#oliver fog icon

[saruwiya]

꒰⠀ ⠀⠀ ೀ⠀⠀ #RANDOM ⠀⊹⠀⠀⠀୧⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀﹗ ׅ ⠀⠀︵⠀

[arcanistsanctum]

Character Icons (2/?)

[tsatsked]

my Cool Hat tierlist fueled by my irritation about Yenisei's hat (playaple characters up to ver2.5 i1 uncluded)

[timedusts]

.⭒ for @lavendergalactic's 5k event day 4: make a gift for someone who inspires you lots or edit your favourite character with your friend's favourite character.

.⭒ oliver fog icons for @gluttonyedits rrraaa get loved and cherished you goober!!

[shiftthemoon]

THINGS YOUR DRS REMIND ME OF ✷ sunlight, or moonlight?

✺ TABLE OF CONTENTS :

harry potter dr. fantastic beasts dr. percy jackson dr. fame dr. mermaid dr. f1 driver dr. httyd dr. game of thrones dr. hunger games dr. marvel dr. spider-man + spiderverse dr. marauders era dr. arcane dr. vampire dr. pirate dr.

psssst!!! post's layout was ib hrrtshape!! my fav mootie ever,, ♡

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ harry potter dr.

your hogwarts reality feels like rainy afternoons, where clouds cling to the sky like an unspoken promise. it’s libraries that smell of leather and parchment, the kind where you breathe in and suddenly remember things you’ve never lived.

• it reminds me of the soft hum of the cranberries’ “dreams” or the low ache in radiohead’s “exit music (for a film).”

• it feels like the gothic spires of edinburgh, dark green scarves blowing in the wind, and the cold stone streets of york.

• movies like dead poets society and stardust carry the same weight, that blend of whimsy and melancholy, where magic isn’t just magic—it’s rebellion, it’s survival.

• this dr smells like earl grey tea, sharp with bergamot, and the flickering glow of a candle dripping wax onto an old oak desk. it’s virgo sun with scorpio moon energy: structured, mysterious, aching with purpose.

• autumn is your season—cool winds, warm fires, and leaves crackling underfoot.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ fantastic beasts & where to find them dr.

this dr is gold filigree and vintage maps, the kind you get lost in, only to discover yourself in the borders. it’s the delicate art of understanding things bigger than you—creatures, love, alchemy.

• it’s the nostalgic drawl of jeff buckley’s “hallelujah” or fleetwood mac’s “the chain,” songs that sound like they were written by ancient souls.

• feels like london, fog rolling off the thames at dawn, or somewhere quieter, like oxford or canterbury, where history whispers to you in cobblestone cracks.

• watch the theory of everything or midnight in paris, for that subtle sense of chasing something you’ll never quite touch but will die trying to understand.

• it smells like leather gloves and ink-stained fingers. it feels like cancer venus — taurus mars — gemini mercury energy: tender, protective, but a little guarded.

• winter. always winter. the kind of cold that bites, but you endure it because it reminds you you’re alive.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ percy jackson dr.

camp half-blood hums like cicadas at twilight, drenched in summer heat and the salt of the sea. it’s friendship forged in battle, love found between cracks in the earth.

• this dr is nirvana’s “come as you are” and smashing pumpkins’ “1979.” chaotic, nostalgic, but alive.

• it’s greece in all its ancient glory—the ruins of delphi, the waves crashing at the cliffs of santorini. but it’s also the rugged coastlines of california, where myths could hide in the spray of the pacific.

• the movies the perks of being a wallflower and the goonies echo this vibe: coming-of-age stories tied with adventure and heartache.

• it’s that faint copper smell of blood and the earthy scent of olive trees. sagittarius rising — aquarius mercury — aries mars energy: reckless, bold, chasing freedom with no map in hand.

• summer. long days, wild nights, golden sunsets.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ fame dr.

this dr is glitter in your veins, like electricity is the only thing keeping you moving. it’s the hum of the spotlight, the chaos of dreams colliding with reality.

• this one is björk’s “human behaviour” and radiohead’s “high and dry.” a little experimental, a little tragic, but undeniably iconic.

• it’s new york city, obviously—broadway lights cutting through the smoke, or maybe los angeles, a city burning with ambition.

• black swan and whiplash—these movies carry the same brutal hunger, the obsession that eats you alive but makes it all worth it.

• it smells like sweat and perfume and cigarette smoke, all blending together under flashing lights. aries moon — leo sun — gemini venus energy: fiery, intense, unapologetically raw.

• spring—the season of beginnings, of things growing, of chasing what could be.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ mermaid dr.

this dr feels like the ocean’s lullaby, where the waves carry secrets and the moon pulls your heart like a tide. it’s otherworldly and yet familiar, like a dream you wake up from, still tasting salt on your lips.

• it sounds like enya’s “sail away” or the cure’s “lullaby.” haunting, ethereal, but grounding.

• the turquoise waters of the maldives, or the dark, stormy coasts of cornwall, where cliffs meet an endless horizon.

• the shape of water and ponyo—love stories where the sea breathes life into forgotten places.

• it’s the smell of saltwater and seaweed, the sting of ocean spray against your cheeks. pisces sun & neptune — taurus moon energy: dreamy, fluid, a little lost but beautifully so.

• late summer, early autumn—those blurry in-between days when the air holds onto its warmth just a little longer.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ f1 driver dr.

your f1 dr feels like adrenaline in your veins, the roar of engines, and the wind whipping against your face. it’s speed, competition, but also the camaraderie of shared obsession.

• it sounds like oasis’ “champagne supernova” and the killers’ “all these things that i’ve done.” songs that echo triumph, heartbreak, and everything in between.

• monaco glitters in this dr: yachts anchored in the harbor, the narrow streets drenched in sunlight. but it’s also the neon-soaked nights of singapore and the deserts of bahrain, where the air hums with tension.

• movies like rush and ford v ferrari capture the heart of this dr—rivalries, passion, and the pursuit of perfection.

• it smells like burnt rubber, sweat, and the metallic tang of engines. aries sun — capricorn mars — aquarius uranus energy: fiercely competitive, always chasing the next thrill.

• summer, specifically those late august days when the air is electric with possibility.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ how to train your dragon dr.

your how to train your dragon dr is wind-tossed hair, wild laughter, and the freedom of flying. it’s the untamed beauty of a world that doesn’t quite exist but should.

• it’s muse’s “starlight” and florence + the machine’s “dog days are over.” songs that feel like they could lift you into the clouds.

• it smells like the briny ocean, dragon scales warmed by the sun, and the smoky scent of campfires.

• the cliffs and fjords of norway, the volcanic shores of iceland—this dr is rugged and alive, filled with places where magic hides in the landscape.

• movies like spirit: stallion of the cimarron and brave echo this vibe: freedom, connection, and the push against expectations.

• it feels like sagittarius moon & jupiter — aquarius moon energy: wild-hearted, always exploring, always yearning for more.

• spring, where the world blooms and feels untamed, uncharted, and full of life.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ game of thrones dr.

your game of thrones dr is fire and ice, betrayal and loyalty, the sharp edge of power balanced with the fragility of hope. it’s a world where survival is its own form of poetry.

• it’s joy division’s “atmosphere” and led zeppelin’s “stairway to heaven.” haunting and raw, filled with the weight of kingdoms rising and falling.

• the ancient castles of scotland, the desolate beauty of the sahara, the twisting streets of dubrovnik—places where history feels alive, where whispers of power still linger.

