when the promise is broken.

Pipkin is kind and forgiving towards others, but generally has a tendency to ignore his own issues and will be unnecessary harsh at himself for it. He would rather help others feel better. Even when he is angry when the war is over and everyone snaps at each other because the warren is filled, he runs off to cool down somewhere.

When he is upset, he deals with it on his own. He will answer when someone asks about it but generally never approaches first.

Blackberry's grief over losing Campion causes her to snap at others.

[sweetestpopcorn]

Lol just saw this Daemon/Laena shipper claim that if Baelon was alive he'd have Daemon marry Laena, in order to merge the bloodlines to compensate for the rift created between the Targaryens and the Velaryons. I can't like- what even is this??

I mean... they can have that headcanon, honestly stuff like that doesn't bother me at all. Ship and let ship. I don't like the pairing but I respect that other people do. Do I agree with that opinion? No, but plenty of people will also disagree with my takes if they dislike Daemyra.

My issue with Daemon/Laena stans is when they make sh:t up about canon to fit their narrative. Just recently @lady-corrine saw an idiot claim that Daemon and Laena wanted to name their son Aegon, and they claimed this was from the books. When the person was called out they conveniently changed their source to "early draft of George" that they were unable to provide evidence for.

Even if that were true - which, let me make it VERY clear, it's not - love child, Daemon didn't exist in George's early drafts. Before 2013 we have no evidence of his existence what-so-ever. Hells, Laenor didn't exist until much recently either! In George's early drafts, Rhaenyra was first married to a Lannister and she had no children with him, and then she was married to *drum roll* Lord Lyonel Strong, the King's Hand, and she had three children by him. This was in 2011 if anyone is wondering by the way, and yes I have the receipts and you can check this at the wiki. Early drafts don't matter because they are not the story. George has updated the Targaryen history and made profound changes to the story several times prior to the publication of Fire and Blood.

So, this is what actually bothers me, people lying and making up cr_p. There's also a special category of people that not only make things up but pull between book and show for whatever fits their narrative. I've recently had one of the biggest facepalms ever of my life when someone claimed that in the books it was mentioned that Daemon only loved Viserys - books say the opposite, this sh:t was pulled fresh, hot, and tender out of R*an and co's ass_s - and Nettles and Laena - again their entire claim to Laena is what the singers said and to Nettles it was HIGHLY debatable and we don't actually know what she was to Daemon.

And then of course, there's also the gargantuan amount of Laena/Daemon shippers who can't f_cking keep Daemyra from their mouths.

Like dude, just don't mention them! But no, most just have to go on and on about how Rhaenyra was a disgusting pig of a woman, how Daemon hated her, like hell! I have heard them say things like Rhaenyra forced Daemon to marry her! Like this is the level - or lack-there-of.

But, to those Laena/Daemon shippers who are just enjoying their ship, let them, nothing against and all the power to them for hyping their ship and having fun, and I think what you are mentioning is just that.

I personally don't agree, but I don't have to 🤷🏽‍♀️

[dulcewrites]

Double standards.

Alicent is a bad mother

She has them young. YOUNG.

and people actually believe by being a single mother is easy,also at 14 years old..ew just ew..just please: it is not and my mother constantly tells me to have my children when I'm older because having kids is a choice and a labour.

Alicent was forced to, Nyra as well and at the end of the day she has the fortune and misfortune to bore Harwin's children,condemning them because they are bastards and we know that in the game of thrones, the war happened because Cersei's children were illegitimate despite looking alike their mother.

Alicent didn't give Helaena to Jace because she knew the danger of it, didn't another civil war happened between a legitimate and another illegitimate Targaryen?the blackfyre rebellion i think and it didn't end well...at all

They call Alicent a cunt, when you know who is the really cunt here:the men but I don't see anyone blaming them and among them, I'm talking about Daemon.

Him.

Who killed his first wife, ignored the second and his daughters and who, in the books, has abandoned his third wife(who was grieving her children's death)and groomed a teenager(the people trying to call Nettles his daughter when he ignores the others and it's canon he likes younger girls..ew)

Him

Who at least try to connect with her daughter, despite not understanding her hobbies and believing she was odd.

Alicent.

Who loved her children more than anyone else because they were all she had

Alicent who stood in front of her son to protect him

And we know what a mother would do for love

Alicent is my morally gray character, also Rhaenyra, flawed and tragic -the dance of dragons is gonna wreck me

sorry to rant, thse comments and tik tok pisses me off so muchhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

It’s just so funny to me bc all the same people who say they want morally grey characters (while praising just straight up evil ones like daemon) or lie and say they would rather have book Alicent, drag Alicent anytime she does something relatively mean or ‘cunty’.

Like which one is it?? You want female characters to be allowed to stand in their evilness or you hate show Alicent for apparently being the most evil woman to grace westeros. You can’t have it both ways. It’s goalpost moving bc they know damn well they would hate Alicent all the same, maybe even more, if she was pulled straight from f&b. They hated her even before the show aired… based on her book character 😭. Even though she’s not the most devious person on team green, let alone out of all the characters. Book Rhaenyra does way more shit if we are being real. But she’s a blonde dragon rider so she’s allowed to do that.

It’s why I hate the whole ‘alicent has no agency. Alicent is just a victim’ argument. Alicent throughout the season challenges and pushes against multiple people. And even if she didn’t, why is Alicent required to show her victimhood in a way that makes people comfortable. If she wants to be anxious, jealous, bitter, or angry, she (out of anyone) is allowed to be. I think Rhaenyra stans have this weird idea that everyone must be benevolent towards her bc she’s the ‘main character’. Like I’ve literally seen people on Twitter say that Helaena deserved what happened to her and her kids bc she didn’t warn Rhaenyra. Why on earth would Helaena side with a woman she barely knows? They cling to that “Helaena my sweet sister” or whatever the fuck it was line. Not taking into account that Rhaenyra only thinks that way bc she doesn’t she Helaena as a threat. If Rhaenyra actually cared about her sister, she wouldn’t have put a bounty of her kids head’s. Literally all of Alicent’s kids know Rhaenyra would throw them under the bus in a heartbeat, why would they trust her lmao

And one day we will have a conversation about a lot of people use Helaena as either a self insert or only talk about her if they prove she hates team green… despite that being the only family she knows

[the-writer-nerd-ro]

This is a direct follow-up to The Game Is Afoot

Apology Flowers

Hunter didn’t know what was more surprising, the fact that Maddox had shown up at the funeral home unannounced or the fact that Maddox had cut off all her hair.

