#ive been thinking about it forever and decided fuck it

[deadallover]

Hallows Inc. teases bringing back autopsy scars from previous sona "Cupid" in the Dean 1.26 update

[orcelito]

Actually it is SO weird to me to remember that I was an engineering student and that later on I had been pursuing a minor in statistics

I may be a IT & com person in the end, but I do have the foundations of engineering and statistics in my brain too. Wild !

[tgcg]

hey guys. this is smth i have been thinking abt doing for a while but tonight i decided 4reel. i'm gonna put the blog on a kinda indefinite hiatus.

things have rlly changed for me & my life, & i need other things to change as well. i dont wanna divulge like... all my shit ere. but i just wanna say thanx to everyone who ever left a reply, kind message, fun ask, even just a like.

the kind of reception this blog got was totally beyond anything i coulda expected. i am still rly floored by it, u guys kindness & generosity. i'm rlly glad i could entertain you all and do right by these 2 guys.

i had so much fun here. making scripts & drawing them out. it's smth i have truly never experienced before & doubt i ever will anywhere else except this here blog. that was truly down to you guys & your enthusiasm and it'll never leave me. like, shit, getting dubs of my comix? fucking insane.

dk has been rly important to me for a rly long time. i became a fan of it over a decade ago. ive talked on da blog before about why i like em so much... so i'll just say here that i also don't rlly think these guys will ever leave me either. i think they were kinda a permanent mark on my development as a person. u can put me so so far away from hs & i'd still express that fondness for em deep down. they're a rlly great duo & i can't say at all that this decision is due to a lack of interest. love u dk <3.

for now i'm just gonna leave the blog as is, but in the future it may become p-word protected, who know... i'm not a fan of creating lost media since archiving obscure shit is a hobby of mine, so... we will "C"...

i'll still be hovering around over at @cgtg. i rlly like doing pwyw requests over there so i can flex my mspaint muscles and give u guys fun stuff. currently those are closed, but yea if ur interested you can drop a follow there & i'll say when they're open. no pressure to run over there tho. i understand that plenty were here for the dk's and i get that.

i might not be leaving this blog alone for good, & i think that's worth stating. who knows what will happen in da future? we're here right now & i'm very glad to have been here *until* now.

pls always have fun, do what you want forever, be kind, & take care. remember above all that youtube is where the poop is.

thanks for hanging out with me. love u all.

-randy tgcg 🙂

[reshinless]

Hi hi! Ive read some of ur work and literally salvating rn for kinich stuff GAUGH!

So im here to post in a request for gn (or fem) afab reader x Kinich

Basically kinks you think kinich would have and asking reader to let him indulge in those kinks of his <333 (pls let it end with reader being fucked outta their mind)

If ur not comfortable / not open for request feel free to ignore this!

Much love,

Kichi

──── take your shirt off!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. honestly, he himself can't decide what he likes more.. fucking your hole more, or lapping up what he can from it!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader/fem!reader (i use a lot of fem terms here, so sorry :(

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. millionares <3333

in a sense, he didn't really have a favorite. i mean he liked whatever you did. he just observed while you both fucked and experimented to see what you liked the most.. but it seems like you don't really know yourself. you arch your back all the same, doesn't seem like you have a favorite either!

oh but in all honesty, you could say his kink was you. he never thought about making love with anyone else, and you're the only one he's ever thought of getting dumb on his dick. so much for that!

kinich is and has always been a straightforward man. if there's something he wants- he'll take it. and that attitude didn't change even in intimate times. in times where he thinks you're about to cream on his fingers, something tells him to slow the tempo of his fingers.

"m- mmf ffuck, kin i'm g'na-" or maybe he favored the sounds you made when he ate you out. entangling the taste of your cunt on his tongue to mix with his saliva, you could feel the grasp on your thighs tighten more. rolling his tongue into your folds, he could hear the way you'd whimper, and groan, pushing his head further into the junction of your thighs.

kinich loves giving nicknames, and having them. hearing you call him 'kin' on its own was already one of his biggest turn-ons. please keep calling him that!!

loving the way his tongue dipped into your sex, you could feel your body instinctively arching your back. you tried to close your legs, but he just as easily pried them back open again, his gloved palm kept your inner thighs squished against his face.

"ahhn- kin' don' stop pleasef.." you felt yourself shriek to the man in between your legs. maybe he liked it better when you begged him to overstimulate your hole while he licked your clit.

your hands were buried in the messy locks of his hair. chasing your high as you felt it pool in your stomach, building up faster than you expect.

you arch your back against his digits, letting it curl against your velvety walls. huh, you looked so pretty like that. a little too pretty for his own liking. wonder what caused the tent in his pants..

flopping you onto your chest against the mattress, he blindfolds you with his headband from earlier, rough palms scatter to the opposite sides of your hips, bringing it up to his shaft.

you could only imagine from the feeling, his tip pressing against your folds. pushing himself faster than usual nights, it felt like he was ramming into you.

oh it was that necklace he bought you with his initial on it. you could even see it from behind, his chest presses against yours as he leans down to fit his head in the crook of your neck just to watch it bounce on your chest.

gosh you were so adorable like this, your eyebrows forever furrowed as he plunged it deep inside you. "npmh- kin- ahhn- wan' haah- more!"

kinich who gladly obliges, each time he penetrates you, he makes sure to really grind into your cunt. make sure you feel everything you want to. he just wants you to feel good; his orgasm is a bonus!

it could be the cute little look you gave him, pleading with your eyes as he took off the blindfold away from your view. now instead- tying your hands together, and gently flipping you over onto your back- putting you in some kind of.. mating press?!

he pinned your tied hands above your head, merciless thrusts, even deeper penetration from earlier. damn how big was it really?! it almost felt like you were getting impaled with the way he hit your g-spot so well.

kinich who loved to make eye contact with you during moments like this. even if you can't keep up the consistency; he knows he can, as long as he gets to observe such a pretty face. getting soo corrupted from his cock <33

"that's right baby, moan as much as you want.. tell the neighbors how much you love this cock inside you." he cooed into your ear, only hurrying his thrusts inside you. before you can feel it, you've already creamed onto his base. making it all the more easier for kinich to penetrate you better!

kinich loves to praise! loves praising how well you take his dick, cuz he knows how big it really is. and seeing your hole swallow it hole in one go? if that isn't deserving of his words of acknowledgement, what is?

he grunted through his words, working through each thrust surprisingly rough. continuously switches paces unconsciously, accidently goes really fast then slow to grind into your precious spot. "s'good.. taking me like royalty.." praise whispered from a low raspy voice from your lover's throat exits as he leans in to get a better angle of your pretty face.

"ah.. uh.. ffuck.. s'tight.. this pussy's mine right?" you felt yourself cumming again, squirting. to kinich though; this was his own sign to continue till he came (asked you for consent first cuz this is all for you anyway.)

"f- fuuuckk g'na cum inside you, sweetheart- ahh sshit..!!"

kinich loves getting to know the fact that you're his, and he's yours. he'll say it as many times as you want; his cock was for your pleasure!

but kinich's aftercare game is insanely good, not something you'd expect if this was a hookup- but it wasn't. he made sure you were okay afterwards, asking you if you ever felt uncomfortable throughout any of it.

let him know if you didn't like some of the stuff he did; this was your first time with him after all, and only the best should come if ever after you'll make love again (which will most likely happen.)

he'll clean you up himself, and make sure you're well rested for the next day. will not accept any argument, will cuddle with you all night- hugging you from behind, and scattering plentiful of kisses every now and then on your shoulders.

[internal-ethics]

Ok im bored and ran out of good content so fuck it lets do this. Decided not to publicize it for so long bc its difficult.

This is my boldest and most prized contribution to this cursed fandom, as well as my dearest tribute to Tobirama, the best political character ive ever read in fiction, and his anija.

warning - this might not be for people with too heavy leaning on anti-konoha, anti-Hashirama sentiments or ships that's not hashimito or tobirama/konoha, or take the timings and numbers of the databook too seriously.

Hashirama is vaguely hinted to canonically have retired as Shodai years earlier, then married Mito, then lived till 10-20 years after VOTE and died in or before the 2nd War.

Tobirama died first in the 1st War. The scene where he sacrificed himself for his squad happened before the VoTE fight, not after. It's his death that signaled the End.

Hashirama losing his power/ability to lead due to possible depression and keeping a low profile (no one could know how and when the Shinobi God died because village situations, and there were sensors and trackers who could find him) is the reason why he didnt know the motive of the Police Force that Tobirama created, and also struggled with Kurama to the point he needed Mito to LEND him power, when earlier he could beat both Kurama and Madara.

Zetsu made up bullshit about Tobirama burying and letting Madara escape with a clone, based that assumption on Tobirama's reputation of creating weird jutsus involving sacrifices, most likely framing him for his surbodinates' doings, because Tobirama totally never knew Tsunade, possibly never even met Mito and dealt with a jinchuuriki, while Hashirama did both, comparing teenage Sakuras power to Tsunade's.

Zetsu also would not have been near there to know what the senju brothers did because they were both sensors that could detect him. Hashirama was the one who buried Madara.