• movies like gladiator and kingdom of heaven hold the same pulse: grand, epic, and dripping in drama.

• it smells like blood, snow, and the faint sweetness of wine. scorpio rising — capricorn mars & mercury energy: intense, strategic, magnetic, but dangerous if crossed.

• winter—long, harsh, and unforgiving, yet filled with moments of beauty that steal your breath.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ hunger games dr.

your hunger games dr is survival carved into your bones, rebellion written in the ashes of the world. it’s the quiet rage of the oppressed turned into a wildfire.

• it’s nine inch nails’ “hurt” and linkin park’s “in the end.” desperate, raw, and relentless, but with a thread of hope.

• the forests of appalachia, the industrial grit of detroit, the sprawling deserts of utah—it’s a patchwork of places where survival feels elemental.

• movies like children of men and the road share this dr’s heart: bleak and brutal, but deeply human.

• it smells like damp earth, gunpowder, and the acrid scent of fire. capricorn mars — virgo venus — leo rising energy: unrelenting, ambitious, and forged in hardship.

• autumn, when the air turns cold, and the trees burn with color, reminding you that beauty exists even in endings.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ marvel dr.

your marvel dr is the blur of action and humanity, larger-than-life stakes grounded in the intimacy of love, loss, and choice. it’s heroes who bleed and villains who cry.

• it’s u2’s “with or without you” and audioslave’s “like a stone.” powerful, aching, and utterly cinematic.

• new york city pulses through this dr: the skyline glowing at night, the chaos of people, the hidden corners where stories unfold.

• movies like the dark knight and logan carry the same weight: gritty, emotional, and built on moral gray areas.

• it smells like leather jackets, rain-slick streets, and the metallic tang of battle. aquarius sun — leo mars — gemini moon energy: visionary, a little distant, always fighting for the greater good.

• spring and fall—transitional seasons that feel like the calm before and after the storm.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ spider-man + spiderverse dr.

your spiderverse dr feels like swinging between skyscrapers, the air electric with possibility and purpose. it’s chaos and connection, a kaleidoscope of choices and the weight of responsibility.

• it’s the strokes’ “reptilia” and gorillaz’s “feel good inc.”—gritty, pulsing, and full of edge.

• the streets of brooklyn, the neon haze of tokyo, or the rooftops of chicago, where the city is a character all its own.

• movies like blade runner 2049 and tron: legacy carry this vibe: sleek, emotional, and larger than life.

• it smells like rain on pavement, fresh paint on a graffiti wall, and the ozone tang of lightning. aquarius mercury — gemini mars — libra moon energy: inventive, unconventional, and sharp-witted.

• spring—when the world starts to bloom again, full of fresh starts and untold stories.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ marauders era dr.

your marauders dr is all late-night laughter and whispered secrets, rebellion scrawled in ink and moonlight. it’s the ache of youth, of moments that feel infinite but are fleeting.

• it’s pink floyd’s “wish you were here” and fleetwood mac’s “rhiannon.” bittersweet, timeless, full of soul.

• feels like the hidden alleys of london, the rolling hills of wales, or the misty forests of the scottish highlands.

• movies like the breakfast club and dead poets society carry this dr’s energy—complicated friendships, rebellion, and nostalgia for a time that might not have been perfect but was yours.

• it smells like old books, cigarette smoke, and the faint sweetness of butterbeer. libra moon — cancer sun — pisces venus energy: romantic, thoughtful, and deeply tied to relationships.

• autumn, when the world feels crisp, nostalgic, and alive with change.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ arcane dr.

your arcane dr is a masterpiece of contradictions—gritty streets juxtaposed with glittering innovation. it’s a world of broken dreams and endless ambition.

• it’s placebo’s “every you every me” and radiohead’s “no surprises.” raw, haunting, and brimming with unspoken emotion.

• zaun is the heart of this dr: neon lights cutting through the smoke, the underbelly of progress. piltover looms above, all gold and power.

• movies like v for vendetta and ghost in the shell share this vibe: revolutionary, futuristic, and deeply human.

• it smells like oil, soot, and metallic sparks. pluto & mars in aquarius — scorpio moon energy: transformative, innovative, and unapologetically intense.

• winter—the cold amplifies the tension, the longing for warmth, the fight for survival.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ vampire dr.

your vampire dr is velvet and shadows, the allure of eternity balanced with the weight of it. it’s beauty that bites, darkness that whispers, and immortality that aches.

• it’s bauhaus’ “bela lugosi’s dead” and depeche mode’s “enjoy the silence.” moody, sensual, and timeless.

• feels like prague at midnight, the foggy streets of victorian london, or the endless forests of transylvania.

• movies like interview with the vampire and crimson peak embody this dr—hauntingly beautiful, filled with danger and longing.

• it smells like old wine, wax-dripping candles, and the iron tang of blood. scorpio sun — libra venus — pisces mercury energy: intense, magnetic, and deeply tied to the unseen.

• late autumn, when the world is cold and still, and the nights stretch on forever.

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆ NOW READING ┋ pirate dr.

your pirate dr is salt spray in your hair, the endless expanse of the horizon, and the reckless freedom of a life untethered. it’s treasure maps and tempestuous seas, loyalty forged in fire.

• it’s the rolling stones’ “paint it black” and led zeppelin’s “immigrant song.” wild, untamed, and unapologetic.

• the caribbean islands, the rocky cliffs of ireland, or the misty coasts of the azores—where the ocean feels infinite and alive.

• movies like pirates of the caribbean: the curse of the black pearl and master and commander echo this dr: swashbuckling adventure, grit, and loyalty.

• it smells like saltwater, rum, and the wood of a well-worn ship. sagittarius mars — pisces rising — aries sun energy: adventurous, daring, and always chasing the next horizon.

• summer, especially in the golden haze of dusk, when the ocean glows like molten gold.

[juthemagicalclown]

oliver fog is such a legend cause imagine being a teenager and having onesided beef with the spirit of a medieval french knight. iconic.

that's so british of him btw

[assortedseaglass]

🌟Mistletoe | Yuletide🌟

Michael Gavey x Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael's Christmas plans are scuppered, but a chance encounter lifts his hopes for the New Year.

Content: Fluff, Language.

Yuletide Masterlist

December 15th. The night of the Catton Christmas party in Brasenose College. Term ended a week ago, but the prospect of partying with the university’s hottest boy and his gaggle of gorgeous followers was too delicious to pass up. Freshers to third-years clamoured to rub shoulders with the prime ministers and business men of tomorrow. Any way to get your foot in the door, and maybe some Christmas action too.

The single-pane windows of the old college dorm room rattled to the beat of NOW XMAS, and each time the door opened a pair of drunk undergrads tumbled into the quadrangle.

The latest two, a straw-haired girl in a Juicy Couture tracksuit and a burly boy wearing a rugby polo, stumbled from the old double doors leading to the common room. On their way, between sloppy kiss and over the top giggles, they bumped into a solitary figure.

“Sorry, mate,” the drunk boy said, watching the other young man through alcohol-heavy eyes. The girl beside him eyed the stranger and snorted. “Merry Christmas.”

Hands tucked into his pockets, scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, Michael Gavey stumbled. The pair got no reply, only a cold glance of annoyance as he made for his dorm.

Gold, string-light bulbs decorated Brasenose quadrangle, tacky Christmas trees were perched in various student windows, and the saccharine chorus of Band Aid 20 was shouted from the common room.

