#pretty quirky and cool right?

[clowndensation]

like it really is enough to make someone feel crazy. you have a character who wants to be seen and respected and valued as a person with her own thoughts and feelings and ideas, but she can't be any of those things, because she's not a person, she's a woman. and women exist to serve, not to live.

and so the only way to receive the acknowledgment and respect of her peers is to chase after a power she doesn't understand, enjoy, or necessarily even want, because at least if she suffers on the throne, she's suffering as a person, not as a mother to a son, a wife to a husband, or a daughter to a father.

like the entire show is a series of events featuring two women who aren't happy, attempting to win a game that doesn't care about them, in the vain hope that one day when they open their mouths, people will actually listen and care for what they have to say. and after all that grasping and pain and suffering and humiliation, it doesn't even work. because they're women.

[labetalol]

the med students learned i was born in 2000 and were so astounded. like yeah i'm sorry

[elodieunderglass]

Hey bestie whats a narrow boat? I saw you tag that on something you reblogged and I'm pretty curious now!

- Terry Darlington, Narrow Dog to Carcassone

A narrowboat (all one word) is a craft restricted to the British Isles, which are connected all over by a nerve-map of human-made canals. To go up and down hills, the canals are spangled with locks (chambers in which boats can be raised or lowered by filling or emptying them with water.) As Terry says above, the width of the locks was somewhat randomly determined, and as a result, the British Isles have a narrow design of lock - and a narrowboat to fit through them. A classic design was seventy feet long and six feet wide. Starting in the 18th century, and competing directly with trains, canal “barges” were an active means of transport and shipping. They were initially pulled along the towpaths by horses, and you can still see some today!

Later, engines were developed.

Even after the trains won the arms race, it was a fairly viable freight service right up until WW2. It’s slow travel, but uses few resources and requires little human power, with a fairly small crew (of women, in WW2) being capable of shifting two fully laden boats without consuming much fossil fuel.

In those times the barges were designed with small, cramped cabins in which the boaters and their families could live.

During its heyday the narrowboat community developed a style of folk art called “roses and castles” with clear links to fairground art as well as Romani caravan decor. They are historically decorated with different kinds of brass ornaments, and inside the cabins could also be distinctively painted and decorated.

Today, many narrowboats are distinctively decorated and colorful - even if not directly traditional with “roses and castles” they’ll still be bright and offbeat. A quirky name is necessary. All narrowboats, being boats, are female.

After a postwar decline, interest in the waterways was sparked by a leisure movement and collapsing canals were repaired. Today, the towpaths are a convenient walking/biking trail for people, as they connect up a lot of the mainland of the UK, hitting towns and cities. Although the restored canals are concrete-bottomed, they’re attractive to wildlife. Narrowboats from the 1970s onward started being designed for pleasure and long-term living. People enjoy vacationing by hiring a boat and visiting towns for a cuter, comfier, slower version of a campervan life. And a liveaboard community sprang up - people who live full-time on boats. Up until the very restrictive and nasty laws recently passed in the UK to make it harder for travelling peoples (these were aimed nastily at vanlivers and the Romani, and successfully hit everyone) this was one of the few legal ways remaining to be a total nomad in the UK.

Liveaboards can moor up anywhere along the canal for 28 days, but have to keep moving every 28 days. (Although sorting out the toilet and loading up with fresh water means that a lot of people move more frequently than that.) you can also live full-time in a marina if they allow it, or purchase your own mooring. In London, where canal boats are one of the few remaining cheapish ways to live, boats with moorings fetch the same prices as houses. It can be very very hard for families to balance school, parking, work, and all the difficulties of living off-grid- but many make it work. It remains a diverse community and is even growing, due to housing pressures in the UK. Boats can be very comfortable, even when only six feet wide. When faced with spending thousands of pounds on rent OR mooring up on a nice canal, you can see why it seems a romantic proposition for young people, and UK television channels always have slice-of-life documentaries about young folks fixing up their very own quirky solar-powered narrowboat. I don’t hate; I did it myself.

