#like 'pay attention to the details motherfucker'

[chirpsythismorning]

Mike opening every season with a fruit reference can be something so personal

Notable mentions

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Details.

For @the-californicationist's “Cali’s Nameless Challenge” writing challenge!

(Remember to leave your guess of who this is about in the comments!)

[ Challenge Masterlist ]

words: 560 (pushed it a little SORRY). cw: MDNI!, smut(tish), piv, terms of endearment (including daddy), you/your pronouns, afab!reader

You've heard the recruits talking. They always do when they don't think anyone's listening. They're very judgmental, these kids. Makes you wanna go particularly hard on them during training when you remember the way they gossip.

They're always always talking about others, like school children, disrespecting their commanding officers, talking about their hair (head, facial and otherwise), their habits (smoking, drinking), their personal lives (or what they expect them to be), and, of course, their body types.

Their most recent victim, or, at least, the one you've heard referred to most often, is one you didn't expect. They know better than to mention someone like that, or, at least, you hoped they did.

Sure, he's not very intimidating looking, average height, average weight. His voice doesn't ring out through the halls whenever he's pissed and reaming out some recruit or soldier that serves beneath him.

But that should be more of a reason for them to fear him, not a reason for them to speak about him.

They lack the life/career experience to realize that bigger/louder doesn't always equal scarier.

Soldiers like you, like him, don't get where you are, at your age, without being a scary motherfucker, ready to shoot someone right between their eyes, only to then turn around and go have lunch as if nothing's happened. Especially not here.

But maybe you're biased.

After all, you notice the details about him.

The way his voice coos gently, softly, politely, full of understanding and care whenever he speaks to the soldiers around him.

The way his hands are calloused and rough, long fingers with cracked skin around the fingertips and knuckles.

The way his arms, ever hairy, despite rarely on display, cross over his chest when he's paying his full attention to people speaking to or around him.

The way his thick brows scrunch judgmentally when he hears someone say something stupid.

The way he leans back on window sills and balcony railings to light his cigarettes.

The way he looks at you, those big brown eyes all soft and fond, too gentle for a man that regularly trades shots with criminals.

The way he smiles and half-smirks, especially when you press your nose to his cheek, and pepper his moles with kisses.

The way his eyes, weighed down by deep eye bags, flutter over you whenever you lower yourself onto his leaky cock, your ass bouncing off his thighs with fervor.

The way he purrs words of praise in your ear while he fucks you from behind, his hands pushing down on your lower back, his body curled over yours to whisper in your ear.

The way he calls your name, first, middle, last, your rank too.

The way he uses terms of endearment.

"That's it, princess."

"Doing so well for me, baby girl."

"That feels good, doesn't it, pretty girl."

"Don't be too loud, can't let people hear how good I'm making you feel, heart."

"Just like that, moan for daddy, cutie."

What do those stupid fucking kids know? Nothing.

If only they could see him the way you do. But they can't. He doesn't want anyone to know the way he looks under his uniform.

All the better too... Easier to surprise people by how much of a punch he packs with a single haymaker.

Not to mention, you're not keen on sharing.

[hopekreymin]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 Postal Dude headcanons (from Ao3)

RELATIONSHIP: Postal Dude x Female Reader.

WARNING: Smut, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Body Part Kinks, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Switching, Crossdressing, Name-Calling, Dirty Talk, Light BDSM, Masochism, Orgasm Edging, Choking, Breeding, Loud Sex, Age Difference, Pegging, Biting, Marks, Bondage, Rough Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Premature Ejaculation, Public Sex, Mommy Kink.

• The Dude is one of those people who can get turned on by the most ordinary, simple things. He may not show it, but he actually pays attention to all the details and notices the slightest changes in you. He can spend hours watching you and how you do everyday things, how you clean, cook, wash dishes, comb your hair, paint your nails, read, do your hobbies or just lie lazily on the couch. In the eyes of the Dude, everything you do is beautiful and graceful. He melts when he sees you in his clothes, be it his shirt, robe or trench coat. You just look so cute to him in his clothes. When you write something, he looks at you, enchanted, with that goofy smile, like you just walked out of his dreams. But what turns him on the most is when you straighten your hair and pull it into a ponytail. Then he will certainly have a desire to kiss your entire exposed neck and collarbones.

• The Dude also, despite his outward aloofness and coldness, is actually a very tactile person around you. He almost constantly needs your touch or the opportunity to touch you as if it fuels his life. He often hugs you and just puts his hands on you, enjoying your skin and the way his big, rough palms and fingers feel against you. His touch is always warm, sometimes even hot, and filled with love and passion. He can touch you anywhere and soon you'll be a hot mess. He loves it when you lay your head on his chest, or when he does the same. When you kiss his collarbone or chin, while playing with his goatee, it gives him goosebumps and a pleasant tingling in his spine. He even admitted that he loves to squeeze you as a stress reliever, especially your breasts, thighs and butt. If you want to calm him down, just lie down with your ass up and let his hands do the work.

• Keep in mind that the Dude is a very nasty motherfucker and use it. He will not refuse a single thing that you offer him in bed. Lick your pussy after he cums inside? No problem, just make sure he doesn't gag. A threesome, even with another man? Damn, this will be a fun shake for his bones. He's willing to have sex with you even in public places, and if someone catches you red-handed, he won't be too upset because he enjoys the adrenaline and the potential of being caught. He would even fuck you in a public toilet if he was too horny and there were no better options. He is open to all your secret shameful fantasies, because this way he can satisfy you even more.

• Oddly enough, the Dude is pretty good at eating you out. This means that he can skillfully use his tongue not only to throw insults and witticisms, but also to make you squirm and moan with pleasure. He also loves teasing, so sometimes he uses his teeth on you, although he's careful enough not to hurt you. He will devour your pussy with such appetite as if it was the most delicious dessert of his life. He's really addicted to your taste and texture, so he's often more enthusiastic about eating you out than even you. He drinks in your juices, making loud slurping sounds that make you blush wildly from embarrassment. He will even lick his fingers clean of the residue after your orgasm, looking as if he is a gourmet trying a delicacy and just can’t get enough of it.

• The Dude loves it when he can see the results of your vibrant sex life on your or even his body. The hickeys, scratches, bites and bruises on both of you make him feel like you were truly meant for each other. It’s like a special print, meaning that you are his, and he is yours, and everyone should know about it if they don’t want any trouble. But he is also not against more painful actions. The Dude has had a lot of injuries in his life, after all, this is the same guy who shot himself in the head because of his ex-wife's nagging, so he learned to perceive pain not so sharply, but enjoy it. He is seriously turned on by slaps, even when there is no sexual hint in it. He often either chokes himself or asks you to choke him while jerking off. He enjoys the drive of it, wondering if he can cum before he needs air. The Dude also uses a tight cock ring or clamps on his poor little guy, and also inserts various objects into his urethra. He even asks you to step on his dick.

• The Dude can not only be dominant in bed, but he also likes to submit to you and act more passive, desperate and needy so that you can do whatever you want with him. In fact, he is excited by the idea of his own degradation and humiliation. At such moments, he can finally feel defenseless and weak-willed. He may even wear women's clothing, be it lingerie, short skirts, stockings and garters, or a maid outfit. As soon as he puts one of these on, he turns into a slutty little bitch. In this state of his, you usually switch roles, and you become the one who makes him squirm on the bed and scream your name. You can take the strap-on and do him exactly where you have him.

• He loves dirty talk. He swears a lot and calls everyone names in everyday life, but in bed with you, it’s special. He often calls you a whore, a slut, a bitch, a cocksucker, a cunt, a sissy, a tramp, a cock sleeve, a dirty pig and much more. But after you finish your hot and passionate fucking marathon, he again shows you his kind and caring side. When you are lying on the bed tired and sweaty, he will definitely hug you and call you his sweet, dear kitten, his princess, his sunshine, his sugar bun. After which he will almost carry you in his arms to the shower, and then put you to bed. Or he will fall asleep next to you, without showering, but in your arms.

• Don't forget that even when he fucks you hard, he's still a silly goofball. During his thrusts or blowjob, he can suddenly remember about any random unimportant bullshit, and then just laugh at it. In general, he has a habit of talking during sex. He often jokes and makes sarcastic remarks. Or he can discuss daily tasks and plans with you, like “Who will wash the dishes today, you or me?” or “I think you say it’s your mom’s birthday soon, should I give her some kind of gift?” аnd so on. It irritates you a little, but he can't help it. But you know a great way to shut him up, right? Sit on his face.

• The Dude has one strange entertainment that annoys and bothers you. He has some kind of obsession with your underwear or something like that. You’ve caught him groping your bras, silk nightrobes and panties a couple of dozen times already. Probably one could see the point in this, like, underwear comes into contact with the skin much more and perhaps this reminds him of you when you are not at home. But you didn’t ask him to jerk off and cum on your underwear! You came home one day and walked into your bedroom only to see a Dude literally fucking your bra on the bed with his dick between the pillows and your bra. You have already said that you are tired of washing your clothes several times from his cum, but he still continues to do it, but now your socks and stockings have also been added to his collection.

• At the beginning of your relationship, you agreed with each other that you did not want to get married and have children for the next few years. The Dude supported this idea because he doesn’t see himself as a father, much less a good and responsible father. But maybe he’s not telling you something to the end... He keeps these thoughts secret from you, unlike everything else, because he’s really worried that you’ll think he’s too strange and kinky. He still thought a couple of times about what would happen if you were pregnant. And he definitely wasn't thinking about how hard he would work to support his family, no, his thoughts were more perverted. For some reason, the thought of him getting you accidentally pregnant made him feel hot and heavy. He doesn’t know why and what he even found exciting about pregnancy and whether he needs to visit a psychologist. Although it seems to him that this is all somehow connected with the topic of human breeding, which he accidentally read about in some cheap porn book.

• The Dude is against you calling him Daddy and in general he doesn’t like or relate to this whole theme and aesthetics. He clearly has psychological trauma from his father, so this is a bit of a sore subject for him. In addition, this game of Daddy and Baby girl creates unhealthy and disgusting associations in his damaged brain that he would not want to think about in a relationship with you. But if you want him to call you Mommy, then he will agree to this a little more willingly. Perhaps this is due to the fact that you take care of him, while being the dominant one in the relationship, or the fact that he had almost no mother in his life, so he does not know what it is like.

• If you are wondering about the exact measurements of his cock, it is 4'7 inches (12 cm). Perhaps not as big as many men of his size would like, but he's not complaining. And you too. He knows how to compensate for his size with skills. The skin on his dick is quite thin, which gives you the opportunity to admire the bluish veins on it. When the Dude is very aroused, his cock becomes very sensitive and hot. So he starts moaning at the slightest touch or cool breath of wind on his boner. He could probably cum just from you breathing on it. It's the same with his balls. If you really want to make him cum as quickly as possible, just squeeze or play with his nuts, he will just go crazy with it and go into complete euphoria, after which he will need a few minutes of respite.