As Onoki said this summit was to end minor conflicts, it happened right after Konoha was founded, not right before the WW. the 2nd kages looked much younger than in the VOTE/WW era. Hashirama likely had other means, more temporary and less effective, to restrain Kurama at this point (his mokuton and necklace) The databook also never said Hashirama died in which war.

Tsunade and Tobirama had no recollection of each other outside Tsunade only calling him distantly 'nidaime' since part 1 and only 'heard' about the ones who killed him.

meanwhile Hashirama was too familiar with tsunade as she with him, and familiar with the village and people, so that he could recall his memories with it despite just having seen it before he died like weve been told.

He talked like he's been through 2 wars with them.

Our second known grandkid of Hashirama was Nawaki, who was 11 years younger than Tsunade. Unless his first son has multiple children in short years which is pure fanfiction, how would he know Tsunade was his 'first' grandkid and how she would turn out 'in the end' if he died when she was this small.

Also the fact that Hashirama didnt wear Konoha headband in the VOTE fight.

But did wear it when he married Mito. Tsunade was not Mito's grand daughter.

As for how he died, its in battle, probably to a nobody mob while protecting his clan or Mitos clan (both conveniently destroyed or disappeared after hes dead). And by the time they killed him and he let them do that, i doubt they even realized or remembered they killed the First Hokage and God of Shinobi. I mean youd think whoever killed him should have been insanely famous, regardless of his power level at the time.

Tobirama said "my role as Second Hokage was to stand between and meditate between brother and Madara while protecting the village" this raised eyebrows because there would have been no one to stand between if he only became Second after Hashirama died and Madara left (forever). Meaning Hashirama was alive when Tobirama became Second, and it had been like that for a long time.

This is what a japanese fan thought of Tobirama's death

Between the two brothers, it makes more sense for the 'normal' one who invented jutsu that defied the law of nature, including

ninja nuclear bombs,

Summoning the dead and giving them infinite chakra

clones only reserved for monster chakra reserves like Naruto with Kurama in him

and a teleportation jutsu that required 5 people in place of an absolute genius like Minato to do- moderately,

rather than a powerful monster with the same annount of chakra as a bijuu AND sage mode that heals himself, to die earlier out of illness.

This is also why Hashirama would ban Tobiramas jutsu and compiled them into HIS scroll seen in the very first chapter - they likely literally shorten ones life. Hashirama wouldnt want random people to drop dead using them...like his brother.

Some more readings on which Japanese samurai characters that have been Kishimoto's references for the founders.

Oda Nobunaga - Hashirama's first concept when he was a scary rugged scarred and big nosed guy, the one who stopped the genenations long wars, unified japan and died right after realizing the dream, but he died partly because of his brutality and crimes in life - he ACTUALLY killed his brother by blood among others of his family who betrayed him. His successor has nickname 'Saru'.

Ashikaga Takauji - Hashirama's later concept, first shogun of his era but softer big brother guy.

Ashikaga Tadayoshi - Takauji's younger brother who stepped up where he couldnt, disagreed with Takauji on politics and died 5 years before his brother did, in defeat but also there are sources that say he suffered some kind of illness before that.

Ko no Moronao - Takauji's close friend who Tadayoshi hated and was later exiled.

More references in Japanese creation mythos involving Izanagi and Izanami, where Izanagi killed his Fire god son Kagutsuchi after Izanamis death, hence his words "my very own child".

[d1s1ntegrated]

omg ur streamer shigaraki is SO MHMGGGFFFFF, ive been thinking ab shigaraki w his (super out of his league heaven sent) gf and how chat goes crazy when he does a gf reveal at like a 1 mil milestone or whatever.. GAWDDDDD

“chat is this real”

“How did he pull HER?” type beat

streamer!shigaraki: gf reveal! 1mil subs :)

mini smau/lowkey crack

ignore how poorly made the tweets are i did my best 😔

█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

"alright fucks we somehow made it to a million, i'm gonna finally prove im not lying and i do in fact know the touch of a woman"

chat going absolutely wild waiting for her to show up

instead he gets up, goes off cam, and returns with a cardboard cutout of some girl from high school dxd and the chat immediately spams L

->"loser we knew u didn't have a gf"

->"touch grass buddy come on"

->"go back 2 streaming games bro"

->"it's ok we're all a little delulu sometimes"

->"ur still my fav bro"

->"buddy...."

->"clapped"

->"not the dxd girl wtf"

->"ew"

->"LLLLLLLLLLLLLL"

->"troll"

he reads the chat out loud, stopping specifically on "troll". he smiles wide and nods

"yeah, i guess i am a troll. i dunno, what do you think babe?"

an unfamiliar voice rings out, muffled from the side; "you might be"

you come out from the side to "read the chat" better and they stop altogether, like chat literally dies for a few seconds

->"what."

->"WWWWWWWWWWW"

->"ain't no way"

->"HOW"

->"how much does he pay u"

->"NO SHOTTJWJW"

->"YO????????"

->"HE PULLED HER??????"

->"W"

->"IS THIS REAL??"

->"guys he's lying it's his sister"

->"he doesn't have a sister dumb fuck"

->"ON GOD??1?1?2"

->"CAN U BE MY GF TOO"

->"SHIG UR GF SO HOT PLS DONT DIE"

->"on my knees crying"

->" ('-')7 sorry we doubted u"

->" ('-')7"

->" (•_•)777777777"

->"W"

-> "w chain"

->"W"

->"W"

->"W"

you sit on his lap and he grins, laughing at the reactions of the chat

"i fucking told you"

you laugh and read the chats out loud, answering a few of them along the way

"no i'm not his sister, ew, it's very real, we've been together for a while now, also that cutout is mine, i bought it for the stream"

over the next few hours, both of your phones go off repeatedly with notifications. social media sites are booming with your reveal, and #shiggygfreveal becomes a top tag on twitter.

scrolling through the tag, you find multiple posts about how beautiful you are, how lucky he is, etc

u both finally decide to collab, which brings a huge number of followers up QUICKLY

chat is forever stunned and bowing at shiggys feet because of it ('-')7

██████████

guys lmk if i should keep making this smau/other ones cause this was kinda fun ngl

hope u enjoyed :-3

fank u 4 the request sweet babe @yuckyyenaa ! 🥳🫶

[b1mbodoll]

gabi when u say u like my asks it actually has me rolling around ‘n giggling in my bed :( all the smart parts of my brain must’ve melted or smth i’m actually dying here with all this puppy talk !!! ‘n i said you in that ask because you are jake’s puppy girl ? he thinks you’re the cutest ever ‘s not my fault for spreading the truth !! had to flop down on my bed a second ago because i js started thinking abt stepbro hyung line ‘n their cute puppy girl step sis :( i js know they’d be thinking of the foulest, dirtiest things ever i am going to start growling i cant do this !!!!!!

— from ur fairy anon !!!!!

baby i didnt just like ur ask, i Loved it !!!! made me sososo dizzy n im so obsessed, ive literwlly been rereading it every now n then bcus im Obsessed. also me n u both sweetheart, this puppy talk is just. Too Much for my lil head but i love it i csnt get enough…

im jake’s puppygirl??? 😞 stop it baby ill Cry so hard.

n ur. so insane. if u ever decide to come off anon i Will be living in ur dms <3 forever n ever bcs stepbro hyungline n their puppygirl stepsis????? there r lil pink hearts in my eyes as im typing this. im in love.

they r so gross n so mean n pervy.

heeseung is like, tryin to keep the 02z in Line but he’s just a Guy. csnt stop himself from starin at ur panties when ubwear a skirt n ur tail wags so hard it gives him a perfect view

jay’s also like heeseung but . touchier. he pets the lil space on ur head between ur puppy ears n treats you Like a puppy. wants you constantly dumb n giggly bcs then u cant question Why he’s pullin u on his lap n grunting every now n then (yes, he Is in fact pushin n pullin u over his cock n he Will cum in his pants)

jake’s a Bit more… unhinged. treats u like a puppy but ‘s a million times More intense than jay. calls ur hands puppy paws, has you sit between his legs while he sits on the couch or smth n just pets you. massages the base of your puppy ears n has to put a pillow over his lap bcs your pretty lil moans make him hard

sunghoon’s the Meanest though. purposely spills stuff on ur cute tops to get a peak of ur bra through the wet fabric or tugs on ur ears n tail just to hear you whine n see you pout n cry :( rolls his eyes when you run to heeseung n cry into his chest, tail limp n ur ears droopy cus he’s so mean :( little do you know hoon’s thinkin about his crybaby stepsis (steppup?) n jerkin his cock remembering your big puppy eyes all sad 😵‍💫 he wants to make you cry while he fucks you, next <3

[percivaljacksons]

preview

hi ive decided to stop taking myself so seriously -- when i finish this it'll go on ao3 as a oneshot, but this is what ive got so far of angsty divers au (no it still does not have a title). rated somewhere between t and m. can i get a hell yeah in the chat? um have fun lol.

..

NYT: A lot of headlines have already declared this as the discovery of the century—one even as the discovery of the millenia. Did you envision such a momentous breakthrough in your career?

PJ: Uh, no. I didn’t think I was gonna graduate high school. You can laugh, dude, but I’m not joking. This has all been one crazy ride. My life changed forever the moment I met Annabeth Chase. 