“Marian isn’t here,” Hunter said immediately, so that she didn’t say something blunt about her cousin’s haircut. It was nice, it was just wildly different.

“I know.” Maddox squirmed in shame, “I was wondering if you would help me with a project.”

She phrased it so carefully so as not to say she needed Hunter’s help.

“What’s up?”

“I need to talk to Petunia. In person.”

“Okay, I can tell you where her shop is.”

Maddox pressed her lips together and looked down.

“Can you come with me?”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to show up alone, she’ll think I’m trying to start some shit. I need a second.”

“Are you trying to start some shit?”

“No! I’m trying to apologize for how I behaved during game night.”

“Why don’t you just go with Marian?”

“Because then he’ll think I’m only apologizing because he was upset with me but I’m not. Do I have to explain my entire thought process or can we just go?”

Hunter crossed her arms.

“I’ll buy you a Speedy Freeze,” Maddox added.

“Alright, let’s go.” Hunter followed Maddox to her convertible.

“When did you get your haircut?”

“The day after graduation. Mom wanted me to keep my hair long for photos in case I regretted cutting it.”

“Do you regret it?”

Maddox ran her hand through her short hair, a faint smile on her face. “I do not.”

“Good, it suits you.”

That was about as sincere as they were allowed to get, so the rest of the drive was primarily in silence, except when Maddox turned on the radio. It was country music, which Hunter normally hated, but she didn’t say anything until a familiar song came on.

“Sara likes this one, it’s from an album her dad shared with her.”

“I’ve never heard Sara talk about her dad,” Maddox commented.

“Yeah… Her family isn’t like ours.”

“Oh.” Silence again, though Maddox turned up Bon Jovi and Jennifer Nettles.

A few minutes later, they pulled up to “A Pocket Full of Petunias.”

Maddox seemed nervous, and Hunter wished she were better equipped to encourage people.

“Alright,” deep breath, “let's do this.”

Hunter gave Maddox a weak thumbs up, and they stepped inside.

Petunia was busy with a customer, so she didn't notice the pair right away. When she did she lit up.

“Hunter, Maddox, hey! I love what you did with your hair, Maddox.”

“Oh, thank you,” Maddox shifted on her feet.

“How can I help you guys today?”

Another deep breath and then Maddox snapped into orator mode, a practiced speech on the tip of her tongue.

“I wanted to talk to you, don't worry, I'll keep this brief.”

“No worries, what's on your mind?”

“I wanted to apologize for my less than warm welcome during game night, you didn’t deserve my disrespect and I can recognize when I go too far, so I’m sorry. We were glad to have you and I hope you’ll be able to join again in the future.”

“Thanks, Maddox, that means a lot to me. Honestly, though, you didn’t make me feel unwelcome. You just reminded me of my younger brother.”

“You have a brother?” Hunter asked in surprise.

“Yeah! Two, actually, I’m the middle sibling. My younger brother’s name is Zac and my older brother’s name is Quinton. Quint lives in the city but Zac is at college in Florida.”

“Is Zac…” Maddox considered the nicest way to describe herself, “Opinionated?”

“Mm-hm, and according to him all of my opinions are wrong. He’s a good kid, though, and I knew right away that you are too.”

“Thanks, Petunia. I really am glad that you came to game night, you’re welcome back at anytime.”

Hunter didn’t comment that Maddox didn’t actually have the authority to invite Petunia to Marian’s house, she had a feeling that Marian also wanted Petunia there.

“I appreciate it, I had a lot of fun last time, if you guys will have me I’d be happy to come back.”

Maddox hesitated a second, glancing around. “I should probably buy some flowers, since I wasted so much of your time.”

“Not a waste of time, but I’d be happy to find you some flowers that you like.”

“What’s that one?” Maddox asked, pointing to some orange and pink flowers.

“Those are zinnias.”

“I’ll take a dozen of those, I guess.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Petunia said reassuringly.

“No, I like them.”

Petunia nodded and arranged a dozen flowers, writing a note of how to take care of the flowers to make sure they lasted as long as possible.

“Have a nice evening, feel free to visit me any time!”

Maddox waved and then they stepped out of the shop. As soon as they were back in the car Maddox handed Hunter the flowers.

“You can have them, they’re lesbian colors.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Silence.

Hunter noted that Maddox had not really apologized to her for the whole ordeal, but the flowers were nice, and that was more than she’d expected.

“You still owe me a Speedy Freeze,” Hunter reminded.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your Speedy Freeze.”

[strywoven]

Rufus has oft’ told her that he did not figure himself for the mysterious , charmingly provocative individual he once was when he had the world eating from his palm ( just as she once did , standing there to contest his power at every turn ) .  But his response is nettling and s t r a n g e all the same.  So perhaps , he’s not lost his touch after all.  Most especially not when his fingers lift and fix themselves to her chin , neverminding the obvious cold of her glimmering skin.

Eases the mind , huh ?  Now WHAT could he mean by that ?  Is it a simple gratitude he’s offering , or … Something e l s e ?  For all the time in her old position Verona spent with people ( studying them , understanding their desires , fulfilling their needs ) , Rufus never failed to topple her just a bit off balance each time she began to get closer to knowing him.

Painted lips part , ready to respond , but her words die off in a huff when the door swings open suddenly as Reno lets himself in ( again ) .  Nothing new , she knows , all the Turks had this privilege alongside Rufus.  At the very least , it made things more … Exciting ( & more intrusive ) .  At least the queer tension ‘tween the two of them is broken , she can thank Reno for that much.

Seeing Rufus to the door , watching him disappear , her gaze shifts to Reno.  Verona is hardly surprised by his words and , rolling her eyes , leaves him slouched there in the doorway with little more than a dismissive wave of her clawed hand.  ❝ Yes , yes I KNOW all this !  You - each one of you , might I add - have made such a point abundantly clear. ❞  There’s no frustration in her voice , more a tinge of exhaustion for having the same goddamn conversation.  ❝ Frankly , I am not sure what the issue is.  I actually find myself quite easy to trust. ❞ Says this knowing full-well what the source of the Turks’ despondence is ; she’s the reason their boss is dying quicker than he should.  Even so , things would likely be more p e a c e f u l if they could all just find some simple HARMONY with each other.

