#love this shit to pieces and I may just partake

[federalchickensoup]

Actually when I think about it. Soap sounds a bit wounded—jealous even(?).

no but like what if ghost did fuck reader in front of the team. my head is so full with that thought.

A/N: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader. Voyeurism kind of. Vague smut.

It’s not out in the open. Not really. But every damn one of them knows what’s happening. 

Price is on watch while the rest of the team lies on the floor of a dirty, old living room. It’s a rundown shack in the middle of Colorado. The cold is severe, full of needles and glass, and Soap can see his breath. Gaz is pressed against him. Vargas is on his other side. 

Romantic. Two unshowered men nearly on top of him, but the heat is appreciated.

It’s quiet except for the wind howling like something out of legend. Makes him think of banshees or spirits. Soap can hear voices in the violence of its texture. Branches snap against the windows and patchy roof. Howls of agony that may just be from the meat of his head. He's seen a lot of death this week.

“We can’t.”

It’s you, your voice high and thin before it's met by the low, rumbling rasp of Ghost responding with something Soap can't discern. The floor creaks, the shadows burning patterns across the popcorn ceiling. Cobwebs. The stench of rotten wood. 

What are they whisperin’ about?

Soap hears Ghost shift. He’s surprised at how the man maneuvers his colossal mass without the room buckling.

Simon somehow got dibs on being your source of warmth for the night. Soap had even asked first, a tease more than anything.

“Care to be my cuddle buddy, lass?”

You’d laughed before your eyes cut to Ghost who was leaning against the wall, bulging arms crossed over his chest. All black aside from the white stain of his mask. Looming like some stone effigy.

“Um,” you said. “Sure, Johnny-“

“You’re taking watch with me, Red,” Ghost had cut in, tone flat and dry enough to burn. You’d blinked at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. 

“Oh,” you said softly. “Forgot. My bad.”

Sure.

Soap jerks when he hears you whimper. It slices through the cold, the wind. He moves his head to look before Vargas knocks him in the thigh. Soap scowls.

“What the hell, mate?” he whispers.

“He’s fucking her,” Vargas states plainly. “Just warning you.”

Soap nearly chokes, a laugh punching at the back of his throat before he stifles it. “Come again?”

Vargas widens his eyes meaningfully. Soap can’t believe it and so he lifts himself to his elbows to peek across the room. He’s not exactly understated, mostly running on curiosity and bewilderment. 

Lieutenant wouldn’t -

Oh. Holy. Shit. 

Ghost is on top, one arm braced beside your face. Soap can barely see you due to Ghost’s giant body that’s pinning you to the floor. You’re revealed in flashes. Bare knees locked against Ghost’s waist, pant leg loose around an ankle. His trousers are hitched lower, but he still appears fully dressed. Your small hands clasp the back of Ghost’s head, before slipping down to dig your fingertips into the nape of his neck.

Ghost is fucking you slow and lazy. His ass rises before driving forward, lurching you slightly up the floor. One gloved hand is under the crown of your skull, pillowing it from the uncomfortable wood surface. Your heel slides down the back of his thigh. He thrusts a little more sharply and it forces a moan from your lips.

“Shhh,” Ghost murmurs in a voice that Soap has never heard him use. In fact, it sounds alien coming out of Simon Riley. It’s coaxing and tender. “Good girl,” he finishes before there’s the distinct noise of something wet. 

A hand grips his collar and wrenches him back down. It’s Gaz, eyes gleaming in the dark as he cocks an eyebrow. “If Ghost catches you watching them…”

“He’s gonna what?” Soap returns, jaw clenched because the sight, the sounds are doing something to him. “If Price walks in, the cunt’s gonna have his fuckin’ head for screwin’ her.”

Gaz squints, his teeth gleaming white in the dark before stifling a yawn. “They’ve been sleeping together for months. I thought you knew.”

The wind screeches outside.

Soap gapes and Gaz flicks his chin. “Close your mouth, man, before the flies get in.”

Soap rolls his eyes. “How’d you know?”

“Saw them going at it outside that bar in Rio.”

“Like kissing?”

“Like he was behind her and had her cheek shoved up against the alley wall.”

Jesus. He remembered that trip. You’d scraped the side of your face and you’d said you’d fallen. 

“They haven’t been subtle,” Vargas shrugs. “Remember when Ghost slaughtered half that room on Vlad Kuznetsov’s boat…”

“Yeah,” Soap replies. “But they’d shot her. He was just reacting.”

“He was supposed to keep them alive,” Vargas reminds him. “Death only if necessary.”

“So he deemed it necessary-“

“Because they hurt his girl.”

“I’m too tired for this,” Soap growls. “He should-“

There’s the startling noise of Ghost slamming his hand on the floor and shuddering. You giggle, and he bites off a curse before slapping some bare piece of you - probably your ass. Christ. 

Silence returns. The two lovers are breathing hard and deep. The floor creaks and fabric rasps. Simon is talking to you in a soothing baritone before he chuckles. It’s weird as fuck.

“Think she’s seen his face?” Gaz suddenly asks. The question hangs there between the three of them. When Soap hears Ghost laugh softly again, Soap thinks it’s more likely than not.

[thebookbutterfly]

🦋 Chocolate Chips — John Wick x Reader

Summary: Every year you and John celebrate Helen’s birthday. This year would have been her 40th, so you decide to do something special.

Tags: #so much domestic fluff, #a teensy bit of angst, #sometimes babygirl is a 50 year old hit man, #he may kill people for a living but he is SOFT and I will not be taking any arguments about this, #slightly self indulgent

Warnings: Gender Neutral, but reader is suggested to have long hair, no use of Y/N, mentions of death obviously, no beta and no ‘ragrets’

- — - • - — - • - — - • - — - • - — - • - — - • - — -

John’s occupation put a lot of things in life into perspective. Getting into silly fights was simply not worth it. Not when every time he walked out the door the stakes were so high. That’s not to say that you never had disagreements. Just that neither of you were willing to partake in petty lack of communication.

You had known about Helen from the very day you and John had begun dating. It was hard not to. The man loved her so much it was written on every piece of him. Strangely though you didn’t mind. How could you? When that wonderful woman had brought him through so much shit and out to the the other side. To you.

Simply to say that Helen was a part of what made the love of your life himself. And so you didn’t mind his love for her at all. Especially now that his love for you was written all over him too.

It was Helen’s birthday today. You saved the date and had been sneakily preparing everything for weeks now. It would have been her 40th birthday, so you wanted to make it extra special this year. John had been out on a contract all day yesterday and so you weren’t too worried about him waking up as you crept downstairs and into the kitchen.

You removed the cake you had baked from the fridge where you had hidden it and placed it on the counter. Chocolate caramel. Her favourite flavour. The big silver four and zero candles were perfect. Along side the cake you placed a large vase full of daisies. It was perfect. All that was left to do was breakfast.

You set to work, cutting up fruit and frying bacon and eggs. You knew John would be starving when he woke up, he always was after a hit. You supposed hunting someone down burned a serious amount of calories. Lastly, you set to work on the pancakes. You knew they were Johns favourite and you were more than happy to indulge him, especially today. He always asked for heaps of chocolate chips in his. You rolled your eyes affectionately at the thought. He was a chocolate fiend but when he stared at you with those big brown eyes. Ugh. Who were you to say no to such a gentle, beautiful man?

You were just plating up the last of the pancakes when you heard soft footsteps padding down the stairs, followed by the excited skitter of Boy as he raced his dad down to the kitchen. John was silent as death so you knew the fact that you could hear him approach was deliberate and more for you than anything else.

Boy entered the room a minute before John did; tail wagging like crazy. You laughed at his enthusiasm and leaned down to ruffle his ears affectionately. John’s sleepy form shuffled in just as Boy managed to land a lick to your cheek. He smiled at the sight of his little family. Boy: seemingly very proud of himself and you: wiping the drool off your face as you stood to greet him.

It was unfair, you thought, for the boogeyman to be someone as cute as him. John was wearing a soft long sleeve shirt and his favourite pair of flannel pyjama pants. As usual he had stolen one of your scrunchies to pull back his long hair— a green one with ducks on it, this time.

You had offered to buy him some of his own. Cool ones to fit his bad-boy assassin image; you had teased. But he had somewhat sheepishly declared that he liked yours better. You didn’t mind. After all you stole a fair share of his clothes too. So you had compromised and bought a few extra for yourself, that way he could be a thief and you wouldn’t run out.

Johns eyes drifted to the cake and the vase of flowers on the counter, and he froze. You watched as the memories hit him one after the other. Boy, sensing his dad’s distress, waddled over to his side and plopped himself down on John’s foot. The contact jolted him back to reality and he lifted his watery eyes to yours. “You did all this?” he finally choked out.

You stepped over boy and slipped your arms around his waist.

“It would be her 40th. I wanted to do something special for her this year,” you replied before a bit of hesitancy creeped into your voice. “Is it okay?”

John wrapped his arms around you, tugging you right against his chest. It took him a minute to reply and your heart thundered as you waited for him to say something. He buried his head into your neck and you cradled him there with the palm of your hand on his nape. Keeping him safe— holding him together as he answered with tears in his voice.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Reaching with your unoccupied hand you began to trace constellations on his back. It was a habit you had gotten from him, actually, but it had stuck with you. He had spent years with nothing but violence for company, so you relished touching him gently.

Slowly, you pulled him to face you. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and swiped away his tears with your thumbs.

“I love you,” you said softly. You held him firmly willing him to really hear it.

“I love you too, so much.”

You stood there for a second, just holding his face in your hands. Enjoying the warmth of his skin. Boy sensed the shift in mood and slowly his tail began to thump against your legs.

“You had a long night last night,” you broke the silence. “Let’s get some food in you. Then after that we can light the candles and you can tell me about some of your favourite memories of Helen. Yeah?”

John nodded, straightening, but kept his grip on your waist as he surveyed all the food you had made.

“I’d love that. Do you mind if we have a look at the photos too?” He asked softly.

“I already put the photo albums out on the coffee table,” you replied with a cheeky grin.

His chest rumbled as he laughed, “Am I that predictable?”

You beamed at the sound, poking him in the ribs as he snuck Boy a piece of bacon. Big softie.

“I think I just happen to know you quite well. You’re much less mysterious than you think,” you teased him and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

“Alright, I’ll accept that,” he said with one last peck on your lips. “Now, let’s eat before this goes cold.”

[razzberrydazz]

I can go on for So Long about Sweeney Todd as a meaty juicy delicious piece of media to analyze. So I will.

How the humor contrasts the darkness and horror aspects. How the shrill factory whistle and the bake-house and mechanical chair contraption and the city on fire number all highlight how industrialization is used as a tool for violence and control.

The sexism and treatment of women in the show's plot demonstrate that the titular men in the storyline don't actually care or love the women they claim to care about, they love them the way they do a tool or object. Johanna and Lucy both having their own inner worlds and conflicts and having to cater to men who only give a shit about them because they're attractive. Pretty Women as a musical number as the defining way the men in the show view the women - only worth anything if they're pretty to look at. They don't like the women as people, they like the idea of a woman. The women are objectified through and through.

Mrs. Lovett both loving and fearing Sweeney and knowing she has to make herself useful to him otherwise he's likely to kill her. Her also showing fear and anxiety whenever he holds and brandishes his razors and so she tries to get the razors out of his hands or put something between herself and him in case he decides to attack her.

The interesting predicament Mrs. Lovett finds herself in - a widow running a business, in industrial London, during a time when most women had to rely on men for any kind of financial security. Her knowing this and trying to get Sweeney to marry her so that she has that extra safety net. Her trying to do and say what's best for herself, omitting the detail that Lucy is alive, throwing another woman under the bus for her own selfish aims and gains. Mrs. Lovett is both complicit and an active participant in the system of abuse and violence Sweeney partakes in.

Johanna is not just a damsel or set piece, even though that's how the men in the show treat her. Depending on the stage show characterization, Johanna may not actually give a shit about Antony, she could be using the marriage excuse purely as an out to escape the Judge.

When Antony comes to rescue her from Bedlam, in many iterations Johanna actually takes the gun from Antony and shoots Mr. Fogg herself. Johanna wants to be free, just as those caged birds want to be free. Green Finch and Linnet Bird is a monumentally important song in the plot and meta of the musical, characterizing Johanna's inner world and her self awareness at her predicament.

The varying details of the Beedle killing the bird Antony buys for Johanna, or the salesman of the birds telling that the birds sing all day because they were blinded and so do not know the time of day. Mrs. Lovett mentioning that a rival shop is using the neighborhood cats as meat substitutes. The continual callous mistreatment of animals and people alike, highlighting that people are animals as well, and that these people lack compassion. All are meat and bone and blood in the end, whether man or cat or bird or livestock. The comparison of people to animals, therefore akin to food.

The entire A Little Priest segment highlighting the visceral meaty darkness of what objectification, apathy, and a lack of compassion can lead to. If one mistreats animals, it's not a big jump to then mistreat humans as well. We'll not discriminate great from small, no we'll serve anyone, meaning anyone, and to anyone at all.