[lovebillyhargrove]

Why does Steve Harrington sometimes hate the new guy? Billy Hargrove or whatever his name is?

Sometimes, mind it. Not always. Usually he doesn't give a flying fuck about the dude.

Well .. because. Have you, by any chance, noticed how the guy sits? Yeah, how he fucking sits.

The bitch manspreads.

Wherever Steve comes across him - in a class, in the lunch hall, in the gym and the locker room .. oh, at parties .. ?? On Tommy's couch once when he invited some guys over to watch a basketball game, drink beer and smoke pot?

Hargrove's sitting with his legs splayed apart. Widely. Like he fucking owns the place, owns the stupid couch, the motherfucking gym bench. And it doesn't look ridiculous, oh no, he does it with style. Self-assured. Cocky.

Steve has never been made so uncomfortable in his whole life. He wants to look away. He .. he's only human.

And okay, class or lunch - that's not a big deal, really, it's not like Harrington's gonna be peeking under the desk or table - he's not a perv, alright? - to .. uhm ..

But in the gym ?? .. When the asshole's wearing those tiny shorts? In the locker room after shower casually shooting the shit with the guys, wrapped in a goddamn towel? Your dujeels are about to fall out, dumbass, for the whole wide world to see

For Steve Harrington, to see.

Huh, if only.

Or, one time the towel was almost falling off his half naked butt - Steve's hands were itching to pull it down and slap it, but the hunch has always told him - messing with Hargrove isn't worth it, it'll cost ya, it'll bring trouble upon your own ass.

There's just this bulge .. that doesn't let Steve live and breathe freely. The bulge .. And Harrington is not stupid, he's an adult for fuck's sake, - he's got a bulge of his own alright and it might actually be bigger than Hargrove's, Steve has an idea of what's under that towel, and under those shorts, and under those jeans.

He might've snuck a peek in the showers at the real thing. Didn't look, god forbid, stare, no just grazed the whole landscape with the corner of his eye. No time and opportunity to pay attention to all the savoury details.

Might've peeked at the tight firm naked ass the same way a couple of times too.

Dammit.

The problem .. it goes deeper. Steve has started wondering how it would feel like to see Hargrove splayed like this on his couch. Or .. in his bed. Like that, wearing undies only, after a super private party Harrington would invite him to. Getting out of the pool at Steve's house - just the two of them to swim there ..

What was the question again? Why does Steve hate Hargrove? You get it now, right?

Harringrove manspreading? 🤔

[shroomyifiy]

Hello DRDT fandom! Here’s yet another person throwing their hat into the ring about the Chapter 2 culprit.

Spoilers for Episode 14 below.

Yeah no Ace is probably the killer.

Now before anyone comes for me, hear me out!

We know that, currently, the culprit is between Ace and Eden. One of them definitely took the tape, no doubt about that, and is most likely the killer. You could argue the existence of a third party culprit, but currently, it has to be one of them. So we are going to ignore that for now. I will now break down why I believe Ace is the killer.

Step 1: Tape

Okay, first off, the tape. That motherfucking tape.

The tape is located directly in front of Ace’s feet, and disappears the moment he gets up and exclaims he’s alive. At this moment, he also knocks Eden to the ground, making it just a small amount of time for either of them to grab the tape.

Now, we don’t know where anyone directly is besides Ace, due to the way the series is presented. Meaning, we have no idea where either Teruko or Eden were standing relative to Ace revealing he was alive.

A big point for the Eden truthers is that when she was knocked over, she picked it up. Now, it’s possible that she could do so without either of them seeing her do this (Ace was currently bleeding and Teruko wasn’t paying attention to the tape). But, I feel like we need to look at the crime scene.

Teruko specifically tells Eden to “Not touch anything”, so we can assume that Teruko wouldn’t have moved anything around too much during her original investigation. So then that leaves us with an interesting thing.

Teruko and Eden both have to be standing by Ace’s body when he gets up (Eden because he pushes her and Teruko because she is mentioned to have touched his neck, and realized he was still alive). But one thing to note is that the area around Ace is rather messy and cluttered. Meaning, there are likely two spots that Eden could be standing at (3 for Teruko, but we will ignore that one for now).

Visually speaking, Eden needs to be standing in spots 1 or 2 to fit the criteria. If she’s in spot three, she’d have been pushed over the bench, and most certainly couldn’t have gotten the tape, and also would have made more noise. (side note: Teruko is either in spots 1 or 3, but currently, her position isn’t as important. For Culprit!Eden to work though, she cannot be in spot 2, which is the most unlikely spot anyways)

If Eden was standing in spot 2, she would have been more likely to be able to grab the tape without issue (as it would be right in front of her feet). While spot 1 could also work, Eden would have had to reach a much farther distance to grab it, and given she’s not knocked down long, I feel like Teruko would have noticed Eden crawling to grab it more than spot 2.

For Ace to grab the tape, we already know where he is relative to the tape, so we don’t need to explain that.

Now, when either of them got up, it’s likely they would have used their hands to push off from the ground near their feet, which is what they would have to do to grab the tape without being noticed. Otherwise, it would be impossible to grab it without being noticed.

You might be asking yourself, “Shroomy, why the fuck does it matter where Eden (and by extention, Teruko) were standing? That’s such a weird and minor detail!”

THE FUCKING TAPE DISSAPEARING WHEN ACE GETS UP/KNOCKS EDEN OVER IS SUCH A MINOR DETAIL TO START WITH!!!!

Ahem… I mean, clearly, the crime scene of Ace plays a part in Arei’s death. And since such a major piece of evidence comes from such a scene, doesn’t it make sense that eventually, body positions would come up? Especially considering just how cluttered the area was. It’s so minor, but it might be the smoking gun to solve the case.

Now, why would either of them pick it up in the first place?

With Eden, she has to be actively making a decision to grab it for whatever reason. Same with Ace, although you could make more of an argument that he grabbed it either a: help his wound or b: by accident, grabbed it and didn’t realize due to the whole murder thing. Also option c: to murder Nico with it, but that’s less likely.

Honestly, despite being what ties them both to the crime, I really don’t see why either of them would grab the tape, especially since, given how fast everything went, I doubt it was either of their first thoughts to recreate Nico’s murder attempt for their own murder, at least in the moment.

Moving on!

Step 2: The murder method

One of the big pieces of evidence against Ace right now is that, “Oh, he was just attacked. There’s no way he would have realized how he was attacked and would know how to replicate it, he’s not that smart!”

First off, let’s address Ace and his stupidity. Okay, yeah, he’s not the brightest person, but saying he’s not smart isn’t accurate. There are no truly “dumb” characters in drdt, at least in my opinion. And Ace has been shown before to have some intelligence.

For one thing, he is on Teruko’s side during the scrum debate in episode 8 of Chapter 1. Which might be weird to call out, but seeing as a lot of the “smarter” characters were on the other side (namely David [being a xander simp as per usual] and Veronika), Now while this isn’t enough to prove it and he did argue with her before in this same trial, it’s definitely noteworthy to mention.

And also, the carousel thing. The fact that it keeps being Ace that corrects Teruko on what it’s called is funny, but it’s also heavily linked to the murder.

Also also, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for yet another person in this cast to have been keeping a mask up. Someone is making a heel turn between these two, so realistically, this could be Ace’s. And also, despite being shown as “dumb”, Ace at least has some understanding of shit, considering his whole monologue about Levi. I’d have to rewatch a lot of episodes to further confirm this, but I doubt Ace is as stupid as some people think.

Now, the second problem. Ace being almost murdered and then using that same method to murder Arei seems like a bit much, doesn’t it? How could he have figured it out the second he woke up?

He didn’t. He would have fully figured it out AFTER he went back to his room and stopped trying to murder Nico, when he calmed down. (Which is what I think happened with Eden if she is the culprit, mind you)

Because, logically looking at the crime scene, ain’t no way either of them figured it out just by looking at it for like what? A few minutes? No way, I don’t buy it.

But here’s the thing. Ace does have an advantage over Eden here. That being, he woke up during the murder attempt, as confirmed by Nico in the latest episode. Huh. After Ace had claimed to not remember the method because he was unconscious the whole time? Hmmmmm?

No way that little piece of info isn’t going to be important. Especially considering this is the first time we’re hearing about it.

“Shroomy, that’s still not enough to prove Ace over Eden!” I hear you cry out.

Time for the smoking gun.

You know why Nico’s drop hanging attempt failed? It’s not because Ace was too heavy for the fan? No.

It’s because Ace was able to fight back when he woke up.

And what is one of the big differences that hasn’t been brought up yet in this case?

The fact that Arei’s wrists were bound at some point, to keep her from fighting back.

Nico and Ace are the only people who would know about this. Because, again, no one knew Ace woke up during the attempt. So, if Ace were to recreate the murder for Arei, he would know to bind her wrists so she doesn’t fight back. Because it’s why he survived in the first place.

Moving on, using this method would work for Ace, because 1: frames Nico who he hates, 2: Ace is probably a little weakened from almost dying, using a pulley method would be easier than risking Arei escaping.

Now rapid fire mode!

Why use fish from the relaxation room? Frame both Nico (primary) and David (secondary).

The killer probably used the ball of clothes to get the rope up and broke the lights doing so. Eden is the weakest one there, and Ace could have the strength to do so.

Why target Arei? Ace probably didn’t care who he killed, he doesn't care about anyone there.

How would he know about the conversation in the infirmary? We cannot deny that someone could have overheard it. Also, Ace has already been established as eavesdropping earlier in the trial. (this happens the same day as his murder attempt, btw)

Ace has spent most of the trial pointing fingers at others (even in the investigation, he’s the first to draw attention to Nico trying to kill him and Arei dying; knowing the cases are connected, this is interesting).

Wow, that's crazy. Loose connection but still.

He’s also the whole reason David had his magical girl transformation, giving the smoking gun evidence that he and Arei met up.

Which, you know, derailed the trial a lot. Like, 2 or 3 episodes worth of time that could have been used to solve the trial faster?

Huh. Now it's that something.

But, what does this mean for the story?

Step 3: Arei and Ace; Teruko, Eden, and thematics

Both start off as unlikable assholes. But Arei wanted to change, and both Eden and David gave her a hand to begin that change. But she’s murdered before that could happen. Ace rejects anyone’s hand, not trusting anyone and causing more issues. One who tried to be better, and one who got much worse. In a way, they’re parallels in this instance. Two parallels getting killed in the same chapter? Where have I seen this before?

Yeah Min and Xander (i miss you both ;-;)

This is the part where I talk about Min and Eden parallels.

Ain’t no way drdtdev is going to make the same repeat of the last trial’s conclusion. The hugs!!!! The crying!!! Teruko, who points out when Eden tries to investigate with her in this chapter that Min did the same thing to deceive her. Eden, who was crying for someone to believe she didn’t kill Arei. Teruko, who decides to trust Eden, the same way that Eden was the only one to believe in Teruko in the last trial.