If you’re lucky, you might even meet some of the cool folks who run businesses from their narrowboats: canal-side walkers enjoy bookshops, vegan bakeries, ice-cream boats, restaurants, artists and crafters. There are Floating Markets and narrowboat festivals. It’s generally recognised that boaters contribute quite a lot to the canal - yet there are many tensions between different kinds of boaters (liveaboards vs leisure boaters vs tourists) as well as tensions with local settled people, towpath users like cyclists, and fishermen. I could go on and on explaining this rich culture and dramas, but I won’t.

Phillip Pullman’s Gyptians are a commonly cited example of liveaboards - although they were based on the narrowboat liveaboards that Pullman knew in Oxford, their boats are actually Dutch barges. Dutch barges make good homes but are too wide to access most of the midlands and northern canals, and are usually restricted to the south of the UK. So they’re accurate for Bristol/London/Oxford, and barges are definitely comfier to film on. (Being six feet wide is definitely super awkward for a boat.) but in general Dutch barges are less common, more expensive and can’t navigate the whole system.

However, apart from them, there are few examples of narrowboat depictions that escaped containment. So it’s quite interesting that there is an entire indigenous special class of boat, distinctive and highly specialised and very cute, with an associated culture and heritage and folk art type, known to all and widely celebrated, and ABSOLUTELY UNKNOWN outside of the UK - a nation largely known around the world for inflicting its culture on others. They’re a strange, sweet little secret - and nobody who has ever loved one can resist pointing them out for the rest of their lives, or talking about them when asked to. Thank you for asking me to.

[chlorinecake]

「 𓍯𓂃 I KISSED HER FOREHEAD AND NOW SHE'S 𝒢IVING ME CRYSTALS ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 」

𝐢𝐞. super Y2K crush scenarios with 𝐍𝑒𝕨 𝐉𝚎𝐚𝕟s

── ✰⋆⁺ 𓊆ྀི . . path to bookshelf ◍ 𓊇ྀི 🔮 虹 . . . 𝔸ᶰĎ 𝒴𝐨𝕌 ?. . .

❖︎ pa𝓲ring .ᐟ 뉴진스 x female!reader

❖ g𝓮nre .ᐟ fluff, comfort, wlw, friends to lovers

❖ ����𝗈𝗋𝖽 count .ᐟ 𝟏,𝟎𝟒𝟏 total ✩ ✩ ✩

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐈 ── ❝ You smell pretty today... ❞

“You too!” You blurted out, right before realizing you'd gotten your words mixed up, “Wait- I meant to say you look pretty, but... I guess I mean both? Gosh, does that even make sense?”

A tiny smile spread across Minji's features at your adorable timidness, her boot-clad feet taking a few steps towards you before pulling you close, gracing your frame with a tender hug, “It makes perfect sense, weirdo… thanks...”

Her voice was calm and soothing as usual, despite the way it made butterflies swarm in the spot where your heart should be. You couldn't really explain it, but something about Minji's energy always had a way of making you look and feel like a lovesick geek by time you got a proper sentence out—

“So,” she began again, breaking from the embrace and looking you straight in the eye, her hands resting at your shoulders, “when were you gonna tell me about this little crush you have on me?”

Your eyes widened like you had seen a ghost, a nervous chuckle slipping past your lips as she tilted her head at you, just as you muttered a distracting, “Right after I told you which Victoria's Secret fragrance I'm wearing?”

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐌 ── ❝ Crystals? As a gesture?... ❞

“Pfft, of course!” Hanni replied matter-of-factly, “just like how you gave me coins for that gum-ball machine we passed earlier… but who's keeping track of all that stuff anyways?”

“You, apparently...,” you said as a gentle laugh escaped your lips at her quirky reply, “but touché, Hanni Pham... what should I do with these?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, cupping your right palm in her own as the colorful stones glittered beneath the mall’s sunroof, “you can put them under your pillow at night!... o-or maybe even stash them in your purse so you can think about me wherever you go!”