With Pirelli and Toby, Toby is either portrayed as a child or a mentally disabled man in various productions. The infantilization and mistreatment of Toby is yet another example of how systemic abuse fucks over those who aren't the ones already in power. The ableism of how Toby gets treated. Pirelli being a con-man who took advantage of Toby's naivety. Mrs. Lovett taking advantage of Toby just as Pirelli did. Toby, despite surviving the slaughterfest of the finale, being left forever changed and mentally scarred. Toby, the one to end Sweeney, his innocence murdered by what Sweeney and Lovett wrought.

Pirelli was once a young man sweeping up hair in Sweeney's shop, and ended up a con man perpetuating the system and fucking others over. The classism of it all, all the characters acting like crabs in a bucket dragging each other down in attempts to better themselves.

Lucy, cast aside by the Judge and Beedle, also left mentally impaired by her attempt at suicide via poison, left at the dredges of society and forced to beg and sell herself to survive. Lucy acts as an example of what happens when women are no longer pretty or of use within the system - they're viewed as objects, as trash, and cast away.

In stage productions with the greek chorus segments, Lucy/the beggar woman acts as one of the chorus, giving some ambiguity as to who she is until the end. She acts as comic relief, but the subject matter is exceedingly dark if you give it any thought. The cause of Sweeney's revenge spiral is there the whole time, lurking in the shadows and begging for scraps. He's too deep wallowing in what he lost and the blood he thinks he must spill to see he could have picked up the pieces of his life and had her back this whole time. Sweeney refused to let his emotional wounds heal, and kept reopening those mental scars to keep the fire of vengeance alive in his withered heart. He wants for the past, and cannot see the possibility of growing and healing in a future.

The dynamics of power and control at play, and the cycles of systemic abuse echoing in how people treat others close to them. Sweeney is NOT a hero, even if he may be sympathetic to the audience.

I personally think people who view Sweeney as a hero/anti-hero are missing the point. He is tragic, but not a hero by any means. He is the villain of his own story.

The Judge in his selfishness and abuse of power subjects Sweeney to the horrors of the systems that be, the systems of western imperialism and industrialization and classism and misogyny that enable him to send a man away in order to have his way with the man's wife and then cast her away. The systems of power that allow and enable the Judge to take that couple's child and raise as his own, then try to marry to keep for his own selfish desires.

Sweeney doesn't escape the system, he doesn't escape the cycle of abuse, he perpetuates it in his tunnel vision want for revenge. He doesn't challenge the status quo, he doesn't gain an ounce of compassion, he doesn't learn from his mistakes, he only doubles down and grinds his teeth in seething want for an eye for an eye type of vengeance. Vengeance for what? Defiling that which Sweeney sees as his. His wife, a once beautiful woman, made an object to ogle and then cast aside when no longer that picturesque ideal.

Sweeney doesn't care about Johanna as a person, he only sees her as a bargaining tool, another object to use against the judge that wronged him. He misses the idea of her, but doesn't give a flying fuck about her actual well-being. He didn't recognize Johanna when she was disguised as a sailor, just as he didn't recognize Lucy in her haggard beggar form until the very end when face to face with her corpse.

Even faced with the death of his wife, a death he directly caused by his tunnel vision violence and apathy, he viewed Lucy as an object to own, "My Lucy". He views Toby as a tool or object too, wanting to kill him off whenever he felt Toby was a nuisance or obstacle.

Sweeney viewed Antony as a tool to get to Johanna and therefore the judge. Even though Antony saved Sweeney's life and brought him back to London in the first place, he's just a means to an end. Sweeney took advantage of Antony's optimism for his own means. Give an inch, they take a mile.

Sweeney plays the game by the oppressor's rules, instead of circumventing them. Diplomacy wouldn't have worked as long as the cause of the conflict was in power, so he used violence just as vile as the rest of the system. Butchering whoever he can, adding another corpse to the pile of meat that the accessory to his crimes - Mrs. Lovett - ground up to feed to the masses. The poetic irony of the unsuspecting cannibalism as a perpetuation of their violence.

Without fail, every time I see a production of Sweeney Todd, the final sequence segment of Lucy wandering into the barber shop and pantomiming rocking her baby while crooning a lullaby - while that very baby now grown up is hiding in that very room - makes me tear up. Lucy is the ultimate victim of this storyline. She did nothing to deserve what happened, what all those people did to her. What Sweeney did to her. Her only 'crime' was being pretty, and a woman, in a world where pretty women are objects to be bartered or stolen.

There are no heroes of this story. This tragedy. Plenty of villains, plenty of dubious individuals, and plenty of victims. Revenge didn't solve their problems, it caused more problems and left a body count.

To seek revenge may lead to hell,

But everyone does it, if seldom as well

[queerweewoo]

MORE THAN SEVEN SENTENCES MONDAY

tagged yesterday by pookies @inell and @kitteneddiediaz for seven sentence sunday, so here i am a day late with this silliness xp

this is more from my spanish-speaking pining jealous!eddie fic where our fave babygirl is currently partaking in a bit of internal tommy-bashing—DO NOT READ ON IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THIS CONCEPT. anyways, he honestly doesn't hate the guy in this story... apart from when he thinks about tommy and buck together, and then he really, really does lol

WARNINGS: self-loathing, mild disassociation and self-harm via digging fingernails into skin (kinda sounds heavier than it is imo).

.

Buck is currently not single.

Buck is dating. Buck is dating another firefighter. Buck is dating another firefighter who is a man. Buck is dating another firefighter who is a man who is not Eddie.

Buck’s dating Tommy. Yeah, Tommy fucking Kinard.

Tommy Kinard, the LAFD Air Operations pilot who used to be in the army just like Eddie. Tommy Kinard, who flew him and Eddie to Vegas to watch a live Muay Thai match because they both love Muay Thai. Tommy Kinard, who is into baseball statistics but doesn't necessarily care to watch actual baseball games in the same way that Eddie is into baseball statistics but doesn't necessarily care to watch actual baseball games. Tommy Kinard, who Buck was so desperate to get close to that he practically crippled Eddie to make it happen. Tommy Kinard, who is now well on his likely smug way to becoming Buck's Significant Other—hell, Eddie would be smug if it were him.

Eddie would like to know what exactly it is Tommy has that Eddie doesn't (his sanity, probably).

The only reason he isn't here is because he's on shift, gracias joder. And the reason Eddie is thanking fuck for the fortuitous timing of events is because he's not sure what he would have done if Buck’s boyfriend had joined them this evening. Actually, no—no, that's an outright lie. Eddie would have bailed if Tommy had come over; Tommy always comes over when he can and Eddie just doesn't think he can take seeing him and Buck together anymore. In fact, he thinks he'd rather chew off his own arm. Although he's almost started wishing Pilot Boy had made an appearance tonight, just so Eddie could feign a migraine and be allowed to go home alone and be the Unhinged Depressive Loser that he is in peace.

Only vaguely aware of entering the daydream-like space just to the left of fully present—where the Bad Decisions part of his mind seems to travel to whenever these kinds of feelings surface—Eddie's only partially registering the unhealthy half-moon shapes forming in the heels of his palms from where short fingernails are trying their best to break the skin.

He's left wondering when exactly it was that he started internally referring to his buddy, Tommy, as Pilot Boy. Actually, he isn't all that clear on whether the term ‘buddy’ can even be used any longer, not since the dynamics between Tommy and Buck changed and Eddie stopped hearing from Mr I Fly A Helicopter Because I Am So Much Cooler Than You. And sure, the most likely reason for that is the way Eddie kept brushing the guy off as though he were an unwanted piece of lint on the lapel of Eddie's suit jacket, like the first class asshole Eddie can be when he wants to. Tommy probably gave up the ghost roundabout the same time Eddie stopped sending texts altogether a fortnight-ish ago. But honestly, it's whatever. Because Eddie just cannot find it in himself to give a single shit about whatever buddyship may or may not have been about to blossom between him and the person still in his phone contacts as T-Dawg—not when the sneaky fuck went and stole away his Buck.

Ask Eddie if he cares about how childish he's being.

.

tagging, play or nay: @sortasirius @angela-feelstoomuch @woodchoc-magnum @eddiegettingshot @mazzystar24 @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @treasurehuntbuck

[lostandfoundbook]

Chapter 8

Read it on AO3

Read it on Wattpad

Sitting in the bars captivating glow was a new experience for Alex. She was used to the dampening sounds of drug addicts next to her. All of them fiending for their next fix, her included. The rooms would be dark and damp, offering little comfort to the people around. This was different, however.

The bar was warm in a way that was very settling for the outfit she was wearing. It lit an orange tint over all the patrons resting there, partaking in what little small talk they did. She felt at peace with her life for the first time in quite a long time.

She was sat with Everette across from her who was nursing a whiskey cocktail to his lips. The conversations ebbed and flowed throughout the room, but these two were silently watching each other. Sight reading whatever emotions they could gleam from each other.

Alex sat sipping her own drink, a glass of rose pinot, the alcohol taste making her cringe each time she went back for another taste. She never did like the flavor of alcohol, instead favoring the effects it had on her body.

"So, the play?" He finally spoke. "How is that going?"

He sounded a bit incredulous. Alex swirled the wine around in her glass. "It's going well. We're performing it next week. It'd be really cool if you came"

Everette rolled his eyes a bit before a smile spread onto his face. "Of course I'm coming. I may not like theatre but I'm always going to support you"

This earned a grin from Alex's mouth. "It's gonna be awesome. We've worked so hard to pull this piece together. We're doing Spring Awakening but the director has drastically changed everything, so if you think you know what it's going to look like already, you actually don't. I think it's really cool, but the other cast mates hate it."

"You like it though?"

Alex's face brightened. "Yes! I love ballet. It's such an expressive art form. I've always wanted to be apart of a professional ballet production and now I am. The others are so used to doing ballet so it's not special for them the way it's special for me. It's like a little secret I get to hold to myself"

Everette took another drink of his whiskey, masking the dislike in his choice of drink. It tasted like a burning wood-y sensation as it went down his throat. Whiskey isn't meant to taste like wood, he thought. "That's really cool, Andie. Hey, listen. About those photos..."

Her smile slowly faded as her eyes focused on the man in front of her. "Right now?"

"Better than when we're shit faced"

Alex cringed a bit at his tern of phrase, but he was correct. Better now than later. "Alright, then. Let's do it."

He quickly finessed his phone out of his pocket before sliding over to the camera option. Alex put her arm around his shoulder and smiled. "Why don't you kiss my cheek?" He added.

"Oh. Alright"

She placed a kiss on his cheek and watched as he snapped a couple of photos. The situation was very odd to her. It felt like taking a photo with a fan, not taking a photo with her boyfriend. Were they even dating at this point?

"Everette?" Her voice rang out as hollow, lacking any confidence she previously had. "Yeah?"

"Would you say we're dating?"

He turned to face her front on and took his hands in hers. "We're whatever you want us to be, baby." His hands were warm in hers, almost sweaty, and she noticed that they were much larger than hers. "I could be your girlfriend" she added, not making eye contact.

It wasn't that she didn't mean it. She WOULD like to be his girlfriend, but she couldn't help fighting this funny feeling like there was something she was missing. Like she herself was an incomplete picture, painted only in black and white, just waiting for somebody to come along and splash paint onto the canvas that was her life.

Maybe Everette would be her paint.

"That would be nice. We need to talk more, though. I don't like being out of contact. It's like long distance dating and I was never good at that. You can't form a connection that way"

That wasn't entirely true, she thought. She'd made many great friends through online forums, and she felt like he was trying to contest this. "You haven't met anybody online you can connect with?" She added

"No. Not really. I know you have. It's not the same, though. Not for me. For me, It's like building up walls around a relationship that box you in, and you're limited to a key set of interactions. It's like a game."

A game. Was that how he viewed their relationship thus far? As some sort of a game he could win? Was this all some sort of a game to him? That's what it was starting to feel like for Alex at this point. The pictures, the limited interactions, the text-to-call dialogues. All of it felt like.. a joke.

"Why don't you just tell me what you know about me?" Alex eventually blurted out, suddenly switching the topic. "What?" Everette asked back, true confusion in his eyes.

"You keep talking about things I've said or things I've done, and nobody around here" she gestured to the bar they were in, indicating she meant the hotel, "will tell me. Why don't you just tell me what you know about me? It would make things so much easier." When she ended her sentence, she picked up her glass of wine and finished it.

Everette eventually nodded, picking up his own glass and taking a drink. "Well, you and I make music together. You stopped doing theatre because of how it limited you in the sphere of creation. You could perform all you wanted, but people never showed up to the things you created. So you stopped creating and started in a different field. Music."

He took another drink out of his cup as Alex listened fervently. "You and I were trying to find a way to mix the two. You didn't want to do a tour but you did want to keep performing. We figured we could host pop up venues around the city and start enough hype to go to other cities and do the same thing. It would've been like the Survive tour, but just us."

Alex frowned. She didn't remember what happened after the Survive event. It was the one memory that stood clear in her head once. The one memory she could grasp onto, hoping it would lead her way back to all of the others. "What do you mean the Survive tour?" She asked.

"You were going to keep performing after the Survive event. Going around the city and doing the same thing I just said, the pop up shows."