Michael didn’t hate Christmas. He quite enjoyed the fuss from his aunties and the jumpers his grandmother bought him. His mum snuck extra roasties onto his plate and his dad made a point to buy him each year’s Telegraph Quiz Book. This year would surely be even better. The pride on his family’s faces, each asking about his first term at Oxford. First one in his family to go to university and he gets into Oxford.

It was precisely because he liked Christmas that this one was so miserable. Michael was neither surprised nor upset when he checked his pigeonhole that morning to see no invitation to the Catton Christmas part. Him and Oliver. A pair of nobodies.

He took the new Nokia his dad got him for his A Levels out of his pocket. No texts. Punching the numbered keys, he sent one to Oliver.

Back at BC. Mince pies and port ready.

The corridor to his dorm room was empty. With the turn of his key, he opened the door. The room was cold. The ancient radiator was ticking into life and the old windows were beginning to fog with condensation. On top of his stack of maths textbooks a bottle of unopened port gleamed.

Turning on his bedside lamp, Michael gathered two dusty glasses his mother insisted he pack with him, and from his Tesco bag produced a pack of mince pies. He placed them on a paper plate and emptied the rest of the carrier bag (wallet, keys, pencil case, workbook) next to the E45 cream and battered copy of GH Hardy’s biography.

The Nokia buzzed aggressively on the table. Removing his scarf, Michael checked the screen. It was from Oliver. He unlocked the phone and checked the small envelope icon.

Something’s come up, sorry.

Michael slumped on the bed. His thumb hovered over the keypad.

Get a better offer, did you?

He deleted the text, locked the screen and threw it on the cheap duvet.

The others would still be at the pub. He could just go back and meet them there. Could, were it not for his pride. It just wasn’t the same, a group of people forced together, as opposed to those who found each other.

The pub was full of his fellow mathematics students. Spotty, eager to please and reeking of desperation to prove themselves. Michael didn’t need to. He watched as they fought for Professor Mathison’s attention, keen to discuss tutorial projects and career prospects. Mathison was already keenly aware of Michael, judging by the way his jaw dropped when Michael recited the Lagrangian form to the last letter.

With Oliver it was different. They were two outsiders, making their way in a world entirely foreign to their own, their intellect their only way in. Now it seemed the friendship Michael was working so hard to cultivate with Oliver was slipping away.  

He stared at the empty glasses. Fuck it. Pouring a little too much port in one of the glasses, Michael stuffed a mince pie into his mouth, grabbed another and made for the door.

The air was crisp, but mild for mid-December. The music of the Catton party across the quadrangle had mellowed, and through the misty windows Michael could make out shapes dancing close together, swaying slowly.

A pang of jealousy twisted in his naval and he twitched awkwardly. He wondered what it would be like, having another body pressed against his. Or rather, to have someone want to be that close to him. His mind flashed to the French girl in tutorial. She’d pressed her leg against his at the pub when Mathison mentioned a partnered project for the new year, and when he’d looked down, he saw her fingers brushing the cuff of his jumper. He’d flinched away.

Everyone was doing it. Quick flings with no regard for consequence. He supposed he could do it too. With the French girl, or the girl with agoraphobia. Lord knows, she was getting as much action as he was. But there was something in his studious nature, his desire for knowledge, that meant he had to be consumed by knowing someone fully, or nothing at all.

Perching his bony bottom on the cold concrete step under an old brick archway, Michael took a gulp of port and began on the mince pie. He took the top off, ate it, and thought of his grandfather, and how he would add brandy butter before replacing the pastry cover. He ate the rest quickly and sipped his port slowly, thinking over the last term. The successes; far and away the best student on the course, and the failures; one (?) friend. It was as he did this that the door behind him opened.

“Shit, sorry! Didn’t see you there!” You hadn’t done anything wrong. Not opened the door on his back or tripped over him. Michael waved his hand noncommittally and without answer. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

He looked up at this. An old grey coat at least a size too big was wrapped around you, a scarf pulled up to your nose and muffling your voice. Michael couldn’t make much of you out, just the eyes peering down at him from above the scarf, but he could tell you were beaming at him. Why?

He gestured to the cold step. You sat beside him, gave him a bright smile that didn’t falter when he stared at you a little too long, and turned to look at the night beyond the small archway.

“Pretty, aren’t they? All the lights?” Michael didn’t respond. He shifted his body slightly away from yours and took another sip of port. You weren’t deterred. “You a Billy-no-mates too then?”

“It’s Norman-no-mates-”

“I don’t think it matters.” You cut him off. “Well?”

Michael turned his face to you. You were still watching the lights but sensed him looking at you. In turn, you looked back at him, unabashed and direct.

“I might have mates waiting inside.”

“You might, but you don’t. You’re out here drinking wine,”

“Port.”

“Port’s just fortified wine. Drinking on your own when everyone’s off partying.”

Michael didn’t blink as he watched you. You weren’t being cruel by making him feel bad for his social ineptitude. Nor were you prying into what it was that made him so deplorable to seemingly everyone in college. No. You were just stating the facts. Michael loved facts.

“NFI.”

“Snap.” You held out your hand and gave him your name. Michael’s heart didn’t leap, but it did give a strange sort of jolt.

“Michael Gavey.” He shook yours and his mouth twitched when you gave him a firm smile.

“What about you? Why are you sitting on a cold step with a stranger?”

“Mate’s back there screaming at her fella cos he necked some girl in Exeter after a Hooch too many.”

“Let me guess, Business Management?”

“The very same.”

There was a contented silence a while. Michael sipped his port and watched you from the corner of his eye. The fingerless gloves you wore were fraying a little. Everything looked second hand. From your slightly battered Mary Janes and baggy jeans to the bag by your feet. Even the scarf still wrapped around your neck. The hair there was bunching under the fabric and a few wisps kept sticking to your lip gloss. Too pretty to be sitting with him, and too rough around the edges to be the usual Catton-fodder.

Michael licked his lips. “What are you reading?” Please be something good.

“Computer Sciences.” Merry fucking Christmas. “You?”

“Maths.”

“Ah, we could have done with you at the pub quiz! ‘How many birds in total are there in the twelve days o-’”

“One-hundred and eighty-four.” Michael rattled off as though the answer was a grocery list. You stared at him, an impressed smile playing at the corner of your mouth. Michael’s heart vaulted that time. He wanted more.

“Ask me anything. I can do any sum.”

You eyed him with barely supressed glee. “Twelve times thirty-one.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two. Come on, ask me something harder.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two times eight.”

“Harder.”

“Times twenty-three?”

“Harder.”

You almost shouted with excitement. “Three-hundred and seventy-two times forty-seven!”

“Seventeen-thousand, four hundred and eighty-four.”

You giggled and let out a low whistle. “Fuck me,”

Yes please.

A broad flush spread across Michael’s cheeks and he licked his lips again. “I can also-”

“Better check madam is ok,” your eyes indicated behind you as you took you phone from your pocket. The white light from the small screen was garish amongst the soft golds of the Christmas lights, and Michael’s heart sank as he watched you scroll through your contacts list. So many names. He’d give anything to be among.

He didn’t pay attention to anything you were saying as you chatted to your friend. The shine of your lip gloss beneath the fairy lights was too mesmerising. Michael raised his port glass to his lips, took a sip and let the glass linger there as you ended your call. He was entranced.

“Love you, mate. Alright, chat tomorrow.” You sighed as you hung up and looked at Michael. “Home for me, I think.”