Eden, who would be able to prove David and Teruko’s points wrong. Who believed in Arei, that she could be her friend! Eden, who if was revealed to be the killer, would likely send Teruko down a worse path, being betrayed for the third time now.

Ace, who shares Teruko’s views that no one can be trusted, and who isolated himself from everyone. Ace who, despite how much I love him, would show Teruko how isolating herself from everyone else would lead to her death. Ace, who would be a dark reflection on what Teruko could have been, had she continued down that path. Both were almost killed, but one who tried to murder everyone to get out and the other who saved everyone from getting killed.

The narrative themes of trust and distrust.

Teruko’s secret quote for god's sake!!!!!

It’s too much to not go anywhere guys!!!

Okay, I think that’s it for now. Sorry if this sounds like I’m rambling too much, or if it doesn’t make much sense. First time posting something here lol. But this series makes me sick!!!!!/pos

I like both Eden and Ace, and don’t want it to be either of them, but I doubt it’s a third party at this point. And between the two, I think narratively, it makes more sense for it to be Ace.

And also, guys, we NEED more positive characters going into chapter 3, after how many mentally ill people are around rn. We have enough asshole men now (cough looking at you, Mr. David Chiem cough). Whit is too sus and is either dying or about to get hit with a truckload of emotions to stay stable long enough.

Also, Teruko learning to trust while Eden learns to distrust!! Teruden!!!! YURI NATION SWEEP GUYS!!!!!

If I’m wrong, I might die on the spot (please Eden I need you to stay alive!!!!)

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 70 - Bad Blood

You and Astarion have nothing else to do but talk.

On AO3.

You lie on your side. Your sinuses burn and your mouth tastes of puke and blood. You try to spit as another gag hits you. You bring up less, this time, though you still can’t rise or reliably lift your head. Your chin feels itchy; it’s caked down the side of your mouth.

Limbs barely work as you inchworm and flop further away from this newer spill.

You are real careful not to look up beyond that, at the body lying nearby.

Your own body gives out before too long. Too shaky. Too weak. You’re probably in shock.

The clearing is still lit in dim, flickering torchlight, though the horse bolted a bit ago. Knocked the torch right off the saddle. Must’a been the screaming. It’s a small miracle the forest floor hasn’t caught fire.

Your face is wet. It ain’t just your earlier lunch and, and that red. You ain’t sure when the tears started but they sure haven’t stopped and there ain’t shit you can do about it.

A soft noise. A kinda guttural clicking.

Astarion lays where he got dropped, the big stake still sticking outta him. That ain’t the sort of thing nobody should ever see in a person; that one’s gonna come back in your dreams. But you don’t got any real control, much less the detailed hand movements you’re gonna need to free him of it.

But maybe it don’t have to be all the way out?

You wiggle over. It takes a fucking decade. You gotta flop yourself this way and that. Stop to huff and pant and gag—though your stomach is empty by now. Then you do reach him, and it’s a stupid display of rolling around to get your arms up, over him. Which is a nice distraction from thinking about how draped over somebody you are. He makes another sound, but you’re so busy with this job you cannot pay attention.

Your chin and cheek itch. Bits flake off. You don’t got to look to know they’re a rusty brown color. You seen dried blood before.

Every muscle in your body seizes as you try to lift an arm. You fall onto Astarion again and he reeks of blood and something sour. The gorge rises in your throat; you gotta close your eyes and take several, several moments to shove it down.

One job.

You get a trembling hand around that stake. Your fingers are cold sausages. Freshly dead fish still twitching. You jostle the damn thing and Astarion’s face goes dreadful.

“S-sorry. I-I d-don’t…”

One fucking job.

You fumble it. Try again. Fucker don’t budge. You risk a glance up to find Astarion’s mouth open in a silent scream that goes all blurry cause you eyes are fucking leaking again.

Get your goddamn, motherfucking shit together, Eleanor.

Fucking do it.

Another tug. You throw your body at it. Move the goddamn thing around and you can’t see through the tears. It twists, turns in your hands, slides less than an inch—

The body beneath you comes alive. He swats your face as he reaches for the thing. Wrenches it free in a fine spray of blood. Then he’s rolling, hacking, making horrible sounds—

You hit the ground as he surges away. He don’t even pause. And your strength is gone. You’re done. Can only lie there as he tries to stand. Then his legs give out and he barely clears you before he starts to puke.

Gandrel said that deer was poisoned. His body is apparently rejecting that blood.

You focus on breathing as it goes on and on. Much longer than he should. Brings up more than a stomach should be able to hold. You barely manage to shimmy a couple inches away from him as it slows. As it eventually stops, and he’s left crouching on all fours, head down like a sick dog.

Finally, he lifts a sleeve to wipe at his mouth. He’s near the torch; has the sense to pluck it off the forest floor.

And that seems to be the limit of his strength, too. He gives out entirely. Got just enough in him to drag himself the foot or so over to a tree and slump against it, legs sprawled out before him.

The giant hole in his chest is wet with blood. You’re pretty sure you’re looking past broken ribs and into oozing lung tissue.

Oh look, you got more to vomit up yourself. How nice.

As you lay on your side, panting and spitting, Astarion finds his weak, raspy voice. “Took you long enough.”

To chew open Gandrel’s throat. To kill him. To kill him bad and painful and horrifying. Cause he knew it was happening. Tried to push you off as your teeth finally broke his skin. But he landed on that rock and he couldn’t get his limbs to move right fast enough.

The irony ain’t lost on you.

He died knowing how. And you’ll have to live knowing the same.

“The f-fuck,” you say.

“I appreciate the dramatics,” the bitch says in the bitchiest tone. “But you waited entirely too long! Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”

Probably as bad as getting a neck chewed open.

“His f-fucking kids,” you spit out and almost scissor off the tip of your tongue. “W-what…his k-kids…”

“I have no idea.” He’s even sneering. You ain’t looking at him, but you can hear it. “Clearly he was making up some story so you’d let him take me, which you nearly did—”

Gandrel had been furious. Not shaking and throwing things; it was the quiet kind. Something somebody has to bury deep because showing it meant you were crazy and dangerous and one of those. But it burned like a coal seam fire in his eyes.

“Wasn’t-t a fucking l-lie! F-fuck was h-he talking ab-bout? A m-month a-a-ago? The fuck.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Bulls-shit! C-can’t move a-a-and neither can y-you. What’s he t-talking about?”

“I don’t know.”

You force your head to turn. Through shaking, shuddering eyes, he ain’t just pale; the man’s turned gray. Black bruises smear under his eyes, and they look…partially deflated. Like all the life and fluid in him got thrown up all over the ground and left him a moving husk.

And he looks mad. But…but under that is…scared. He starts to run a hand over his face, realizes it’s covered in bad blood, and stares at it. Then his hand flops limply into his lap.

“The thing about being tortured for two hundred years, my dear, is that it all starts to run together after some time. I brought back hundreds of victims to my master. Picking one or five or a dozen faces out of a sea of them would be like trying to remember which little bunny the wizard chopped up for your stew two tendays ago.”

And…oh. Oh god. There’s so much in that. So much fucked up shit you can only stare at him.

“A w-whole camp’s worth of k-kids?” You say and hate how your voice cracks and makes you sound like a stupid, little girl.

His face goes rigid with indifference. “There are decades I barely remember.”

He can’t just…you can’t believe he’d…

Except trauma does that, don’t it? Chews holes in your brain. That’s what all the forums and articles and even your own therapist said. Most times, you don’t think about the farmstead unless something reminds you of it—have to stomp that in the dirt before it can suck you in. When you do, when somebody asks or when you get stuck in your head about it, some parts of it are monstrous clear. But a lot of it…ain’t. It’s just gone. And you got no interest in unearthing it.

But a whole group of kids? How?

Two hundred years. Two hundred. You got fucked up from a decade and some change. Astarion ain’t human, ain’t even mortal no more. A living person can be hurt and fucked up for years, maybe decades. But two centuries? What does that even do to somebody?

What would that turn a person into?

Astarion sprawls there quietly. His eyes are glassy slits.

You twist around as best you can, thrashing around in the needles and dirt. “G-gonna find h-his p-people.”

You get to see the sneer this time. “Whatever for?”

Like that ain’t obvious. Like anybody but him would need it spelled out for him.

“Help them k-kill that fuckf-face.”

He looks at you a long moment, brow creased. Then a laugh bursts out of him. It’s an ugly sound, mean and condescending.

“Oh, my sweet, you think it’s that easy? You think I…that someone would have succeeded by now if it were that simple? Why do you think the gur wanted me so badly?”

You idiot fucking child, he didn’t say. Barely. And he’s right. The way he talks about that motherfucker, the way Gandrel did. The way all the others at camp reacted to Astarion? That piece of shit has to be a fucking monster.

Still.

“We g-got a whole g-group of m-murder hobos,” you say.

“And you think that will do it? That a band of brain-addled do-gooders—and a murderous gith—can take down a vampire lord? You think someone else hasn’t tried? A dozen of them? You think far more powerful groups haven’t come seeking his head? And for what. A band of filthy children you’ve never met?”

“Yes. A-Astarion. F-for them-m kids. And f-for you s-s-sorry ass!”

Which seems to slap the smug off’a him. The man boggles at you, until his whole face sharpens with suspicion and what looks a lot like pissed off.

“Why,” he says.

“The f-fuck you m-mean ‘why? ‘S-s fucked up!”

He looks even more pissed off. And chooses to express that with a sneer and a melodramatic, “And I suppose you expect me to fall into your arms over your good deed? Your boundless charity?”

The fuckshit, samhain hell? Ain’t no reason for him to spit in your face over common fucking decency.

“I-I don’t exp-pect nothing from you.” Sounds harsh. You want it to. Let it cut his stupid, ungrateful jackass face.

“Yes, you’ve made that quite clear.”

You just can’t win with him. No matter what angle you play, he deflects it and then insults you. The man is fucking insufferable.

“W-what’s your goddamn p-problem?”

And for what you suspect is the first time ever, the man drops his mask in front of you. All of them. The smarm, the bitch, and what you realize was the fucking polite. Beneath is a man made of teeth and sharp angles.

“You. You are my problem, darling. No one in the world does anything without expecting repayment. You want something from all of us. From me. But you won’t say what it is, and so I’m included to think it will be something quite extravagant.”

That’s…huh. That’s what that looks like from the other direction.

The worm in your brain shivers. You try to push yourself up—showing weakness in an argument lying on your side; too exposed, too horrifically vulnerable.

You can’t just tell him the truth. You don’t wanna be left behind. You got to be valuable to these people because without their help, you’re fucked. It’s too mercenary. Your last therapist frowned when you brought that up, and she asked you what made you think that cause you also know not everybody thinks that way (Sasha). That it’s farmstead shit.

But you ain’t at home, don’t got therapy and meds and motherfucking friends. That shit is gone. And all you got are these scraps to cling to, charity and goodwill and oh, that’s called irony, ain’t it? But you shove that down too, because this is bullshit and you fucking murdered a man and now this fucker wants to yell at you about it?