The thought hit her suddenly. THAT'S why they were breaking into the hotel. The hotel had multiple theatre's connected to it, and it only made sense that they were trying to find a way in to host their own event behind Oliver's back. "So, the night I fell..."

Everette nodded quickly, like he didn't want to continue the conversation anymore. "Yeah."

"Alright then."

Logically, it all made sense now. Alex was living with Everette and furthering her career. She was trying to plan events and she was blacklisted. Oliver hated her, and the only person she could rely on was Everette. She stopped for a moment to think about the rumors of fighting.

"What about--"

"Listen. It's been a really long day. I don't think I want to keep talking about this." He sighed and finished off his whiskey, finally grimacing at the flavor. "Bartender?" he called out, pointing towards both of their glasses. "Actually, I think that's probably enough for tonight" Alex said, raising her hand and smiling towards the bartender. He smiled in return, walking off.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You brought it, right?"

Everette was taken off guard for a moment. "Yeah. What does that have to do with my drinks?"

Alex shook her head in amusement, a smile growing on her face as she did so. "I've got a mini bar in my fridge in my room. Let's go up there."

Everette met her eyes, a smile forming on his face as well.

* * *

Sitting in her room in the evening glow was quite nice. It reminded her of all the times she had talked with Oliver, except this time, it was different. "So, where'd you put the stuff?" Alex spoke out as she watch Everette grab a beer from her mini-fridge. "It's in my satchel. I put it on the couch."

Alex leaned herself back to get momentum on the bed and kicked herself up. She walked over towards his bag and reached in. "I didn't even see you bring this." She said.

"It blends in. I wear all black. Do you need help with that?"

"No. I remember how to inject."

Alex went about her process. She pulled the vials out of the satchel along with the needles. "Give me your belt" She spoke out, wiggling her fingers in a 'Gimme' motion. "How do you even know I'm wearing one?"

"You're wearing a button up shirt with slacks. If you weren't wearing a belt, I'd shame you."

The sound of his belt buckle being undone was all that could be heard throughout the room. the 'zwip' sound of it being unsheathed from his belt loops was the next thing she heard, along with his voice going "Here"

"Do you want any?" She asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice. She liked having gab sessions. Spending time with her boyfriend might be nice. "No." He responded. Her heart fell a little bit at this. She couldn't quite place why.

"I'm going to do this out on the balcony. You keep watch." She responded, taking all her items with her. She walked out and shut the door slightly behind her, leaving open ajar. It was a see through door, but it was the distance that made her feel better about it.

The air was getting warmer each week and yet the air this time threatened to nip at what bare skin she had revealing through her outfit. She repositioned her clothes as she sat down on the couch. She quickly tossed her jacket off, offering the wind even more of her body to blast away at.

She looped the belt around the underside of her lower brachial artery and squeezed it tight under her arm. She felt it begin to go numb, so she looped the belt shut and wrapped the dangle-y bit around the inside of her arm.

She grabbed for the needle and vial, tipping the vial upside-down as she drew out the medication. 'Medication' She bit back to herself in spite. She set the needle down for a moment and looked back towards the door.

From where she was sitting, she could see Everette sitting on her couch watching TV, drinking a beer. It was a far contrast to all of the conversations she'd sat here having with Oliver. A big piece of her yearned for Everette to come outside and sit with her. Talk to her. About anything, at this point.

But she had told him to keep watch. She turned back around to face the needle in front of her. She looked at her arm, turning a bright shade of red. She slapped at her cubital fossa, looking for a good vein. She picked the needle back up and she injected the Morphine into her system.

The feeling of the needle in her skin was pinching tight, but she had become used to this feeling at this point. She welcomed it. She put pressure on the insertion point of the needle as she pulled it out, apply pressure continuously. She set the needle down, capping it, and gathered all of her belongings again.

She walked back inside and put the stuff back in the satchel. "Are you letting me keep this?" She spoke out, the effects of the drug beginning to take effect. Her entire being down to her bones felt relaxed and heavy, like lead weights had entered her system instead of Morphine.

"Yeah, if you want. Just don't overdose on it, or something." He spoke out, turning to look towards Alex. "Why don't you come sit with me?"

Alex walked over to the couch and sat herself down next to him. Her arm hurt, but it wasn't bad. It felt like a pin prick at most. If she twisted wrong, it felt like a pinch. Her head was swarming with emotions. One thing she remembered liking about Morphine was the way it didn't numb her, emotionally. It took it away, sure, but she could still feel. Feel the love, feel the joy, feel the pure euphoria.

She turned to look towards Everette, who was staring at her with a weird face. This is when she realized he was leaning in for a kiss. She turned to meet him in the middle, their lips planting on each others. There was no love in the kiss. It was nothing like she remembered from any of the flings she had in her life time. It was connectionless. No spark.

He kept kissing her, though. Attempting to deepen the kiss. She continued kissing him, his lips warm and soft against her. He was so close to her that she could smell his scent, strong and reminiscent of 'Man'. It felt familiar. Too familiar. Like a flame burning the inside of her stomach. Like something was wrong.

He continued to kiss on her neck, moving down near her collarbones. She just realized she left her jacket outside. She didn't want this. She was beginning to remember why she didn't want this.

"Get off of me" Alex called out, pushing him off.

"What the hell, Andie?! We were having fun"

She stood and and put distance between the two of them. "No. You were having fun. You didn't ask me how I felt about this situation. About our relationship"

He stood up too. The look in his eyes was dark and foreboding, with an essence of hate in them. "You're the one who asked me to keep dating you" He growled out, taking a step closer towards her. "You're the one who invited me up to your room. You're the one who came onto me. You asked for it"

"Excuse me?!" She shot back, closing the distance between the two. "What the hell do you think you're talking about? You're in MY room, you have no right to talk to me that--"

Slap. The back of his palm made contact with the side of her face. "Shut the hell up!" he yelled out.

She stood silently for a moment while he continued to ramble on about how he was the man in the relationship.

"Get out."

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer towards him. "You can't tell me-"

She pulled her wrist away from her and pushed him away and into the couch causing his knees to buckle underneath him. "Get the hell out of my room!" She screamed.

"Now hold on--"

She walked up to him and began to pound on his chest. "Get out! Get out, Get out, Get out!" She said, each time with more conviction and force. There was no need to steady her voice. There was no need to stop and think. The morphine may have weakened her punches, but Everette got the point quickly.

He stood up and quickly hauled ass out of the room, Alex continuing her attack all the while.

"You're insane!" he screamed, swinging the door open and running down the hall. "And you're an asshole! I never want to see you again!" She screamed, slamming the door behind her.

It wasn't long before she had Oliver banging on her door, questioning her about the noise. His room wasn't located too far from hers. That was the whole point in why she was placed here. Currently, she resented it.

"What is that matter with you?!" he called out while shutting the door behind him. "It's 10 o'clock at night. There are people trying to sleep after working hard all day. What gives?!"

Alex walked over towards her mini fridge and grabbed a mini bottle of moscato. Maybe this was the way her life was destined to be. Life of revolving doors of men screaming at her. "Piss off. I'm not in the mood."

She looked around her room for her purse. She still had a couple of 'Shitty Joints' that Everette gave her before. "Can I smoke in this room? Isn't there cleaners who can clean these? Or is it different with suites."

Oliver stood there, dumbstrucken. "Are you okay?" was all he managed out.

"That didn't answer my question." She frowned.

"Yes, you can smoke in here, I guess. It's not gonna kill me. Now answer my question. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She spat the words out as if they were vinegar on her tongue that she couldn't swallow. She was a great actress, but even she didn't believe her own conviction there. She knew Oliver wouldn't but it either.

"What happened? I saw Everette running away"

She didn't want to tell him the truth. The truth was... embarrassing. She had started a relationship with another abusive asshole. What else was there to say? How else do you dish out such a heavy dish of emotional honestly without cracking under the weight of the pressure?

"It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about it." was all she had the courage to get out. "I can't find my purse"

"The one with the shitty joints?"

Alex sighed. "Are you going to help me look or not?"

"No. I'm going to go get you better weed. I'll be right back." he turned to head for the door before Alex responded "It's going to take too long!"

He kept walking anyways. Whatever. He was out the door without another word and Alex was left to fend for her purse by herself. It figured. When were men ever useful? Besides the nice job her got her. And the nice two story suite with a whole floor she's never used. And the weed he's going to get.

She still hated men.

She looked over towards the satchel and sighed. It contained three vials of Morphine and multiple needles. She walked over to it and picked it up turning to head towards her closet.

When she made it there, her feet were exhausted. She had been on them all day, walking all around the hotel. She had likely gotten her 10k steps in for the day at this point. She'd walk around and look at all the different plants they had blooming throughout the hotel. Gazing through all the aquariums they had set up in different locations of the floors. Admiring the local art they had hung up on each wall.

She'd come to realize that the entire hotel wasn't just full of life, but was in it of itself alive. Bustling with people. Filled with culture. Each corner told a different story from a different decade, and each floor shared a different mystery of history being held behind it's walls.

It was invigorating to be able to stay there. Like somehow her head injury had been a blessing in disguise, and the universe was replacing her older, bad memories with newer, happier ones. Not counting the one that just happened with Everette.

Everything felt more... special. Maybe she was just high. She threw the satchel onto the floor of the closet near the island sitting in the middle and she rummaged through her drawers to find a pair of sweat pants she liked. She settled on a pair of gray ones. She peeled off her previous outfit and put on her pants, quickly finding a tank top to wear over top. A simple black one with a band's logo on it.

When she walked out of her closet, she bumped into Oliver, causing him to drop whatever he was holding. "Sorry!" the both of them muttered out.

"No, I'm sorry, I should've watched where I was going" she quickly replied, bending down to pick up the joints he'd dropped. She handed them to him and gave him a fake smile. "Your face is red." He said, grabbing the joint.

"What? Like, I'm blushing? Humans do that you know."

"No. It looks like someone hit you."

Alex tensed up. "I don't want to talk about it." She said and quickly brushed past him to walk towards the balcony. The room really was massive. It wasn't just two-stories, but it was a full on live in suite with a kitchenette attached that she never used and an entire library full of books. There was a little reading section upstairs, and Alex knew she was going to attack those sooner or later.

"Fine, sorry, I didn't know it was related. Whatever." He said as the two of them reached the balcony, sitting down. "You were out here earlier?"

"You are SO bad at not talking about it!" she blurted out, picking up the jacket and putting it over her shoulders. "It just shocked me, is all! I'm sorry"

"It shocks you that you live in my own house?"

"It's a hotel room, and technically I own it" he said, handing her a joint. She reached to grab it and extended her arm. "What happened to your elbow?" He asked. She knew exactly what he was talking about, yet instead she coyly turned her elbow to face him instead of her cubital fossa.

"I think my elbow looks fine" She said, turning it. She had her arms tucked into the inside of her shoulder to hide the proof. "I'm fine. Stop worrying, dad."

"I am not your father." he shot back, reeling at the comment bestowed upon him. "Then stop acting like a dad. You aren't my dad." The two met in eye contact, a silent air of agreement between the two. They weren't going to talk about it, and that was it.

She put the joint up to her mouth and and lit it up. The familiar taste of lemon-y pine hits across her taste buds hard, dancing and inviting her flavors to peek their heads in. Slight tastes of grass and dirt, which sounds bad, but was actually invited by Alex. It tasted fresh. Green. New. Unlike Everette's Dirt Weed.

"So, when are you going to tell me about your arm"

Alex eyed him up, looking at his stance. He looked relaxed and unguarded. Happy, she thought. "When you stop being normal and start being an addict."

he guffawed at her. "When exactly do you expect me to become an addict?!" he retorted, completely missing her confession. Maybe he got it, maybe he didn't. "I don't! That's NOT my point!"

"And what exactly is your point? Why don't you spell it out for me?"

She gritted her teeth together and gave a sideways frown. "I'm not good with confessions."

"I never was either. What if I tell you something about me, and you tell me about you. Deal?"

She thought for a moment before nodded in return, looking out at the distance of the skyscraper skyline. Stars littered the night sky and the twinkled and gleamed so bright, as if they were reaching out to Alexandria herself to thank her for seeing them. They were so beautiful.

"I love stars." She spoke out. "That's not really a confession, not a statement" she added.

"Okay. When I was in college..." he paused as he spoke and looked out towards the city as well. They mirrored each other in positioning, both staring out to the sky in the hopes that it would eat them alive if they stared long enough. Anything for release from this situation.

"My mom got really sick, and my dad was already dead. I was going through business schools at the time, but I instantly switched majors. For her. The hotel could wait with shareholders for just a few years. By the time I got back into business the hotel had so many expansions I'd never thought of. I continued growing it from there and..." He trailed off.

Alex looked down towards the floor. "What happened with your mom?"

"She died."

There was a moment of silence between the two. Maybe to honor her, she thought to herself. Partially because she didn't know what to say. There were days she wished death upon her parents, but she highly suspected their situations were different.

"I'm sorry. There are no words to describe that loss"

"I know. I put so much of it into the business, but it's a big reason why I'm so closed off from people, I think." It was a bid of emotional honestly that Alex didn't really expect from him. So raw and honestly that it felt 10 times easier to do what she needed to do. "I did morphine earlier."