As you stood, Michael did too, pulling his trousers up and tucking his hands into his pockets. “Nice to meet you, Michael.” You shook his free hand again and took the port from the other. He watched, agog, as you downed it in one. “Graham’s? Very nice.” You passed him the empty glass and began making your way to the end of the archway. He followed you like a shadow.

At the end of the passageway into the old quadrangle you turned to face him. “What are you doing for Christmas, Michael?”

“Home,” his voice was unnaturally high and he coughed. “Home, to see family but not much else.”

“And new year?”

“Seeing some boring old school friends then back here before term st-starts-starts,” you were leaning towards him. With no hint of shyness, and perhaps a little too forcefully, you kissed him. You pulled back, smiling.

“What was that for?” The surprise of your lips on his made him shout, and it sounded more hysterical than genuine shock and curiosity.

“Mistletoe,” you stated simply, pointing at the small poesy hanging from the archway.

Michael coughed. “Of course, yeah. Thank you.” He made an odd movement and almost clicked his heels. You laughed again, turning into the dark night.

“See you in the new year, Michael.” Your voice echoed off the old stone walls. Just as Michael expected, you sounded so certain. In all your ten minutes of knowing each other, he’d learned that about you. The statement wasn’t speculation or conjecture. It was a fact. Michael loved facts.

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope it's been a kind and calm one. H x

The usual suspects: @arcielee @targaryenrealnessdarling @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @ellrond @cyeco13 @babyblue711 @exitpursuedbyavulcan @humanpurposes @myfandomprompts @barbieaemond @anjelicawrites

[besaya-glantaya]

Thoughts on Alex being wrong and loving it

Red White and Royal Blue (2023 movie)

Remember the little quip Henry makes about admiring Alex's willingness to admit when he's wrong? It's such a great moment of foreshadowing, especially since Henry has no idea just how right he is.

Alex prizes himself on being someone who is skilled at reading people, at seeing the person beneath the surface, but he's never come across anyone quite like Henry before.

Alex must be used to people hiding who they truly are - he's been steeped in American politics for years - but he probably isn't expecting anyone from such a legacy of historic power and entitlement to be, at their core, an actual cinnamon roll.

Their initial meeting also comes at a time in Henry's life when any chink in his armour reveals only pain and anger, leading Alex to assume that what lies behind the carefully controlled façade isn't pleasant.

This assumption is only reinforced by further antagonistic interactions, fuelled by Henry's attempts to balance civility while protecting his heart as Alex consistently pulls Henry's metaphorical pigtails.

The fallout from cakegate forces them into extended periods of proximity and we see Alex start to glimpse pieces of the real Henry beneath his bland public persona. Each further piece that's revealed surprises and delights Alex and it's a joy to watch Taylor Zakhar Perez bring those moments to life.

Allow me to ramble about some of these:

1. Alex's pause of panic followed by surprised relief as Henry suavely responds to the interview question, "How did you end up on the floor of Buckingham Palace, covered in cake?" Alex's relief is two fold: he was floundering with no idea what to say (shouldn't have rebuffed Henry's request to prepare for this interview, Alex...) and Henry's answer is not at all what Alex was expecting. Henry could easily have attributed the event to clumsiness or tomfoolery on Alex's part - even just by subtle implication. That wouldn't have been out of line with some of Alex's answers (e.g., "Three words to describe Henry? Um... White, blond and British.") but Henry chooses a more protective route, deflecting attention from Alex, which comes as a pleasant surprise. [Of course he can't show this, so instead retaliates with something as annoying as possible. Cue side eye from Henry.]

2. Alex's big-eyed expression of sympathy as Henry tells him the Palace insisted on parading him around while he was grieving for his father. It's the key moment Alex realises he's built a lot of assumptions on a misunderstanding and has probably treated Henry rather unfairly.

3. Alex frowning at Henry talking and laughing with the little girl in the hospital bed. He's seeing Henry through a new lens and realises this picture doesn’t fit with a lot of his previous assumptions.

4. Alex shaking his head at Henry's joking attempt to decline an invite to his NYE party that most people would kill to get. "That's perfect, you kill me and then I won't have to go." It's the first time Henry uses his sharp wit to share a joke with Alex, rather than directing it at him in a fit of pique. It's an olive branch and I don't think Alex was expecting such easy forgiveness.

5. The sublime series of text based interactions where Alex is surprised and charmed by Henry flirting (under the guise of gentle ridicule).

6. The iconic "I can't believe how wrong I was about you," while he and Henry are as close as two people can get.

7. My all time favourite: Alex's reaction to Henry pointing out the yellow roses on his tie. Henry employs this in a sweet distraction during a moment of all encompassing anxiety for Alex. It's enough to bring Alex out of his fog, to realise how much strength he draws just from Henry being there to support him. The way Taylor says "Oh my god. I'm so grateful you are here," is perfection.

I'm a gooey mess thinking about all the future moments where Alex is surprised and overwhelmed by Henry's kindess.

[Sobs]

On a related note @mulderscully has a great post titled: Alex's headshake of Love™, which captures several of these moments, and more, in perfect gif form.

[barside-daydream]

Oliver fog edit set for @ebony-lonesome

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[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023 is Here!

Now, I can't draw - and I'm a writer anyway, so here's 31 days worth of headcanons, rambles and short stories based on the Traintober prompts by @theflyingkipper. First time doing this, so it ought to be fun!

This is the master post, so it'll have all the links you need to find what I post this year. This page will also have this link to my Ao3 work which has the same stuff, but without pictures.

Day 1: Free Day (A ramble about preservation and Sodor) Day 2: Bridge (Rheneas, 1866) Day 3: Twins (Neil, Bill and Ben) Day 4: Devious (Diesel will forever be the most devious) Day 5: It's Only Me! (Sir Topham Hatt and Edward, a friendship in three words...) Day 6: Special Letters (A Tale of Two A1 Brothers...) Day 7: Refreshment (The Refreshment Lady is retiring...) Day 8: Bird (Cranky blames Henry for it all...) Day 9: Viaduct (Neil doesn't like the Viaduct...) Day 10: Happiest (The Engines are Happiest when...) Day 11: Roundhouse (Edward doesn't like Tidmouth Sheds...) Day 12: Something Borrowed (Maybe don't Borrow Henrietta...) Day 13: Something New (Gordon's new life on the slow trains...) Day 14: Young Iron (Ivo Hugh has some advice for a young engine...) Day 15: Maintenance (Duke Needs the Others to be Well Maintained...) Day 16: Purpose (What is an engine's purpose?) Day 17: Holiday (How Tourism on Sodor has evolved...) Day 18: Blueprints (Crovan's Gate is home to many blueprints...) Day 19: Revolutionary (What are the origins of the iconic phrase?...) Day 20: Live Wire (Edward didn't much like the telegraph wires...) Day 21: Roots (Terence does not like weeds...) Day 22: Top Hat (Sir Topham Hatt I decides to visit the railway...) Day 23: Big World (Duck manages to squirm into the BWBA movie...) Day 24: Odd Jobs (Rusty has many odd jobs...) Day 25: Distress Signal (What's out in Tidmouth Bay...) Day 26: Summit (James and the Culdee Fell Engine...) Day 27: Record-Breaker (Mallard broke the record; the record broke Mallard) Day 28: Which Way Now (An engine gets lost in the fog...) Day 29: Out of Service (Oliver wasn't the only engine in that siding...) Day 30: Middle of Nowhere (They should have left that part of the island alone) Day 31: Lights Out (Don't let the lights go out at Crovan's Gate)

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - Chapter Twenty Two.