//

What Annabeth remembers, during the nights she tries not to:

The cold. The blackness so thick they might as well have been diving in ink. Percy’s mouthpiece, warm when he pressed it to her lips every twelve seconds. She’d breathe in, then tap his wrist twice, and it would disappear once more.

They’ve always been good at nonverbal communication. A twitch of an eyebrow here, a sideways glance there. She knows when he’s rolling his eyes without having to look. He always manages to pass her a tissue right before she sneezes.

Annabeth wonders if they’ll ever get out from beneath what they said to each other, down in the Pit, where neither of them could utter a single word.

//

The phone rings five times, tinny and faint in Annabeth’s ear as she waits. She’s breathing hard, her hair still dripping and her suit peeled down to her waist, a pair of sunglasses her only real protection against the late afternoon Mediterranean sun. 

The ringing cuts off, and a groggy voice says, “yeah?”

Annabeth glances down at her watch. “Percy?” She asks. 

There’s a beat. When the voice speaks again, it’s perfectly awake. “Annabeth?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I…I thought you’d be awake by now.”

“I’m in San Diego.”

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I��m—I’m fine. Good, I’m good. Are you?”

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet, almost wistful. “Why the new phone number?”

“It’s temporary. I’m in Greece.” She listens to him breathe, feels her own heart settle. 

“Greece,” he repeats.

Her thumb smooths over the shard of pottery in her hand. “Yeah. How soon can you get here?”

“To Greece? Shit, Annabeth, I don’t—”

“I found it,” she says. A glance over her shoulder tells her that her two grad students are laughing as they organize her gear and not paying attention to her at all, but she lowers her voice anyway. “I saw it, Percy. It’s real.” She breathes in, then out. The boat rocks under her. “I found it,” she repeats.

Static crackles in her ear. “I’ll be there in 24 hours,” Percy says.

//

They’d gone down together, which was stupid. So much of it was stupid with even a few hours of hindsight. No one coming down after them, thinking they knew the cave too well to get lost, believing that doing everything right meant that they were safe.

Stupid. 

The light clipped onto her suit only illuminated about a twelve inches past her flippers. She could see the walls on either side, the familiar steadily making way for the unfamiliar as they descended to the section only Percy had explored. 

Percy’s flipper tapped her head. He was reminding her to stop and equalize her ear pressure, so she did. He was more experienced diving in salt water. It saved her life, in the end—she had her nose pinched and her mouth firmly closed when she got slammed into the wall regulator yoke first. 

The straps on her chest jerked from the release of pressure, but it was the feeling of the bubbles rapidly flowing up her that let her know she was really, truly fucked.

//

It’s been six months since the Pit, and three since they last saw each other in person. Annabeth thought he was in New York, Percy probably thought she was—well, Annabeth doesn’t actually know. Probably not where she’s been. 

She’s been in Sicily and Ostia and around sixteen different Greek and Turkish islands. She hasn’t stayed in one place long enough for her mind to settle, has managed to outrun every shadow that clung to her pumping heels, only now her throat burns and her muscles ache and Percy meets her at the arrivals gate in Athens with a fresh tan and an unsure smile and Annabeth is all too aware that her months of avoidance have come to an end. 

Percy comes to a stop a foot or so away from her, tantalizingly close. Within arm’s reach. “Hey,” he says. 

His hair is long enough that he needs a band to keep his bangs out of his eyes. She recognizes it—it’s the same one she’d used to keep her own hair from falling in her face when it started to grow back after she’d chopped it five and a half months ago. The duffel bag thrown over his shoulder is also hers, and so is the necklace peeking out from beneath his collar. 

Annabeth hugs him because she wants to kiss him. “Hi,” she responds. 

The duffel bag hits the floor. His arms wrap around her, fierce and firm, and she buries her face in the warm skin of his neck. Stubble scratches against her cheek; Annabeth breathes easy for the first time in something like twelve weeks. 

“I thought you might send one of your grad students,” he says. His arms stay locked around her. 

“You got on the first flight you could,” Annabeth responds, her voice muffled. “Least I could do was meet you halfway.”

His fingertips press the tiniest bit harder into her spine. “Thanks,” he whispers into her hair. 

Annabeth’s own necklace digs into her jaw. I’ve missed you, she says with the nudge of her nose against his pulse. 

He rocks them back and forth, just barely. I’ve missed you, too, he responds with the graze of his palms over her back. 

Annabeth takes a breath, takes in the unchanged feeling coursing through her blood, and finally manages to take a step back. “You ready?” She asks. 

Percy’s smile is dazzling. “You bet your bippy I am.”

Annabeth leads him to her rental with loosely linked fingers, her steps so light she’s half convinced she could walk right over the Mediterranean itself. 

//

The last time they saw each other—the last time she saw him—it had been in the artificial brightness of their living room. Annabeth hadn’t slept in days, Percy hardly ever looked her in the eye, and neither of them could muster the strength to turn off even their tiniest, most ineffective lamp. 

No matter how many times Annabeth took deep breaths, she was still gasping for air. 

Percy would turn on the shower and stare at the water hitting the other side of the curtain, the bathroom door firmly shut, and then turn the faucet off again without ever stepping in. 

They curled up together every night, their bedroom lit up like a department store, her fingertips leaving bruises in his hips and shoulders, and if they were lucky sometimes one of them could fall asleep. 

Annabeth left New York. Percy didn’t follow her. 

//

One of her grad students picks them up from the dock. They were the only passengers on the boat from the mainland, so she’s the only person waiting, leaning against a rusty pickup truck filled with scuba equipment. She’s also lazily smoking a cigarette, her bright blue hair lit up a striking cobalt by the sun. 

She drops the cigarette and twists her foot over it the moment she sees them approach. “Doctor,” she greets with a grin that’s a little too innocent. 

Annabeth glares at her. “Pick that up. We’re not here to litter.”

The grad student sticks a hand out to shake Percy’s. “Hey, I’m Lucy. You the pottery guy?”

“I leave for one day and your hair is blue,” Annabeth mutters, taking the duffel bag from Percy’s shoulder and tossing it into the back. “If you’ve been smoking in the truck…”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “No, Mom, I haven’t been smoking in the truck. My hair’s blue because Mitchell won our bet, don’t worry about it. I didn’t even stain the towels.”

“I like it,” Percy says. 

“See?” Lucy says. She bends down and picks up her cigarette butt when Annabeth keeps glaring. “The pottery guy gets it.”

“Um—” Percy tries to say. 

“This is Percy,” Annabeth explains. “He’s not a pottery guy.”

“When’s the pottery guy getting here, then?”

Annabeth goes around to the driver’s side and gets in the truck instead of answering. Lucy shrugs and moves the passenger seat up to slide into the rear bench, waving Percy away when he tries to get in. He sits in the front with a shrug once Lucy’s knees are out of the way, and the moment his seatbelt is buckled Annabeth tears out of the marina parking lot. 

“So.” Lucy’s fingers tap along the backs of their chairs. “If you’re not a pottery guy, who are you? ‘Cuz Annabeth found a piece of pottery on her dive two days ago and took off outta here like Icarus on his way to freedom.”

It’s a weird simile, but Annabeth doesn’t respond. When Percy turns to look at her, her eyes don’t even stray from the road. 

“You didn’t tell them?” He asks. 

Annabeth grunts. Percy keeps staring at her, wondering which question he should answer, and eventually says to Lucy, “Annabeth and I…” He sighs. “Well, we go way back. How long have you been her student?” 

“A few months,” Lucy says. 

Percy smiles and turns to look out the window. They’re along the coast now, and the ocean is blue like a jolly rancher. “She doesn’t need a pottery guy,” he says.

Lucy raises her eyebrows. She looks at Percy, then at Annabeth, then back to Percy again. “Totally explains everything,” she says, and the rest of the drive passes in silence. 

//

For weeks after the Pit, Annabeth was on the edge of a panic attack whenever she couldn’t feel Percy beside her. She knew why, logically. The therapist explained it, and everyone was so goddamn understanding. Grover, and Sally, and Piper, and Nico, and Clarisse.

Even her mother, under the thick layer of I-told-you-so that she didn’t bother to try and hide.

What can you say, when your head finally has broken free of the water? When all light is blinding, when you can’t get rid of the taste of salt on your lips?

What can you say to the person who pulled you back to life, when you’re the only reason his soul grazed the razor edge of death in the first place?

//

“Why are the vibes, like, literally rancid?” Mitchell mutters, loading the extra gear his advisor always insists on bringing onto the boat.

“Girl, if I knew,” Lucy responds, shaking her head. 

“You could help, you know.”

“I picked them up from the dock! No, don’t put the yoke by the O2—”

“You do it, then!”

“Fine.”

She joins him, loading in silence. After a minute:

“$5 they’ve boned.”

“You’re so on.”

//

They put their gear on together, her reaching out to zip him up without prompting and him holding her tank steady so she can slide her arms through the straps. They don’t have to look at each other to do it, so they don’t. 

Annabeth only glances over once they’re finished. His eyes are hidden behind his diving mask, and Annabeth’s heart migrates to her throat.

The last time she’d seen him like that had been—

“Ready?” She asks.

Percy nods. She goes in first, and he follows.

He’s still following, even now. But that’s Percy. 