It's like a band-aid. You have to rip it off all at once, or else it hurts a LOT worse in the long run. "Well, I kinda expected that. No offense. Not tonight, either, but eventually."

She pouted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Everette is a really bad influence on you."

She scratched at her injection site and frowned. "I think I agree with that."

"What happened with you two, anyway?"

She sighed. Everything else felt easier to talk about, but this felt a million times worse. How was she supposed to rip THIS band-aid off? "I don't know. I still don't want to talk about it."

"I told you my mom died." He said, sort of in disbelief. "You're really not gonna tell me? It's that bad?"

She stopped and questioned it herself. Was it that bad? "Yeah, to me it is."

"Well, alright then" He said, and took another puff off of his joint. "I'm sorry" She said.

"You don't have to apologize to me. You're the one who has to live with it."

She felt guilty in the pit of her stomach. She took another drag off of her joint before standing up and walking back inside for a minute. She ignored the 'where are you going' and 'what's wrongs' as she grabbed her wine and walked back outside.

"Liquid courage." she said as she sat down. "It's been a really shitty night for me, anyways. Do you want any?"

"Of that? Hell no. That taste like ass." he laughed and crinkled his nose. "It does not! It taste like... floral-y... and grape-y... and good!" She popped the lid off of the bottle and took a drink of it, only barely cringing at the taste. "You don't even like it!"

"I do! I don't like the alcohol in it." She giggled at her own statement. "Drinking alcohol but not liking the alcohol. It's silly. I get that." She verbally thought out loud. She took another drink, cringing less and less each time she did. "Anyway."

"What happened" he finally said, exasperated this time.

"I think it's obvious. Do you really need me to spell it out for you? He came onto me. I rejected him. He hit me. I hit him. A lot. He ran away. Is it not obvious?"

Oliver shook his head looking as if he himself had been hit. She guessed it was a lot of information, after all. "Can we ban him from the hotel already or something?" Oliver said, looking for recognition in her eyes. She looked down. "I don't know... He still has a lot of information."

Oliver shook his head as his expression hardened. "No, why do you need your memories? They'll come back eventually. He's just a prick and he's not worth your time or presence. You don't have to be around him to piece your life back together.

Alex scratched at the back of her neck and reached for the bottle again. She took another swig. "And how do you suppose I'm going to get my memories back? How do you suppose I can do any of the things I want to do without Everette? My music, my career, my life, it revolves around him."

It struck her as she said it.

"That's not a good thing, Alex"

She sighed and put her head in her hands. Her Joint had gone out at this point, and she was left with a muted haze of a drunken high. Morphine, Moscato, and weed. "I know. I'm realizing this, slowly. But... It's hard."

Oliver looked down at the floor. "I know. I can't relate to you, but I understand."

Alex looked out at the city and took another drink of her wine.

[andywinter16]

Hi! Not sure if you're doing requests, but if you do, maybe "Falling asleep together" from Fluff Bingo, with Libertus and Pelna and their s/o? Really like the way you write the Glaives, hope you'll have a great day/night!

Of course, I love do fluff bingo! Awwww, thank you kindly❤️ (but I still think I made them too OCC ) And I am so sorry it took me so long but my job is crazy right now, and I have less time for writing :/

And thank you for giving me ideas for writing ❤️ Just little warning Libertus kind of went out of control. (it took me quite long to get to the main point) So his story is little angsty that I anticipated.

*galadhian words used:

inalis - the sweetest /sweetie

Libertus Ostium:

He knew it was stupid to partake in that drinking game against Crowe, Pelna and Nyx. Hell, Luche was telling them not to do that. Always a buzzkill, that one! But maybe this time was Luche right, they really over did it even for their standarts. Libertus annoyedly sighed. Whole street was spinning under his feet, and his stomach wasn't happy about it either. Yeah, the hungover will be a bitch in the morning, he could tell the others would be in a bad shape after this too. He smirked gleefully, served them right for challenging him.

Lib had to lean against the wall for support. That cavaugh whiskey kicked different, that was for sure. He steadied himself and gritted his teeth, so close to his destination. Just one more crowded street and old creaking stairs to your doorstep. Oh Ramuh, you will not be happy about his state. When you two were once on a date in one of the lovely Insomnian park, you told him about your parent being alcoholic with pretty bad temper. Lib almost went to search for your parent to give them piece of his mind and most probably punch in the face If you didn´t stopped him right there. But the point was that you weren´t very keen of drunk people. In the back of his mind, guilt creeped on the surface and swept over him like a tsunami.

Fuck, he can´t get back to you looking like a shit. A certain memory flashed through his mind so crystal clear. When he came home drunk last time. You looked so upset, and Libertus would bet his misserable paycheck that you were also dissapointed in him. Even if you didn´t said it out loud. This turmoil of thoughts accompanied him the rest of the way. Lib wasn´t even sure how he got there. It was too fast. He was mindful not to make any sound when he opened your door, which as any drunk person is not really much possible.

"Libertus?" said your sleepy voice from sofa. Busted.

"Shhh, it´s kay! I didn´t want to wake you up, sweet cheeks." he clumsily walked to you and gently grabbed your hand in his big ones. You were taken a back with this, the sleep that clouded your mind slowly dissapearing. When your eyes focused Libertus looked quite sheepish, like a little boy who got into trouble. What adorable giant of yours!

" You ... you know that I love you, right? That I would never hurt you, like they did, inalis." his hands were so warm and caloused against yours. "I - I know you don´t like when I get drunk an-..." you pecked those puffy lips to silent him . " Is that what this is all about?" shaking your head in disbelief, you said. " Lib, you´re not them! I may not be thrilled of you getting drunk, but" you grabbed his chin that he could look at you," you would never hurt me. We love and respect each other too much." Lib eyes were blown out, damn it! He start to showering you in sweet kisses. You laughted at his antic. " Baby, stop! Let´s get you in the bed." Unhappy grumble leaved his throat, but obediently complied. You helped him to your small bedroom, it was kind of struggle because Libertus holded you like his life depended on it. You let him sit and helped him to undress. Libertus then collapsed onto the mattress.

" Big boy, that´s my side of bed." you teased. He tiredly mumbled something that sounded too much like smells like you. You climbed after him on the bed. Your head instantly rested on his chest right where his heart lies, while you both hugged and entangled your legs. Even though Lib was drunk, he still smelled so alluringly. It always made your mind peacefull. A faint snore reached your ears. You have to restrain not to laugh aloud, your teddy bear went out like a light. You softly kissed his temple. "Sweet dreams, love." You said silently before his heartbeat lulled you also to land of dreaming.

Pelna Khara:

Why is he even putting up with this? Pelna briefly wondered. He was tired of the constant problems that haunted them everywhere they went. Such was the life of Kingsglaive, Barett once told him when on guard duty. Still the last mission was "disastreous" in the eyes of nobles, and the paperwork for it was even worse. That´s what they get when Furias are on demolition team. Door in to his small office went open, and inside walked wall of papers. "Soni, this isn´t even funny anymore, how much papers are we suppose to sort?" lamented Pelna. Sonitus head popped out under the papers. He had that apologetic smile. " Don´t ask that, or you will get depressed like Luche." Pelna wanted to tear his own hair out out of flustration. His energies were on the lowest, he needed sleep so badly. " Yeah, it´s that bad. Let me take your place for a moment. You look awful, man. " Soni offered. Pelna exhaled sharply. That badly he looked, eh? " I suppose, I could use a break for a minute." Pelna took his mug and went for kitchen. Coffee should help him out. But what suprise awaited him in there, was you swaying into soft music from radio. The smell of freshly grounded coffee beans hitting his nostrils. You were his sweet balm for the soul and all ills. Pelna sneakily went to hug you from behind. and cheekily pecking you on the cheek.

" Yes, darling?" you asked sweetly. Pelna didn´t miss the tiredness of your voice.

" I just wanted to see my favourite person." You were both in awful shape. " You flatterer, you definitively went for coffee first." loopside grin appeared on his face. You took his mug and poured him fresh black coffee. Then you added two sugars and one coffee creamer, just how Pelna likes it. This warmed him inside, even on the verge of collapse, you would still take care of him.

" Come on, let´s sit down on the sofa. You´re already half asleep on me." you teased lightly. But Astrals know that you could use a break. You both sat down, Pelna more likely collapsed. Luckily you had both of your mugs that you put on the small table. Pelna needily embraced you, his warm and weight enveloping you in human cocoon. Pelna tickled you with his beard on your neck.

" Just five minutes of rest, what do you say Y/N?" he huskily said in your ear. Oh, you couldn´t deny your precious husband. He was addicting like chocolate.

" Oh my, what would I do with you? I can possible let you hurt yourself now because of lack of sleep, do I?" his eyes shined joyfully. Pelna nestled his head on your stomach, using it as comfortable pillow. Your hand automaticaly went in to his soft raven hair, stroking it lovingly. "Thank you, Y/N." he whispered sleepily. Your head rested on the sofa armrest. Your eyelids started to feel so heavy, until you stopped noticing your surroundings and sleep overtook you as your husband.

--

Two and half hour later in a common room.

"Should´n we wake them up? "

"Don´t you even dare, Furia."

[tacticalhimbo]

OKAY MW3 TRAILER BREAKDOWN AND MY THOUGHTS(TM)

spoilers for mw2 if you haven't played the campaign yet; i'll keep everything below the cut. besides the full, unedited teaser. stay frosty~

OK SO FIRST OF… They gave us a phone number. These photos aren't mine, so credits to u/xXTASERFACEXx on Reddit for texting the number and sharing these images. The phone number, for those who want it, is 1-202-918-3022. Here are screenshots I took proving the number.

We're instructed to receive sensitive intel, which includes a map of Al-Mazrah and a proposed site for missiles. Note, I'm 90% sure the circle is over the Observatory.

Well, if you remember both campaigns, you know that Al-Mazrah is the hotbed for shit. Everything with Price, Alex, and Farah happens there. TF 141 finds American Missiles there. Makarov had guys in Al-Mazrah looking to set up a plot and make some deals…

So this is all going to be a nod back to the original trilogy. We know this already with the teaser about No Russian at the end of MW2-RE's campaign.

You know, the mission where an American informant partakes in a false flag operation in a Russian airport and then the Russians (who knew the informant was American) kills him to make it look like the Americans are starting a war with Russia? The same way that the American missiles are planted in MW2-RE to make it look like, again, the Americans are the ones starting the war?

My brother was able to explain this better, but if you know the original trilogy plot… you see where this is going.

I also think based on the way this teaser opens, the first mission of the game might show No Russian. Like. We will be thrown into the shitstorm.

Anyway, the next thing I wanna show is this piece of falling debris. Consider this my blue curtain moment… but tell me this does not look like when Shepard aims his pistol in the OG trilogy… when… you know…. Ghost and Roach are slaughtered.

Then, as the teaser continues and the skull appears (I believe it's supposed to be a snake, all things considered. And, the way it's stylized, it looks like Ghost's skull mask… just a bit.

I believe it may be, or may be a nod, as my brother pointed out that it's (most likely) Ghost saying the line "Cut the head(s) off [the] snakes".

Which if it is… is another wonderful nod to the OG trilogy and lore, as not only was Ghost still breathing when Shepard decided to serve up some human BBQ, but in his original backstory (aka: the comics that the fandom has kept canon in the reboot timeline, which I love)… Ghost is buried alive after being captured. So. He's got some grudges.

Then, we see Price. And he looks... FUCKING UPSET. Like. Sad upset. Devastated. Upset.

And it transitions to Makarov.

Then the transition cuts out, and we get a date for… something.

My best guess is the official trailer, because the time between MW2-RE's release and this would be… so short. And I would hate to know they crunched the development of the game THAT MUCH to release it. We know Activision treats its staff like shit, all major game companies do, but I really hope (as much as I would be hype to watch this new game) that this isn't a release date for this year.

Unless they've been working on both games for a hot minute and prepared this kind of schedule way ahead of time, which is unlikely (but a good moot point for anyone looking to remain hopeful).

[jungjangnim]

japchae

trigger warning for food; spoiler alert for the stargazer's real name.

How on earth did Anarkia survive WhiteSands with that kind of appetite?

Yoo-jung has undertaken one of the most challenging jobs since being Chief of the MBCC: getting the Stargazer to eat more. She has lived off fruits, even while detained, especially since becoming her lover. She would frown whenever she saw Anarkia munch on her pomegranates—yet being the understanding partner Yoo-jung is, she never prodded her about it.

That is until Anne alerted her of Anarkia being admitted to the infirmary after she fainted.

Yoo-jung was discussing with some construction firms about extensions to the current layout of the MBCC, with Langley and Nightingale giving their input or negotiating something with the proxies. Once she got the call on her earpiece, she immediately fled the scene without a single word, eliciting confused expressions from everyone involved.

"There's no way my rookie is running from one of the most important negotiations the MBCC has to broker," Langley quipped. "Unprofessional. Adjutant Nightingale, is this a daily occurrence?"

"Unfortunately," Nightingale replied with a sigh. "Especially when her Sinners are in the infirmary. Let me check my records…" She pulls up a logbook of those admitted to the infirmary for today. "Ah. It's the Stargazer."