The fucker squints at you. The fucker is focusing way too hard on you.

The fuck—

The worm shivers again. Something else reaching for it. Someone else.

“Astarion,” you manage.

Then the brainworm digs tendrils into your brain and wrenches and you—

On the beach and it’s too much and you should lay down. Lay down and say nothing and wait for something else to come along and finish—

The potion burns your sinuses and you can hear them. And like that, you know how fucking weak you are. How pathetically reliant. Can’t even talk—

You’ll fuck up. You’ll make a bad call. You curl on your bedroll in the tent, nausea swimming sick and cold in your gut. It’s just a matter of time and Lae’zel is already watching you too close—

Raised voices in the living room and you crawl under the table. Edoda don’t never shout. He don’t never cry—

You’re bad. You’re dirty and stupid and bad and that’s why Mother put you down here, in the dark with the bugs and the scorpions and the snakes and you’re so hungry—

Not again! Never again! Get the fuck outta my—

Too fast. You swat at this, kick at it and bite and it’s all sand through your fingers. You sense startle and a fear and monstrous hunger that ain’t your own. He’s trying to untangle himself, trying to back free but you’re both wigged out and getting worse and your brainworms know safety in numbers, in being one and it locks you together even tighter.

Astarion watching you with your wrist bloody. Leaning in to whisper something, his lips on your skin and…

And he asked. He asked, and it’s the smart move—

You don’t want him to see this. You try to channel the two of you somewhere else, anywhere else, but he’s pushing back, a sick curiosity niggling at you both.

You sit by the lake as fat tears roll down your cheeks. All the deep breathing in the world ain’t calming you down. You don’t got a choice. Not really. You can be smart, or you can wait around until everybody realizes how stupid and useless you are. It’ll be fine. He’ll probably be good at it. It feels nice with yourself and lots of people love it and you’re getting a better first than a lot of people, you suspect. The dread builds anyway.

You don’t want to see this next part. Please, please no. It’s private. It’s your stupid bullshit and nobody else’s business and your brainworm peels layers of your mind back to expose the tender parts, and he’s horrified but you’re both pulled in anyway.

The clearing. That fucking clearing. He’s on you. Lips on yours, tongue in your mouth and you don’t know what to do with your hands, with letting somebody so close to you. It can feel good. You’re getting that. But the more you try to lean into that, the further it pulls away. All while that churning ball of cold mud and broken-bone—shame shame SHAME—chews up your insides. Filthy, sinful slut whoring herself out. Then his fingers press between your legs and all thought stutters as the sin comes screaming up your throat—

“Fuck FUCK! Jesus fucking christ!”

The connection snaps. It should feel like falling, like reeling away, staggering, tripping. But you’re already on the ground and your vision swims so bad you can’t see as hot water pours over your cheeks. Your brain is flayed open. Tender flesh, jellied and quivering and you make some horrific, guttural sound and curl up, fingers clawing at your scalp, lips peeled so far back it hurts.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again!” you say. “I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll fucking find a way to fucking kill you!”

Nobody answers. Nobody moves. You rock as best you can with your horrifying body twitching like a dead thing. A fucking disgusting thing.

Those memories are yours. Yours alone. Your head is your space, your only one. The only place you can be, even when you barely knew what that was. Even when you knew the lord and the Pastor could see into it, listen to your secret thoughts. It was yours. Yours.

And now he’s seen.

You ain’t sure what, exactly. Probably the worst parts. Things you don’t tell nobody and that sonuvabitch went fucking snooping around your goddamn skull and he got no fucking right.

You blink enough to make out the pale form across from you.

He stares at you. Quiet. Wide eyes. Ain’t never seen him look like that. Won’t again, once you get hold of yourself and can get up and find a rock to smash into his goddamn, fucking face.

“You didn’t…want to,” he says, more breath than sound.

“T-that ain’t y-your fucking b-business.”

And down come them eyelids. His glare a blade hidden inside the halloween apple, waiting to slice soft, unsuspecting gums and tongue and cheeks.

But he pulls that sharpness back. You actually see him do it. Reigns himself in like a normal fucking person. Says instead, “Why. You’ve never been with anyone before, so why say yes when I asked?”

Your laugh is just as ugly as his. All rusted spikes and shattered glass. And once that loosens, the rest of the torrent pours out after it. All the shit you been bottling up. All the fear, the anger, the guilt and the shame and the goddamn helplessness and it bursts free like puss from a lanced boil. Sour and stinking and tinged with blood.

Astarion sits there. Watches you like you’re the danger here.

You kinda lose it for a while. At some point, you ain’t laughing no more and your face is wet. It’s too much to keep the structure in you upright. All the scaffolding you built to hem yourself in, keep yourself standing, strong and confident, it all finally groans and shudders and collapses in on itself, before crumbling down into the pit inside you.

Why did you agree.

“You asked,” you say.

“Pardon?”

Of all the things he saw, everything that happened, that is what he fixes on. The goddamn sex. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so goddamn narcissistic.

“Why I a-agreed to sex. Y-you asked.”

Astarion blinks. “Surely others have done so.”

You know what? Fine. This is what he wants to talk about? That is the most important little nugget of wisdom he pulled out of your bruised and screaming brain meat? Sure! Why the fuck not.

“Only as a j-joke,” you say. And maybe it’s all the crying, or maybe you just been out here long enough for the motherfucking toxin to be wearing thin. “N-not a looker.”

He sits there. Like he’s waiting for a real answer.

You got blood in your mouth that ain’t even yours. That man has seen the worst moment of your life while digging his grubby fucking fingers through your memories. So fuck him. He wants answers, you’ll give him fucking answers.

“It s-seemed like a good id-dea,” you say. Deep breath. Only stutters once. “Fucking you.”

“What do you mean?”

You snort. “I ain’t from here. I don’t g-got no useful skills; can’t fight, can’t use m-magic, and I can’t even fucking talk without Gale’s potions. I got n-no friends or family.”

Aww, you thought all your tears was dried up. Surprise, bitch! The human body is good at one thing and one thing only: producing mucus and tears.

“I got no people here. No s-safety net and nobody to turn to. I should be dead in a ditch. I would be except for y’all. So you asked, and…and I knew you was p-probably just looking to get your dick wet and I’m…”

You swipe at your face and almost run a thumbnail over your eye.

“I’d be the most desperate. The weakest one. B-but I thought…” You hold your breath a second and do your best to force calm (until another tremor shoves the air outta your lungs). But you’ll be damned if you hyperventilate now, in front of him. “I thought it’d be the easiest way to make an alliance. I-I could do that. People been doing that for thousands of years. And it’s fucked up, and I know that. B-but I was a chicken shit and I couldn’t f-follow through.”

Getting too hard to talk. You’re a useless asshole. A hot, fucking mess. Astarion carries his own weight, but you? Made a couple of good calls and it worked out thanks to sheer luck more than not. But that shit is precarious. You got to pay attention to everything and everyone all the fucking time. Got to watch them and balance what they want and what they say and you gotta be engaged every fucking second you ain’t in your tent or unconscious, and you lived alone before this, for Christ’s sake. You don’t got the energy for this.

“You agreed to sleep with me to make an alliance,” Astarion says, voice completely flat and unreadable, every syllable precisely enunciated.

Your own voice is thick. Your face throbs as your sinuses try to burst through your forehead like an overinflated balloon. “Sounds shitty when you say it out l-loud.”

It’s a douchebag thing to say. You think you’re aiming for humor? A real fucked up version of humor? Mother and the Pastor were right—there’s something really messed up in you.

“You truly…truly didn’t want me?” Astarion says. At first, you think you hurt his feelings. Not getting staked, not you fumbling to wrench that stake outta his ribs, not even you telling him you’d kill him. It seems the part that really gets him is the implication that he ain’t fuckable.

Then you manage to squint at him, and that ain’t hurt he’s wearing. He just seems…baffled.

So now you get to explain the wonders of human sexuality. Peachy.

Maybe you should’a just inhaled the dirt and ended this whole travesty.

“Don’t see people like that,” you say. “It ain’t n-nothing against you or anybody. I just…I gotta know somebody first. You’re pretty and all, but it d-don’t mean nothing to me. Pretty is like a sunset or a painting. It don’t travel down south or a-activate any of the hardware. I don’t know why. I don’t even know when or why it does switch, neither. J-just, outta nowhere, I’ll notice somebody. Y’know, like that.”

Like Rachel Olmstead and her tits.

“But not me,” he says. His face is still so, so goddamn blank. If he didn’t blink, he’d look like a dead man.

“I k-known you like a week. So no.”

He stares. Then that mask cracks. He snorts, and has to cover his mouth with a hand as laughter spills out around his fingers.

Oh hey, you got enough energy to muster up being offended. “What’s funny?”

He drops his hand and his smile is a weird, twisted thing. “Nothing, darling. Just…this. All of this, and here you are. After all this. None of my very considerable charms will work on you, will they?”

“I got roofied by a sex g-god and halfway turned him into pizza. And you practice them ‘charms’ where Shadowheart can overhear you practicing.”

He waves that off. “The cleric seems much more interested in the gith for me to bother, my dear.”

Wait, what?

He must see that in your face. Lets out an honest to god guffaw. “Oh, you really don’t catch on at all! You poor thing.”

“They tried to k-kill each other.”

“Yes. But they didn’t, and that sort of passion tends to turn itself inside out, darling. You just wait. They’ll be flopping about on top of each other before long.”

Well that certainly is a visual.

You try not to grimace—that scientific curiosity (does Lae’zel even have humanoid-compatible genitalia, or like, a cloaca) takes a backseat when it’s regarding somebody you know and have to look at while eating breakfast.

You both lapse into silence. Wonder if Gale’s noticed your bathroom break is taking way longer than it should.

“Why did you let me feed on you?” Astarion says. “And why kill the gur? Don’t get me wrong, darling, I appreciate a good murder here and there, but that was all a bit gruesome.”

He is a vampire. He got to bite people. Maybe got that wired into his brain as instinct. But you?

You still ain’t looking at that body. You don’t intend to. You’ll avoid that until y’all can put the man into a respectable grave, if at all possible. And maybe that’s another chicken-shit thing to do—you chewed his fucking throat out; the least you could do is bear witness. But you also read that seeing dead faces makes it more likely to eat up a person’s brain, and you already got a worm doing that.

You don’t want to carry that image around forever. Even if you absolutely deserve it.

“I don’t know,” you say.

Cause it’s a whole mess inside you. This is all so fucked up. Nothing makes sense no more, and all the rules you ever knew and followed done flew out the window. You’re splashing and kicking around, just trying to keep your face above water. Can’t put no attention to the shit brushing up against your legs down there in the depths.

But that answer makes his face go flat again. So you try again.

“You know how I got pissed w-when you wanted to torture that guy?” you say.

His eyes narrow. “I recall.”