From above the surface, it looks like a rock. A big rock, sure, but not dissimilar from the jutting stones that surround a lot of the Mediterranean, the jagged edges that contrast the white sand beaches. That’s been her main research tactic, recently—where do the tourists avoid? What stone has been left unturned, what looks so innocuous from above that no one would ever suspect it was an X, marking a very secret spot?

Under the surface, it’s a different story. Not an obvious story, but at this point Annabeth could navigate each curve and edge in her sleep. She does, on the nights she doesn’t dream of a blackness like tar. 

It’s a bright enough day that sunlight streaks through the water a good twenty feet down, exposing the imposing face of stone. There isn’t an entrance, really, but there’s nooks and crannies and crevices, and Annabeth is the particular kind of crazy to have wiggled her way through every single one she could. 

On instinct, she reaches down and clicks on one of her flashlights. With a confident flick of her feet, she propels herself towards the opening that started it all. 

There are three flashlights clipped to the straps around her shoulders. When she had zipped up Percy’s suit, she had noticed the four he had clipped to his.

She finds the optical illusion, the uneven meeting that looks like a solid wall. If you stare at it long enough, the ripples of light coming through the water reveal it for what it is. She presses forward, and just like six months ago Percy goes where she leads.

From there, it’s memory. Through the cave system, careful and slow, even as her heart pounds. Under the archway, chipped away from the rock, a little too even to be natural. She pauses under it and taps it with one hand. Percy nods in response. He sees it. He knows.

After the archway, it’s left until the opening below, leading down to darker and colder waters. Annabeth checks her backup flashlights, braces herself, and heads down. 

She doesn’t look to see if Percy follows. He either will or he won’t. 

The space gets smaller, then larger, jagged edges of rock cutting into the path. This wasn’t an entrance, as far as Annabeth can tell, but it’s the only way in she’s found so far. Everything else has been long since blocked off by time. Earthquakes, rockslides, storms, erosion, all of the above. It’s proper cave diving because of it, something that Percy has infinitely more experience in.

She reaches the air pocket and pops her head out. She takes a breath of stale, cave air and waits. A faint light grows steadily brighter.

Percy’s head pops above the water. He lets his rebreather drop from his mouth.

“Holy shit,” he says. “Annabeth, this is—”

Annabeth reaches through the water and grabs onto his rebreather with her left hand. Her right hand is busy clutching her own. They’re both attached to their diving tanks, obviously, but…

His hand covers her own. “I’ve got it,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

Annabeth yanks her hand back. “Right,” she says. “Did you see the arch? I’m thinking 4,500, maybe earlier.”

Water drips from the low ceiling above them onto Percy’s diving mask. He doesn’t even blink.

“Plato said 9,600,” he teases.

“I know what Plato said.” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “What did he know?”

“4,000,” Percy says, shaking his head, “is neolithic settlers in Thera, precursors to the Minoans. Annabeth, that’s…that’s—”

“—the Older Peron,” she finishes. “The timing makes perfect sense, but I think there was something else. I mean, look at where we are. There were the rising sea levels during Holocene Epoch, sure, but—”

“—it was never at sea level,” Percy realizes. He gestures around them, splashing her with water. “It was already below sea level. Which is why—”

“—the rise was so devastating,” Annabeth continues, building on his enthusiasm. “They had fortifications of natural rock but—”

“—they were effectively trapped when the levels rose unexpectedly!” His voice echoes off the walls around them. “We’ve been going deeper and deeper this whole dive.”

“Probably a storm,” Annabeth says. “It was gradual, and then a big storm caught them off guard. They…they probably starved, if they didn’t drown. Those who didn’t made their way to Crete and kicked off the Bronze Age.”

The slow drip of water is the only sound between them for a long moment. 

“Where’d you find the pottery?” Percy finally asks.

“Up ahead. Ten minutes, maybe.”

“Is it all submerged?”

“I don’t know,” Annabeth admits. “Maybe, maybe not. I called you as soon as I had anything concrete.”

He takes his mouthpiece out of the water and slots it between his lips. Annabeth does the same, then heads back under to show him the way. She’s so excited to show him that she can barely even feel how the water has gotten gradually colder during their dive. It had freaked her out, her first few times trying to navigate the crags of the cave. 

Caves are always cold. It’s why they have wetsuits. Annabeth only wishes it wouldn’t take so goddamn long for her to warm up again once she was above the surface.

//

NYT: Your preliminary article talks a lot about the Holocene epoch. What does that have to you with your discovery?

PJ: Right, yeah, so that’s—we’re in that right now. That’s our current geological epoch. It’s an interglacial period equivalent to MIS 1, and started around 11,700 years ago. Basically, ‘Holocene’ is two Ancient Greek words smushed together meaning an ‘entirely new’ age. In terms of, like, humanity, it’s when all of our written history and technological revolutions have happened. It’s all happened since the last ice age ended those 12,000 years ago. In terms of my research—which is our research, really—it’s thinking about the impact of the vast warming of the planet after the last ice age and what that might be able to tell us about pre-Minoan civilizations in the Mediterranean.

NYT: Are you talking about global warming? I think of that being a lot more recent than 12,000 years ago.

PJ: Eh. It’s kinda relative. Pretty much anything is global warming after an ice age, you know? We do split the Holocene into three main eras of slight cooling and warming, but our sweet spot is around 7,500 years ago, when the Mediterranean especially was having to deal with rapid sea level rise and colder waters. Can I be honest with you, dude?

NYT: Of course. 

PJ: Everyone thought we were f****** crazy.

//

Later, back on the boat, Mitchell throws together some PB&Js for them to devour. The two of them eat quickly, tired from the dive, and don’t speak. Mitchell always uses a little too much peanut butter, and it sticks to the roof of Annabeth’s mouth, but that isn’t why she stays quiet.

There’s a lot between them besides the silence.

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” she eventually says, staring at the unassuming point of rock above the water. Just a rock that was really the cave that held the answer she’d spent her life searching for. Will they call it Chase Cave? Probably not, at this point. She’s glad. Something about that smarts—her greatest achievement marked by her father’s name.

“Is it?” Percy asks. His hair is wet, mussed up from when he yanked off his hood. There’s still a faint red oval around his eyes and nose.

She turns to face him more fully. They’ve never worn jewelry when they went in the water, and earlier she’d caught the faint tan line around the fourth finger of his left hand. He still wears it, or wore it recently enough to still have its mark.

Annabeth looks back to the rock. It’s much easier to stare at. “Almost,” she says.

//

NYT: Where do you go from here? Back to Berkley? Columbia? Are you staying in Greece?

PJ: Honestly… [Laughs] anywhere that offers us a tenure track. We’re open to suggestions! Our RateMyProfessor scores are through the roof, man. At this point, I’d even say yes to NYU.

//

“Berkley’s funding you?” Percy asks.

Annabeth nods, swallowing the mouthful of wine she’d been letting sit in her mouth. It’s easy to get lost in it—early signs of the sunset, Percy backlit by it all, wearing a loose blue shirt with the collar open so she can see his collarbones, her necklace nestled right in the middle. Missing him has been as frequent as breathing. She doesn’t quite know how to handle having him right across the table from her.

“Damn.” His mouth twists in that charming, trying-not-to-smile way. “What a coup.”

Annabeth snorts. “Right? I don’t know that she’ll ever talk to me again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Percy grabs an olive from their shared plate and pops it in his mouth. “She’s going to milk your relationship for every grant she applies for until the day she retires. Or dies.”

“Fuck.” Annabeth takes a larger sip of wine and closes her eyes. “You’re right. Goddamn it.”

“Hey, it’s been known to happen.” She opens her eyes again just in time to see the smile slip properly onto his face. “Good thing she made sure that you didn’t share any kind of name.”

Annabeth raises her wine. Percy grabs his water and follows suit, his tan-lined finger wrapping around the glass. “To Dr. Sofia Athena,” Annabeth says. “A name that has had no lasting impact on the study of archeology and the world’s shittiest mother.”

“Hear hear!” 

They clink their glasses and drink. 

The sun sinks below the ocean, pink orange red streaked across the sky, and below the table Percy rests the length of his leg against her own. 

//

Percy kept waking up with bruises on his wrist, his forearm, along the edge of his ribs. She never remembered grabbing him that tightly, hadn’t roused from sleep for a moment, didn’t even know that she was capable of gripping him like that.

She kept thinking about his life before she came into it, kept thinking about his childhood and his aversion to alcohol, and kept spending her mornings throwing up bile.

He held her hair back. He kissed the space behind her ear. He took it all, right up until the day she left.

//

They leave the restaurant as dusk slips into evening. Everything drips blue, and they could go back to the ramshackle house Annabeth’s been renting for three weeks and go to sleep. They should, really. Tomorrow all of the difficult stuff starts, the phone calls and the grant applications and fierce defense of their life’s work. 

But Percy takes a deep, sucking breath in, and his hands in his pockets. He lets it out again, a satisfied sigh, and jerks his head towards the horizon invitingly, and Annabeth already knows she’s going to agree to whatever he’s going to ask. 

“What?” She asks. 

“Want to go for a walk?” He asks. “It’s a beautiful night.” 

He’s right. She wants to. Still, she hesitates. 

“On the beach?”

“Why not? There’s a sandy bit down there.”