"The who now?"

"The Stargazer. The newest detainee from WhiteSands." Nightingale pulled up her profile. "She also managed to be the Chief's lover… who has time for love in this economy?"

"Not me," said Langley. "You?"

"No," she sighed, then turned to one of the company representatives. "Uh… I have a wife, does that count?" one of them answered.

"Lucky you," the other joked. "She's a good one. Can't believe you survived three decades without her."

"Shut it, Soren."

"Okay, okay, gossip's over," Langley decided to take over the negotiations herself. "I'll take over. This time I won't be as lenient as her."

"Anarkia, you dumb piece of shit."

Yoo-jung waltzed into the Stargazer's private room with a bowl of her favorite food--japchae. "Be fucking glad I didn't whack you in the head when I saw you are eating only pomegranates for lunch."

"Ah, my little monster." Anarkia still managed to send chills down her spine whenever she called her that. "I see you brought… provisions for me."

"Yes, I did, you fucking buffoon," she huffs, pseudo-slamming the metal bowl onto the nightstand. It was custom-designed, etched with a combination of Anarkia's Star card and Yoo-jung's family crest---a gift from Chelsea to celebrate their union. (They're not married. There are multiple items with that same etching. The Countess is indeed full of blessings.) "You have got to stop eating only pomegranates, Anarkia. You're going to starve yourself."

"My little monster… I appreciate you looking out for me, but I must not partake in worldly indulgences. I am still looking for the truth, after all."

"Well, you can't look for the truth on an empty stomach." Yoo-jung gave her the bowl. "Here. Have some japchae. It's a millennia-old recipe."

"Thank you, but--"

"Do you want me to feed you, then?"

Anarkia stopped in her tracks. Two sides of her are at war with each other---one is determined to continue on the path to enlightenment, while the other wishes to indulge in this world's pleasantries, even if it's just for today.

She decided to listen to the latter.

"You may feed me then, love." She smiles. Yoo-jung's heart skipped a beat. "I trust your food won't kill me."

"I'm not that heartless." She put on cellophane gloves, grabbed a handful of japchae, and then decided to channel her ancestors' spirits. "자, 먹어," she says, feeding her japchae. Here, eat.

Anarkia closed her eyes and chewed on her japchae. The flavors immediately flooded her senses, flavors she had never tasted before during her time on this imaginary planet. Yet she welcomes it nonetheless. Perhaps this would help her get to know her little monster better.

"Absolutely divine, my little monster," she praised. "I see I have missed a lot of delicious meals during my time at WhiteSands."

"Perhaps if you came to me earlier, you would've eaten these kinds of meals for longer," Yoo-jung sighed. "I'm glad you liked it, though."

She flashed that signature smirk again—a bad omen. "Perhaps… a reward is in order?"

She twisted the Stargazer's ear with her fingers. "Not while you're sick, you dumbass." Yoo-jung kissed her afterward as an apology. "Next time, eat more for me, okay? If you need, I'll cook for you, whenever and wherever."

"I'll take you up on your offer." Anarkia kissed her back. Her lips still make her spirit go insane. "Stay with me?"

"No." Yoo-jung rejected her offer. "Langley's going to kill me if I don't come back."

[ladivamagnifica]

“Ah, Mia Principessa, you must be Goddess-sent! To not only have such a wonderful talent for music, but to also possess such elegance and compassion as well? No doubt you have many admirers, even amongst the devout here who swear their lives, love and loyalty to the faith… But oh, forgive me, you asked me a question and here I am, blathering away… Well, if I am obliged to brag- just a little- then yes you are indeed correct, Lady Sakura, but I am so much more.” 

With practised ease Manuela let the Hoshidan princess’ name trill in the air.

“I was once the reigning prima donna of the Mittelfrank Opera Company, the oldest and most distinguished of the operatic troupes in Fodlan. You would find me centre stage most nights, be that in Enbarr’s Summer Rose Theatre, Fhirdiad’s Sanctum of Song, or even in Derdriu’s Castella Signora.”

She paused there, lost in fond and turbulent memories.

“Ah, those were the days- Oh, I still have the librettos of La Corvina and The Laughing Fool somewhere; should the fancy take you, I shall happily lend you them in lieu of a true performance, but I daresay that simply reading the text pales in comparison to witnessing the real thing.”

A comfortable silence settled for some time over the women as menial talk gave way to sipping tea and taking the first bites of the freshly cooked chicken before them. Oh! It was a little spicier than Manuela had predicted, a pleasant tingle on her tongue that persisted long after it slid down her gullet and sat there like smouldering coals. It wasn’t until she was a few more bites in that Manuela began to suspect that something was awry, for Lady Sakura seemed to feel not the least bit affected by the spice while she was starting to sweat; that fire in her stomach and throat had ignited quite terribly, ever present and persistent, even when she tried to revive the conservation between sips of soothing, honeyed tea.

“So, um, Lady Sakura,” Her voice cracked, causing her to politely cough away into her hand, “Do you play any instruments? I know fodlan royalty and nobility place great importance on the inheritance of heirloom instruments and learning to play them, it is one of the many reasons why Opera is so widely- ahem- popular, b-but, um, is that something that is also true from where you are from? In Hoshido?”

Oh Goddess, just what was in that abyssal, delicious, sauce? Surely it wasn’t the fried chicken itself that was causing her nose to run and tears to threaten to ruin her makeup- she hoped the princess did not notice her subtly try to dap away the wetness of her face as she tried to play it off as a slight perspiration from sitting too close to the warmth of the fireplace. She would be mortified if Lady Sakura thought she could not handle something as trivial as foreign spices- no, no, she could not admit defeat so readily, because Manuela was certain that the moment the princess had an inkling of the truth, Lady Sakura would surely do the polite and gracious thing and refuse to partake in any more of the meal, and that would mean the poor woman would leave her quarters hungry and dissatisfied. As a host, she had no choice but to continue forth and finish her own basket!

Shit- what did Lady Sakura just say? She hadn’t been paying attention. She was sniffling a lot now.

“Ah, um, well as you can see, I - ahem, excuse me- do have a personal collection of instruments of my own.” 

She gestured to the instruments beside the table and, in an attempt to avoid eating for a few moments more, took her time to carefully extract the aged violin from its case and hold it aloft.

“Aside from the new instruments, -" She paused to cough again. "for whom I have yet to find an adequate teacher, they aren’t just simply for show. If I may be so bold, Lady Sakura, if you have not yet had the opportunity to experience the wonders of fodlan’s music, then please allow me to play something for you now while you eat. I know just the piece to play: it comes from the opera of La Bella Strega, the tale of an old witch who falls in love with a handsome knight; it is a tragedy, and this piece in particular-which is one of my favourites- is the moment the knight discovers that the old hag he killed for being ugly, La Bella Strega herself, was but a-"

Another cough caught in her throat, causing Manuela to splutter with a reddened face.

"Excuse me- a kind and compassionate sorceress, mother to the beautiful woman that he himself had fallen in love with. Her daughter, who witnesses the death of her mother, curses him to the same fate, to die at the hands of one who does not return his love. Though the knight pleads for mercy, Cassandra does not relent and teleports away, never to be seen again.”

@gentlenekomata

Cosy House (Manuela and Sakura)

@gentlenekomata

Three knocks in quick succession had Manuela rushing to check her makeup one last time. This might not have been a date, but it certainly warranted pulling out all the stops- she had even cleaned her quarters from top to bottom for this!

It had all started three days ago when, quite unexpectedly, Manuela had chanced upon hearing the divine voice of Lady Ichinomiya Sakura, one of the princesses of Hoshido. Rubbing shoulders with royalty and nobility was nothing new to the songstress of course, but even Manuela was in awe of her voice- so foreign yet elegant in its intonation, and wholly something she needed to hear more of, but of course it was simply bad manners to ask a princess to perform on a whim, so Manuela had mustered the courage to invite the lady to dinner at her apartment one evening. If nothing else, the pleasant company would be more than enough. Yet trouble had started when she realised that she had no bloody clue what sort of foods Lady Sakura did or did not eat; worse still was that in order to make a good first impression, Manuela also needed to be an excellent chef… which she certainly was not. She considered herself decent enough when she helped out in the kitchens of the monastery, but for years now the art of cooking had been a skill she had no need to practise- as a prima donna she employed her own personal chef for the townhouse, and here in the monastery the kitchen staff and others did most of the cooking, except when the schedule had put her down for the responsibility. 

So, in what she had thought as an excellent judgement, Manuela had asked Sakura’s retainers on what the lady preferred when eating in the company of others. The consensus had been fried chicken…  At least it was a simple dish to prepare, and that was all she would say about that, even if it did perplex her how such a woman of grace and beauty liked something so greasy and acne-inducing.

But alas, that was not the end of it, for further issues arose when Manuela realised that, try as she might, it was impossible for her to make anything fried without it being unpalatable and dry; the Hoshido sauce she had attempted to make from scratch was also a dud, and with each failed attempt, she grew more and more desperate for it to work- she would not serve anything else to the princess, and in order for this evening to bear fruit of musical collaboration, she had to serve fried hoshido chicken!

In the end, two hours before Sakura was due to arrive, Manuela had admitted defeat and paid an eye-watering amount to some of the students of the academy to make her the dish and deliver it in time for the princess’ arrival. Which left her just enough time to freshen up and add the finishing touches to welcoming her guest, including dusting off for the third time her newly purchased shamisen and koto which now sat near her dining table, next to her violin, lyre, harp and organetto. The red rug of her room had been freshly beaten; the surfaces spotless, and the folding screen, another new purchase, did well to separate her bed from the space, as she was well aware that nobles thought it unseemly for a meeting space to have direct line of sight to the sleeping area- her bed was made though, just in case!

“Lady Sakura, I’m honoured that you made it. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable while I put on some tea.” Manuela wore her most brilliant smile and bowed, holding the door open for the princess who crossed past the threshold.

As the kettle on the fireplace began to boil, Manuela retrieved the still steaming-hot baskets of fried chicken (that had the richest, shiniest red glaze Manuela had ever seen and smelt divine) from the mantle of the fireplace, placing them on the table and sitting up straight to mimic the perfect posture of Sakura, though as her back was used to being hunched over her instruments and patients, it soon protested with a persistent and dull ache.

"How was your day, Lady Sakura? I'd be delighted to hear about what keeps a lady of such stature as yourself busy during the daylight hours."

[biceratops7]

Let’s deconstruct this…

Ok, so at this point I’ve seen a great many things written on Who Ed is with a capital W, and even I’ve thrown bits and pieces of my hat in the ring. But there is one particular thing I have a burning desire to express, and that is, respectfully, Edward’s softness is his own damnit.

There’s a pretty popular notion gaining traction in the fandom that Ed’s softness is just as much a performance as Blackbeard. That him embracing it fully in those brief moments of episode 10 before “the kraken” was unhealthy actually, and he wasn’t being true to himself. In summary: Ed requires Blackbeard to be whole. And my question is: why do people find Ed an unreliable narrator in his softness, or more specifically, why do people think he lacks autonomy of it?

It bothers me when people say that Ed is trying to be like Stede to gain approval in these moments, because the only major similarity I see is aesthetic. Guys a huge theme of the show is older queer men finally finding ways to escape varying forms of toxic masculinity, and understanding that their queerness does not exclude them from manhood. Homogenizing two effeminate gay men and implying that one is “losing himself” to the idiosyncrasies of the other goes directly against this goal. In fact it actually perpetuates negative gay stereotypes, but I’ve made a video essay where I discuss that at length.

Edward writes and performs a song on deck when he wants to process and share his feelings openly. Not only is this waaay more emotional honesty than we ever see Stede express (on purpose at least), but this is a creative outlet unique to Ed. Theatrical story telling is an established motif in Ed’s character the same way literary storytelling is for Stede’s. Edward’s not only dealing with his hurt in a way Stede definitely wouldn’t (he didn’t, Stede went out of his way pretend everything was fine in episode 8), he’s also doing so through an established passion of his.

The Swede wasn’t full of shit when he said that performance can simply be an expression of you. This is not Ed trying to put on a new mask when the old one proved ineffective. This is him finding comfort and even joy in finally using performance to reveal himself instead of hide. I don’t understand why the credit for this beautiful moment of self discovery must be ripped from Ed and used to accuse Stede.

It’s the same with the “SiLk GoWn”. This is the same person who lovingly touches every piece of nice fabric he lays eyes on, and lit up like a fucking Christmas tree the second someone said the word “fashion.” Ed has had a deep love and longing for such a soft pretty thing since day 1. These were ingrained and suppressed in Ed all long before Stede came on the scene. That robe may literally belong to Stede, but just as he wore it as a sign of his newfound boldness under the safety of someone loving him for who he is, Ed’s choice to wear it symbolizes the blossoming autonomy of his own identity. To continue enjoying the things Stede made him feel safe enjoying even without his presence.