“As if I'd need a crystal’s assistant with that,” you teased, ruffling her hair slightly with your free hand. “These are cool, though,” you went on, heart warming at both the feeling of your hand in hers and at the unique gift, “very sweet of you...”

“Eh, I tryyyy,” she replied smugly, right before blowing a tiny pink bubble with the gum she chewed, only to spit the leftover candy into a napkin and ask, “wanna close your eyes and guess what flavor you taste on me?...”

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐇 ── ❝ I like your sweater… ❞

“Oh, this old thing?” Danielle asked with her warm Australian accent, taking the colorful sweater’s hem in her fingers to examine it's loose threads, “My nana knit this for me like... forever ago...”

“Well it's cool to see she was a step ahead of fashion trends back then,” you smiled, letting your hand brush over the soft yarn of her sleeve... That's when a certain question arose in your head:

“Random, but by chance, are you any good with using chopsticks?” You asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“Oh, for sure! I’m basically a pro at it,” she boasted, flipping her curly locks in a cartoonish manner.

“Sweet! I have two coupons for two different places. One for a craft store, and another for a sushi bar… only thing is that they both expire tomorrow,” You went on, hoping that she'd catch your drift without you having to state any specifics...

“Oh? Well it'd be a total bummer to let them go to waste,” she shrugged, hooking her arm in yours before tugging you along with her, “we better get going quick before they run out of sashimi… or yellow yarn…”

𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 ── ❝ Can I come in please...? ❞

You heard a gentle voice call from behind your bedroom door, face buried into the largest pillow you could find given the sob-fest you had earlier…

“The door’s unlocked,” you sniffled, turning over on your bed to face her as she peaked from behind the door, her bright smile not even fading at the sight of you.

“I brought some heartwarming treats and DVD’s!” She began, voice just as pleasant as it always was. Haerin made her way to sit beside you on the bed, opening one of your favorite candy bars and handing it to you.

“How’d y’know I was upset?” You asked before taking a bite of the candy, chuckling a bit at the way she watched you so intently while doing so.

“I didn’t,” she went on plainly, “… I already wanted to surprise you today and just got lucky that it ended up being at a time where you needed it most…”

“Awww,” you pouted, dropping the candy bar to pull her into a hug, “you’re literally the best friend I could ask for, Haerin… thank you for coming to see me…”

“Of course,” she whispered, mind lingering on the word friend for a moment, even though she was certain you meant something a little more than that…

“So,” she began again, breaking from the contact and reaching for the TV remote, “Wanna rewatch Mean Girls or Clueless first?”

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐘𝐄𝐈𝐍 ── ❝ Can I touch your hair? ❞

You asked the question for one reason: You were bored out of your mind from waiting at the bus stop, and playing with Hyein’s hair seemed like a fun way to pass the time…

“Oh, sure!” She chirped, immediately straightening her posture on the park bench as you scooted closer to where she sat, taking her wavy locks into your grasp.

Hyein’s round eyes wandered to the sparkly pink Juicy Couture purse you wore over your shoulder, compelling her to ask, “What’s in the bag?”

“Oh- just some barrette’s and hair clips I got from Claire’s yesterday,” you replied, pausing to click open your purse and show her the different kinds, “Thought you might be interested in some extra bling, so…”

“You know me far too well then, ____,” she smiled, scanning each package with her eyes before suggesting that you decide which hair-clip style she would wear, and vice versa.

You let out a simple “Okay” at her offer, reaching for the pack of silver shooting stars for her hair while she held the pack of butterfly clips beside your face, a satisfied look spreading across her features.