Well, guys, here it is. Sorry it's a few days late, but as you all know I have so much going in my life at the moment, but I made an effort to get this to you timely, the final chapter of our story. Thank you all for your continued readership, you honestly mean the world to me :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One

Words - 3,533

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

“My stomach is hungry, but I’m not.” Turning to look at him, she pulled a half-scrunched face. “Is that weird?” 

“Can’t relate. Whenever my belly is demanding I feed it, I gotta do it. You know how hangry I get.”  

He made quite the valid point. Guero was like a bear emerging from hibernation when in need of food; very much motivated towards eating, and somewhat aggressive if couldn’t get his hands on what he required. “Mother fucking Mary, I do!”  

Her giggle brought a little light to her face that had been all but extinguished in the time they’d lain on the bed, Emma battling with her emotions surrounding the fact that Rocco was no more. Just then, her phone beeped, Guero passing it to her as she sat up, pressing the message icon, her heart skipping a beat.  

‘Will call you soon, darling. So relieved you’re alright. It’s all over now. Love you all the world. Mom xxx’ 

Her bottom lip wobbled, her throat pinching tight. “Oh my god.” She got that Marie was perhaps a little too distracted at present, having to play the part of the frantic wife whose husband was missing, explaining it to the kids and her family, so calling might have been difficult. A text was enough, though. It also showed Vincent’s intentions clearly. He was living up to his promises.  

“As far as mafia bosses go, he seems pretty fair,” Guero remarked, after she’d shared those thoughts with him. “I know he’s only been at the helm for like, a couple hours, but yeah. At least we don’t have to be doing nothing for him we don’t wanna be.” He paused to let her speak, but her words were halted when his stomach let out a very audible growl.  

“Somebody needs feeding,” she commented, arching an eyebrow as they both shared soft laughter. 

“Yeah, I guess I do.” 

Shifting herself up, she kissed his chest, reaching to stroke his face. “I’ll go put that pizza in the oven. Just because I don’t feel like eating, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I can always nibble at a slice, if you don’t inhale the entire thing in three minutes.” 

Getting up, he followed her through to the kitchen. “How well my woman knows me.” 

While Emma went about jazzing up the frozen pizza with a little extra in the way of meat, cheese and olives, Guero stood and observed, handing her a tequila shot she sank in one. 

“Keep ‘em coming, baby.”  

He grinned. “As I will with you as soon as I’ve filled my stomach. If you want me to, that is?” He was mindful that perhaps sexual gymnastics might not be too high on her list of priorities.  

Leaning to kiss him, she gave his cheek a playful nibble. “it’ll be the perfect thing to take my mind off of it all.”  

It proved to be perfect for just that, Emma falling asleep soon after she’d been thoroughly ploughed into the mattress. In the coming days, though, it all whirled around her head like a small tornado, trying to find her balance and return to normal, yet one thing hung over her like a fog. She hadn’t heard back from Marie.  

Two days passed, Emma feeling confused and hurt, throwing herself into her work to deal with what she assumed to be some kind of rejection, venting all to Lee.  

“I wouldn’t worry, sunshine,” her friend began, handing her a can of lubricant to assist in loosening a rusted exhaust clamp. “She’s probably got a lot on, liaising with the police, reporting Rocco as a missing person, all the while dealing with the fact that he actually fuckin’ ain’t missing at all. I bet she’s had a lotta emotions to process, just like you have.”  

Lee’s words made a lot of sense, Emma realising that perhaps it was a little selfish given the circumstances, for her to expect Marie’s immediate attention when she too had so much to process in the aftermath. “I think you’re right, yeah. I’ll give her time on it.”  

Time. It was only natural that Marie needed some, she assumed, kicking herself a little for thinking selfishly. Of course, she had much to deal with and just because she wasn’t at the epicentre of it didn’t mean she cared any less. “You’re thirty, a grown woman. You can deal with your mom not calling you right away.” she thought to herself while returning to her work. 

Come the following afternoon, though, Emma discovered that time moved a lot quicker than she’d envisioned it would, seeing a large, white vehicle driving slowly through the yard, coming to a stop in the space between the clubhouse and the workshop. When the door opened, she could barely believe her eyes. There, looking way too glamorous for her surroundings, stood the one person her heart had ached for since her escape. 

She should have known the woman who folded her loving wings around her for nineteen years would never abandon her, now she could safely find a way back to her again. 

“Mom?” She could scarcely believe it, but there she was. There was the woman who had loved her and tried so valiantly to keep her safe all those years. Pulling off her gloves, she shot out from the workshop, running with tears pooling her eyes towards the loving, open arms that awaited her. “Mom!” Reaching out, she flung her arms around her, Marie clasping her tight, breathing in her scent, sobbing hard into her hair with relief.  

Even the most hardened of men who had exited the clubhouse to witness the scene felt their throats pinch, watching the women reconnect, the bond they had incredible. It was borne of love and loyalty, victims of similar circumstance and because of such, perhaps even stronger than that of DNA and blood.  

“Emsy, oh my god. Oh, I missed you so, so much!” Marie cried, stroking her hair, holding her in a tight embrace. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were gonna call! Are the kids with you?” she gasped, Marie rocking her in her arms, pulling back a little to look at her.  

“No, I couldn’t take them out of school, so they’re with friends. And I was gonna call, but it didn’t seem enough. Besides, had to show my face in the interests of looking concerned about my husband going missing out here. Nobody needs to know it was my daughter who I really came to see.”  

Emma’s bottom lip quivered, Marie smoothing her hair and clutching her close again, soothing her as she began to sob. “Love you all the world, my darling. It’s over now, baby girl. All over. Shhh, it’s alright.”  

“I feel... I... so much guilt, and I don’t feel like I should be relieved... and I,” she gasped, her chest heaving with the force of her sobs, Marie soothing her. “Mom, I can’t... I don’t... I...” 

“Shhhh, my darling. You’re losing it a little, deep breaths, come on.” She began to breathe in deeply, holding Emma’s eye contact, watching as she mirrored her and began to calm. It was an exercise she’d done with her since she was ten, to calm her panic attacks as a result of what Rocco routinely inflicted on her. “You wanna go someplace to talk, just you and me?”  

“Um, yeah. I gotta check with Lee first. And, well, there’s somebody I want you to meet.” Turning to the clubhouse, she smiled, beckoning with her hand. Guero walked over, returning the wide smile Marie greeted him with. God, Rocco had really been punching. She was in her early fifties, but still an absolute knockout. “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Guero.” 

“Oh, what a nice name,” Marie began, opening her arms. “I’m a hugger, you gotta bring it in, mister!”  

He laughed softly, obliging. “Good to meet you at last, Marie. She’s missed the hell outta you, you know.” 

“Very mutual! But mother Mary, I was so relieved she was safe. So, you been looking after her, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, wrapping an arm around Emma. “Always will, too.”  

Her smile was fond, reaching an elegantly manicured hand to stroke his cheek. “Mind if I steal her a while? I think we need to reconnect.” 

He shrugged, shaking his head. “No problem.” Emma kissed him, going over to Lee to both clear it with her, and introduce her mother and best friend, Lee a little stiff at being hugged, but polite all the same.  

They headed off in the rented white SUV, Marie turning the air con back up to full, bemoaning the heat.  