Now let’s move on (or backwards I guess?) to the academy. Something I’ve seen a lot is people decrying that Ed is sacrificing his authenticity to play a housewife for Stede. Guys… he just folded some socks, calm tf down. Saying something like this about a gay man just trying to do something small and sweet for someone he loves, again, really seems to perpetuate the toxic masculinity this show hauls ass to deconstruct. Yes the answer to toxic masculinity isn’t just “effeminacy is perfect and good”. But Ed can be genuinely content with finally being able to partake in the domesticity he never got to experience without perpetuating that.

And you know what, he can be unsure of the best way to fulfill that desire and change his mind. I don’t quite like the disregard for Ed’s autonomy when people say his decision to stay at the academy or find an escape is driven only by whatever he thinks Stede wants. He is taking Stede’s feelings into consideration because that is perfectly healthy when you love someone and want a life with them, but his choices are still absolutely driven by his own needs moment by moment too.

I think people really take Ed understandably not wanting to be subjugated by the British and run with it. Like yes he is visibly uncomfortable with the soldiers treating him like an exotic animal they’ve tamed because no shit. But I don’t know how many times Ed has to blatantly state he does not want to be a pirate anymore for it to be believed.

Edward is not an exception to this. Even if he managed to thrive emotionally in this line of work once upon a time and there are aspects of it he enjoys, Ed still became a pirate out of desperation. He didn’t choose it any more than Oluwande and Jim did, he was fleeing poverty and abuse.

It’s not that piracy is a net bad and that Ed should want to distance himself from it. It’s that he assumed piracy is the only option he’s ever had in life even when it hurts him, and the realization that he has the freedom to choose differently is empowering and a net good. Him wanting to run to China with Stede, or take the crew’s funky acts on the road, whether they’re practical or not (especially in this show) is beside the point. The point is Ed’s absolute unbridled joy in their possibilities, the pure delight in discovering that you are not chained to a series of decisions you made under extreme duress 30 years ago.

No, Ed is not doing a complete 180 of his personality during his NoBeard era. He’s been forced to sacrifice his personhood for decades, and is now finally wrestling it out the grasp of thousands of people… at the age of 50 and during two of his darkest moments no less. How absolutely amazing.

[southern-fried-simpin]

J Squad celebrating Dia De Los Muertos w/ s/o headcanons

A/N: Pretty much with Latina reader, but could also be just fem!reader. Ngl this is also purely self indulgent…what can I say I’m Tejana and proud of it ✌🏼✌🏼✌🏼

Warnings: Floofy, some slight nsfw, Jerome being Jerome

Jerome Valeska

Holy shit!!! There’s a part 2 to Halloween?!

It doesn’t matter how many times you explain that’s not what it is, it’s just forever going to be ✨Halloween part 2✨ to him 🥲

Ooh and there’s candy??? AND ITS IN THE SHAPE OF SKULLS???!!!

Hyped for it. Especially the part where you leave tributes to people you’ve lost

Because he gets to leave a nice little offering of bleach and a dead snake for his Mom ✌🏼🤡

Speaking of offerings: you have to constantly watch him to make sure that he’s not eating the ones for your family members 🥲

Don’t get him wrong! He absolutely respects your culture and would never do anything to hurt you (at least not on purpose), it’s just that he really really likes candy 🍭

And your cooking 🥘

Please show him how to paint his face, he thinks Calavera makeup is so cool…just don’t be surprised if it turns into some amalgamation of a skull and a clown 😅

Thinks you look hot with your outfit and makeup, expect lots of cheesy compliments in broken Spanish 🥲🥲🥲

He just walks into the room when you’re done getting ready, fuckin whistles and says something like “muY CalIeNte~”

Yeah don’t be surprised if that makeup and outfit is ruined by the end of the night because of him wink wink🥴🥴🥴

All in all it’s a fun night, and Jerome can’t wait until next year!

Jervis Tetch

A holiday to remember dead loved ones and partake in treats for both you and them? Oh he’s here for it.

Also knowing how Jervis has a penchant for grandiose things, you best believe the Ofrenda is absolutely beautiful.

Just don’t take it personally if he sets up a little space for Alice on it with some offerings of pastries and candies, he promises he only has eyes for you

He will insist on helping with the cooking, and will do his best to learn about the holiday and the customs surrounding it

Finally, the day comes and Dios Mio, you are floored!

The entire room is decorated with bright colors, marigolds, roses, and he has swapped his usual tea set for something more festive.

He’s also done some fuckin amazing calavera makeup and has a nice little suit and hat to match with your outfit

And boy lemme tell you, y’all look fine as hell together

And did I mention he’s hypnotized some guests to celebrate with you?

Because he did, after all you are his Alice, and you deserve a grand party with lots of guests regardless of the occasion!

Oh he’s having so much fun with you, he plans to go much bigger next year though!

Jonathan Crane

He’s so excited.

Jonny-boi, being a fan of all things spooky, already knows a bit about the holiday

You can count on this man to have everything you could want or need for a celebration

Ofrenda? Got it. Candles? Lit. Sugar skulls? Sugared. Hotel? Trivago.

But don’t expect everything to be bright and colorful, he isn’t Jerome or Jervis, he’s fear incarnate!

Oh but…you would like it to be bright and colorful?

Okay you’ve made him crumple to pieces because he can’t say no to you talked him into it…

But having him dress up with you may be difficult.

However, he is more than willing to help with everything else, and you better believe this man had his goons participate as well

“Remember, the altar is supposed to have seven tiers, no more, no less, and don’t put anything on it until she says so!”

While Jonathan can be very…brusque when it comes to things like his toxin and orders he gives to you and his followers, he takes care to be more gentle about this

He knows it’s painful to lose people you’re close to, and is very quiet and careful when you both put offerings on the Ofrenda

Speaking of which: he has a picture of his mom and dad together where they’re both smiling and happy on the altar. There’s some whiskey for his father, wine for his mom, and candies for both of them.

There’s a few tears but he will absolutely not say anything or acknowledge it, he knows this is about celebrating the lives of people you’ve lost, not mourning them and he refuses to ruin this for you.

So, he wipes his tears and the festivities begin!

Drinking, eating, being merry!

And what’s this? The fearsome scarecrow has decided to dress up after all?! And he’s matching with you??!!!

Jonathan isn’t someone who’s known to smile and visibly enjoy things, but he was definitely smiling and enjoying celebrating this with you ❤️

Is a bit sad to see it end but is looking forward to next year all the same 🥺❤️

[beann-e]

haikyu characters reacting to you screaming back at them

sorry , I changed the characters I went with originally for this but , this is to thank everyone for 500 followers !

tsukishima

- he would only scream at you if his comments of telling you to shut up weren’t working

- then he’d just get pissed off because hey ? how else can he tell you to shut up in a nice way except

“ y/n “ you perked up as you looked at the blonde to the left of you on the bench “ look at me “

you smiled softly eyes never meeting his as he stared ahead not turning to look at you “ tsukki how can you tell me to look at you — then you don’t look at me“ your laugh rang out in the gym loud enough for him to hear and for his body to tighten reminding him why he was pissed off right now

His head turning to you smile spread across his face tightly, eyes roaming your face until he spoke voice holding a tone that rivaled the sweet look on his face “ I swear on hinata and the kings freaky quick y/n —if I hear your laugh one more time i’m going to suffocate you and pound you in the head with a volleyball “

your eyes widened as you turned away from the male “ no no no turn back around baby i’m not done yet “

you followed his words hanging on every word as he continued “ you’ve been chewing my ear off all fucking practice and i’m —look it’s pissing me off you talk talk talk and I really doubt “

he shook his head turning away from you “ if you even know what your saying at this point “ he scoffed “ cause I don’t “

The gym went quiet as everyone started to listen to the argument happening next to them him never stopping the vile words that spilled out from his mouth “ I doubt anytime you speak really if your even talking about something important or if you simply just wanna “ he shrugged his shoulders “ talk“

His mouth quirked up in smirk “ honestly would rather hear pipsquek over there talk about the little giant ten times a day than hear you speak at all “

you dropped your eyes to look at the floor him not trying to stop you only thanking god for the peace and quiet head leaning back to look up to the ceiling in thanks

tanakas voice coming out loud as his anger bounced off the wall of the gym “ you have a beautiful s/o like that and you bully them “ he scoffed mumbling under his breath in pure annoyance “ i’ll show you a bully beanstalk “

daichis hand slapped across tanakas chest like a seatbelt “ you do not need to partake in this trust me your not needed “

“ oi tanaka-san i’ve got your back bro “ nishinoyas small body stomped through the gym as he smiled wickedly at tsukishima only to be grabbed and pulled into daichis hold his small body tucked under daichis arm as he flailed around screaming out small profanities

“ there’s no need becau—- “

“ y’know if you want to hear hinata talk about how he was going to reward you tonight because, of your amazing test score then “ you smiled looking forward “ really go ahead —I don’t mind less work for me “

You giggled softly “ honestly , i’d have thought you’d rather receive your surprise from me but, I always knew you had a thing for him since you make fun of him constantly—he’s always on your mind seriously even when we were watching a movie you’ll bring up something stupid he did at practice “ tsukishimas mouth let out short breaths of air trying to find words to stop you

“hinata—I swear he’s got a boy crush on you “ you could feel the male next to you now eyeing you in disgust and holding even more anger than he had earlier

hinatas body rippled as he waved his body around excitedly thinking of your words really just happy to be included “ YOU DO” his face dropping quickly when he started thinking finally registering your words “ tsukki — TSUKII YOUR A GUY YOU HAVE A —“ he coughed regaining himself chest puffed out as he spoke clear with meaning

“well while I do appreciate the admiration i’d like to say — you have a partner and I don’t really feel very comfo— “

“ YOU DUMBASS THEIR JUST JOKING “ kageyamas voice raced through the room as he slapped hinatas head hard enough that sent him straight to the gym floor eyes rolling back in his head tears leaking out slowly

“ you may continue y/n-senpai we—we all give you“ kageyamas eyes twinkled in love before they went cold tsukishimas own eyes rolling with a small scoff “ and shittyshima our attention”

you turned to look at your boyfriend mock confusion on your face “ god tsukki you should have just told me you liked hinata better I would have let you go then “ you shook your head as he scoffed at your next words your face falling to sadness eyes searching his pure disappointment laced throughout your voice

“ and here I thought you were a big boy capable of dating someone older but I guess “ he was starting to get pissed off of course he could handle you how dare you say he couldn’t “ I guess your not capable of it “

“ I am capable “ he said softly turning to you who did exactly what he did moments ago and ignored the heartbroken look held in the eyes that drilled into your side “ i’m fully capable of listening to you y/n I swear “

you smirked never meeting his gaze “ y’know what here let’s do this “ your smile went wide as you zipped up your jacket and turned while reaching into your backpack

“ what—what are you doing “ his voice was low watching your hands gracefully open the bag and pull out a piece of strawberry cake “ wait— you—you got that for me because of my—”

“ no” you laughed “ no— of course I didn’t get this for you what would make you think of that tsukishima “

his heart dropping “ tsukishima—wha—y/n wheres tsu—“

“I got this for my boyfriend who loves to hear me talk and knows how to say things nicely “

“ but—-but that’s me so you did—you got it for me ?“

you laughed “ no this “ you pointed to the cake “ this is what that person deserved—that nice guy— but this“ your hand moved to open the container as you threw it in his face smooshing his head into it and pulling your hand back as he moved to scoop the icing from his eyes

“ this is for assholes “ you giggled “ like yourself“ you closed the container and moved your hands to set it next to him taking your finger and dipping it into the icing that covered his nose to lick it off your finger as you kissed the now ‘un-iced’ part of his nose

Head moving to whisper in his ear “ you pull some shit like that again and i’m leaving your ass you dont talk to me like that — i’m not yams do you understand me “

“ yes “ his answer was short and low but you knew he understood you as he moved to take his glasses off watching through blurry eyes as you left the gym

Daichi dropping a wide eyed nishinoya to the ground and letting go of his grip on a mouth foaming tanaka “ the reason I said you guys didn’t need to help is because — I trust that y/n knows how to handle a situation like that on their own “ he laughed “ how else would they be dating our wonderfully polite first year if they couldn’t take him “

Your head popped back in the gym as you winked over at the boy knowing he couldn’t see it. Body stopping in a halt while cleaning his glasses you were right he couldn’t see you but he could feel you were there —he could feel something evil lurking changing the air in the once breathable room silently cursing himself out in his head for talking to you the way he did earlier “ oh yeah and guys “

everyone turned to you as he muttered out a low fuck “ tsukishima — your star shit talker yeah—he wears dino undies “ you smiled brightly “ with matching socks “

You turned to hinata already knowing what he was going to ask when you left “no you can’t —he and yams already have matching pairs “ you turned to yams his face red and slowly moving away from everyone else in embarrassment “ sorry babes’—one goes down you all go down together “

the door slamming echoed throughout the gym as everyone went quiet kageyamas voice the first to come out as he tried to stifle his laughs, Coach ukai laughing softly before catching himself and screaming at tsukishima to clean himself and his bench up, the team turning away as nishinoya and tanaka defeated the rest of the boys ego in comments asking how many pairs he had while hinata asked if he ever wanted to match he and yams could go shopping for the taller male.