Annabeth can think of at least seven reasons that they really should not. Up against Percy’s relaxed posture and open expression, none of them put up a fight. 

“Alright,” she agrees. 

He doesn’t offer his hand, so she doesn’t take it, but when they start to walk towards the shore, their elbows brush with every other step. 

//

“Don’t be ridiculous, Annabeth.”

Annabeth’s head snaps back. “I’m not being ridiculous,” she says.

Her mother shoots her a look, her face half obscured by her office’s desktop monitor. “You’re turning one of Plato’s metaphors into a pipe dream of a discovery. It’s not like you.”

Annabeth takes a deep, controlled breath in. “I’m not basing the entirety of my research on Plato.”

“You’ve found another source that references Atlantis?”

“Not exactly,” Annabeth admits begrudgingly. “But—”

“Annabeth.”

“Just because they don’t call it the same thing that Plato did—”

“Lower your voice, please,” her mother says, turning her focus back to her computer. She starts to type, her face impassive.

Annabeth seethes. Quietly. “The study of Stone Age civilizations always requires careful historiographical reading into the Bronze and Iron ages. Their interpretation of history is a valid course of investigation for today’s scholarship.”

Her mother sighs and closes her eyes for a brief, devastating moment. “You’re a promising archeologist, Annabeth, but…”

Always a but. 

“...these caves, and the diving, well…” Her mother finally gives her undivided attention. “It’s not difficult to see where you got the idea.”

Annabeth digs the fingernails of her left hand into her palm and tries her best to keep the tears at bay. “I’m not plagiarizing research ideas.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“This research project just happened to pop up right as you started seeing a scuba diver? That’s a sheer coincidence?”

“He’s not a—”

“Oh, he wears an anklet.”

“He’s a marine archeologist! That’s literally part of your department.”

“They’ve tacked on an adjective before the word ‘archeologist.’ Is that supposed to—”

Annabeth slams her binder down on her mother’s desk, a savage satisfaction building in her chest at finally being the one who gets to interrupt. “I’m not debating this with you,” she says, her voice filled with finality. “My research has to do with Pre-Minoan Thera and early Bronze Age art and documentation. Read it or don’t. If you don’t fund me, someone else will.”

Her mother rises from her seat in one graceful movement, her eyes dark and swirling storm clouds. Annabeth realizes that they’re the same height; she’d never noticed that before.

“Who approached you?” Her mother asks. “USC? BU?”

Annabeth lets the smile that stretches across her face be as bitter as it wants to be. “I’m a Chase,” she says. She knows it’s a twist of the knife. “Who wouldn’t fund me?”

//

The sand is cold between her toes. The wind off the water is warm and makes Percy’s shirt flap around and hug the contours of his torso for brief, devastating moments. Annabeth focuses on putting one foot in front of the other and not on the way this whole night has felt like a date.

“I kind of want to get in,” Percy says. 

“What?”

“The water,” he clarifies. “I want to get in. Don’t you?” 

Annabeth gapes at him. It’s only been three months. He went in with her earlier, even followed her into a cave, but this is different. This is a walk along the beach with their shoes in their hands and stupid small talk that hasn’t been getting at any of the things they should probably be working through.

Percy drops his flip-flops. He only has to undo one more button to be able to pull his shirt off over his head. Annabeth keeps looking—obviously—as he shucks off his pants and adds them to the pile, too. 

There are little slices of pizza decorating his boxers. 

There’s a tiny, innocuous breath of hesitation. Is he thinking about stripping all the way down? Is he balking now that he’s facing the might of the ocean? 

In the end, he goes towards the water confidently, his boxers still on, and calls back once his ankles are submerged. “You coming?”

Annabeth slips the straps of her dress over her shoulders and lets it fall to the sand, kicking it over to join Percy’s pile of clothes. After her own moment of hesitation, she slips the chain around her neck off and wraps it around her hand, clutching the bulk of it tight in her palm. She won’t leave it on the beach, but she won’t lose it to the ocean, either. 

By the time she’s up to her calves, Percy’s already dunked himself under and come back up again, hair slicked back and water dripping down his chest. He’s got a slight t-shirt tan she hadn’t noticed before.

“How far do you want to go out?” She asks him.

“We’ll freeze if we stay like this,” he says, goosebumps all along his arms with his wet torso exposed to the breeze. A tiny wave crashes right behind him and sends him staggering a foot or so. “Past the break?”

The wave hits her next, soaking through her bra and splashing salt up onto her cheeks. “Sure.”

They wade out together and dive through the next wave in perfect unison. When she comes back up, brushing the water out of her eyes, all that’s left of it are bubbles bursting against her skin. The water settles around her shoulders; when she looks over, Percy’s eyes are lined up perfectly with hers. Bending his knees, probably. Staying under the water to stay warm, or stay on her level, or some mixture of the two. 

“Warmer than I thought,” Annabeth admits.

Percy smiles. She wishes the moon would rise, so she could see the emerald cut of his eyes better. “That’s almost like saying I was right.”

“Almost,” she agrees, smiling right back. 

“We probably could’ve stripped all the way down. When in Rome, and all that.”

“We’re not on Naxos.” She shudders. “Never again.”

That makes him laugh, finally. “Come on, it was a cultural exchange!”

“A-bah-bah,” Annabeth tuts, raising a finger. “It’s one of the sacred three.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Ice water, air conditioning, and we don’t have to look at wrinkly old dudes naked. U-S-A, U-S-A.”

“And don’t forget it.”

“How could I?” He replies softly. 

Annabeth resists the urge to curse. There goes their lighthearted small talk. 

She dreams of Naxos. Not of the famous nude beaches or Percy laughing at her horrified expressions, but of the crisp white sheets of their hotel room and the faint red imprints of her teeth against the perfect bronze of his tan. She dreams of the purest conversations they’ve ever had, the ones they had crammed together on their Juliet balcony and the ones that passed with skin pressed close and no words spoken at all. 

The dreams are always exact mirrors of memory, flawless from start to finish, loving and being loved. She never wakes up before an orgasm or before the sun had finally risen that first morning and lit up the muscles of Percy’s back like a goddamn Yuriy Petrenko painting. It’s complete contentment, morning breath and a sort of pulled hamstring halfway through, no detail lost.

But she always wakes up, and Percy’s not there, and reality feels like a nightmare.

“You’re not wearing your ring,” Percy breathes out.

“Neither are you.”

“I took it off to dive.” His head tilts, just slightly, and Annabeth’s eyes slide down his neck to her necklace. She catches the smallest glint of metal through the water and clenches her fist around her own ring, so tightly that the chain digs into the meat of her hand. 

“So did I,” she says.

His mouth quirks up. “Okay.”. 

“San Diego,” she starts, weirdly confident from the wine or the quiet or Percy being right in front of her again. “Did you get an—”

“I’m still on sabbatical. Staying with Tyson.” A wave laps up and covers his chin for a second. “He says hi, by the way.”

“He’s good?”

“Mhm. Trying to teach me pottery.”

Annabeth grins. “Are you any good?”

“Obviously not. It’s better than, like, baby goat yoga with Grover.”

“So that’s why you’re not in Portland.”

“Uh, that and the human baby they’re very enthusiastically trying to create. Barf.”

She splashes him in the face. “Shut up. What? Since when?”

He spits the water that got into his mouth out in a beautiful arch. “I can’t believe he told me before you! Like, a few months now. I think they maybe kept it hush-hush because…”

The waves crash against the sand. Annabeth knows what he was going to say. She can hear it in the squint of his eyelids, the exact angle tilt of his eyebrows. It’s kind of comforting—she still knows how. 

“That’s amazing,” she says, her voice quiet. “He’s going to be such a good dad.”

A swell of water builds towards them, and their toes leave the sand in the same moment, the tiniest push to keep their chins above the surface. 

“He accidentally synced our Google calendars,” Percy admits after a second. There’s a dangerous kind of glint in his eye, the one that Annabeth has always been a little bit in love with. “They, like, scheduled it.”

Annabeth gasps. “No.”

He nods, dunking half of his face in the process. “I know so much about Juni’s ovulation cycle that I can’t unlearn—”

“Percy!” Annabeth objects, as though she’s not laughing through it. “That’s such a violation of their privacy—”

“It’s not like I wanted to know it!” He laughs right back. “Grover apologized, like, six times. Juni called to ask if we ever did any fertility rituals. I did not need that boundary broken.”

Annabeth covers her face with one hand and ducks herself under the water. The muted sounds, the sting of the salt, the knowledge that she could reach out and touch him—she breaks the surface again. “Why would we have done a fertility ritual? We don’t have kids!”

“I think maybe she thought we’d done one to prevent it. Anti-fa, right?”

“I know you know that’s not what that is.”

His straight face breaks. “You thought it was funny, though.”

“No comment.” 

“Hey, don’t be mad. I told her our sexytime is exclusively based on passion. No scheduling involved.”

Annabeth wrinkles her nose. “A good excel spreadsheet is kind of hot, though.”

“Oh my god.”

“Like, a color-coded one.” She rolls back her eyes and moans. “With tabs.” 

It’s so easy to tease him, so natural to fall back into their rhythm, to turn off the filter in her brain and let the conversation go wherever it’s going to. It’s so easy to forget why they were half a world away from each other. 