“Mom, this is nothing. You should try a summer here, holy Christ, it’s like hellfire!”  

Marie smiled, turning the car around to drive back out. “Remember that summer when you were thirteen, and Rocco had gone away to Atlantic City for a long weekend? You turned into a prune from the amount you were in the pool.”  

The memory warmed her, much like the sun had upon that beautiful July day, Emma remembering the taste of freedom as she gave Marie directions. “Left here. And yeah, yeah I remember it. You always tried so hard to give me little pieces of normalcy, in a situation that was anything but.” 

“Wish I could have done more, darling.” The sad smile widened when Emma reached to squeeze her arm, Marie’s hand covering it in a soft clasp, continuing through the streets until they reached the coffee shop. Parking the rental car up, they walked down to the location, Marie going in while Emma took a table outside.  

When she returned, she sat in silence for a few moments, tears filling her eyes as she reached to stroke her face in her hands. “Jesus and all the saints, look at you, my girl,” she gasped softly, marvelling at how well her daughter looked. “All tanned and happy, and these tattoos! My god! Are you going to have your entire arms covered, or just to the elbows?” 

She shrugged softly, turning her arm so Marie could examine the underside. “I’m not sure yet. I was considering getting something across my upper back, because I’ve been bitten by the tattoo bug well and truly. I know you always hated them, so I expect to get an earful of protesting.”  

Her eyes were kind, shaking her head softly. “Nope, Emsy. It’s your body, you do to it as you please. Just because it isn’t my thing, it doesn’t mean it can’t be yours, baby. Besides, they really suit you. Tell me about them, what’s this tree lady looking one here all about?” 

“She’s a dryad.” Emma began, before explaining to her all about the mythology behind it, Marie listening with interest. All the way through, she marvelled to herself at just how alight Emma looked, how she was seeing so much of her character sparked into life, the person she only ever revealed when it was the two of them alone.  

As for Emma, she was revealing the details of her job when suddenly, her voice quivered and she paused. “I’m sorry, I just... I can’t believe we’re back together. I thought I’d never see you again, and you’re right here. I love you, mom.” 

Marie fanned her face, taking a deep breath as her eyes swam with tears. “Love you too, Emsy. I can’t believe it either, darling girl. Look at us. We’re free.”  

“What’s your plan, going forward?” she asked, composing herself, taking a big sip of her coffee.  

Marie widened her eyes a little, pushing the crumbs from the brownie she’d eaten into a small pile upon the plate before her. “Play the part of the heartbroken widow after they find his remains, head back to New York, and put that damned prison he kept us in straight on the market. Too many memories, none of which I want to keep. It’s time to start afresh for us all, isn’t it?” 

Indeed, it was. In the months that followed, the plan devised by Vincent and the club ran its course with perfection, nobody any the wiser that Rocco Lombardi hadn’t been mauled by a bear after the scant pieces of his remains were recovered within the forest. With him gone, Emma was able to exist as a person, Marie was able to move on with her life, a life that included leaving New York behind for a fresh start.  

There was also one little part, or rather now not so little, that Emma could finally reconnect with, too.  

Driving up the tree lined street, Emma’s memory of the place bloomed into full colour, the memories from her childhood all coming back to her. She recognised the houses, some different, some exactly the same, her face breaking into full joy at seeing the huge guy who looked like a quarterback standing outside of the one that definitely hadn’t changed much.  

He looked just like their dad had at twenty-seven. 

Guero had literally only just braked when she flung the door open, jumping from the car and running up the bank of grass outside her grandparents' home, Dylan covering the ground just as quickly, his arms wide. It was an embrace twenty years in the coming, the siblings overjoyed to see one another again after so long, the emotions flooding out as they held one another, laughing and crying.  

“Oh my god, oh my god, look at you!” she cried, holding his face in her hands, stroking his tears with her thumbs. “You look just like dad.” 

He nodded, pulling her close again. “And you look just like mom.” Their hug was near unbreakable, Guero standing back and letting them reunite, leaning against the rental car with a smile. “Gran’s just getting her shoes on.” he then added, turning to see his tiny grandmother ambling as fast as she could, Emma sobbing as Bea held her arms wide.  

“Oh, sweetie pie!” she gasped, Emma falling into her soft hug with a sob. “I never thought I’d live to see the day! Welcome home, welcome home. Heavens, we missed you so much!”  

Dylan moved to assist their grandpa, Wilf waving his hand as he struck his walking cane into the ground. “Ahh, with your fussing, boy! I’m fine!” Reaching Emma, he suddenly stood straighter than his sore back had allowed him to in years, holding his arm out. “Give me some cuddles, babe. God, I missed ya!”  

Snuggling against her grandpa’s shoulder, she wept all over again, his lips pressing a kiss on her forehead. “We got her back, at last we got our gal home. I just wish your mom and pop could be here to see it, too.”  

All four of them stood in a loving huddle for what felt like a very long time, Emma finally calling Guero over to introduce him, where he was embraced just as warmly. They went inside, her grandpa immediately picking up his phone.  

“Family photo time! Now, where in the heck did I put my selfie stick?” He began to rummage, her grandmother rolling her eyes. “Bea! Where’d ya put it?” 

“He’s found Instagram and decided it’s his thing,” she explained, moving to reach behind the couch cushions and retrieve the errant selfie stick. “And he even does those tic-tac videos!” 

“That’s Tik Tok, gran,” Dylan softly corrected, giving Emma a nudge with his elbow. 

“Bah! I don’t know all this new aged, newfangled internet stuff! Disney Plus is about as up to date as I like to get. Now, everybody get in, come on, Guero, you too!”  

Five smiling faces were captured, a moment in time none of them would forget, a family reunited and joined by the person who had found the little lost bird, eventually returning her to the flock from where she’d came so many years before.  

The flock that now surrounded Emma was made up of three different groups, all of them her family, one born into, one taken into, and one found. Merging them was something she looked forward to, but with a little apprehension when introducing her family to the woman she called mom.  

Marie’s move from east to west coast had not been an easy decision to make, but with her only sister already out there and her parents sadly both passed, she had very little to remain on Staten Island for. She was also long done with the stigma of being a now deceased mafia bosses’ wife following her around. It was time for a change. 

It meant her children leaving the only place they’d called home and their friends behind, but her eldest was quick to remind her just how fast children adjust. Getting to run into the arms of the girl they’d thought to be their nanny, who Marie now said they should think of as their big sister definitely helped their relocation, though, when Emma met them at the airport upon their arrival.  

It would be a further three months before Emma’s flock all came together, Marie wanting to throw a housewarming dinner, inviting everyone she was close to from the club, as well as her grandparents and Dylan, plus his new girlfriend. Having explained everything that had happened to her, her family were not in the dark over the bond she and Marie had formed, yet nerves still riddled her as she paced the lounge area of the spacious Orange County abode, Guero right behind her, rubbing tension from her shoulders. 

“Why you bugging?”  

She halted, turning to rub her hands over his smooth arms. “I don’t know, I really don’t! I mean, gran and grandpa were fine about it all, Dylan too when I explained it all to them. I guess I’m just nervous about calling her mom in front of them, don’t wanna upset them or make them think I’ve forgotten Cassie mom when I never will.”  

It had been an emotional moment, back when Dylan had driven them out to the cemetery in Spokane so Emma could visit their parent’s final resting place, the siblings cuddling one another tightly as the elder had cried for all she’d lost.  