Pouring herself a drink , making a motion in question to see if he wants one as well , Verona continues , ❝ And do you realize how bad his addiction is , Reno ?  Surely you’ve looked into it.  Therefore you must already know that even if I pull him off the drug it would not dispute the fact he’d sink into a withdrawal that might seriously h a r m him in his weakened state. ❞  Talking pointedly , CLINICALLY , to get the idea across.  She points at him with a single claw , stepping towards him , her voice a sinister growl through the bite of sharp teeth , ❝ Do not ever accuse me of NOT wanting to help nor NOT caring for that man. ❞  Verona swallows her agitation as she takes a drink from her glass , speaking again in a calmer tone , ❝ If you’ve come here accosting me over such a thing , then tell me : Do you even have a plan for this to work ?  Have you even spoken to him about it ? ❞

strywoven​:

continued. // @ivory-paragon

Once in a while the question returns : do you miss who you were , do you miss your old life despite all it entailed ?  Where this might have given Verona pause – in the beginning – now , now she understands that she does n o t miss much of her old self / her old livelihood at all.  Though , being a ‘ reformed artisan and musician ’ is likely not nearly as exciting ( nor as lucrative ) as being the all-powerful matriarch of a large criminal organization.  She supposes it may well be better this way ; she can look after Rufus and he , in one way or another , can attend to her ( in only a way as a secret companion could ) .  Or rather , he can be the weary-hearted voice of reason to ensure she is maintaining her GOOD BEHAVIOR .

So he does remember— Verona wonders if it is a pleasant enough memory for him as it is for her.  She looks back on it fondly , despite how they were intended to be on opposite sides of the field ; meant to be ENEMIES in a long line of bad-blood.  Yet , here they are now , something else entirely.

❝ Not exactly blind anymore is it ? ❞  She counters , loosely crossing her arms , closing the distance of the room to stand with him by the window.  ❝ We already did that the first time , technically. ❞

The question – is the spark gone ? – catches her by surprise.  She considers it , considers the two of them , not so unlike two sides of THE SAME COIN ever in rotation , perhaps doomed to reflect each other ( this , a symptom of his father’s making ) .  Finally , Verona shakes her head , the motion tussling loose blonde curls , ❝ No , ❞ There’s little hesitation in the single word.  ❝ I believe it may have a chance to burn … If we gave it the chance. ❞  Now that they h a d the chance at all , that is ( question then being : would they take it ? ) .  ❝ And you ?  Would the spark be gone for you ? ❞

Spark.

What even gave him that anymore? There is a moment to reflect, though it takes but a second before a smile returns to his face. These days, he finds himself using facial muscles far more than he ever did back when he was within the iron city walls. Maybe it was just the dopamine twisting inside his veins and tantalizing the pleasure zone in his mind, all provided by her.

“Oh.. the spark is never gone.” It was true in that regard; she was unlike anyone he had ever crossed paths with. Businessmen and women alike had a common denominator, and their controlling factor waned before long, leaving their empires in ruins. One could be said about him, though instead of looking out towards the dull melancholy skyscape of Edge, he found possibilities around every corner, one of them being her.

His Turks, on the other hand, thought differently. They felt like she was a viper, slowly seeping venom into their Master’s body daily. Though he had come to terms with his morality, he insisted on injecting poison into his body to survive. Now she was living in their building and breathing the same air as them.

Leaning over, he lightly grasped the base of her chin between his fingers. “It eases the mind that you’re here.” They both had the drive to watch over one another, both figuring their role was more prominent in it all. At that moment, Reno knocked on the door entering as if he owned the place. Rufus had given the Turks access to her flat under the stipulation that they needed access to protect her directly. Reno, however, liked to abuse such privileges.

“Heyo, we got some dude outside the antique store wantin’ to take a peek in. Thinks he sees somethin’ that once belonged to him or whatever. Probably some con artist but yanno.” The redhead ended by shoving his hands into his pockets, glaring at Verona before shifting his attention to Rufus.

These days you could never be too trusting with random strangers that stalked up to the door. Rufus screened them ahead of time while Elena tended to them- anything to keep her busy. With his thumb still at the base of her chin, he softly caressed the edge before heading to the door where Reno stood. 

Reno moved to the side to allow him to pass, though his eyes were still fixated on Verona. Once Rufus was out of earshot, he made sure to let the words flow that was at the tip of his tongue. “Yanno.. we don’t trust ya and you keep poisoning him. Do you want him to die? Those veins in his arms are ‘bout ready to collapse. If you care 'bout him… do something 'bout it.” He said with a huff, keeping his hands inside his pocket in the usual slouching stature he was known for.

[luveline]

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

-

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

[atopvisenyashill]

so dany is tptwp but why do they feel the need to rectify that in the show 😭

i’m 99% sure dany’s going to have a religious fanatic arc in the books

I'm putting these together because they're kind of related. also i don't want to tag for hotd spoilers because i don't want to invite weird anons to find this or weirdos to screenshot my url so be warned i'm talking about the leaks and my dark dany theories in this one. okay-

So first of all...yes, this is why people compare her to Paul Atreides or even Anakin Skywalker in that the concept of being a Chosen One is going to go to her head in a very bad way and it's going to be a huge part of her story going forward. We're all set for this in the books tbh. We have several schisms happening in the R'hollor faith with people already saying she's a savior, and the fact that R'holloric magic works similar to Valyrian magic (ie uses a lot of fire and blood) is not lost on me. There's several prophecies centered around this Promised Hero In The Face Of The Long Night and Dany is linked to several of them; most notably The Prince That Was Promised and The Stallion Who Mounts The World, but now we have this Azor Ahai connection with the R'hollor priests coming out in support of Dany. And what's more is that Dany is primed to believe in all of this stuff - she hatched dragons and the bleeding star showed up with haste, she's had first the HOTU visions and then Quaithe's warning not to mention the whole Stallion scene and her own weird fever dream-prophecies. There's a whole city state of people who call her MOTHER. Oh yeah, she is ready to take a dive head first into being the Chosen One and make that the center point of her entire campaign. Especially imo after Stannis dies and there's this vacuum of who gets to be the insane "i have the divine right" person; Jon Snow doesn't even want to acknowledge he can warg he is not going to encourage any sort of prophecy shenanigans, and I think that opens the door for a) Dany to step into that role and b) for the followers of R'hollor sans Melisandre to see Dany as their messiah.

The problem in the original show is that they bring this up and then just kind of...drop it. When in the books - whether she is killed by Jon/Arya or ultimately pulls a Nettles - this isn't going to be a positive thing. I've seen some people describe these prophecies - The Stallion, The Prince, Azor Ahai - as warnings rather than prophecies, but to be honest, aren't all prophecies warnings of the future? The thing is the warning isn't just the Long Night, it's about The Actual Prince. Look to the Stallion prophecy-

As swift as the wind he rides, and behind him his khalasar covers the earth, men without number, with arakhs shining in their hands like blades of razor grass. Fierce as a storm this prince will be. His enemies will tremble before him, and their wives will weep tears of blood and rend their flesh in grief. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name." The old woman trembled and looked at Dany almost as if she were afraid. "The prince is riding, and he shall be the stallion who mounts the world."