“You ever think that same thing m-might apply to you? I might not like anybody g-getting hurt for no damn reason if I can avoid it?”

The sneer is a bit more delicate, this time. “So it’s charity.”

“Returning a favor.”

He frowns. You close your eyes a moment. Can’t track where your memories went when your minds crashed together. Aside from y’all’s half-naked forest encounter, you ain’t sure what he saw.

“I…was in a bad spot,” you say, glazing over a metric ton of shit. “I got out cause s-somebody helped me.”

“So you’ll swoop in to save me, now, will you?”

Since you can’t throttle him, you settle for, “I can’t even save myself here, let alone you or anybody. I can help you watch your own back, a-and try to support y’all. And part of that means not letting you go hungry, asshole. Ain’t nobody should go hungry.”

And he got a look to him. You know then, that he saw the root cellar. Or part of it.

“And what would you want in return for this generosity?” he says. His tone is way too light. It kicks off all kinds of alarms.

Your eyes are puffy, skin hot. The air stinks of blood and shit and vomit.

A friend. You wanted a friend. Thought you had one, too.

But you will not tell him that. Vulnerability ain’t your strong suite.

You’re being mostly honest with him. Truly honest. You wonder what it says about you that the first person you spill your guts to is a shithead vampire man. And maybe you been pushed too far for one night, or maybe (being honest with yourself) you still ain’t safe enough to go that far.

So you say, “How about an alliance? Not a sex o-one. But just…just a regular one. I watch your back, you w-watch mine? Let me know if Lae’zel is getting stab-happy in my direction?”

He tilts his head back to rest against the tree trunk. Looks at the sky through the canopy. He seems…softer, somehow. Then he looks to you again.

“Alright,” he says. “I can accept those terms.”

Goddamn, you’re tired. So tired your body feels a heartbeat away from sinking into the earth and becoming mulch. But that don’t stop you from saying, “Oh good. That was my last card to play.”

Y’all fall silent again. Something hard digs into your lower ribs but you can’t be fucked to try to move just yet.

Then Astarion makes a sound, and when did your eyes close? The man gives you a smile. Not even something smarmy. Just…a normal fucking smile, his eyes rounder than you ever knew they could be.

“You know,” he says. “We might be more alike than I originally thought.”

Well. That can have so many goddamn meanings. He might be stealth-bitching you. But something about the tone, about the look he fucking wears. You think there’s something there. Something under the surface, with a soft underbelly. And you can’t have that.

“That we’re both lying next to our own puke and can’t move?” you say.

Because you been way too exposed tonight. Too exposed for a comfortable lifetime. And if you kick enough sticks and leaves over that throbbing, open-to-the-air pit of vulnerability, maybe nobody else will notice it.

“I am rather stuck where I am, barring a healing potion or some blood. You?”

You lift your shaking arm as another spasm wrenches your fingers around like a cartoon character playing an invisible piano.

“So that’s a no,” he says. “Did no one see you leave?”

You been wondering that. If Gale tripped and fell into the fire. If he was just so tired he passed out on watch. Fuckers go on about security, yet here the two of you are, gone at least an hour, with no goddamn sign—

A shout echoes in the trees. Speak of the goddamn devil.

Astarion’s little sigh sounds as peeved as you feel.

“What timing,” he drawls.

“Fuckers couldn’t have shown up thirty minutes ago?”

A purple flare bursts like fireworks overhead.

“Over here,” Astarion calls pretty loud for a man with a hole in his fucking lungs. And then he starts to hack up one of them lungs, more blood burbling outta the corners of his mouth and you wince in sympathy.

Gale is the first to find you. His gaze skitters over Astarion—covered in blood—to Gandrel—clearly dead and covered in blood—before landing on you—twitching and covered in blood.

“Ah,” he says, all grimaces. “I suppose you’re not alright, then.”

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[wrr000]

Ok I've been craving some protective Heimdall so hear me out.

Reader is getting harassed by someone and they eventually lay a hand on the reader bruising them pretty badly, Heimdall witnesses this and loses his shit. this could be a headcanon or a one-shot I don't mind

(f you somehow find this and want to write it can the reader please be male I'd really appreciate it) <3

Thank you for requesting! You requested it ages ago, but 'write block' kicked in :|| I'm trying to get back to you guys! Keep in mind that I'm also a slow writer so let me take my time C: As for this - not the best, kinda rushed, but I need to start with something in order to write as much as weeks ago.

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Summary: gender neutral reader is working for Odin and his family, but after getting into relationship with Heimdall they got better job and treatment, but not everyone likes it

Warning: swearing, abuse, killing, very short with not many details, maybe I'll write a one shot for this promp! Heimdall being overprotective

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Since you got officially in relationship with Heimdall something has changed and certain people started to treat you differently

Before you confessed to God of Foresight you were working for Odin as well as for the rest of Aesir and you knew how he was towards others. Despide this you develop feelings towards him and most imporant - eventually get his attention

After you two got together your job slightly changes. It was still work for Odin, but your tasks were different and they treated you better. Maybe that was the flash point for your three 'ex-coworkers'

At first there were only unpleasant comments and strange looks. You heard them gossip about you. It was annoying, but you didn't pay attention to it. You didn't even care when they started insulting you, that was just stupid trash-talk. But you got fed up when they sabotaged your work or even destroyed your stuff. ALWAYS when none was watching. Always when Heimdall wasn't around. You had enough

You decide to confront them and ask what did you do. You were always nice and polite, never refused to help. Nothing changed after Heimdall became your boyfriend. So why? But things turned not the way you would like to. It all happend so fast

"You didn't earn this job! You didn't earn to be treated better! You just fucked that asshole meanwhile we are working hard to be not treated like trash... To fucking survive in this world"

And one of them striked you right in the face. Of cource you could defend yourself, but you didn't understand. You didn't wish to fight them. You fell on the ground. Pain was overcoming your senses, but you could feel your cheek throbs. Everything was blurry, every sound and every person in front of you. A lonely tear ran down your cheek mixing with the blood you didn't even notice

"You motherfuckers"

It was Heimdall. He saw and heard everything. One thing he couldn't understand is how low creatures like them even thought about hurting you. Mentally and physically. His lover, the dearest person in the Nine Realms, you. They made you bleed. It made him furious.

He was striking really fast and most likely very painful. They couldn't touch him nor dodge his attacks so it was safe to say that their lifes were doomed. He was going straight for the kills, it wasn't the first time and just as then none can stop him.

It was the first time you saw Heimdall like that. Full of anger, savage. Was that the true face of the Gods? His true face? You watched the person you love kill those people, one by one. You saw some blood. He swinged his sword and other was down. Someone tasted his godly shoes. They were hopeless like little children lost in the fog.

Were you afraid? Rather not, it was more of a big shock. You didn't want this to happen. A thought cross your mind that that's the price to pay for being close to All-Father and his family.

It ended fast.

You finally got up from the ground covered in mud. Your clothes were fit only to be thrown away, but it wasn't cause for concern. You looked up at Heimdall. He stood with his back turned to you. A single strand of hair fell over his sweaty bloody face. He was panting heavily, his hands clenched into fists and jaw tightened.

"I'm sorry..."

"You are not the one who should be sorry" he said more calmly than you expected.

Your eyes meets his. You wanted to tell him everything, but not a single word could escape your mouth so you just say eveything in mind. More tears appeared on your red cheek. You sobbed quietly.

And then Heimdall took a few steps forward. In a blink of an eye you were in his arms. He rested his chin on your head and you snuggled into his chest. His grip tightened. It was very comforting. You felt safe.

"You should tell me right away when it started. None will rise their hand at you, hear me? None" he said harshly, but he wasn't upset with you. He just wanted to protect you.

"Now let's go. We need a bath and you need a solid rest. Don't worry, you're safe now, sunshine"

Little smiled crawled on your face. You two indeed looked awful. But you weren't sure if bath and sleep would erase everything that happend. It was too much for one day.

[lingeronyourhazeleyes]

thanks for your tags on that nowhere boy post! I'm so curious what your thoughts are on the movie. When did you first see it? Are you a John girl? What are your thoughts on Mimi and Julia?

aww thank you for this ask 🥰🥰 (and i'm terribly sorry, i'm gonna leave a wall of text here, cuz I just can't resist the opportunity to yap about my Beatles-related experiences and opinions xd)

first of all, i don't really get why this movie tends to get so much hate (aside from the part where John hits Paui, and i really liked your insight that it was necessary to make the subsequent hugging and crying on each other's shoulders less gay - god i hate you late 2000's), because tbh this is my favourite Beatles biopic. Aaron Taylor-Johnson captures John's whimsical spirit quite well imo and even though Thomas Brodie-Sangster wouldn't have been my first choice for Paul, he's really good at being a charming motherfucker and a lil shit at the same time :D

i think i saw it for the first time in my late teens/early 20s with my mom and her husband, but i didn't pay much attention to the details then (given that i only had a very surface level of Betales-knowledge back then). I rewatched it last November though (in the midst of a full-blown Beatles brainrot).

Am i a John girl? Huh, i guess i'm something that people around here would call a John-coded Paul girlie xd nevertheless I aspire to be a Ringo in the lives of my loved ones

And omg your last question led me very far, but I'll try to be brief (edit: i failed lol) :D so, as i read your notes, i was very surprised that it's considered an anti-Julia and pro-Mimi film (and seeing the points you have raised, now i can totally understand why). For me (even on my first viewing) it was never a Julia vs. Mimi thing. I've read it as a John vs John conflict (and this is the point where i start talking bullshit and/or total banalities. Feel free to correct me or argue with my points :D i always fancy a good argument). I've always seen him as a man with two conflicting sides: one is the whimsical, creative, free but overly emotional (consequently kinda unintegrable (i'm not sure if it's a real word lmao i hope it is :D) into modern western society) side (enabled by Julia), and the other one is the abandoned little boy who only wants to be loved, and is therefore ready (or even needs) to be controlled and steered in "the right direction" by others, hoping that they would not abandon him this way (and this side of him is fed by Mimi in a way in my opinion).

In my reading, both mother figures embodied and enabled one side of John, while actively trying to suppress or outright hurt the other side -- as, I think, John did in his own mind, constantly berating and hurting himself in the process. I thought Julia was so antagonistic (and i guess i was waaay more forgiving of her than i think an average person would be, because unfortunately in many ways her behaviour reminded me of myself), because imo society tends to frown upon overly emotional, somewhat detached and destructive, but free-spirited and creativity-enhancing behaviour, while supporting Mimi's "behave according to unspoken social rules and expectation, don't change the status quo, and suppress your emotions"-mindset, that she represented in the movie and tried to instil in John. (Seeing Mimi handle (and making John handle!!) Uncle George's death with coldness and complete suppression of emotions was just as painful and infuriating for me as the scene where Julia sent John away after all the (sometimes creepily inappropriate) lovebombing.) I have a theory that Paul was so important to John because he not only accepted but straight-up embraced (dare i say served) both sides of him. But probably i just see too much into all this xd

Sorry for the long, messy (and probably borderline meaningless) reply 🫣 i happened to have waaaaaay too many thoughts 😭😭

[anarchist-rat-swarm]

So, I was thinking about media literacy today. Yeah, totally normal thing to be thinking about. Anyways, I was thinking about how a person's level of media literacy changes how they perceive a film. The example film I was considering was Blade Runner.