Guero was just about to reassure her that he didn’t think that would be the case at all when a call came from the front door, Emma seeing Marie moving to greet her guests in the form of her grandparents themselves. Walking over to do the same, she was presented with a truly heartwarming sight.  

“Beatrice, Wilfred, welcome to my home. I’m so delighted to have you both here,” Marie spoke cordially, offering her hand. Immediately, Bea shook her head. A nervous lump rose in Emma’s throat, for all of two seconds. 

“No, sweetie pie. We’re family, and family hug.” She watched Marie sink happily into the offered embrace looking like she was breathing a sigh of relief, her gran continuing. “Thank you for looking after our precious gal, doing what you could for her, being a mother to her. I’m so sorry for everything you went through because of that man, but I am so grateful to you for trying to make it better for Emma while she was there.”  

“Of course, of course,” Marie tremored, a million memories flashing through her mind’s eye. Secret cuddles, secret gifts, secret cake, secret love. She no longer had to hide any of it.  

Wilf beamed, opening his arms to her next. “You’re a good gal, Marie. I echo everything the wife just said, and this place you got here, holy moly! Is than one of those infinity pools you got out back there?” 

“It is,” she confirmed, kissing his cheek and moving to welcome Dylan and Evie, his girlfriend.  

“Well dang it, I should have brought my trunks, shown off this body of mine to all you ladies!” His joke had everyone in soft fits, Wilf flexing his non-existent biceps with a grin. “What are you laughing at, boy? I look better than you!” he then directed at Guero, who was as usual totally taken by the hilarity of his girlfriend’s grandfather. 

“That’s why I’m glad you didn’t bring the trunks, man. I can deal with that kind of competition.” His statement only provoked further laughter, Marie ushering them into the house to offer further introductions. Emma stood back with Guero to watch it all, this band of people all so different, from so many walks all life, all brought together because of her. Family. Her family. There they were.  

“What you thinking about?” Guero asked, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his cheek against hers as she leaned back into him.  

“Just how I’ve gotten everything I ever wanted at last. It doesn’t look like I thought it would, but that’s one hell of an amazing family I have right there in all those people.”  

He kissed her cheek with a smile. “You got a really amazing immediate one right here, too. You, me, and this little one.” As he stroked the small, rounded swell of her pregnant belly, she couldn’t agree more. Six months later, their first child joined them, a daughter.

They named her Cassie Marie.  

The End.  

[capsarcastica]

Civil War Review

Like Alex Garland's Annihilation, it has a lot of lofty ideas that it doesn't pull off.

The movie follows a group of war journalists and barely covers an actual war. Their goal of seeing the president before he's killed hardly makes for compelling drama. There's little reason this story needs to be set during a fictional conflict. And there's far better movies about war journalists like Oliver Stone's Salvador or The Killing Fields.

Those hoping for a movie saying something about modern America or how Americans would handle being in a war zone will be disappointed. The conflict itself barely makes sense. There's no explanation for what started it, only making vague references to previous events.

What split the nation? What sparked the war? What does each side represent? Why are California and Texas the only ones fighting against the USA? The movie doesn't answer anything, instead settling on a generic "War is bad no matter who fights" message. It's like Garland didn't want to offend anyone's beliefs so he made a movie so bland it doesn't please anyone. If he wanted people to have a discussion, he would've made a statement of any kind.

The movie barely touches on what American life is like during the first conflict on our soil since the actual Civil War. Most of the time, it's like no one really cares that Americans are killing Americans. Recently, we've seen life interrupted by war in Ukraine, Israel, and Gaza, so it's odd that the most interruption to American life is a crashed helicopter in a JC Penny parking lot. Alien and superhero movies handle this idea a lot better.

It isn't until the third act that the film delivers on the premise. That's what the movie should've been all along. It's an intense battle throughout DC, with landmarks and icons destroyed in the fog of war.

It doesn't help that the main four characters are dull and lifeless. They each have little motivation beyond just being journalists. That's why Jesse Plemons steals the movie with just a few minutes. His ultranationalist racist character is the only one who feels real, someone who would take advantage of a war just to be his worst self.

Technically, the movie is well done. It's shot well and looks good. The music is effective. The few bits of action are really engaging.

In this hyper-politicized time, a movie about a second American Civil War seemed inevitable. Unfortunately, this isn't the movie we need.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

if you can satisfy me in five minutes, i might let you live

a/n: inspired by jun-ho's iconic line in squid game.

tw: gunplay, power dynmaics, dubcon/noncon, mafia!au, oral sex, male receiving oral sex.

eren with a gun.

eren forcing you to your knees. he's in an all-black suit. black gloves. his ears are littered with piercings, silver glinting in the light. fringes of dark hair in his eyes, the rest of his hair tied in a bun.

if you weren't too scared to look up at him, you'd see that his eyes were the darkest shade of green you've ever seen. like emeralds waiting to be unearthed.

this is the most vulnerable you've ever felt in your life. you're not used to being on your knees. not you, never you. not the princess of her father's life. you lived life like that a spoiled princess, all of the world's precious items at your disposal.

“this gun is only 5 to 6 inches. your whore mouth can handle it.”

there's a lilting tone at the end of his sentence. he's looking down on you and treating you like a joke. you've never been talked to like this before, never been treated with this much disrespect.

the gun he's holding is unimpressive. generic even with the serial number burned off. but a gun's a gun at the end of the day.

it takes a moment for your brain to process what he's implying, no demanding for you to do.

"w-what?" you question eloquently with a mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton.

hard green eyes narrow, "you're not doing yourself any favors by acting dumb."

the words are not quite as filled with vitriol you expect. you wonder what you were expecting. maybe for him to lash out, for him to hit your pretty little head with the underside of his gun.

"hurry up or I'm going to shoot your brains."

ah there it is. except he sounds like he's bored. like you're a major inconvenience. like he's not forcing you to do something so soul-shatteringly perverse.

his patience is starting to wear thin. he grabs a fistful of your hair and drags you closer to the couch, where he plops down. yes, plops. your knees hurt, dragging on the floor like this.

there's a small window where maybe you could fight him. but there's a gun pointed at you (he even made a big show of clicking the safety off) and you've never taken a self-defense class in your life. (didn't need to)

eren is six feet of muscle. his lean frame hid how devastatingly strong he was. there was never a chance you could take.

he leans back without a care in the world, gun on his crotch. it feels like the world stands still, the silence interrupted by the chime of the antique grandfather clock. you startle, and it hits you its been a solid hour since you've been in this godforsaken room.

your hands are tied behind your back, so the only thing you can do is dip your head low and open your mouth. you know he wants a show. the symbolism is saturated with cliches. metal is cold and the ridges are uncomfortable. if it's a show he wants, it's a show he'll get. you lick a long stripe.

there's a finger on the trigger.

deliriously your first thought is how your father would lecture him on gun safety. next is how you can only hear the pounding of your heart.

suck

if it's spoken like a command, you must obey. you rub your tongue around your mouth to coat the black gun is spit. you can vaguely taste the barrel. it tastes corrosive. bitter. you try to disassociate from the metal in your mouth, thinking of anything but this. last month's trip to Peru where you petted llamas. your 16th birthday dinner in that candle-lit restaurant in southern France. the picnic with your mother when you were ten, and how she fed you olives and goat cheese that made you gag.

your head jerks back. you blink in surprise, an absence of feeling from your mouth. there's no gun anymore, he casts it aside on the couch with a sense of unpredictable carelessness that you couldn't decipher.