I think the prophecy, the dream, the vision, the warning, the legend, whatever you want to call it, is warning that as the Long Night happens, a savior will emerge...but they are a false messiah. They will not bring an end to the Long Night, they will only create more destruction. But the people who had these prophecies focused on Bad Thing Happens -> Powerful Person Emerges From The Ashes and took that mean the powerful person will stop the bad things and not exacerbate the bad things and distract from the original problem.

Now I think part of why D&D did the ending Like That is a) they're lazy as shit and b) Dany took off as a character and they had no idea how to reign it in so they just like....didn't. I think there's plenty of evidence in the show that Dany was going to take a Stannis esque turn but depicting that was too much trouble (think about how they cut all her most banger lines because that would involve trying to get her introspective thoughts into dialogue somehow. instead of figuring it out, they just lazily cut it all out. i still can't believe these dudes got handed this IP when they clearly don't care about the themes, it makes me fucking weep. like, filoni and abrams really fucked up star wars but i think it's clear they like star wars ya know? i don't think d&d really like this series that much, not in the way condal & hess seem to) so they just short cutted to that bells scene which was fairly lazy. Her fall from grace is going to be so much slower, so much more complex, and so much more heart breaking than what was in the show. And a large part of this will center around seeing herself as a messiah to the Poor And Downtrod.

And this fall (again....I don't think it’s out of the realm of possibility that Dany snaps out of it somehow - George has hinted we're going to dig more into the magic and how it works, and perhaps there will be some revelations on the exact nature of what The Promised Prince really is that makes Dany finally reflect on her journey instead of refusing to look back, and fuck off into the Great Unknown in an attempt to erase herself from the narrative others have written for her and write her own at last. I'm serious when I say I think that's about as likely as Jon/Arya killing her after she burns KL). this fall of hers is the crux of the entire series. It's where everything is leading to, this realization that there is no promised prince coming to save anyone, it is the climax of every single story in the books. And we know Condal fucking LOVES that idea because he's been out here in interviews talking about Dark Dany since season 6 iirc but potentially even earlier. I think Condal really loves a tragic evil queen and a fall from grace and he didn't like the way they did Dany's descent. Not only that but I do think the prophecy aspect is fascinating to Condal.

The problem with all of this is like.......you can't rewrite the ending of GOT to have that aspect of the story as much as he wishes he could. You can't rewrite GOT so it had 12 seasons instead of 8. I think what he wants to do is really hint at the prophecies in the future and play with the concept of prophecy being untrustworthy but he's been boxed into this weird corner where interacting with the main story line of the books/the main show is nearly impossible because everyone hated it and george will never finish the books but this prophecy affected much more than we realize and also, He Likes It, he thinks it makes for a richer story. IDK how he fixes this, IDK where he goes from here, because having Daemon have a vision of Dany hatching eggs and realizing the prophecy was right, they DO need a Targ on the throne because a Targ will save Westeros IS imo a really interesting change that more or less fits with the story in F&B. BUT it looks like pandering, and it doesn't engage with the ultimate end game which is that Dany is not going to be happy with being the Chosen One. It's not a gift, it's not even a responsibility, it's a horror she's being forced to take up that could eat her alive. How do you even engage with those themes when the original show went Like That?

[darthmaulification]

Hey! Can I please make a request for a short Drabble where reader is Grogu’s nanny aboard the Razor Crest and Din develops a crush on her, but once he and the reader start visiting Grogu at Jedi School on weekends, Luke develops a crush as well? Doesn’t have to end up with either, but I would like to see either guy’s rivalry and slight jealousy (with Reader’s obliviousness).

A/N: ... okay so, i really got into the whole crush aspect of your request, anon, and this basically became a romantic prose piece. when i looked back to see what you had initially wanted, my product was... about thrice removed from the original prompt. 💀

i think i got some of the points??? like there’s din and luke and they’re both in love with reader and they both have a bit of rivalry with the other and basically that’s what matters??? please forgive me, anon, the ghost of sappho took my body over and forced me to write yearning love poetry!! 🙏 sis forced my hand!! 😭

though if there’s enough interest for it, i can always make a follow up for this, like from reader’s perspective, and write something a lil more in depth (once i get requests finished up that is). 😊

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: nothing but din and luke pining for reader, gn!reader (for the most part), use of she/her pronouns, fluff, but also a smidgen of angst 👁👁, perspective difference!!, kind of a commentary on mandalorian and jedi culture?? (mostly jedi culture lmao)

word count: 1,524

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now how your face lights up like candles being lit when his son succeeds at doing another one of his Jedi tricks. Joy illuminates your face like a spotlight, your soft cheers and kind praise make the whole room warmer. Din watches Grogu leap into your arms, cooing and squealing like he’s been given candy. It makes Din’s heart leap when you kiss his son on the head, and smile so warmly it’s like your lips become sunshine.

Din is infinitely grateful for his helmet in this moment, his face feels like it’s been too close to a fire. His fingers pick at a fraying stitch on his gloves, to prevent his hands from shaking in his lap. He hopes that the Jedi, who is standing casually across the room near you and Grogu, doesn’t notice. Din hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love. 

The sentence slips through the cracks of his thoughts the way a sunrise peeks over the horizon. You look over at him, holding up Grogu triumphantly in your hands like you would a prize, and he sucks in a breath because suddenly it feels like all he can see is you. You and Grogu, you and his son.

Please be my riduur.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Din forces himself to dip his head in a slight nod, because the Jedi is also looking at him with piercing blue eyes the color of the sky. His heart pounding, and when you laugh, and it sounds like summertime when everything is good and happy.

People love, he thinks as he stares at you, and suddenly his palms are sweaty and he feels the need to tap his foot, but Mandalorians love harder.

I dream about you every night, think about you when I lie awake. You’re always holding sunflowers, and the nightmares don’t touch me then.

Mandalorians love like there is nothing else in the universe more valuable, nothing more precious, not their vibroblades, their blasters, or even their beskar.

Giving up a blaster and a vibroblade in order to save you from that hut’uun came to me like breathing, I didn’t even think about it... I would’ve given up my beskar’gam too. I still would.

Mandalorians love with their souls laid bare, they love with their entire body, they love with sacred vows, exchanged beskar rings, their riduur’s name engraved on their hal’cabur, above their heart.