“These are gonna look gorgeous on you,” Hyein smiled, right before opening the pack of butterflies clips and popping a few different colored ones in her palm, “This is too fun already, hehe… I can decorate your hair first, right?…”

ʚ 𝐀𝒰𝐓ᕼ𝕆𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝕆T𝐸: I decided to explore the wlw genre for a change, and I have no one other than @jwanniie to thank for inspiring me to experiment on my platform in such a way through her works... I've always wanted to write for my fav GG's just like how I write for my fav BG's, but simply never found the courage to until now ~ Hopefully you guys enjoyed what I came up with! ɞ

❖ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr -> if GG content isn’t your thing, pls lmk and I’ll refrain from tagging you in such posts moving forward :3

[unformula1]

promises - 1 (ln4)

part 2 || you and lando used to be best friends, but you two drifted apart. (1464 words) a/n: im back ! should i make a part 2?? || masterlist

You and Lando used to be friends. Best friends, one might say. The two of you were inseparable. Every Friday night, without fail, both of you would meet up at the playground near the central district of your hometown. The playground would usually be empty, with most children staying in with their parents. This gave you and Lando the whole playground, all to yourselves.

It was perfect to make the purest memories. Just two kids, pure innocence and naivety, and a friendship which felt like forever. You’d talk about which toy cars were the better ones, he’d always say the orange ones. You two would laugh about the silliest things, and promise each other to be friends forever. 

You two grew up together, went through the teenage years with each other, there in the highs and lows. Every Friday night became every night. You two would see each other daily, at the same playground. As both of you matured, so did your conversations, you two started talking about your love lives, your future.

Both of you sat on the ground, leaning against the wooden base of the slide which both of you used to ride together.

~~~

“I mean… It seems pretty cool.” You tell him.

“It is.” Lando confirms, “I’ve been doing it since I was a small kid, just zooming around.”

You chuckle as Lando mimics driving a go-kart.

“You see yourself driving them forever?” You ask, shifting closer to him.

“Hell yeah.” He replies confidently, not a single ounce of doubt in his voice.

“Alright then.” You smile, “Go for it.”

“You’ll be there right?” He asks you.

“I will. You’ll remember me right?”

“Yes.”

~~~

Both of you made promises, whether they were the shallowest things or the deepest feelings. He never left you alone, you never made fun of him for the quirky things he liked. He stood by you when the worst was brought upon you, when you cried about some stupid boy not liking you back, when you lost your only ticket to your dream university.

~~~

You sat on the floor of his room, wiping away the dried up tears on your face. You’ve never felt this vulnerable to anyone. He lays down next to you and props himself up onto his elbow, looking at you. You glance back at him as he fiddles with his hair. 

“Are you gonna keep staring at me?” You ask, letting out a soft chuckle as you continue to wipe off your tears.

“Sorry.” He replies, laughing a little, “They don’t deserve you anyway.” 

He sits up and shrugs.

“You could do better.” He deadpans.

Your lips curve up ever so slightly.

“Well-” You sigh, “I guess I’ll stay here forever.”

Both of you laugh again.

“So will I.”

~~~

But he didn’t. Lando Norris left the town in pursuit of greater things.

“You’re leaving?” The realisation hits you.

He sheepishly nods.

Your emotions are all jumbled up into one big mess, everything just engulfing your heart as tears start falling.

“Oh-” Lando says before hugging you tightly.

You hug him back, your tears staining his sweater.

“C’mon now… don’t get all teary on me.” Lando says, clearing stifling down sobbing sounds.