Yamaguchi to the boys rescue as he watched him clean off his glasses and throw them back on. Tsukishimas hand only reaching out to his side with a low sigh to eat the remaining bit of cake youd just smashed in his face “ god — so perfect “

Suna

-he would get so upset if you keep annoying him about trying. it goes with or for anything

-you would be telling him could he at least put a bit more effort into the relationship and he’d spazz

-or even you telling him the reason you had to drag him out tonight was because, there was no food at home and he would get mad assuming you just wanted to take him from the comfort of his own home

The quiet was loud and spoke for itself as you and the male before you sat across from each other in the restaurants booth. The air swirling in and out of your ear as you waited for him to say something.

Your eyebrows furrowed before you opened your mouth to speak “ bab- “

“ I didn’t want to come out tonight “

your face fell as you waited for him to continue speaking only for him to go deadly silent, uninterested gaze stuck on yours, his body relaxed and leaned down into the booth head thrown back to show off his half lidded eyes. His legs outstretched under the table god he looked so lazy.

Your mind raced thinking how was it even possible to look lazy In public

Your mouth tucked into itself before you let it go a small sigh leaving it “ suna there was no foo— “

“ I wanted to eat at home “ even though he looked relaxed you could tell his voice was tense.

You could feel your body losing itself at his behavior he was such a child when he didn’t get what he wanted and when he was forced outside. Throwing tantrums and whining any time you brung him shopping or stayed out too long and he would start to miss his houses comfort

Your weight getting pulled into the ground to a pit of anxiety. you just wanted to disappear you knew he was leading you down the trail of his attitude.

One more time that’s all it would take one more question , statement, anything spoken and he would snap.

It wasn’t often that it happened but when it did it wasn’t pretty

you heard the scoff that left his mouth as his eyes widened a bit before going back to their half lidded state causing you to shift in your chair uncomfortably

“ so you figured it out — “ he laughed softly “ so now instead of speaking your mind like usual your gonna try to stop the argument before it starts “

he smiled “ neat game “

His arms came down on the table in a huff his face showing a small smirk before it dropped “ gotcha baby —i’ll play —look who’s coming over here “

“ HI, what can I get you guys today “ the lady smiled at you as you dropped your head shaking it carefully already knowing what was going to take place

“ would you two like to start off wit-“

“ how about we start with nothin—“

“ suna “ your voice was warning

“ what “ you heard the challenge laced in his own as he spoke again“ is there something you wanted to do ? or maybe had your mind set on doing ? somewhat like myself ? “

“ maybe — maybe I should come back “ the woman moved to leave your boyfriend voice deep “ don’t move “

you snapped your face to look at him warning him to stop he was enjoying this he knew you couldn’t touch him or even come close. You wouldn’t dare not in public.

“ y’know what I do want to order “ he smirked turning to face the lady who was a bit taken back at the male her body heating up when she saw his smile you knew she had a crush

“ I just wanted to know “ here it comes “ what do you like ? is there anything you recommend “

he laughed moving to lean back against the seat “ on the menu that is— I mean I don’t think your eatable—or at least while working you aren’t so , i’ll suffice for right now “

you scoffed he’s always so cheesy “ well I uh “

“ please leave “ your voice was small “ just go please“

“ I am sorry “ she shook her head noticing your eyes holding a bit of annoyance before running off to a new table

“ who the hell gave you permission to take my fun from me”

“ suna your doing all of this because you didn’t want to leave the house “ you deadpanned “ seriously babe? “

“ don’t limit my problems like that “ he whispered looking around “ your making me look stupid “

“ because it is “

“ no it’s not “ he got louder “ the fuck if it is — your always dragging me somewhere that I don’t want to go I was fine on the couch we had food at home what more did we need ? we didn’t have to come out tonight y/n you just wanted to be extra and fancy“ his voice was raised higher than you’d ever heard it making you remember you two weren’t in the confinement of your own house

“ you just want to annoy the shit out of me yet again like you don’t do that enough. Everyday it’s constant nagging ‘ suna you’ve been in the house for 2 days , suna you never go out unless it’s volley , suna , suna , suna—god you never seem to shut the fuck up unless i’m throwing money at you like a stripper “

you laughter to yourself quietly before he huffed “ we had food at home “

your eyes darted out as you looked around you peoples bodies turning to stare at your table a bit shaken by the males screams “ look at you — wont even admit it — you just like putting on this fake face acting like staying at home is so bad “

he moved to grab his phone harshly off the table scooting out the booth “ fuck this — brought me out the house to eat this crap when I could’ve made a sandwich unnecessary money — unnecessary trip “

his body froze a shudder moving over his body as his gaze went soft at the ground. Legs jumpy but unmoving as his mind raced eyes peering down at the grip you held on his wrist

“ sit the fuck “ your eyes crisp and sharp on his own “ down“ him not even waiting for you to finish before he slid back into the booth body going slack to show the others watching the drama unfold that he didn’t care that his s/o just ripped his image to shreds with three words

“ why are you doing all this huh ? “

his voice was steady “ because I wanted to eat—eat at home I said this “ he shook his head trying to laugh away the obviously tense air that was roaming throughout the restaurant due to your cold demeanor

“ tell me suna “ his name sounded foreign on your tounge when you spit it back out at him mocking the way he said it earlier “ what were you going to eat “

“ a— a sandwich “

“ baby—with what bread ? “

his mind stalled before the gears started again except steering him backwards to think back to earlier “ I—I didn’t see any bre— no “ he spoke softly trying not to show you his obvious mistake

“ aw what was that baby speak up we can’t hear you“ you directed his gaze to everyone around as he shifted to sit up so he didn’t look like he was getting his ass handed to him like a 7 year old

“ I said um — there was “ he shook his head wanting to deny that you were right so badly “ fuck there was no bread”

“ ok and what happens to your so called planned dinner if there’s no bread “

he coughed “ no sandwich y/n “

“ awww no sandwich? “ the fake sadness on your face evident as you mocked him

“ fuck you y/n “

“ not tonight “ his body sinking when he saw the ghosts of smiles on the people’s faces that were listening in on you two

his head dropping to whisper “ I — I wasn’t even gonna try tonight maybe— maybe tomorrow so jokes on you “

you shook your head calling the waitress over as she stumbled a bit scared of your table and the negative energies it held “ ye— “

“ get me my check “

“ you — you only bought water “

you smirked thought about teasing your boyfriend yet again “ no I bought a sandwich remember “

“ wh— “

“ but no really jokes aside —can you actually bring me a “ your mouth moved fast as you asked for your favorite food and for it to be brought out and packaged in a to go box the shared table quiet between you two him never looking up until the waitress came back about 10 minutes later

Her hands stuffed full with 2 boxes and a small one containing the dessert you ordered “ thank you “ you smiled widely

Legs moving to stand as suna followed deciding to make yet again another sly comment“ so you did all this just to buy us dinner to go? real fucking classy y/—“

“ who said us ? “ you let out a small laugh as you took a glance at his face your eyebrows furrowing before they relaxed

“ suna this is for me “

“ wh—“

“ your right we are going home “

“ home but ? we— I didn’t get anything to eat “

you laughed walking off opening the door to the restaurant watching as he stayed still his body never moving from the booth you two sat at moments ago “ baby there’s nothing at home remember “

“ oh but I thought there was “ you smiled softly before your face came up in mock confusion “ your sandwich no ? “

[adelar-ward]

~ People aren’t made for each other; they make themselves for each other. ~

My MC Saeran de Winter and the love of their life, Eugene Hartmann from @hpowellsmith's game "Creme de la Creme". Artist i commissioned for this perfection is yet again mistfall_crow.

The song they're dancing to is Piuma "Take my hand" ("Don't get me wrong, I'm not that strong, but for you, i will do my best, i swear")

They weren't each other's first or the easiest choice. Saeran had a severe crush on Blaise and a tarnished family reputation. Eugene was afraid of Saeran's reputation, pined for Auguste, and carried his parents' expectations of marriage into nobility on his shoulders. But as they started to care for each other and decided that they wanted to be together, they worked on being together, through compromising, and being sincere even when it meant hurting themselves, through learning the best ways to be supportive of each other and trusting each other with their doubts and insecurities. Sometimes they felt unsure, annoyed, hurting, too vulnerable, and the thought that maybe it would be easier for both of them to let go crossed their minds at some earlier point. But they wanted to make it work. And they made it work, and they become sources of strength and support for each other.

And that's what i love them for.

--

Random Hartmann headcanon: even before dating you, he likes and suddenly feels feelings when you make eye contact with him and don’t avert your eyes – but don’t do anything seductive like swallowing your spoon whole or licking your lips, you may fluster him but not in the way that will earn his trust or respect. Just hold eye contact.

Random Hartmann headcanon number two: he is a person who opens presents by carefully peeling off each piece of tape, trying not to tear the wrapping paper.

Random Hartmann headcanon number three: he finds it a huge emotional turn-on to see his partner immersed in reading, sitting in an armchair with their legs pulled under them, barely noticing anything around them, almost biting their nails as they read.

--

Random Saeran fact: their paternal grandmother is from the... yet unknown country that is the equivalent of Russia in Hannah’s world. Having spent a huge part of their childhood there, Saeran speaks the language, more or less (rather less than more now tbh). In one soft moment, they whispered to Hartmann “Zhenia, Zhenechka” as they kissed him (a short form of Eugene in russian, and then a very soft and affectionate form of it), and he was confused at first, but really liked it after learning the meaning. It sounds very tender, especially whispered to the ear. They call him Zhenia as a private nickname sometimes.

Random Saeran fact number two: they have spots on their face and body that are numb to touch and stay white even when they blush because of damaged capillaries (they got lost and frozen in the wintertime in their childhood, in that aforementioned country).

Random Saeran fact number three: from the whole gang, their second-best friend, strange as it may seem and much to Hartmann's vexation, is Max. Saeran doesn't encourage or partake in breaking rules, but they tease the shit outta each other and often have fun together on weekends playing games like truth or dare, marry kiss punch, two truths and a lie, some kind of Westerlind monopoly, and on one weird occasion even spin the bottle.

--

Also answering the question about their name:

"What is their full name? How does your OC feel about their full name? Did or would they ever change it and why? Did they ever have to keep their real name a secret? Do they prefer using nicknames?"

Their full name is Saerah Vittoria de Winter (pronounced as Sera). They quite like it and wouldn’t change it, and they’d prefer to keep their surname in marriage, or at least double-barrel it. Having the second name is a family tradition that goes back to their distant noble ancestors on maternal side. They generally prefer to be called Saeran instead of Saerah by friends (less feminine form they invented for a nickname), but they’re okay with people using their official name, won’t make a fuss about it, and don’t feel the need to keep it secret. They would also use “Winter” as a nickname for competition scores, or social media if these existed in their world.

--

Full height Saeran's wardrobe. Gloves weren't planned, but the artist missed the memo about not including them, though it grew on me after some consideration, it fits Saeran who enjoys having very appropriate details to go with their bold outfits.

If the art looks like Saeran is less flat than they actually are, don't let the skirt tail fool you, they're basically a plank :D

[miekasa]

homecoming (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: college au, how many ways can i fit levi’s captain status into the modern world, fluff

↯ notes: i love levi :// and i’m out of gifs to put at the top of these, so when i learn how to make headers i’ll let you guys know. also this isn’t proofread rip in peace 

↯ summary: there’s a pretty well known homecoming tradition, and levi’s hoping you’re willing to partake in it. 

“So,” you hum, wiping away any crumbs from your mouth, “Are you going to tell me exactly why you wanted to have a picnic at 2:30 in the afternoon on a random Thursday, or am I supposed to wait for a grand reveal?”

Levi rolls his eyes, and sips on his wine, ignoring your incoming giggles. “Can’t I want to take you on a date?” he clicks his tongue, setting his, now empty, plastic wine cup onto the picnic blanket, “Ungrateful brat.”

You smack him on the arm, mouth open in offense; but Levi’s chuckling, shoulder’s shaking at your reaction. “I am a very grateful brat,” you correct him, “But I am also very suspicious one.”

Levi hums, not bothering to reply. Instead, he separates the two halves of his sandwich, wraps one half around a napkin, and hands it to you. You accept it, albeit a little hesitantly, and watch as Levi pays you no mind, biting into his half neatly.

If it were any normal situation, you’d probably try to snap a picture of him—you have somewhat of an ongoing collection of sneaky pictures of Levi on your dates, particularly when he looks cute munching on his food, much to his disdain—but this was not a normal situation.

Levi is acting strange. It’s not just the nature of this date itself—it may be out of character for Levi to want to go on a picnic of all things, but could be quite the romantic at heart, and often planned very quaint dates for the both of you. It was everything that happened since you set up your picnic that was truly out of the ordinary.

Like the way he seemed distracted, getting lost in thought in a way you hadn’t seen before; and how he kept sweeping his hair out of his eyes, and readjusting his small silver earring. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s nervous about something.

“Seriously,” you say lightly, carefully setting your half-eaten portion of the sandwich back onto the blanket, “What’s this all about?”

Levi looks at you for a beat, once again using his free hand to brush his dark hair behind his ear, then with suspecting eyes, “You don’t like it?”

Your eyebrows draw together at his questioning, confused by the lack of sarcasm, or even hurt in his tone; like he was genuinely surprised.