When you slept beside me one night, I whispered the entire marriage vow to you in Mando’a. You looked so peaceful bathed in the light of the moon, the silvery glow making you look holy. I’ll admit, it came out mostly accidentally, but it felt so normal, natural even. I wish you hadn’t been asleep.

Mandalorians love in spite of death, they love in the face of it. They love like warriors.

I had gotten shot. All I remember is you holding me in your arms, hands pressed over the wound. I was in pain, and you were crying, covered in blood and dirt, but you were so warm. I’m still unsure if I had actually said what I think I said:

“I care about you too much to leave you.”

He wants to tell you all of this, but he’s never been much of a romantic, or much of a speaker in general, so the words falter on his tongue each time he’s tried. And Din’s tried so many times. You say something to the Jedi, and it makes a sudden, surprising fury bubble in his chest, the vile rising to his throat. Din has to bite his tongue to hold back from shouting:

Don’t talk to her, di’kut jetii! You are undeserving of her words, of her time, of her presence. Unworthy! You can’t give her what I can, shabuir.

You look over at him again, and the hot anger dies completely, leaving him powerless before you. Din felt this way each time he’s tried to tell you how much you mean to him.

I love you, cyare.

It feels like your eyes are boring holes straight through his beskar, through his flight suit, singing his skin with their warmth. Din bites his cheek so hard he tastes copper.

You smile. It’s like the dawn.

You are the sun— His sun— of his universe, and his eyes burn from the light.

Din basks in the rays, and his heartbeat starts to slow to it’s normal, steady rhythm.

Tomorrow. I’ll tell you tomorrow.

~

You’re beautiful.

He sees it now in how your entire expression blooms into one of pure joy when his padawan successfully levitates the crates. It radiates in your aura, the waves of mirth traveling further than your respectfully quiet cheers and meaningful praise. Luke watches as the child leaps into your embrace, babbling without forming any actual words. Something inside Luke lurches when you place a kiss on Grogu’s head, and when your vibrant smile dissolves his willpower.

Luke draws the Force in on himself, welcoming the sturdiness it brings. He tries to ignore how his palm has gotten sweaty, but he clenches his hand into a fist and hastily relaxes it. Focus, let in calmness like a breeze. Luke hopes that the Mandalorian, sitting stiff and looming on a far bench, doesn’t notice his moment of vulnerability. He pulls the Force closer, and hopes you don’t notice what you’re doing to him.

I’m in love.

The thought springs up in his mind the way shoots of new grass breach top soil in spring time. You glance over at him as you lift the child, and the look is as quick and fleeting as blossoms on trees, but it floats in the Force like dandelion seeds, and Luke is painfully aware of how consuming you are.

Please don’t do this to me.

“Did you see that? Wasn’t it amazing?” And Luke catches your eye, offering you the smallest smile he can afford without it breaking. You look to the Mandalorian, and Luke follows your gaze because he can’t compel himself to do much else. The Mandalorian’s visor is dark like the night, and flashes when he nods his head. Luke feels his heart sink when he senses it from him, a yearning so deep he nearly drowns in it.

People love, Luke thinks and he feels all at once envious and angry and so achingly acquiescent, because Jedi cannot.

I swore by the Code years ago, but I look at you and doubt it all. It can’t be that I’m this willing to rethink everything.

Jedi are forbidden from having attachments, they cannot pursue romantic interests. Love leads to passion, and it all is an influence of the Dark. Luke knows this. He’s fallen to it before.

I’ve spent decades forgetting how deeply I cared for him! But I am reminded daily of my father, every time I look in the mirror, I see his eyes. How dare you pull me back into this cruel trap! I can’t do this again.

Luke contains himself. Jedi value peace of mind, they extend the sentiment to upholding it in the galaxy as well. They do not do it out of love, but out of obligation, out of honor, because of what’s right. They are not love.

When I first met you it was like I’d seen you before, in a past life. It was like retracing my steps, following the trail backwards, revisiting something I had passed. Despite it all, I had moved forward and took my padawan from you and the Mandalorian, plucked him from you like a petal off a flower. I watched you wilt.

Luke reminds himself. Jedi do not love. Focus is key. The Force is everything.

But you are too.

Luke has to swallow in order to make sure the words never reach his mouth, and it’s like eating thorns. You turn back to him and the look in your eyes is tender like butterfly wings. The pink in your cheeks reminds Luke of windflowers.

“Thank you again, Luke,” His soul shivers when his name sounds in your voice, “It’s so kind of you to teach Grogu.”

As he replies and tells you it’s a pleasure, he almost spills everything to you, but an abruptness shifts the energy of the room. There is a lurking anger that crawls at him through the Force, entwines him like ivies. The Mandalorian fumes, the wrath trembles like billowing leaves. Don’t. Undeserving. Unworthy.

Luke forces himself to agree and squashes down everything, pushing each painful emotion into the deepest parts of him. He watches you look to the Mandalorian, your aura flowers with affection, love.

I love you.

His resolve is fading, again. Luke reminds himself, again. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love. Jedi do not love.

You smile, and it stings his soul like nettle.

Luke forces himself to ignore that your eyes say different things when they settle on the Mandalorian than they had him. The thought feels like eating bittersweet berries.

Briefly, he revels in what could have been.

It’s for the best.

~

A/N: i thought i would add another note at the end of this to explain exactly what the heck i was saying with the word soup i just wrote.

first, din is so hopelessly in love with reader that it hurts. like physically makes his heart ache. i feel that when din falls in love, he falls in love. it consumes him. i wrote a lot of sun/light imagery to portray the overwhelming, all-encompassing love din feels for reader. you are the sun that warms him, and burns him. 

second, i purposely made luke have an even more tragic, even more conflicted crush on reader, on purpose, hahaha i am evil. 😈 he loves you, but forces himself not to. he tells himself that the jedi code means more. luke chooses to suffer because he knows that’s how it must be. there’s some plant/nature symbolism thrown throughout because that’s just the theme that i thought vibed with luke the most.

and that mention of anakin? i subscribe to the headcanon that luke really did love his dad, and just wanted him in his life, but of course, vader ultimately died. luke took a heavy blow from that, learned it hurts to love.

also, regarding the mini-rivalry that takes place, it’s through the force (if that wasn’t obvious) and it’s essentially another example of luke surrendering his own wants/desires and simultaneously din firmly declaring his love for you. it’s kinda meant to be the “understanding” between the two that clearly establishes who “wins” the reader.

... this was all one giant metaphor, huh?