You can’t let out any words.

~~~

It finally came a few months later. You stood in the airport, face to face with Lando. You felt the overwhelming feeling of nostalgia, letting all the memories from the youngest ages of childhood flow through your head as you closed your eyes, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

He looks at you with his stupid little grin, his eyes getting watery as he purses his lips, taking in deep breaths. 

You run up to him and hug him, for what might be the last time ever. It’s a tight hug, one surrounded by years of friendships and years of memories all building up. He sobs on your shoulder, jerking slightly each sob as you grip tightly to him, never wanting to let go.

But you have to. Both of you take a step back. Lando takes out a necklace for you.

“For you.” He says, “I have a matching one.”

You sob violently and take the necklace, immediately putting it around your neck and holding onto it with a deathly grip.

He reaches out for your hand. Both of you hold hands for a few seconds, he closes his eyes once again as the tears traced his cheekbone and clung onto his jaw, trickling down slowly.

“We’ll stay in contact.” He says softly in between heavy sobs as he pulls you in one last time, patting you on the back.

“We better.” You crack a joke which makes him giggle. He nods more and pats your shoulder.

The moment has to come to an end eventually, with a heavy heart he takes a step back. He looks you in the eyes one last time and you stare at his brown-blue glistening eyes which sparkled.

You’ll miss those.

You’ll miss him.

You’ll miss all of this.

As he enters the boarding gates, he looks back at you again, smiling slightly at you as he waves slightly. You look back at him, wishing you could be there with him, flying somewhere same. Something wants you to run up to him and hold on tight to him but you stay put, waving goodbye to him. 

He holds up the necklace and smiles at you, you smile back at him, choking through the tears which suffocate your lungs as the sting in your throat resurfaces. You hold the necklace up to him too and for the last time, he nods at you, turning around and slowly disappearing from your view.

You stand there. 

What do you do now?

What are the weekly nights reserved for now?

Will you ever see Lando again?

———

The nights felt empty and missing a piece, because they were. You missed sitting with him in the cool breeze of the evening or in the dim lights of the nearby stores, talking about things that you would never tell anyone else. You missed all of it, every single angry, sad, happy, nostalgic moment. It was hard to change your entire life, you called him and texted him every single waking minute of your life and he did so too. However, it never felt the same. Sometimes you’d wake up in the middle of the night just to imagine he was there with you again and your tears would involuntarily come trickling down again. 

Eventually, you got used to it, like you do.

The years past much quicker than you imagined. You watched Lando grow from a young karter to Formula 1 driver. Sometimes you catch yourself watching his races and other times you see his face in the billboards across town.

You don’t know if he remembers you but both of you practically lost contact after you two stopped texting a few years back. It was rough. Both of you made each other the world, you made him your world. Absolutely nothing was going to stand in your way, but time took its path, and fate drew its sword. It was something that you could never change no matter how hard you tried. Even with empty days and sleepless nights just pretending and wishing and hoping that something would happen. It wouldn’t. 

So you had come to peace with it, he was just another passing chapter in your life, meeting once and never again, ingrained in the stone of life.

You were proud of him, for making it this far. You really were. Nothing would ever make you wish anything but the best for him; after all, he was the biggest boy in your life at one point, and nothing would change that. You were incredibly happy for him, for how much effort he’d put into this, he deserved everything. You even watched him win his first race in Miami.

You shed a tear or two. The memories of everything flooding back into your head, just remembering Lando as a young kid saying to you he’d take over the world. He did. You were proud.

But you weren’t there.

Were the promises you made all empty? Just passing in the moment to be carried by the wind and never to be seen or heard ever again?

You sat on the couch watching him take the top step of the podium, holding up the trophy as the sunlight serenaded his face. The familiar sparkle of his eyes stood out to you, it was like when he left. This time his tears were happy ones. 

Your tears were bittersweet.

A few hours pass and a chime from your phone gets you off your couch and reaching for your phone.

You got an Instagram DM, from landonorris.

[puari-vol]

The Perfect Pet

cw: Hypnosis, Pet play

I was on my way home from work when I got the strangest text:

Tiff

Hey slut could you run by the laundromat and pick up my clothes?  should be in the third machine from the door.

You

Uh sorry I think you have the wrong number

It was a pretty embarrassing thing to accidentally text a stranger, I couldn't help but think that whoever this had been meant for must be in a pretty quirky relationship. I reminded myself not to be so judgemental, then I got another text