“What? No, Levi, that’s not what I meant,” you assure him, “I just mean that this isn’t really us. You hate eating outside—you always make us wait for indoor seating—and, if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen a couple go on a picnic in real life.”

Levi reaches to pour more cheap wine into your faux glasses, “I guess romance really is dead.”

You squint your eyes, carefully tracking his movements as he hands you a plastic cup before refilling his own. Levi isn’t one to dodge questions, or any kind of confrontation. Now you know for sure that something’s up.

“Levi,” you call gently, feeling like you finally have his full focus when his eyes meet yours, “What’s going on?”

His gaze softens at your question this time, and you finally see a hint of the Levi you know behind his expression. He sighs, carefully closing the boxed wine, and taking his cup into his hand. With a slight head nod, he motions for you to come closer, and you obiiently shuffle closer to him, until you’re sitting side by side.

You take the liberty of resting your head on his shoulder, cheek soft against his coat. You can hear him take a deep breath, feel his exhale deflate his shoulders, before he speaks.

“Homecoming is next weekend,” he starts, “You’re going, yeah?”

You hum in affirmation, watching as he takes a careful sip from his cup before continuing.

“There’s this tradition. It’s stupid as shit, if you ask me, so you don’t have to say yes,” he mumbles, lips barely off of the plastic, before he takes another sip. “But, if you’re dating someone, they’re supposed to show up to the game in your jersey.”

You snap your head up from his shoulder, blinking at Levi and the implications of his words, as you begin to piece together the mystery of his actions from this afternoon. Levi—your Levi—took you on a picnic, complete with homemade sandwiches and cheap wine, to ask you to be his date to his homecoming game.

Your stunned silence is filled with light breeze that brushes past your hair, and makes Levi return to brushing his away again. He drinks in your expression, grey eyes growing cloudy as he assumes the worst of your silence.

“Like I said, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he explains cooly, bringing his cup to his mouth again for a bitter sip, “I didn’t know if you were going to stick around for the whole day anyways, you’ve probably got other shit to—”

You kiss him quiet. Levi is surprised at first, jolts a little bit when your actions cause him to spill some of his drink, but he kisses you back, a small wave of relief washing over him. At least he didn’t make a complete fool of himself just now.

“Of course I’ll wear your jersey, Levi.”

Most parents and alumni stuck around for the traditional football game, but the boys’ soccer team was always popular amongst students, and for good reason.

Not only did the university’s team have an exceptional record, but they had no shortage of eye-candy playing for them, either. Even the team’s managers were pretty cute. You were certain players like Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger were not plastered all over the university website solely for their soccer skills.

Though, good looks aside, they were undeniably good, and made a damn impressive pair on the field. However, most of the crowd would agree that Jaeger, Arlert, and the entire team, could thank their captain for their win today.

You step onto the field with a wide grin as you watch Levi’s team wrangle him into the middle of their circle and toss him up in the air unceremoniously. You almost want to capture the moment for yourself, but to your left, Hange is already recording a video you’re certain Levi would threaten to have deleted.

Most of the mob had fizzled away after the exciting win, leaving behind the team themselves, and a couple of students—likely friends or family of the athletes. After their final huddle, the boys begin to dissipate, greet the remaining crowd. Hange leaves you to badger Erwin, who had been sitting out due to an injury.

You spot Levi carefully picking up his duffel bag, and take the opportunity to run up to him, encase in a sudden and warm hug. You wrap your arms around his neck, and Levi has but a moment’s notice to secure his hands around your back and steady your bodies, lest you both fall to the ground from your uncoordinated momentum.

“You played so well!” you exclaim, pulling back from your hug, but keeping your palms on his shoulders, bouncing excitedly, “I knew you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good! You’ve never played like that before!”

Levi admits to tuning out your praise in favor of drinking in your appearance. The green of his away jersey looks good against your skin, the fabric somewhat loose on your frame. His eyes trail down to the sleeve, a minuscule smirk growing on his lips as he reads his last name in all capital letters underneath his number.

“Come on, Hange and I are taking you guys out for lunch!” your words snap him back to reality, “Anything you want, it’s on me, Captain.”

Levi rolls his tongue against his inner cheek. That’s a promise he’d have to take you up on later. For now, he plays along with your childlike enthusiasm, agreeing to your plans.

He motions for the two of you to get going, but his stride is blocked when you refuse to move from in front of him. Instead, you let your hands crawl from his shoulder to his neck, fingers tickling the hairs at his nape, before you pull him forward into a gentle kiss.

“You really were great, Levi,” you tell him again, pressing another kiss to his lips sweetly.

Levi hums, indulging you one more time, before he hears gasps and not-so-subtle exclamations of “Captain has a girlfriend?!” coming from his annoying teammates. He scoffs when he pulls back to see Jaeger looking at him with his mouth open so wide he could catch flies.

“You’re kind of ruining my reputation,” Levi tells you, but there’s no real bark to his tone.

It’s your turn to scoff, slowly trailing your hands down his arms, and eventually back to your side. You turn and the both of you begin to walk, not before you note, “You ruined your own reputation when you invited me and Hange here.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

“Hey!” you whine, frown deepening as Levi chuckles at you, “You’re not supposed to agree, asshole.” 

Levi doesn’t stop laughing, but gently wraps his arms around your shoulder as the both of you follow behind Hange and Erwin, and back to your car. 

“Don’t think your unusual displays of affection are going to make me forgive you,” you pout, but reach your hand to wrap your fingers around his anyways; Levi doesn’t even bother to hide his smirk, “I don’t care if you scored the winning goal or not, just for that, I’m only buying you one appetizer.”

Levi hums noncommittally. That’s fine, he could think of at least three other things he would rather you do for him instead when you both got home. With and without that jersey on.

[damiano-mylove]

Gardening with the members of Måneskin

Lil bit of swearing, but Damiano's section is kinda...nice? *Masterlist*

Vic

Vic has a very specific gardening outfit - because most of her regular clothes aren’t very condusive to gardening

But once she’s in her outfit, watch the fuck out

Vic will go elbow deep in dirt to pull out weeds and you would have to practically sit on top of her to make her take a break (she’d gotten heatstroke at least twice before and you never let it go)

While Vic would become Frankie Flowers, you would be the waterer

Long days would be spent under the sun and in your garden - but it paid off when everyone would come to your garden for drinks because it was absolutely beautiful

Flowers every colour under the sun, the greenest grass in the neighbourhood, the healthiest soil in the world

The showers after a day in the dirt were always beyond godly; where you would massage shampoo into Vic’s beautiful hair and she would bathe you in sweet kisses that felt stark against the temperature of the water

Gardening was never one of Vic’s massive interests, but if it was with you, she would be all for it

Thomas

Thomas wouldn’t be much of a gardener - but he would be more than glad to have loads of plants all over your house

Timing would be everything: he would water the plants with a very nice mister every day at the exact same time, and they would be placed in very well-thought out spots for sunlight and to be able to walk through the house without tripping over some manner of shrubbery

Watering time was typically during the evening, when Thomas couldn't sleep, and he would also reposition them and rehouse them all the time

Each plant would have a name, some of them would be normal but others would be entirely out of pocket

When Thomas would be on tour, you would be getting calls that would start off the cuff with, 'Y/n, have you watered Geraldine?'

Yes, you had already watered Geraldine, at the same time Thomas always did, but Thomas would just ask because it was a ritual, because he loved that you cared about the plants you shared as much as he did, because he loved that you loved his strange little habits

Ethan

You think this motherfucker does plants?

He does fake plants that look so strangely real, he does shrubberies in the gardens; he enjoys the low-maintenance plants for himself, but he wouldn't deprive you the pleasure of floristry is you partake in said pleasure

On rough days, you always gather, for Ethan, a nice bouquet of wildflowers that would smell fresh for the day, then dissipate at the same rate as the roughness

If the home you and Ethan would share were to include a yard, with a garden and a lawn, it would be a garden of hostas and shrubs, and probably a rock lawn

That would be, of course, unless you preferred to tend to a garden and a lawn, then Ethan would suck it the fuck up and get down and dirty with you in the yardwork (it would end up being really enjoyable, but Ethan would never jump at the chance to do gardening)

Damiano

The garden you shared with Damiano wouldn't just be a beautiful garden; it would be just as extravagant and breathtaking as the love you both harboured for each other

Topiaries would protrude from the green, with no specific order nor placement, but they would all come together at a certain point - they would the shapes of hearts, of flamingos, and even one of a five pointed star

The flowers would all be so vibrant in colour that you could taste it on your tongue, just by laying eyes on them

Hummingbirds flocked to your garden, as well as dragonflies and butterflies; each one more beautiful than the last, and having an uptick in appearances when a loving moment was to be shared

During weekdays, you two would alternate days to trim the topiaries and fill the bird bath, but weekends would be devoted to having your yard reflect upon the insurmountable elegance and charm of your relationship

Damiano would always tell you how the garden may never compare to your beauty, but your work on it had given the garden a piece of your beauty - that beauty was always shared with whatever you touched, but never diminished, according to Damiano

this wasnt requested, i jus spent the day in my garden with my mum, so i was possessed by lina into writing this - fyi lina and i have been having a shit time at our place so mind us disappearing every little bit

[duckymcdoorknob]

Uh this is kinda just a vent post.

I feel like I’m too “old fashioned” to survive in this era.

I’m so disgusted by sex.

I’m disgusted by its value in society now.

I hate that I get called a “buzzkill” and “prude” when I express that sex jokes make me uncomfortable. I hate that people don’t listen to me/respect my boundaries when I do so.

I hate that a man is only deemed “sexy” if he’s got washboard abs, a sharp jawline, and a big dick. Not all men want to/have that body.

I hate that a woman is only deemed “wifeable” if she’s got big tits, big hips, big ass and small tummy. Not many women are naturally like that.

I hate the whole concept of sneaky links and side pieces.

I hate that people aren’t in relationships to fall in love or get married anymore. I hate that most relationships only function if the sex is good.

Modern couples make me ick. I hate the “overly obsessive girlfriend” cliche, who is constantly checking her man’s phone, going fucking insane over his location, camera roll, etc. Liking a fucking photo on Instagram is NOT cheating. And like, LET HIM PLAY HIS DAMN GAMES!!! Sure, a relationship goes both ways, but I’m so tired of seeing “OMg he doesn’t love me anymore bc he played his game for 5 minutes after spending 10 and a half hours with me 😥😥😥😥😥” it may be a joke but like gOD ITS SO CRINGEY.

I hate the “overly possessive boyfriend” cliche. Like yeah if you wanna make a joke about her outfit being revealing, go ahead. But don’t try to control what she wears. So what if she’s got her cleavage showing? So what if it’s a little too short for your liking? WHO CARES. Don’t try to keep your girlfriend from leaving home/controlling where she goes.

I FUCKING HATE 3/4 OF PETNAMES AND I FEEL LIKE I’M BROKEN BECAUSE OF IT. “Bae, babe, baby, kitten, baby cakes, babydoll, doll, princess, mamas.” I just hate them and they’re the most commonly used so yeah I am broke. Like there is only ONE instance i’ve seen in which I’m not uncomfortable by “mamas” and that’s it.

And it’s not everyone!! I know in my heart that there are so many good people out there who still believe in love. I just can’t seem to ever be exposed to people like that anymore.

I hate that alcohol and drugs have been so institutionalized, especially to underage individuals. I hate having to watch my 18 year old best friend slowly turn into an alcoholic. I hate having to babysit another friend when they’re high just to make sure that they don’t get behind the wheel. Medicinal purposes is different. If a person is partaking in a substance so to calm their anxiety, calm any other mental ailments, or any physical pain, please by all means do so.

My whole issue is, I feel all of these things but don’t want people to stop doing them because who am I to tell them how to live their lives?

I just don’t relate to anyone anymore. Moreover, I don’t relate to anyone my age anymore. Making friends is hard, finding a partner is hard. It’s 10x harder when I have to try to explain that I’m ace. It gets 50x harder when I have to continuously argue against the “well don’t knock it till you try it” or “when you get a partner, you’ll understand and start to feel those urges.”

No the fuck I won’t???

ALSO

I’m tired of victim blaming. If I hear one more person say “well what was she wearing?“ I’m gonna choke them.

I hate the fact that people hear I’m Catholic, and automatically assume I’m a piece of shit. Like bro I’m asexual, queer, and pro-choice. I’m constantly committing so many sins???

Like I said, it’s NOT ALL PEOPLE. But, a big chunk of society and my environment is like this.

I don’t like action movies, I don’t like many live action tv shows. I like anime and kids movies, baking shows and some TLC documentary series’.

I don’t like rap or country or modern pop. I like 60’s and Broadway and J-Pop.

I don’t like Valorant or COD too much. I like Genshin and Undertale, and stupid games like Untitled Goose Game or T.A.B.S.

People treat me different because of this. I hate that they do.

I don’t want to spend my weekend at a party. I want to spend my weekend perfecting my essay so I can get a good grade.

I don’t know if it’s because of my religious values, or my own values, but I think I’m just old fashioned.

Jesus I’m so sorry if you read all of this. If you did, just pretend you didn’t.