[thorns-ofthe-thistle]

Thistle didn't know what they were doing.

They would never admit this, of course.

They were used to complicated family dynamics, after all. They had usurped the throne from their sister, Bramble. She was still bitter about it. The twins, Mayfly and Dragonfly, liked him well enough--but most of his other siblings had sided with Bramble. After all, who was he, a mere-half fae, to take over from their father. Bramble had been raised from childhood to rule.

But Bramble was cruel. And Prince Nettle was not.

Prince Nettle, Thistle was quite sure, had actually loved his mother.

Why else would he have come for Thistle? Other High Fae with mortal children simply left them to their own devices. They rarely brought them to Elfhame. They had never before made them not only royalty, but heir to the throne. Nettle had never even mentioned Theodosia to him, but Thistle had never mentioned this family: Florence, Alice, Elizabeth, even Lewis to Prince Nettle either.

Silence did not mean you did not care.

He wasn't sure what to say now. That silence was all he knew.

He did not know how to explain all of this. After all, Florence didn't know. Growing up, she had known there was something different about her cousin Theodore. Who never aged. Who dropped by only once every few years for a short time but otherwise never wrote.

She had never asked, and Thistle had loved her even more for that.

Now was the time.

Alice took his hand, it was warm and small, just like it had been all those years ago. He looked at her, heavy brows pulled low over his eyes--but Alice just looked at him, steady and sweet, her eyes two pools of familiar brackish water.

"Oh, how lovely," Florence said with a frail smile. "You don't visit enough, either of you."

"I know, I apologize." Thistle sat down on the bench next to Florence's wheelchair. He pulled Alice down with him. "We can come much more now, the both of us."

"Would you?"

"Of course."

"I don't believe you," Florence chuckled as Thistle frowned, knowing he would be, even if she couldn't see his face clearly.

"Cousin Teddy is always off on some far away adventure. You remind me of him, you know," Florence said. She nodded her head once. To her, this was something she had said before. Perhaps it was. No matter, it was the truth now.

"Neither you have ever wanted to stay in one place."

@go-askalice

Hungry Eye, Ancient Soul . [Thalice]

[falling-pages]

A bird? A bird: Hikaru x Haruhi

in which drunk Hikaru is a mood.

-

Hikaru Hitachiin x Haruhi Fujioka

-

Enemies to lovers, non-host club au, aged up au.

-

TW: Drinking

-

The disgust lingered in the back of his throat like iron, like a bad pill you swallow but not fast enough. He fumbled the chaser to his liquor, and now he was stuck with the gross aftertaste. The refuge of his office, where he gulped down air like water, could only last so long. He couldn’t even go out in the common area, break room or restroom without having to see her--and for that, for taking away his freedom and social butterfly antics, he hated her.

Every time he saw her cute little snarl and tight little bun and stiff black skirts enraged him, filling his blood with a heat he didn’t know how to deal with. Despite her short height, she held her nose in the air as she worked, the only way she could look down on everyone like she so desperately craved. Always propping up her law degree, well this and actually that, ruining any jokes he made with a deadpan stare. She messed with his head, distracted him from his work, and for that she must go.

As much as he had tried to get her fired--and he had tried--nothing made the boss budge. He tried pulling rank, as the head of the software department; he tried using his parents’ names; nothing worked.

She’s doing a stellar job, the bossman had said. And, she’s our lawyer. If we did fire her for no reason, she would sue us into the ground.

I do have a reason, Hikaru retorted. She annoys me.

It wouldn’t hold up in court, but it seemed good enough for him.

Hikaru inhaled deeply through his nose, grounding himself by gripping his desk. Surrounded by all his trophies and achievements, he still could only think of her. He had to handle this, or else he’d go insane, but he had no idea where to start.

Kaoru. Kaoru would know what to do.

He rose from his chair, taking one last look behind him at the stained glass city through his clear glass window. Despite it only being mid-afternoon, the city was pulsing and alive with color, birds dive-bombing for food, vendors hawking at passersby, tourists mixing and bumping into natives. Tokyo was loud, and crazy, and alive, where he knew he belonged and longed to be. Even nature was straining at its leash for the workday to end, eager to celebrate the Friday night.

He turned back and shut the lights off in his office, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked. His department was rather quiet, having given his employees the afternoon off. If Haruhi knew, she would chide him, but they were so far ahead of schedule that he couldn’t risk them burning out.

Once up the stairs and around the corner, he heard his brother’s voice laughing and chatting and speak of the devil, she’s here.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. Karou and Haruhi were surprisingly great friends; he tended to mellow her out, help her unwind from the stick up her ass. He just had that calming effect on people.

As soon as he saw her, Hikaru spun a 180 and turned right back around the corner, and Haruhi would have let him, but Karou intervened.

“Hika! Come over here!” he waved, a bright smile splitting his face. “Haruhi was just telling me how much she liked you!”

Haruhi seethed, switching to a guarded pose as soon as she saw him. “I certainly was not.”

“Oh, right, my bad, she was telling me how much she liked your latest game patch,” Kaoru apologized, but it was the furthest thing from sincere. “Tell us about how you came up with it. Haruhi would love to pick your brain.”

Hikaru smirked, testing the waters as he approached. “Is that true, Fujioka?”

She frowns, pushing her bridge up her glasses up her nose. God, those glasses. She looked so dumb in them, making her eyes seem so wide, so innocent, so...pretty. All he wanted to do was pluck them off her face and laugh as she jumped for them, reaching and whining.

“I mean, it’s original, for sure,” she said. His cheeks warmed at the praise, even as she squirmed. “And it should market well, and you didn’t infringe on anyone’s copyright this time.”

That wasn’t my fault. He took the compliment with a grain of salt, biting back, “Still in the whole get-up, I see. Not much for casual Fridays?”

As amber eyes raked down her body, Haruhi concealed the shiver that ran down her spine. “No, actually, because I didn’t go to law school to wear jeans every day at work.”

“You didn’t go to law school to become a smartass, either, but here we are.”

“OKAY!” Kaoru exclaimed, jumping up between them. “Friday afternoon, yeah? Any big plans for the weekend?”

Both instigators ignored him. “That’s the uniform, you know. We tend to be pretty laid back around here.”

“Lawyers can’t be laid back. Laziness and a laissez-faire attitude is how we get sued.”

Hikaru stretched, rolling his eyes. “Woah, woah, pardon your French.”