He splashes her this time, only she’s already laughing, eyes closed and ready for it. She hears his laughter join hers before she sees it, low and infectious. 

Annabeth could stay here forever, high on her life’s mission accomplished and Percy right in front of her, both of their heads above the water, both of them laughing. She would make this second of air stretch on forever, only then she wouldn’t get what comes next.

She opens her eyes against the sting of the salt and sees him, the jut of his collarbone above the foam, his hair curling a little bit around his ears where it’s beginning to dry. She could look at him forever, watch as the crinkles around his eyes go soft and fade, as his mouth settles from a grin into something smoother, more familiar.

“Wanna kiss you,” he mumbles. The waves push him closer, or he moves closer, or Annabeth does.

“I thought we based our sexytime exclusively on passion,” Annabeth responds.

The heat of Percy’s torso presses up against hers. “Don’t be a dick,” he whispers.

Percy’s mouth slides hot against hers, rough-soft in the very particular way he always is, and waves lap at their shoulders and Annabeth thinks something about baptism and then thinks about nothing at all for as long as she’s able.

//

“Sometimes I think we never got out,” she whispers to him one night. 

They’re wrapped around each other in the blaring light from both of their nightstands. It’s some time past three in the morning.

“Like, this is all a dream?” He asks.

“No.” She presses her nose against his chest, breathes him in. “I just still feel it. I started down there and it never stopped.”

She feels the breath shudder out of him. “Yeah,” he agrees.

..

[goodqueenaly]

Considering the public version of Baelish and Sansa's situation, as in him being a doting father to his only child, albeit illegitimate, does it raise some perplexity among the Vale nobility that he wouldn't ask for a legitimisation? Alayne is his only child, he's unmarried at the moment, and any male heir he could have in the future would preceed her anyway. Or is legitimisation done exclusively in cases of emergency, aka when literally no other legitimate heir is available?

It’s worth emphasizing that legitimization is a relatively pretty rare process: of the dozens of acknowledged bastards we know of in the history of Westeros, only two (outside the blanket legitimization issued by Aegon IV on his deathbed) have ever been formally legitimized (three if you count Jon Snow, who was all but certainly legitimized by Robb’s will but whose legitimized status is not yet widely known in-universe). Importantly, in each of those cases - Ramsay Snow, the sons of Marilda of Hull, and Jon Snow - the legitimization came about specifically because the lord or king in question had no surviving legitimate son to inherit after him (at least officially - I very much believe Mushroom’s assertion that Corlys was the biological l father of Addam and Alyn of Hull). (Again, Aegon IV is the exception here - I don’t even think he was really trying to push Daemon as his alternative heir - but I believe Aegon’s move was a sort of final “fuck you” to the future King Daeron II, a last petty stab at the son he hated rather than a genuine politico-dynastic decision by the dying king.) Likewise, only Aegon IV ever chose to legitimize a daughter (and again, only in the context of a blanket legitimization); even Oberyn Martell, for example, who held out each of his daughters as his own far earlier than Littlefinger was supposed to have done for “Alayne” (and indeed, lived with the mother of his four youngest daughters as effectively a married couple in a nuclear family), never apparently sought to legitimize any of them. Nor indeed should it be forgotten how serious a process legitimization is: only a king can legitimize a bastardborn Westerosi, and once so legitimized, both that person and his (or her) descendants would be legitimate forever.

So far from the assembled aristocracy of the Vale finding it odd that Littlefinger would not be pressing for Sansa-as-Alayne to be legitimized, I think these aristocrats would be surprised, even shocked if Littlefinger tried to make his “daughter” legitimate by royal decree. After all, the public narrative about “Alayne Stone” is that Littlefinger didn’t even know of her existence until very recently - when “at [her] flowering [“Alayne”] decided [she] did not wish to be a septa and wrote to [Littlefinger]”. While Littlefinger might have publicly recognized Sansa-as-Alayne as his daughter, and treated her relatively well by Westerosi standards (remember, this is a world where Lord Hewett made his own extramarital daughter a house servant to his wife and their children), Alayne’s social position is at best a liminal one - able to act in some ways as the lady of the Arryn household, but in other ways (as Littlefinger, Myranda Royce, and Harry Hardyng all remind her) very much considered the inferior of her blue-blood neighbors. Moreover, I think many in the Vale would anticipate that Littlefinger - now Lord of Harrenhal in addition to being Lord Protector of the Vale and the richest thief man in Westeros - would marry and produce legitimate (male) heirs of his own; indeed, Myranda teases Sansa-as-Alayne on this point, remarking that Littlefinger “needs a pretty young wife to wash away his grief” and that he “could have his pick of half the noble maidens in the Vale” (including, as she later jokes to Sansa-as-Alayne in TWOW, Myranda herself). In turn, the idea that Littlefinger, having such standing, would choose to go through the significant effort of petitioning the king to elevate a bastard teenage girl as his heiress, when he himself could marry a suitably aristocratic bride and have a legitimate son of his body to succeed him, would so grossly contrast with the patriarchal and classist socio-political expectations of Westerosi aristocracy that I think the move would cause nothing but muttering and suspicion.

What Littlefinger wants to avoid most of all with Sansa-as-Alayne is undue attention being cast on her, at least until Littlefinger himself feels ready to reveal her as Sansa Stark. Indeed, this was the entire purpose of choosing a bastard disguise for Sansa in the first place: when Sansa suggests that she could portray herself as “the trueborn daughter of some knight in [his] service��, Littlefinger reminds her that “[s]uch a tale would draw unwanted questions”, while then noting that “[i]t is rude to pry into the origins of a man's natural children”. Therefore, Littlefinger’s treatment of Sansa has to fit within the socio-political expectations of Westerosi and specifically Vale aristocratic life - which is to say, not promoting bastards above their station (again, according to the rules imposed by the elites in this society). No one, I think, would expect, much less encourage, the rich and powerfully landed widower Littlefinger to hold out his bastardborn “daughter” as his heiress, still less to go through the process of legitimizing her; better, for Littlefinger’s scheme at least, to leave her as a recognized but still illegitimate child, and trust in polite society’s reluctance to pry further, rather than foster speculation by taking the unorthodox move of pressing for her legitimization.

[prettygirlformula]

things i do to distract myself.

i dont usually post textposts, but i decided to do something different because, its november!!! nd we all know this months is when things go wrong and i've been struggling to practice self-care so here are some of my favourite things i like to do to remind myself i am loved, and perhaps give you all some inspo if you're in a funk too!! <3

listen to music i tend to have different playlists as i believe that the music you listen to dictates your mood. as much as i enjoy my jazz and classical, when im in a funk i need to be hype 24/7!! my go to's are usually anything future, miss stallion, glorilla, king von, tate mcrae, charli or carti. i need to listen to music that'll manifest success and confidence.

read i'll read anything really, just to keep my mind off social media BECAUSE I DO NOT WANT TO ROT MY BRAIN WHEN IM FEELING SULKY. im currently reading letters from a stoic by seneca - im learning plenty and its keeping me stay calm

body movement i love a good run, or a pilates sesh so i'll put all my anger and sadness into pushing myself to run an extra k, or that extra set. sometimes its nice to just clear ur lungs and ur mind, and it'll build my strength physically and mentally!!! plus i'll look even better so he'll regret ever ending things with me

visit the beach im a beach girl forever, the ocean has always been my best friend. a quick swim will alwayssss level me out. there's cute boutiques and my favourite açai place along the esplanade and i love walking down there during the sunset or sunrise to keep me busy.

annoy my friends i love my friends so much they're my everything!!! they bring me peace even if we're loud. there's something about surrounding yourself with positive and loving energy that i'll never get tired of, if i could i would give all my love in my body to them.

write ive always been a writer i think. i have to get everything in my mind onto paper or a document or i lose it. its nice to write in my journal about things im grateful for, things im scared about and things i want to achieve. as well as just what went on in my day - i think that now im out of high school im living a much more dramatic and different life to what i used to, so i need to process these things. also i write w a muji pen so it makes the experience so fun.

cry no matter how nonchalant i try to be, im a crier - even at the clubs (it gets embarrassing) but i find it a great way to rid my anger, sadness or stress - better out than in.

meditate ive only just started practicing this, but its very peaceful!! well duh i like to do it during sunset in the park near one of the beaches i frequent (so i can swim too hehe) and the sound of the waves, the people and life can kind of block out anything in my head!!

clean/re-organise my room organised room = organised mind!! (my dad taught me that one) but during this process i always find something that i forgot about and i get distracted, so it takes longer but i get the job #done

call my mummy my mum and i are close, shes my best friend so i tell her everything (except my tattoos and my ehem..rendevouz..) her wisdom has helped me in a lot of situations...i tend to write down the advice she gives me so i dont forget and fuck up. again :p

retail therapy maybe not the most healthy way of self-care, but it gets the job done i cannot lie!! sometimes you need to spend a little bit of money to sustain some peace in your life. you do need that glossier lip liner babe, get it, you deserve it.

ofc some of these things may not work well for you, but self-care is what makes you feel good!!! im open to new ideas of self-care so lmk what you guys do :p + thank you so much for 3 blessed years on this account, eternally grateful for everyone <3