If someone has basically no media literacy, they get some cool visuals and a movie with a detective guy shooting robots. Perfectly enjoyable film.

A little bit of media literacy, and we start picking up on cool little details. For example, where do we meet Deckard? A noodle shop. That's an odd choice for an American movie, right? If it'd been made in the 50s, the film would start in a diner over a plate of fried eggs and greasy bacon. The noodle shop isn't presented as this kitschy quirky place, either, it's presented with the utter banality of the mundane diner. But, aha, the film was made in the 80s, when Americans were worried that Japan was going to economically and culturally eclipse America, and the noodle shop supplanting the diner is a symptom of that fear.

We also see the visual elements of noir almost immediately. Besides just being an element for a detective story, this is a hint. In noir flicks, the protagonist doesn't always win, and when he does, it never seems to look like what either the character or the audience thought winning was going to look like. The audience is being told something right from the start: this might be sci-fi but it ain't Star Wars, motherfucker, so pay attention.

Let's get deeper. More media literacy, and what do we notice? Themes of "Other"ing a group literally made by the ones doing the Othering, fear mongering of this evil group of inhuman things that want to infiltrate society and do evil inhuman things, everyone should be afraid of the scary replicants! They're so inhuman that it.... takes a highly skilled expert with extremely specialized and sensitive equipment to tell they aren't human.

Hmm.

It goes further, though. What is it that Roy Batty was after? What did he want when he confronted his creator? He wanted to live, the most basic and gene-deep desire of not just humans, but every living thing. That was the great sin of this group of inhuman Others. They wanted to live. In the Tears In The Rain monolog, we see the surrender to nihilism in the face of death, the lament that none of these incredible things that Roy had seen will be remembered.

Consider the end. The man whose entire purpose was to hunt down and kill these inhuman Others runs off with one of them. They don't know how long they'll have, but they know it won't be long. Rachel has maybe a few years, but she and Deckard are going to the other great conclusion of nihilism. If nothing matters, then live without regrets. Grab what you can while you can, because no one makes it out alive in the long run.

So yeah. Am I late to the party on that bit, or do I have something here?

(As a side note, I think it might be one of the earliest examples of the great question at the heart of cyberpunk: what is "human"? It's as foundational to the genre as "who did it" is to the detective movie. The big bad inhuman Other is almost entirely indistinguishable from human. Even got the same basic motives.)

[beanghostprincess]

would you do platonic ships???? 👀 nami x luffy and nami x sanji. i think luffy and sanji would both be very supportive of nami after she comes out as a lesbian. every time a random guy tries to hit on nami, luffy runs and screams “SHE’S A LESBIAN!!!!” luffy is way too honest but he’s got the spirit

you're asking me literally the best things ever!!! i'm gonna kiss your forehead c'mere--

i'm INSANE for platonic ships. most people don't often pay attention to the beauty of nami's relationship with the guys (especially with sanji and luffy) since they're always being shipped romantically with her. they make me physically unwell. they're so so so important to me. if i could talk about platonic sanami and platonic lunami all the time without it constantly being seen as shippy, believe me, i would be the most annoying person on this site.

btw, i literally choked on my drink while reading what you said about luffy yelling "SHE'S A LESBIAN!!!!!!!!!" because it's so damn real and canon and it's so fucking funny to picture him just- running from one side of the room to the other while yelling that,, he's so protective. maybe too intense about it, but yeah, he's got the spirit!

luffy and nami's relationship is actually really important to me personally because her story and background really resonate with me. i cried so damn much watching arlong park,, not gonna go into detail here, because you all know how important their dynamic and relationship are in canon, but they make me ill. nami spent years without having any friends because she didn't let herself trust others and even less, let herself deserve to have friends. and luffy just appears like a motherfucking ray of sunshine and helps her get out of that toxic and harmful situation she's in. she's herself with the crew. she can be rude and harsh sometimes to keep them in place and yet they still see her as the sweet, fun, caring girl she actually is. she is a thief and a menace and a bit of a bitch (in the BEST sense of the word) and they all know she's always going to be there for them. and she knows they're going to be there for her, too, always. the fact that luffy is always looking after her and protecting her no matter what? the way the first thing that always comes to his mind whenever they're in danger and he has to leave, is to tell either sanji or zoro to look after her for him? it makes me want to curl up and sob. it's not that he thinks she's weak, it's that he knows her fighting style is more to defend herself or others only when needed, and he won't let her be in danger like that. she's the brains, he's the captain. that's HIS navigator. i love the platonic possessiveness of it all. i love them clingy and sappy and holding each other whenever they are sad and always supporting each other. currently, i'm watching wci (everyone knows this because i'm the most annoying sanji fan so ofc i won't shut up) and the fact that she didn't run away when luffy told her so and stayed with him to fight?? the way she stays with him after the fight with sanji???? they are so,,, i just love them so damn much i'm gonna cry. and this is just the example i choose NOW because i'm in a wci mood, but i could talk about them for hours.

i love platonic clingy lunami. i want him to hug her like a koala. i want her to kiss his forehead when he's asking for attention. i want luffy to come to nami when he's feeling bad about something. i want nami to fix the straw hat while he sleeps on her lap. i want them to sleep together and cuddle and-- that scene in punk hazard where she casually feeds him???? that was so cute (this happening while the kids where literally crying makes everything funnier lmao). they understand each other so so well and they're both so protective of each other,,, it's INSANE. it also has to do with the fact that the romance dawn trio will always be at least a tinyyyy bit more personal and intimate than the others, being the first crewmates and all. never forget strong world for giving me so much lunami content. luffy loves her so damn much,,,,,,

she puts luffy in his place whenever he's acting a bit too stupid and he supports her no matter what. i think that's beautiful. because she's always labeled as scary when she gets mad (i mean, understandable) but he still sees her for who she actually is. and it's,,, so,,, so beautiful,,,

and as a lesbian??? i'm not gonna go into detail as to why lesbian nami is important to me because then i wouldn't shut up in ages, but she is so so so so personal to me. and luffy would be so damn supportive of her it makes me cry. in fact, i love the headcanon of the monster trio being all protective when it comes to men flirting with her. because she might know how to handle men to get what she wants, but sometimes guys just fucking suck and they will try to have their way with nami,,, and uhhhh that dude will probably end up dead. don't flirt with nami if you're a boy because you'll probably most definitely die in the hands of these three protective boys.

besides, there's nothing more personal and intimate than the friendship between an aroace and a lesbian. mutual 0 attraction to men, and full room to act clingy without it having to mean anything. i love them to death.

and yeah,,,,, sanami. platonic sanami. don't get me started on platonic sanami, i might actually die before being able to finish writing this whole thing.

i just,,, they make me,,, they make me so happy,,, i,,, cuteness and happiness overload,,,

i hate that i can't talk about them without people thinking it's romantic. I DON'T WANT THEM ROMANTICALLY I WANT THEM TO BE CLINGY AND SUPPORTIVE OF EACH OTHER IN A VERY PLATONIC HOMOSEXUAL WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

there's nothing more powerful than a lesbian and her golden retriever simp who's also a wet cat and would do anything for her. and oh! turns out the guy is actually very very genderfluid and bisexual and has so much trauma regarding gender and sexuality comprehension that she needs to help him get out of that mindset.

tl;tr: sanji bi trans is so repressed he needs a lesbian to help him.

the vinsmokes fucked up his mindset so much and tbh zeff's views on masculinity (love him tho, he's a great dad) didn't help either. but it's fine because nami is there to help him!!!! her!!!! them!!!! any pronouns sanji, woo-hoo!!!! ivankov would be proud. (projecting my genderfluid lesbian ass in this whole thing lmao)

anyway, the thing with platonic sanami is that i think they're perfect for each other. he simps for her but not only because she's pretty, but because everything nami is. he's constantly talking about her brains and strategies and he knows how fucked up her life has been and how strong she is. he admires her so so much,,, and tbh in my mind, where transfem genderfluid sanji is a thing, they admire her bc that's exactly how they want to be (using all pronouns here for her bc why not, c'mon). and nami might be a bit uhhh tired of sanji's behavior, but she loves him nevertheless. she went through so much during wci, watching sanji fighting with luffy and having to witness it??? when she slaps him in the face and doesn't use 'sanji-kun' like she always does?? it killed me. it hurt worse than a fucking breakup. and then she tells him that she won't let him go away again, and,,, it broke me. she cares so so much for him. she knows he's had a very fucked up life too. they make me go insane. he respects nami and cares about her opinion the most, and i'm tired of people always seeing their relationship as "funny simping guy x mean girl" NO!!!! SHUT UP!!! THEY'RE BEST FRIENDS AND THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO SO MUCH!!! THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY TOGETHER!!!!

forever thinking about how the code for the fridge is nami, robin and sanji's birthdays combined. they literally just- sat together and thought about a code. and they're the only ones who know this. it's so cute,,,

he respects and admires nami, and nami understands why he acts the way he does. and it's,,, so beautiful,,

i think that once she's helped him figure out his identity, they'd be even closer. i'm a sucker for clingy platonic relationships, as you can see, and them finally being able to be clingy would make me so happy. i enjoy sanami fanarts and content only bc i see them like that. they're so real. lesbian/trans bi solidarity.

also, we talk a lot about usopp and nami being gossiping besties, but i think nami and sanji would be the same. they judge you from the other side of the bar. they talk shit about you. be scared of the judgemental gays.

thriller bark. whole cake. skypiea. they have so many moments there,,, they make me so happy. whenever sanji saves her or whenever he's worried sick about her? i die. people die. it's me i'm people and platonic sanami kills me every time.

and you haven't asked me about these but shout out to usopp and zoro also being nami's protective besties. they all love her to death. don't hurt nami, you'll probably die.