there's something about the crystal collecting on your waterline that makes him rock hard. daddy's little princess on her knees with puppy-fog eyes, red-rimmed nose, and a downturned mouth. you're so fucking pretty he wants to crush you under his thumb.

he's hurriedly undoing his belt, zipping down his slacks with haste. bulge evident through gray boxers, he tugs them down to expose a fully mast member. he gives his dick a good stroke as if to gauge something.

well, he's certainly bigger than his gun. and more surprisingly, he's sporting a pretty dick. pretty like the rest of him, and imposing in the same measure. veiny.

is the atmosphere different? he's grunting when he shoves your face to his dick, slender fingers knotting themselves in your hair. your little whimpers are muffled. all the precious memories you were sampling evict from your mind. the only thing your brain can focus on is the sensation.

the sensation of him. his smell. his taste. the bitterness of a person is different than metal. salty too. you lick in stripes, trying to glide your tongue but there are awkward pauses in between. you pay the tip the most attention as it sits proudly with the glistening precum.

he lets out a shudder. and you realize you're doing better than good. you're doing great.

but maybe you shouldn't tease too much. you learn your lesson the hard way when his grip on you tightens to like he's about to pull it off from your scalp. he's fucking into your mouth like it's. a drill tool, hammering, and hammering.

for the first time in the night, eren smiles. all canines.

if you can satisfy me in five minutes, i might let you live

you start bobbing your head up and down.

[hakuryuu]

All numbers for iro!! also dotty if you’re feeling up to it 🥺

IRO

1. How would you (or they) describe their gender, without using standard binary terms?: iro’s gender is stubbornness 2. Are they religious?: i think that she’s religious in that she feels reverence for the gods, but she also doesn’t.....like them. i think in her own way she worships maetra truly though 3. What social media platforms would they use (if in a world where those existed) and what would they use them for? Bonus: What would they get cancelled for?: she and thrip both have tiktok i think 4. Do they have any weird scars, and how did they get them?: she’s got a bunch of little sharp-grass scars on her legs and arms from spending part of her childhood in the desert rising plains 5. What crime are they most likely to be arrested for?: accessory to murder U__U 6. Ok, what crime are they most likely to have actually committed?: accessory to murder U__U 7. If the one prison phone call thing was real, who would they call?: her mom i think ;__; 8. Do they collect anything? What do they collect?: iro isn’t really much for collecting things i think....the most she does in the way of collections is that she has like one very sturdy and good version of each thing she needs 9. Who would they platonically marry for tax benefits?: fog but she’d feel weird about it (because of it being fog, not because of it being ““tax fraud”“) 10. What superstition/paranormal entity/conspiracy theory do they believe is 100% real, whether or not they admit it?: she believes that melibe is still with her somehow, even though he died a really long time ago 11. What’s something embarrassing they did as a child/teenager?: saw of picture of maetra as a child before she was brought in on the silk fort plan and announced that when she grew up she was going to marry that pretty lady 12. What’s something embarrassing they probably did yesterday?: responded “yeah?” without thinking when thrip accidentally called her “mom” 13. What hobby did they try once and give up on? Why?: knitting....she doesnt have the patience for it at all but she wanted to pick it up because it’s so cold in the mountains 14. What niche topic do they get incredibly pedantic about?: freely/entaugh/vain history.... :( 15. What’s their favorite food to make?: she loves a good soup!! a broth with some vegetables in it is her favorite because it’s relatively easy to make 16. What do you think this character’s worst decision was? What does this character think their worst decision was?: from a meta point of view i know that probably her worst decision was to leave the silk fort without resting sufficiently. she thinks her worst decision was bringing thrip and fog along with her for the second half of the journey 17. Is there anything you wish the writers had done differently with this character? Why?: SURE WOULD HAVE BEEN COOL IF THE WRITER HAD FINISHED THE BOOK SHE’S IN, 18. What character from another work do you think they’d get along really well with?: SHE WOULD GET ALONG REALLY WELL WITH NOV FROM CD ACTUALLY I THINK........MUCH TO THINK ABOUT. 19. What character from another work would be their mortal enemy?: despite or maybe because of their similarities i think chine and iro would NOT get along. also i think she would probably hate noonday sdjgkslfj she would also probably dislike emery for similar reasons 20. What’s a headcanon you’ve always wanted to share but none of these ask memes ever ask you about it?: iro almost never remembers her dreams

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DOTTY

1. How would you (or they) describe their gender, without using standard binary terms?: the gender feelings you get from looking at pictures of joan of arc 2. Are they religious?: only in like a practical way sdjgklsfj 3. What social media platforms would they use (if in a world where those existed) and what would they use them for? Bonus: What would they get cancelled for?: MOST LIKELY TO HAVE A TUMBLR I THINK..... 4. Do they have any weird scars, and how did they get them?: she has a scar on her throat from when huma tries to kill her post-novel :) 5. What crime are they most likely to be arrested for?: blasphemy :( 6. Ok, what crime are they most likely to have actually committed?: trespassing and destruction of property 7. If the one prison phone call thing was real, who would they call?: olive (matty is in prison with her) 8. Do they collect anything? What do they collect?: i think she collects little things that her friends might like 9. Who would they platonically marry for tax benefits?: MATTY, NO QUESTION 10. What superstition/paranormal entity/conspiracy theory do they believe is 100% real, whether or not they admit it?: she believes that flickerfish send messages to the gods’ realm 11. What’s something embarrassing they did as a child/teenager?: joined what now that im thinking about it might have been like a military school???? 12. What’s something embarrassing they probably did yesterday?: lost to mateo in a contest of how many marshmallows they could stuff into their mouths at once 13. What hobby did they try once and give up on? Why?: cooking sdgslkfj she sucks at it 14. What niche topic do they get incredibly pedantic about?: GHOSTS, she chats with the ghosts of her family members a lot so she knows a lot about what their ‘lives’ are like and how to talk to them, etc 15. What’s their favorite food to make?: can’t go wrong with cinnamon-sugar toast 16. What do you think this character’s worst decision was? What does this character think their worst decision was?: i don’t think she regrets any of her decisions, except maybe not keeping olive closer 17. Is there anything you wish the writers had done differently with this character? Why?: lamsm rewrite when..........honestly lamsm was kind of like the cornerstone of the elise fantasy universe reboot so a LOT of my current lore is based on it and i dont know how much i would necessarily do DIFFERENT 18. What character from another work do you think they’d get along really well with?: loving to think about her interacting with paz (similar enough to matty that she feels kind of at home around her). also aaa........noe.......i’d love to see them hang out 19. What character from another work would be their mortal enemy?: if she ever sees any of the silk fort family members its on sight. THE GOD/MORTAL PLAN BOUNDARY HAS ENOUGH TROUBLE 20. What’s a headcanon you’ve always wanted to share but none of these ask memes ever ask you about it?: she/they icon.....

[fog-cryptid]

Something In The Fog

Hello! I’m Oliver Wade, but you can call me Ghost or Fog. I’m an amateur and self-taught cryptozoologist and paranormal researcher. I decided to make a tumblr to document my findings. Needless to say, it appears that something weird is going on in my town, Carmel, Indiana. I saw something in the fog a month ago. It was big, hairy... it almost looked like a rhinoceros’ head. I have no idea what it was... I made a sketch (which is also my current icon) of what the thing looked like. I’m going on a hunt to find this thing.