[froglover7789]

ok so the obv follow up to luke skywalker getting eloped at somepoint and not telling anyone is leia doing some serious meddling. like. shes bossy as fuck and at some point post rotj decides that shes sick of luke bothering her all the time (hes just annoying) and tries to set him up with someone.

imagine it please. please imagine with me. itd be so fucking funny. she'd keep trying to introduce him to people at galas or be like "ive got this friend i think youll like him" and luke has not a clue whats going on bc hes stupid and too busy thinking about the hottie hes banging. i love star wars. the sequels shouldve been leia getting increasingly frustrated that luke doesnt realize hes on a date/ being asked out until (insert your favorite luke ship here) tells him. and luke still doesnt believe it. and continues to go on the terrible dates leia sends him on. bc why would his sister send him on dates when she obv knows hes been married for forever? (she does not know this. no one knows this. luke is a fool)

it finally stops when luke tells her he cant visit with whatever mystery man of the week it is bc its his fifth wedding anniversary with (insert your favorite luke ship here) and theyre renewing their vows! isnt that so exciting leia! and he shows her their rings and starts yapping and leia promptly bangs her head on her desk bc how could she have missed that

[firesnap]

i have a genuine question. i promise i am not at all trying to defend him. ive dropped him entirely, literally deleted everything i had of him and unliked his songs.

ive just been wondering like considering that he has been in therapy, and also considering how if he does take a year off and then comes back, why cant it be redeemable? like cant people change? cant we give them second chances? he is 27. is he just doomed to be an abuser forever?

its just scary and im asking as like a younger person who is in my very early 20s. i know ive made mistakes. i know ive not been a good partner or friend sometimes. (and yes i was also abusive to a past partner...im not proud of it and ive learned from it. i have never ever touched anyone in that way after that. it took awhile but my current relationship isnt toxic and i would never hurt anyone or hit them again yknow?) and it scares me that people keep insinuating that he is irredeemable. like cant abusers change and become better? dont they get second chances? if shelby has grown and healed in 10 months wouldn't it be fair to say the same for wilbur?

im just genuinely asking because based on everything i believe you are older than me and im looking for guidance and just...idk im scared. growing up on the internet has made me so scared of making mistakes and doing anything wrong because when it happens to others i look up to, its always treated as something they'll never be able to change or improve. makes me feel like imma just be a horrible person forever because i made mistakes in the past.

This is a really complicated question that multiple answers can validly fit.

I don't think, personally, that anyone is irredeemable. I think everyone is on a journey of forgiveness and some of us may need more grace than others.

This is tw// abuse even more than the current topic, but my mom was incredibly abusive. We lived in a very rural area and she had a lot of undiagnosed problems and trauma of her own that created a pressure pot of issues. After I was born, she suffered through full on post-partum psychosis that nearly ended about as well as that sentence implies it could have. She was incredibly violent, controlling, and cruel for years. My sister went no-contact with her the second she turned 18. A significant event occurred that eventually spurned her into seeking real treatment that lasted for years. It's still ongoing.

My sister is also still no contact and I support her decision 100%. Those are her wounds and what she needed to do to get peace should be respected. I decided I wanted a relationship with the person who came out of all that work and, even then, it's been hard. I don't know if she's redeemed herself, and my god do we still have bumps in the road, but I support her for trying.

With Wilbur, how he responds to this is going to really impact a lot of things. I mean, I know no matter how he responds I won't be going on whatever journey of redemption and healing he has to go through. I'm tired and I feel hurt enough. I would think, if he wanted to show he was sincere, admitting what happened would be a great sense of closure for a lot of people who put time and energy and faith into this guy for years.

Not every person that causes harm is inherently evil, but there has to be some kind of knowledge that you're aware of the harm you've caused. No one is stuck as anything forever, life is constantly moving, and most people aren't saying his life is just over. You can work on yourself. You can change. And I'm saying that specifically to you, anonymous.

(Saying this, actually, there ARE people who would argue once you've done x you're beyond redemption based entirely on their life experiences as a victim, personal histories and many other factors. Kinda like my sister, that's their choice. And you have to accept that sometimes you fuck up so badly that you will permanently lose some people from your life. But your life isn't over.)

But I do think, regardless of what he says or does about this, his time of controlling a large platform is at an end. He can still do a lot of things in his life after he works on himself -- editing, song producing, directing, writing or whatever -- but being in charge of a large impressionable audience that could enable more destructive behaviors is just not it.

[shotmrmiller]

fwb! ghost brainrot ive officially decided its gotta turn into ghoap x reader or im gonna eat my flextape. hopefully i can connect this one to the first one. team fix your plotholes or else, perra.

Fwb! Simon who just turned exclusive doesn’t want anyone to know about the two of you. Can’t say it doesn’t sting but as he said, you asked for a fuck, not a boyfriend. You understand because you aren’t sure Johnny would take too kindly to his best friend being disrespected in bed by someone he knows is a bonafide manwhore. 

So when Johnny pulls a pretty woman at the bar y'all are in, he also brings her friend for Simon, and that makes you prickle with jealousy. With a huff, you turn to face the crowd— away from the bitch putting her manicured hands on Simon. You’d like to believe that he is reciprocating her attention because if he doesn’t, Johnny would find it suspicious. But the way he wraps his arm around her waist, flirting back so effortlessly, reminds you of his ways. Of how he is.

Simon isn’t stupid. He wasn’t a part of the elite force Johnny’s in only because of his brawn. He was also brain. And that infuriates you. Talking to Simon is like dealing with a fucking genie.  Better be specific to the minute detail or anything that’s left to assumption is free game. 

Grabbing Johnny’s forearm to get his attention, he doesn’t look at you— too busy sweet-talking his next conquest, so you dig your nails into his skin. You see him wince and pull away roughly to sneer at the offender, but then his features smooth out instantly, once he realizes it’s you. Ice-blue eyes slightly unfocused from the alcohol in his system, yet it feels like all he can see is you. His reaction makes your heart skip a beat, how quickly he ignores everything around him— puts everything on the backburner if you need something from him. You can't help the pleased smile that curls your lips at the realization.

“Hey, Johnny boy. I’ma go pay the tab,” and then you flick your eyes to the woman, “ do not leave without me.” 

“Dinnae worry, hen, as if I’d ever leave ye anywhere.” Your smile turns gloriously smug when you see the woman look at you in undisguised contempt. Blessed be Johnny, always in your corner. With another squeeze to his forearm, you chuckle when you hear a “Claws in, kitten!” and move to get up when you notice Simon no longer flirting with miss thing, but intently looking at Johnny’s forearm, which still has the half-moon marks of your nails on it. His gaze then snaps to yours, with an almost knowing glint behind them.

You roll your eyes and briskly walk to the bartender, flagging him down. When the bartender gives you the receipt to sign, a voice asks if he can buy you a drink. Sighing, you turn around to tell whoever that you aren’t interested.

“Incredibly generous, but—” and freeze. “Long time no see, eh?” 

It’s your ex. You ended things amicably enough— surprising, for him having been your first boyfriend, first everything, really.  Y’all just outgrew each other emotionally. Hugging him, you exclaim, “Jesus Christ, how’ve you been! It’s been far too long. What’re you doin’ here?” 

He responds, “I was just in town and figured I could get a drink, maybe some company,” you don’t miss the implication of that, but choose to ignore it. 

“How’s that goin’ for ya?”, and then he reaches out to grab your wrist and runs his thumb over your knuckles. “I’ve got you now, don’t I? You look fantastic.” You’re about to let him down lightly when your hand is snatched out of his, and you’re forcibly pulled against someone, strong arm over your shoulders. 

“Whatever ye wan’ with her, the answer is naw. ” Johnny. You smother the slight pang of disappointment in your chest, how silly of you to think it could’ve been Simon. 

“Forever the guard dog, eh, John?” and Johnny’s arm tightens almost painfully and snarls.

“Still around, are ye? Just like a roach, boy.” Johnny and your ex never got along— always a pissing contest.  You have an inkling that it’s because of how close you two were and still are.

Your ex scoffs loudly at him, then looks at you. “It’s your choice, unless you’ve got a boyfriend?” and you shake your head. Johnny pulls you to stand in front of him, both arms holding you close.

“She doesnae. No one’s good enough fer her. Including ye.” 

Sucking your teeth, you sink your nails into Johnny’s forearm, again. “I think that’s for me to decide, no?” and pull at his arms to release you. “You’ve got some nerve, Johnny, bringing me here just to watch you and Ghost—” when you’re roughly pulled to the side,  held down by a much larger body. Simon. Your heart hammers in your chest. How long has he been standing here?

He lowers his mouth to your ear and sternly says, “Behave, pet. The sergeant said no. End of story.” 

When he uses that voice, all you can do is obey. 

“And who’re you?” You can feel Simon stand to his full height, broad shoulders straightening, posturing. Even slouched, he towered over your ex but standing like this, exuding strength and authority, it’s almost comical how large of a difference there is between them two— especially with you in his arms.

“I’m guard dog number two,” and your ex pales slightly. “I’d fuck off,” and Simon points towards the exit with his head, “Now.” He stiffens for a second, eyes bouncing between Johnny and Simon, and bolted—like prey after detecting predators. Not even a goodbye. You don't know if to applaud his sense of self-preservation or curse his cowardice. 