[roomofshroom]

kyman headcanons part 2 !!!! SFW (cartman oriented!!!)

since yall liked my kyman headcanons so much i thought id give it another try and write down sum more ! :D

part 1: here

cartman would plan little fucking schemes to see if kyle really loves him (text him from a fake instagram profile, pay a girl to make a move on him, shit like that)

motherfucker craves attention so much, so he like pretends he's sick or dying or that something really serious happened to see if kyle comes running to him

kyle quickly realizes this is not a one time thing and is really annoyed w him but manages to come running everytime cartman pulls something like this, eric always treats him with a big smile when hes at the doorstep ("you came! :D " "ofc i came you said ur fucking mom was dying?! where is she?" "oh she just went shopping" "so you made it up?! you know how fucked up that is?!" "technically, my mom IS dying, we are ALL dying every second of every day ever since we were born, kHAL...")

cartman uses like an unhealthy ammount of emojis in every message, sends shit ton of tiktoks, reels, youtube shorts and has a completely different types of conversations w kyle on every social media platform all at once (like on instagram he's venting to him about how he doesnt feel appreciated enough by the world while hes sending him memes on discord and streaming himself playing fall guys or smth i dont fucking know)

kyle's style of texting is very simple, he doesnt like long messages, he doesnt really send memes or tiktoks or anything but he religiously watches everything eric sends him, responds to him asap and writes medium sized messages with emojis because cartman is super fucking clingy and goes on a rampage if kyle doesnt respond for more than 3 hours or if his response isn't "enthusiastic" enough (*eric sends a meme of cats with a "this is so us" comment* kyle: <3 eric: do you hate me? kyle: no wtf i dont??? why? eric: idk just seems like you hate me)

cartman hangs out w kyle's mom and makes kyle's mom unknowingly share embarrassing details of kyle's life just to tease him w the information later, they also look through baby pictures together

eric and kyle's mom love gossiping together and they watch say yes to dress together and critique the dresses ("the mermaid style dress with HER LEGS!? i thought she'd wanna show them off!" "yes, such a shame, wasted potential")

sometimes cartman just goes to kyle's house solely to hang out with his mom ("oh hey cartman, i wont be able to hang out today, i need to-" "no worries, I'm here to watch tlc w your mom")

cartman's love language is words of affirmation, obviously, and he makes kyle say everything he loves about him at least twice a week as a "communication exercise, so that their relationship stays good and they both feel appreciated" (its honestly just a way for eric to get praised, he loveeees that shit)

he knows kyle's love lang is acts of service (hes known him for years, kyle didnt even need to tell him) so while he's at his house he'll wash the dishes and fold his clothes but he won't admit to it, he actually hides it and feels embarrassed, kyle just knows ("hey, did you clean my room while i was downstairs?" "no?" "look, its clear you did, just say so" "i don't fucking know what you're talking about, khal" "...thank you, eric" "...shut the fuck up, jew, as if I'd touch your dirty ass room")

cartman's actually very shy with showing affection when its just two of them and when kyle says something sweet unprovoked, cartman usually blushes and shuts him down, turns it into a joke or straight up ridicules kyle ("you're actually very pretty, cartman" "yeah, you're pretty too... pretty gay, HAHA")

kyle's shy with showing affection in front of others and cartman fucking takes that and runs with it sometimes, doing everything to make kyle uncomfortable, he's being all lovey dovey infront of kenny and stan to see kyle cringe internally and awkwardly smiling on the outside to 'not seem like a bad boyfriend' (cuz when he once couldn't take it and told cartman to shut the fuck up, cartman got fake sad and stan came to kyle afterwards and gave a speech about "sometimes having to put up with stuff you don't like to make your girl, uhm sorry, to make your... significant other happy")

[weministertomonsters]

This Was Once Home: The Gentle Giant

Josie was shaking. Then again, why wouldn't she be? She had just witnessed her boyfriend and two other people get ripped into pieces. She had quaked in the closet and watched through the gap as the creature pulled him in half. She would never be able to forget the screams of agony, or the wash of blood, coating the walls like an artist who got a little crazy with a bucket of paint.

It was getting cold. The floor, which sometimes got warm, felt nearly icy now. Josie held her breath and listened for any indication the creature was still in the room. The creatures were very noisy, that was the only good thing. You could hear them coming and hide. If you weren't paying attention and didn't hide fast enough... Well, the evidence of what would happen was right there on the floor. Josie eased the door open and peeked out. Nothing. The room was empty of any sign of life.

"Oh, David," Josie whispered, barely able to bring herself to look at the two halves of him.

She couldn't even kiss him goodbye. She wrung her fingers against the hem of the oversized shirt she was wearing. The only thing she was wearing.

"I'm sorry," she said, stepping over his body and nearly slipping in the cooling slime of blood.

Grimacing, she tracked bloody footprints to the door of the bedroom and peered out slowly, watching and listening. The coast seemed clear. Where was she going to go? Almost every room in this house seemed to have some kind of fresh hell waiting inside. Josie shuffled out of the room and closed the door behind her and an abomination was revealed behind the door. This one was slightly more human than the rest with two arms and two legs, but the jagged teeth in its split, smiling face were enough to make anyone faint.

Josie stumbled backward, clamping her hand over her mouth to muffle her scream of fear. This one had stayed silent. It had been waiting for her to come out, waiting and smiling in anticipation. As Josie backed away and the creature dragged its feet after her, Josie realized its legs were held together with a tangle of barbed wire, leaving only a few inches of space for it to move with. It was terribly slow, like a nightmare you can't run from. The barbed wire curled around its calves and thighs and pricked into its swollen belly. Blood oozed from crusted wounds.

If I can't kill it, at least I can slow it down, she thought, an idea forming in her mind.

When the creature reached for her she reached out as well, holding onto the barbed wire that wrapped around its stomach. The hooked parts cut into her fingers, but she grit her teeth and pulled as hard as she could, twisting her body and letting the momentum aid her. The creature stumbled into the opposite wall of the hallway and the opposing force of her pull had the barbed wire sinking further into its stomach, ripping new holes. The screech it let out made her feel good. She stumbled out of claw's reach and fell over a plastic dollhouse, the large and detailed kind she would have loved as a kid.

"That's right, I hope that hurts like a motherfucker," she growled and scooted backward on the floor as the creature howled in pain and patted at its stomach.

All the noise had attracted a new horror, which rounded the corner with an inquisitive, sinister tongue-click. This one wore a ragged black robe like a grim reaper might wear, and there was a large curved blade stuck through its thigh.

An old injury, Josie thought.

She jumped up and began to run, noise be damned. The creature ran after her, knocking its brethren out of the way. The hallway itself began to shift in protest, and the entire house creaked as the staircase leading to the third floor started to lift up and away. Josie barely made it, grabbing onto the railing and clinging on as she was lifted off her feet along with it.

The creature made a swipe for her foot and she tucked her legs up against her chest, out of range. Blackened eyes stared after her, disappointment lingering in them. Josie couldn't flip it off because she had to hold on with both hands, so she did the next best thing and stuck out her tongue. She was done trying to retain some sense of normalcy. The creature lifted its head and smirked, cracked lips pulling up into a leer. Josie looked away and pulled her tired body onto the staircase, which crashed into position on the opposite side of the house. Josie knew the creature would be close by and indeed it was, stomping its way down the hall and towards her.

Almost in tears from how exhausted she was, she dragged her sweaty body up the staircase. As soon as she was on the flat ground of the third floor, she burst into a jog. She was so concerned about the creature at her heels that she forgot to check the corner and she turned into it and ran straight into something. She jumped back and put her hands up, ready to fight. It was a man, and he looked just as surprised as she was. He was almost twice her size, easily the tallest being in the house. Taller than any other of the creatures she had seen, and unnaturally so. But other than that, he looked human. He dropped the large garden rake he was holding and held up his hands peacefully, but her guard didn't go down.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied huskily.

He looked like he had been here for years. His clothes were all the same shade of brown. Josie had more questions she wanted to ask, but somewhere down the hall the creature clicked, looking for her.

"You have Seldeus on your tail?" The man said. "You haven't been here long, I take it."

"They have names?" Josie blinked.

"Hmm. You haven't been here long at all. You'd better come with me," he said.

"But I don't trust you," Josie said.

"You should take your chances. We might not find each other again."

He leaned down and extended a hand to her. With the clicking of Seldeus getting closer and closer, Josie made her choice. She took his hand. The man pulled her into his arms like she was a precious glass sculpture, and she stifled a yelp of surprise. Up close, he was even bigger. His arms practically dwarfed her body.

"What are you doing?" She hissed, squirming slightly.

"Running. You won't be able to keep up with me otherwise," he replied and scooped the garden rake off the floor.

He began to run. The floorboards shuddered under his weight and behind them, there was a triumphant sound as the creature spotted them. However, the man easily outpaced it and within mere minutes, they were in a part of the house Josie had never seen before. The house had grown larger, accommodating to the man's size. He shouldered open a door at the end of a hallway and stepped in. He put her down only after he had bolted the door and jammed a large, battered crucifix through the door handles.

Josie smoothed down the t-shirt and gaped up at him. She had so many questions that she couldn't choose one to start with. Who was he? What was he doing here? Was he human? The man shuffled his feet and peered down at her. They stared at each other.

"I'm Jack," he said.

"Josie," she replied.

"Um. Do you want me to run a bath for you? You look like you could do with one," he said, blushing slightly.

"Thank you," Josie said. "Thank you for saving me."

"Don't mention it," he said, "It was the least I could do."

A little note for Tumblr folks: I've unpublished all my stories on Wattpad because they were about to be taken down anyway for violating guidelines somehow. 😐I'm moving my attention to Patreon, and I will post all my content there first, both paid and free. For $1 you can get early access to free stories if you don't want to wait! I will gradually edit/improve all the stories that were on Wattpad and post those for free on Patreon and here as well, so don't worry about them disappearing. If you weren't on Wattpad, there were two main collections I will be re-uploading: Can You Love Them and Wet Sounds. Between the both of them, there is at least 100k words worth of content, so it will take a while. But I will bring the stories back and they'll be even better after a good edit, so look forward to that! 🙂

[cassynite]

OC Mannerisms--Ophenia Thwait

Tagged again by @serenbach86--thank you! I'm gonna do Ophenia this time.

Tagging anyone who hasn't done it and wants to!

BASICS

- NO. OF SPOKEN LANGUAGES >> 2 (Taldane and Kellish, though she will shamelessly use magic to understand any other language as needed)

- TONE OF VOICE >> high / average / deep (high and cutting, you're always going to hear her if she's speaking)

- ACCENT >> yes / no (the equivalent of a Transatlantic accent--comes from nowhere and she cultivated it herself when she started her author career)

- DEMEANOR >> confident / shy / approachable / hostile / other (She's very gregarious and open, and will often create environments that let people let loose and be open about themselves)

- POSTURE >> slumped / straight / stiff / relaxed (deceptively relaxed but still very proper, almost regal)

HABITS

head tilting / swaying / fidgeting / stuttering / gesturing / arm crossing / strokes chin / er, um, or other interjections / plays with hair or clothing / hands at hips / inconsistent eye contact / maintains eye contact / frequent pausing / stands close / stands at a distance (Very intense. Looks you in the eye and makes you feel like you're the only person in the room; when she's telling a story, she will make large sweeping gestures with her hands. Typically when she's in conversation, she will have a notebook open, but when she doesn't she keeps her hands busy by playing with her jewelry or her hair.)

COMPLEXITY (Fill in the circle’s as you wish)

- VOCABULARY >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️ (A prolific author such as her does have quite the extensive vocabulary, though very occasionally you will hear her use a word incorrectly or hear it pronounced wrong--an indication of her self-taught past, and the fact that she doesn't have an extensive formal education.)