Haruhi shook her head, and a few mismanaged strands of hair fell from her bun to brush against her neck. Her pink lips perched in contempt, and she looked so fragile, squinting behind her thick-framed glasses, that he couldn’t help but notice how tight her shirt was, tucked into a pencil skirt that hugged so tastefully over her--

“Hika!” Kaoru suddenly exclaimed. “Honey wants to know if we’re still down for drinks tonight.”

His saving grace. “Oh, my God, yes,” he moaned, salivating already at the thought of tequila burning down his throat. Washing the week away was just what he needed, especially with the way this conversation was going.

And then Kaoru did the unthinkable: With his award-winning smile, he turned to Haruhi and asked, “Would you like to come?”

Hikaru could have strangled him.

But God heard his prayers, and the resident buzzkill shook her head. “Thank you, but sorry. I don’t drink.”

“No surprise there,” Hikaru murmured.

Kaoru definitely heard that, but if Haruhi did, she didn’t react. He shot his twin a look, a be polite etched into the lines of his brow.

“Sad,” Kaoru said. He bent over to pick up his work bag, stuffing his bento within and waving to Haruhi. “Maybe next time? We can go out for boba or something.”

Haruhi smiled--Hikaru didn’t think he had ever seen that before. It did something to him; suddenly, he felt as if his body was shaking, like his throat was full of needles, like he had taken one too many to the head.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she said, and the smile disappeared when she looked at him. She gave them both a quick nod. “Have a great weekend.”

“Thanks.”

“See you Monday!”

Hikaru waited until they were out the door before punching his twin in the arm, hard enough to make him yelp.

“Dude, watch it,” Kaoru snapped, brushing over the mussed fabric of his cardigan sleeve. “It’s cashmere.”

“Stop flirting with her.”

Kaoru stopped in his tracks. A cloudy sky obscured the smirk on his face. “Woah, what’s got you so worked up?”

Hikaru kept stomping towards their subway stop, too lost in his own anger to notice who he had left behind. “‘M not worked up,” he retorted. “But you’re dating Kyoya. You shouldn’t be flirting with a girl.”

Kaoru skipped to catch up, joining him as they descended the stairs. “Kyoya said it’s fine if I flirt, as long as I come home to him every night.”

It took everything in Hikaru to keep him from shoving his brother into the sad, drab gray stone walls. He couldn’t put a finger on the irritation nettling just below his skin, or why the first layer of his heart seemed to simmer whenever he caught them talking to each other. All he could figure out was that it burned, and it made him hate her even more.

When he stayed silent, Kaoru knew he was right. He preened as he dug around for his subway card. “Boba isn’t a date.”

“Of course it is.”

“Then maybe you should ask her out on one.”

By then they were at the platform, waiting for their train. As the whistle signaled its approach, Hikaru very seriously considered pushing Kaoru onto the tracks.

“Tch. Over my dead body.”

“Then you can’t be jealous.”

“I’m not--”

Hikaru threw a punch when the train approached, distracting him and allowing Kaoru to live to see another day. As they hurried on, Hikaru couldn’t get his mind out of the gutter--or off her.

Jealous. Pshhh.

-- - -- -- - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I dunno, senpai, she just….she makes me feel something. Whenever she talks to me it’s like my hands are on fire, and my head hurts, and I feel like….like she’s stabbing me. There’s something going on in my chest, like a, like a--a bird. There’s a bird or a butterfly or something with wings in my stomach, and I don’t like it.”

Hikaru knocked back a shot and signaled for another one, eyes bleary as he tried to find the bartender. There were three of them, or maybe that was just how blurry his vision was, but he didn’t care; as long as one of them saw him and passed him another round, he’d tip them the moon.

Mitsukuni watched his friend wave to no one, the effect of one too many fireballs in the span of just two hours. He hadn’t seen Hikaru this hammered since college--and now, at 27, it just looked more like a cry for help than an occasion to let loose. And without Kaoru, who had already gone home with Kyoya and the rest of their friend group, on babysitting duty, Mitsukuni was the one left to make sure he got into a cab.

“A bird?” he asked, watching as Hikaru swung his head in confirmation.

“A bird.” A bartender came back with another shot, handing it to the redhead and giving Mitsukuni a questioning look. He waved at him, confirming he was the babysitter, and the waiter turned back around.

“Tell me about that.”

Hikaru gripped his cup, tonguing at the rim like a sippy cup. “It’s fluttering around, Honey. It’s--hiccup--like, moving. Whenever I see her or talk to her my heart just begins to pound.”

Mitsukuni bit back a smile. His vodka cran lay forgotten on the bar, but this experience was just too amusing to violate with alcohol. “And what do you think that means?”

“Means she’s gonna kill me.”

“Kill you?” His eyebrows shot up. “Why is that?”

Hikaru slurped the shot, spilling some down his chin, and Mitsukuni was fairly sure it was just plain water. “Because. She’s mean, senpai. She looks at me like she’s studying, like she’s gonna slice me in half. Like...I dunno. Like I mean something to her.”

Mistukuni twisted his wedding ring, inching closer to the discovery. He’s almost there, almost recognizing what the rest of the friend group has known for months. “And if you mean something to her, why does your heart flutter?”

“Acid reflux.”

“No, Hikaru.” He gently swatted the other man’s hand down before he could ask for another drink. “It sounds like the beginnings of love, to me.”

Hikaru gaped, not a thought behind those eyes, until it hit him like a wrecking ball. His fist fell to the bar, thudding, but he felt no pain. Only existential dread and a rocketing realization.

“Oh.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh, fuck.”

-

If you like what I write, please considering buying a coffee :)

[bohemian-nights]

Favorite AU for Dettles?

Oh gosh, there are honestly so many great au ideas for them. I think my opinion on this fluctuates depending on my mood.

Right now though, because of the Hunger Games resurgence, I really like the idea of mentor Daemon with mentee Nettles.

Like, imagine he’s a bit disheartened by life in general. year after year seeing his mentees die takes its toll.

To top it off, he pulled some trick like Haymitch to win his games which landed him on the president's naughty list. His entire family(including his wife who was pregnant at the time) was murdered as a result. He’s pretty much checked out and self-medicating at this point.

Then Nettles games come along. Just by looking at her, he’s like She’s gonna die within the first couple of minutes if not by the end of the first day. She’s small for her age and clearly malnourished. She’s an orphan, a social pariah(lol she made an enemy which is why she got reaped in the first place), and she’s been crying ever since she’s gotten on the train to the capital.

Lol, the fact that Nettles’ story is already suited for the Hunger Games💀

Her male counterpart(Addam of Hull or Jace who is book!Jace not the wimpy show version) shows some promise. However, he's also very self-sacrificing. Daemon can easily see him trying to help out one of the weaker tributes early on in the games(like Nettles) and losing his life because of it.