Johnny grabs your hand and leads you out the door, slinging his arm over you as y’all walk towards his home.

“Yer not mad, are ye?” and you keep quiet, he has always hated the silent treatment. “Bonnie—” and Simon cuts him off. 

“Who was that?” and Johnny looks back to answer. “Her ex-boyfriend. Very first one, wasn’t he, hen?” You dig your elbow into his ribcage and hiss out, “Johnny, you dolt! There is no need for you to be sharing that!” 

He laughs and brings your head in to kiss your temple. “I’m jus’ sayin’! Hen, no one out here is worth yer time. Ye cannae be mad at me for speakin’ the truth.” Exhaling, you curl your arm around his waist, going under his shirt to squeeze his waist. 

“Yeah, yeah. Guess I’ll just have to fill the void with you,” and Johnny swiftly continues your sentence. “And Ghost.” 

Absentmindedly, you nod. “And Ghost.” 

-

Had you been paying attention, you would’ve seen the way he and Ghost shared a calculated look before Johnny pressed another kiss a little closer to your mouth.

[destitutielittleghoulie]

DH is a beautiful woman that did her damn thing when it comes to playing claudia, but the hairstyle in this pic (and couple others in the show) has kinda rubbed me the wrong way ://. obviously no disrespect to DH since all my negative comments are directed at the people behind the scenes. bc this didn’t happen in s1 when BB and her looser curl pattern played claudia and that fact alone makes me feel justified in my anger.

bc why does one of the main characters of this show have a hairpiece that barely even blends into her natural hair?? the production team prides themselves on how much time and effort goes into the set designs, costume designs, prop designs, etc. (rightfully so, amazing work) but can’t even provide one of the main characters with a decent fucking hairpiece????

like it must’ve been awkward enough rushing through the recast and filming process but the fact that they couldn’t even get her a hairstylist skilled enough in textured hair to style hers to fit the claudia look they were going for is fucking ridiculous. and i get that they had BBs claudia in mind for s2 at first but when she left they should have made changes that better fit DH. and the fact that BB made comments about hair being important for claudia in s1, only for them to not give DH the same care and attention just feels antiblack to me.

this show is truly so lovely and it really sucks that big details about these black characters are being decided by a room filled with mostly white people. then rewatching the after episode thingies with everyone talking about how much detail they put into this and how much research went into that, only for claudias hair to be a detail they couldn’t concern themselves with now that she’s not played by a biracial woman with loose curls is :/ ughh.

i don’t think I’ll ever get over it and i will forever mourn the various hairstyles we could’ve seen paris claudia in had they cared enough to hire a black hairstylist. bc ive seen DHs insta and that woman stays looking gorgeous with her hair styled to perfection so im positive the styling crew of this show could’ve done so much more with claudias hair. and if they couldn’t then they should’ve hired somebody who could.

sighhhhhhhhh ok im done now. but if the same problem persists in s3, I’ll fucking scream

[reshinless]

──── who's a good kitty? c'mon!

𝜗𝜚 synopsis. good boys get their rewards faster than naughty ones, but they just can't get enough of seeing how hot you were when you wanted them to behave

𝜗𝜚 pairings. !!NSFW!! scaramouche, kazuha x gn!dom!reader

𝜗𝜚 director's notice. repost of one of my best (but the work ive made that i hate the most) works, i do like dom!reader works though. definitely gonna write more of this in the future :3!!

kitty!scara is always hissing, scratching, and practically barking at everyone and anyone. except maybe you? he hates seeing anyone near you, he hates that they even breathe near you! you've been forever trying to stop him from doing so.

not just that.. kitty!scara does have a mood where he just wants to tease the living fuck out of you. rubbing his tiny cock against you when passing by. climbing onto your lap and moaning like a bitch in heat.

once you both are in private, you pin kitty!scara to the nearest wall, harshly biting on his neck. he moaned loudly, and whimpered small 'stop's into your ear. "isn't this what you wanted, nasty slut?" continuing to face him against the wall, alligning your strap/cock to his entrance, now being revealed to be red and wet.

you slap his ass hardly. and again, and again and— yeah you get my point. kitty!scara is enjoying all of it, his blushing ass being pounded harshly. "ah- mmph- p-please s' close master, harder please- i-i'll behave and be a good boy like you want!" he screamed, with harsher thrust each time, "close close close close!" he whined as he felt you pulling out

slapping his ass harshly, "you think you deserve a release when you've been moaning at me all day like you're in heat?" kitty!scara was now upset about not getting to release again. "i.. i'll be a better boy, please..?" he begged getting on your lap while you tried to lay down on the couch.

you hummed trying to now watch tv (me too frfr), "fine." you carried your precious boy to your shared room. laying him down, he stared at you like he's already been fucked for hours.

"be a good kitty, even if it's just for tonight."

kitty!kazuha is never a bad boy, unless he doesn't mean to be a bad boy on purpose. he just felt a little more intimate today. he needs you a little more than usual. hazy eyesight, constantly sweating, and feeling like on fire.

kitty!kazuha is so desperate. so desperate for your presence. your scent. everything. this particular day, sadly for you, it was one of the busiest days of the week for your job. he can't help but imagine you stroking him instead

kitty!kazuha misses you so much. you and your touch. he needs it badly. he doubts his choice of maybe deciding to stroke himself while waiting. he knew he wasn't allowed to touch himself while you were away, but he needs it so badly, you'll let it slide this once right?

you come home late at night, near dawn. "kazuha, i'm homee!" you open the door to the living room for just darkness. you wondered where you kitty!kazuha is, walking up to the bedroom quietly, you hear a slight vibration and kazuha moaning your name.

you peek through the small crack, your baby is enjoying a vibrator up his ass and fingers himself, imagining it's you. you open the door in kazuha's shock. "you- you're ho- haah!" kazuha gasped as you started placing small kisses ln his neck. you know that his neck was sensitive, might as well kiss his pleasure a little better.

"now baby, do you know what you did wrong?" you looked at his doe eyes, and drooling mouth, he nods no. turning up the sensitivity to the highest setting, he moans loudly "t' much pleasf.." he grips onto your chest trying to muffle his moans. kitty!kazuha looks at you with pleading eyes, telling you to fuck him senseless already.

"just take your punishment like a good boy, and i'll treat you real nice tomorrow."

i get the bad shivers when i read this

[midwestemoismid]

I'M TWEAKING RN THE OBESSESSION IS BAD. I CANT FOCUS IN SCHOOL ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS THE FRONT BOTTOMS

Me when i sleep on a twin sized mattress in somebody's attic or basement THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when theres a map on my wall on the wall in my room and ive got big big plans THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?

Me when i dont know where i am but ive been here before THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?!?

me when youre okay as a girlfriend but i was more like his wife THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?

Me when i meet someone named brian BRIAN SELLA!? THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i meet someone named matt MATT UYCHICH!? THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?

Me when i walk around like a skeleton last night tryna find my way home THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when its summer and youre laying on your lawn THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i get so stoned i fall asleep in the front seat (i never fall asleep in the front seat, im too tall but i got so stoned) THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?!?

Me when im washing myself with handsoap in a public bathroom THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i find comfort in the bottom of a swimming pool THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i feel fucked but in a good way THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i want to contribute to the chaos THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?

Me when you spend two whole semesters drinking wine THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i can tell that hes asking yes or no questions by the way shes shaking her head from left to right and up and down and left and right THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i leave a tiny cut and theres a lot of blood THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when were so drunk and so cool and so punk THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i get left out of every plan they make THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when your so confident but i hear you crying in your sleeping bag THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when the light seeps in from under the door THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?

Me when i thought that i'd be late, where the fuck have you've been THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me because i can see myself never fully recovering. THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?

Me when the love of my life gone forever THE FRONT BOTTOMS??!

Me when i ask is it raining where you are THE FRONT BOTTOMS!!?

Me when i was young i thought i didnt have to care about everyone but im older now and know that i should THE FRONT BOTTOMS!!??!!!!!???

Me when its funny you should ask THE FRONT BOTTOMS!??

Me when the flood water comes and its not clear THE FRONT BOTTOMS!!??!?!?!?

Me when you are the reason im smiling when there is nothing to smile about THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?

Me when i tell my friend "i will help you swim" THE FRONT BOTTOMS

Me when you say i'm changing THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i get bit by a snake THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when you say i hate you you mean it and i love you sounds fake THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?

Me when the sleepless nights THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i swear to god the devil made me do it THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me because its not big suprise ive turned out this way THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when a couple of times wished we both were dead THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when you shake a tambourine or when i sing you sing harmonies THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?

Me when the past few months were pretty rough THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when I never cried like that before i thought my eyes would pop out of my head THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i can hear the jaws theme song on repeat in the back of my mind THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?

Me when i throw all my clothes inside a suitcase without bothering to fold them THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?

Me when my mind is uncertain my body decides THE FRONT BOTTOMS

Me when you kiss your knuckles before you punch me in the face THE FRONT BOTTOMS!?!?

Me when you fuck the fire and all thats left to do is burn THE FRONT BOTTOMS

i can't take it anymore.