- EMOTION >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️ (She has a very dramatic voice and keeps her tone light and good-natured, though she will express different emotion depending on the needed reaction. You won't be too fooled, though--almost every emotion she presents is false, and in a playacting way that exposes her lack of true feeling to someone who is paying attention.)

- SENTENCE STRUCTURE >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪ (She can be very long-winded! Detailed, intricate sentences are ones that she tends to utilize.)

PROFANITY 

- FREQUENCY >> ⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️⚪️ (She knows and uses profanity when needed, though often it's unintentional--a sign of her control slipping.)

- CREATIVITY (in regards to profanity) >> ⚫️⚫️⚫️⚪️⚪️ (She writes bodice rippers; she knows quite a few swear words and can make ones up when she's feeling really salty.)

BOLD THAT APPLY

arse / ass / asshole / bastard / bitch / bloody / bugger / bollocks / chicken shit / crap / cunt / dick / frick / fuck / horseshit / motherfucker / piss / prick / pussy / screw / shit / shitass / son of a bitch / twat / wanker

THIS OR THAT

straightforward or cryptic? / finding the right word or using the first word that comes to mind? / masculinity, neutrality, or femininity? / formalities or with abrasiveness? / praise or equivocation? / frankness or flattery / excessive or minimal hand gestures / name-calling or magnanimity? / friendly or blunt

IMPORTANT QUESTIONS

- DO PEOPLE HAVE A HARD TIME HEARING OR UNDERSTANDING YOUR CHARACTER? almost always / frequently / rarely / never (Again, high cutting voice. When she speaks, she wants to be heard.)

- DOES YOUR CHARACTER’S POINT COME ACROSS EASILY WHEN THEY SPEAK?

almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never (Unless she doesn't want it to.)

- WOULD YOUR CHARACTER INITIATE CONVERSATIONS?

almost always / frequently / sometimes / never (She is an interviewer! If you haven't approached her she will inevitably approach you to get the hot goss)

- WOULD YOUR CHARACTER BE THE ONE TO END CONVERSATIONS?

almost always / frequently / sometimes / rarely / never (If you don't get away from her she will wring your story dry from you. Only other way she stops a conversation is because she has something pressing to do--or someone else catches her interest.)

- WOULD YOUR CHARACTER USE ‘WHOM’ IN A SENTENCE?

yes / no / only ironically/Yes, but incorrectly

- YOUR CHARACTER WANTS TO MAKE A COUNTERPOINT. WHAT WORD DO THEY USE?

but / though / although / however / perhaps / maybe

- HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER END CONVERSATIONS?

walk away / ask if that’s everything / say that’s everything / give a proper goodbye / tell their company they're done here / remain quiet / they don’t

- WHAT SOCIAL CLASS WOULD OTHERS ASSUME YOUR CHARACTER BELONGS TO, HEARING THEM SPEAK?

upper / middle / lower (Depending on who is speaking to her, most unfamiliar with higher-class speech could mistake her as upper class, while someone actually of nobility can possibly clock that it's all fake)

- IN WHAT WAYS DOES THE WAY YOUR CHARACTER SPEAK STAND OUT TO OTHERS?

accent / vocabulary / tone / level / politeness / brusqueness / it doesn’t

Anything that wasn't touched on?

I like to think that Ophenia kiiiind of has a bit of either a Shakespeare thing going on or has holdovers from when she was a child, but she doesn't just use a transatlantic accent like early 1900s media, she uses a lot of phrases and expressions that would be common in that time period as well; she kind of sounds like a 1940s newsie.

[narciesuss]

Season Two

Episode Two: 222 Spiritual Downloads

WARNING! FULL DISCLOSURE! A message for your sensitive ass! Don’t take my advice or anything I say seriously. This is all for shits and giggles. Why you trippin?

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

STOP SCROLLING! If this post has found you it’s because we’re energetically intertwined! I am receiving a channeled message FOR YOU 🫵

Hold on! I’m hearing… I’m feeling… I hear that… That you are the baddest fucking boss baddie bitch!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Press play to start the vibes 😙

Oh, is there someone else or not?

'Cause I wanna keep you close

I don't wanna lose my spot

My black candle’s flame was always low and frail.

2:22 told me everything before you even opened your mouth.

I ground and cleanse myself after you.

I cut the cord and ask the universe for a sign.

Is there someone else? By The Weeknd starts playing.

Night came and your car was on fire.

A few nights later baby cries, glass breaking, and what I think was a gunshot.

Oh let’s not forget the footsteps on my roof.

And now the most painful revelation of them all, you compromised my health and well being.

11:11

2:22

3:33

4:44

5:55

777

888

And my favorite

999

So you ask, is there someone else or not?

[Death by Oliver Hibert)

There is someone else, hun. It’s me. My higher self. My final form. It’ll always be me.

And you lost your spot almost immediately babes. I was mirroring you the entire time. I never had a spot with you so…

🔪💕🔪💕🔪💕🔪💕🔪💕🔪💕🔪💕🔪💕🔪💕🔪

I cannot stress this enough. Trust your motherfucking intuition! Trust your body. Trust your knowledge of life! There is patterns and signs everywhere that scream at you to be acknowledged. Listen!

I’ll give you a simple example.

If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck… guess what?

I heard something some time ago. This man said, “trust people. Trust that people are going to be people. Trust that the politician is going to fulfill that role. Trust that the thief is going to steal.” Trust the patterns.

Believe the narcissist 😈

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

The NEW MOON starts at 1:30 am Wednesday April 19th and will end Thursday April 20th at 9 pm. It will peak at 11:12 am on the 20th! It’s time to ask the universe in specific detail what is it exactly that you want.

Our New Moon will be part of a SOLAR ECLIPSE that will run from 8:36 pm April 19th to 1:59 am the following morning. Plant the seeds you wish to grow.

And don’t forget ARIES SEASON ends same day as our New Moon Eclipse. The world is your playground. Take advantage of the last wave of fire 🔥

MERCURY RETROGRADE starts April 20th and will end May 14th. We are already in the pre shadow period. Pay close attention to who hits you up during this time.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

As for me, I’ll be gone for a bit… I met The Divine Masculine and he’s helping me regain my powers 🥹✨

End Credits:

I wanna thank CVS for taking all my money 💙

I wanna thank my little bucket of nails (car) for always breaking down and prohibiting me from driving more than 20 minutes anywhere 😁

👁️🌸👁️🌸👁️🌸👁️🌸👁️🌸👁️🌸👁️🌸👁️🌸👁️🌸👁️

Next time on The Kassie Show:

Goodbye to The Fool Era.

[hellsdogs]

The den of the syndicate resides in the heart of the capital. A traditional house that serves as a place for the members of the Yamazaki clan to gather, one where Dai can always be found at. The air in the room is of high temperature, alcohol and sweat, while the noise of chatters and bangning glasses are loud on the wood of the table, all sitting down the futons and served by their girls wearing the most aestival yukatas one can find. In the middle of the pack, Dai is sitting down as well, a little bent over his glass, bare feet, exposed chest, while the tattoo master, on their knees right behind him is perfectIing the last detail to the new addition on the canvas of ink that is his back. A moment for any member, including the boss, that should never be private, their backs being a tribute to the clan, it is always in the middle of a moment of life, surrounded, that each one of them would get ink done. Sake is being passed along with the meat, loudly chewed and consumed as laughters explode from a story Kaze is sharing, another ridiculous happening from one of the clubs they are running from the shadow. "Boss. Someone's asking for you." The line however comes from the other side of the room, interrupting, from one of the henchmen walking in, head deeply bowed, knowing Dai does not like to be requested when dinner is getting served. "Yeah? Am I not in the middle of fucking something?" Dai spits, previously laughing to tears to whatever Kaze was explaining while the others keep on laughing and getting agitating, yet his features dropping into annoyance. "They say it's important, Boss. They insist to come in, Boss." Dai raises his hand then, for the tattoo master to stop his needle as a drop of blood is still sliding down Dai's shoulderblade, while the others cut the laughters, paying attention to the situation. "Alright." Dai speaks with another gesture of the hand instructing the henchman to bring the intruder in. Silence. All eyes on them, from both the boss, the girls and the members of the clan.

"Huh. So you come into my house in the middle of my beef, how audacious. See that handsome lad over there, he was telling the most hilarious story of that motherfucker Uchiyama overdosing while taking a shit. Whatever you have to say better beat that."

            @ open starter.

[narrators-journal]

could i get a hunter x hunter match up? im bi but have a heavy preference for men (unfortunately…)

i’m 5’6, have a marilyn monroe/curvy body shape, i wear green bigger framed glasses, i always have a merlot coloured nail polish and lipstick on, and i have long ginger hair. (i dyed it this colour no one come for me saying i don’t have a soul pls)

I laugh at anything and everything so it’s not hard to make me giggle. (does that make me bubbly? i think my friends would disagree)

i’m very blunt and directly to the point. i won’t sugarcoat anything if i wanna say something i’ll say it. and if i don’t like somebody you can tell.

i love music, i can play guitar (electric and acoustic) piano, ukulele, and tin whistle. my favourite artists are taylor swift, noah kahan, madi diaz, and motley crue.

my favourite colours are sage green and a merlot cherry red colour. my favourite movies are dirty dancing and knives out.

my style/aesthetic is 70s/hippie or like a downtown indie 2000s girl there’s no in between im afraid.

i usually always have eyeliner or some form of makeup on and i love being girly and a stereotypical girl. i’m all over that shit.

my tried and true type is emo/punk/metal boys who are taller than me. i love when men have tattoos, and long hair makes me buckle at the knees. (you don���t have to pay attention to this i just thought i’d share…)

hopefully this is enough to give me a matich up because i can’t think of anything else! tysm:)

I'll put the match-up under the cut bc I went ahead and paired you with someone who's pretty late in the anime. So, if you aren't around the chimera ants arc, be very aware that this dude comes from around that time! Read with caution! I also do not have a good recollection of hxh details, so sorry if this isn't accurate lol.

So, I'm real rusty on hunter x hunter match ups, I should probably honestly take it off the list at this point. But, from what I do remember of it is, you'd probably like Kite?

Admittedly there aren't a lot of guys that I can recall that are emo/punk that wouldn't be awful when paired with your blunt nature. The only other option I can think of is Feitan. Who would blow up like a motherfucker at your no-nonesense, bluntness because he too is rather direct and sharp, and you two just seem like you'd fight.

Kite though! Seems the type to appreciate a blunt woman who takes care of herself. Sure, he's asocial, and may be more akin to Hisoka with a stray cat demeanor, but he's not such an ass that your more giggly humor can't endear him to you. After all, he's had a pretty rough time of things it seems, a more humorous partner who can laugh at anything might be able to cheer him up. Plus the only other emo character I can think of is Killua, who is a child lol, or Illumi. So, your type-fitting options are a bit slim in my recollection. But! I hope you don't mind this choice for you!