He knows they both won’t last long. The career pack is going to make a meal of them if nothing else so why even bother with them?

The career pack includes Ulf and Hugh 🤣 Let’s just say they aren’t the smartest career pack which is partially why Nettles is able to win her games😏 I mean she has some skills, but they made it easier for her.

Addam(or Jace, IDK pick your poison) tries to interact with him and pick his brain, but he’s totally non-receptive. He’s rude and crass. He smells of booze and he keeps bringing up how they are going to die.

Addam: How do we get sponsors?

Daemon: You won’t need sponsors, you’ll be dead from helping her out(points to a crying Nettles who has almost reached her breaking point). There is no we in the arena. That was your first mistake.

Addam: 💀

Nettles:😭😡 I’m not dead yet you drunk🤬

By this point, Nettles has had enough. She understands that she’s not in the best shape. She knows what will happen if she can’t pull herself together. She understands that out of the twenty-four children reaped only one is walking out of there alive.

She knows she’s probably on the lower end of the pack and even though Addam admittedly has better odds than her he is unlikely to win, but she doesn’t want to die. She certainly doesn’t want to die without a fight.

While Daemon is in mid-rant telling Addam all the ways the careers can and will kill them she picks up a knife at her side.

It’s a small thing. A butter knife really. It won’t do much damage, but she doesn’t want it to do damage. She just wants him to stop it and be their mentor, and not see them just see them as if they were already buried six feet under.

So she chucks the knife at his head.

The knife ends up grazing his ear before sticking into the door behind him. A nearby avox flinches. Even Addam is freaking out when Daemon moves his hand up to his ear and pulls it back to reveal a bit of blood on his fingertips.

Nettles is too busy yelling at him to stop attacking like their lives mean nothing to really feel any fear, but he interrupts her when he starts laughing.

He looks her square in the eyes(she almost wants to look away but she holds her ground) and tells her that she needs to work on her aim. She tells him that her aim was fine and that if she meant to hurt him she would’ve aimed for something more vital which only causes him to laugh some more.

They both know that it’s a lie. Nettles did mean to get his attention, but she had not been aiming for him.

It’s not until then that he actually takes notice of her.

Nettles is very small. She needs to get some meat on her bones(he almost immediately starts pilling onto her plate food and telling her to eat). She could surely use some dressing up and training, but she’s not hopeless. She’s got gumption which is more than the tributes before her had.

It’s then that he realizes that the little runt girl just might make it out of this thing alive.

[theramseyloft]

7/4/21 Loft Notes

Loft Notes:

Barron and Passenger seem to have become a thing.

Nobu tread Amiga

Creampuff and Artemis both jumped in my lap.

I have a lap Imp

Scan briefly came to see me.

Nettle's egg is fertile, making him officially a grown-ass man.

The cock currently highest on the list to retire is Pippin, for his flighty genes.

He has a home lined up, but just hatched a peep out of Lucy.

Once they wean, we'll bring him in and prepare to send him home.

Hmm...

On second thought, it might be better to retire Farthing.

Once Pippin is out of the picture, Farthing may try to woo Lucy.

And the Almond gene is homozygous lethal.

Patron: "Farthing doesn't seem particularly great at like, having children without you seeing him tread the hens though? it seems a bit of a shame to retire him on a possibility from an outside pov considering iirc you really liked his structure and mellow personality and yet his only contribution will end up being Lucy"

"if they pair up and you remove the eggs asap then the homozygous lethal problem will not happen as the fetus will not develop on time and he can then 100% be bumped up in the retirement list while you birth control them"

Patron: "I was just reading about what makes almond homozygous lethal and I can see the concern with almond being a dominant gene. Has he shown interest in Lucy? Beyond his usual I mean?"

Yes. The only reason he isn't after her presently is her clear preference for Pippin.  While Pippin had Cookie, Lucy preferred Farthing.

Lucy is contribution enough, especially with so many young cocks about to come of age.

It isn't a low possibility that Farthing and Lucy will pair once Pippin is gone.  It is practically a guarantee, with a minor chance that they won't.

On that, retiring Farthing is better for the flock.

I am very ill at the moment. I actually pulled this up to say that Bird-Bird's remains keep getting pulled out into the same place in the yard.

Not by an animal.

They aren't chewed.

Just lifted from where they were decomposing and set in the grass.

This has happened every few days since she died.

So this time, I gave her remains to the one hill of fire ants halfway across the yard that I maintain peace with.

Let's see the hateful fuckers dig her out now.

Patron: "Think its kids doing it?"

Humans, of what ever age.

If it's kids playing in my bushes that just don't want to deal with a gross thing, for one thing, why dig her up? But for the other, she isn't in the bushes anymore, so hopefully they'll leave her the fuck alone.

That corner of the holly is where especially loved pets of mine are burried.

So it's extremely upsetting that that site is now being dug up and disturbed.

Bluh.

The price of Royal Wing Classic Mix has gone up to $27.99 a bag.

Thaaaat's gonna suck.

We go through two of those bags a week.

Patron: "How much was it previously?"

$24.99 last week.

Patron: "That's nearly an extra bag of seed a month at the previous price"

Yeah, that's a significant jump.

Patron: "It adds up to a quarter of a year extra you're paying for"

wasn't it about this time last year that it jumped up from $19.99 to $24.99?

Patron: "it used to be 19.99????????? double oof. why is it increasing so much??"

Patron: "Have you considered buying feed from Chewy? the least expensive pigeon feed on there is $24.70. n shipping is free if you buy 2 or more bags. it seems like thats what all the racers do nowadays"

Patron: "Ya, I think at that price you should switch to Chewy. https://www.chewy.com/versele-laga-classic-pigeon-food/dp/259128"

Holy shit!

Shipping is the whole reason I wasn't getting that blend in the first place!

I wouldn't have to add the extra beans and safflowers!

Ordered for next week.

Patron: "Chewy has good customer service too. (In case you get a bag with weevils or something). They are very quick to send out a new one after chatting about any problems."

Today was Grocery Day.

We spent $17.27 at TSC on Perpethrine ($15.99) and tax ($1.28)

$60.46 at another TSC on 2 50lb bags of Royal Wing Classic Mix ($27.99 x 2) and tax ($4.48)

and $56.16 at Chewy.com on 2 50lb. bags of corn free Verse-Laga pigeon feed ($26 x 2) and tax ($4.16) Shipping was free.

Bringing our PayPal Balance to $329.38