Tiff

Whoops forgot to do the thing lol Slumber party time

“I’m a good girl, I’m a good slut” I muttered to myself, my body suddenly felt very heavy. My arms fell to my sides and my eyes fluttered for just a moment. Then everything felt normal again. I lifted the phone and quickly reread the text conversation

Tiff 

Are you there, slut?

You

I’m here! Sorry about that Miss Tiffany,  You want your laundry right? I can be there in fifteen minutes

Tiff

good slut no rush lol key is under the doormat

I hurried over to the laundromat anyway, it just felt so good to obey. And if I was a good enough girl, then maybe she’d even use my mouth today. I grabbed the clothes and made my way to Miss Tiffany’s apartment. Once inside I took a moment to reminisce…there had been a slumber party here a few weeks ago, my fourth one I think? It was hard to tell them apart. Then I quickly texted Miss Tiffany back.

You

Delivered! Do you want me to fold them and put them away?

Tiff

Sure lol if you wanna 

I got to work, the rest of Miss Tiffany’s clothes were also unfolded and scattered around her room. So I cleaned up all of those too.

You

All done Miss Tiffany!

I waited a few seconds…then a few more…I bit my lip, anticipation building...until suddenly

Tiff

Good girl

I let out a soft moan and my legs felt weak. I basked in it for just a moment. Then I was already texting again

You

Is there anything else I can do for you Miss?

I felt a little disappointed when she replied:

Tiff

Na can’t think of anything, ur good

Feeling disheartened, I got ready to leave. Only for my phone to buzz again, sending my hopes soaring

Tiff

Actually, you gonna be busy for the next hour or so?

You

No Miss!

Tiff

Cool, why don’t you wait for me Just get comfy on the couch and press your button for me slut

You

Yes Miss!

I sat down, and raised my index finger in front of my face. I let my eyes focus on it, then I tapped myself on the-

…

…

…

…

*Tap*

I was lying down on the couch now. When I opened my eyes all I could see was Miss Tiffany’s beautiful pussy. My mouth fell open and she lowered herself onto me. She road my face while I did everything I could to pleasure her, after all if I did good enough she might-

“Good Girl”

My hips thrust into the air while I moaned into her, it was so much better hearing it out loud. She continued to pepper in ‘good girl’s' between her pants and gasps, and I got so fuzzy that all I could think about was the taste of her. Finally she was finished using my mouth. She got off me and slid me onto the floor, where I went to work dutifully massaging her feet. She stuck a toe in my mouth and I sucked it happily.

“That was great, you’re getting better at that slut. Such a good girl”

Her foot in my face stifled my moan, and she giggled at me. I noticed it was my phone she was scrolling through while I worked. 

“Looks like you got a few other orders while you were out. But you’ve been a good slut today already, want me to tell them to get someone else?”

I shook my head as much as I could with her foot in my mouth

“Of course you don’t, such a good little slut” 

She glanced back down at my phone and read to me

“Well, it looks like Mina wants you to do her homework, Alice wants her dick sucked, and Kelsey just sent a picture of a maid dress and told you to come over. You got a busy day ahead of you slut”

She pulled her foot out of my mouth and let me stand up, she handed my phone back to me with a smile, I went to put it in my pocket, then realized I wasn’t wearing any clothes. I quickly got dressed and made my plan. I could go see Alice first, then I should probably pick up Mina’s homework before going to Kelsey’s cause the maid thing was gonna take all day. It made me so happy knowing I was going to be such a good girl for them all.  

--

I wasn’t sure what else to do, Mina’s homework was done, and I was all out of maid tasks. Kelsey was fast asleep, she had spent most of the day surprise groping me while I worked on cleaning her dorm room, and apparently that had really worn her out because she didn’t look like she was waking anytime soon. I had been hoping for one more ‘Good Girl’ to finish off the day, but it was fine. I was a good slut, I was happy just to be used. I got dressed and headed for home. Another task came in over my phone. But rather than eagerly accept I found myself texting that this slut was tired and done for the day. I received a ‘good girl’ in reply which left me dizzy. But during the walk home, I found the day's activities began to fade from my mind. I had gotten off work, hung out with some friends…and now I was going home. I was standing outside my front door when I got one last text.

Mistress

Hey there cutie :) Did you have fun today?

Another wrong number? In the same day? I texted back to clear up the misunderstanding.

You

Yes Mistress

I stared at my phone, and tried to figure out why I had just typed that, and also why this stranger was named ‘Mistress’ in my phone. But before I could even begin to feel confused there was another text

Mistress

That’s good to hear I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and I think I’ve decided to make you mine Doesn’t that sound lovely pet?

You

Yes Mistress

I stared dumbly at my own thumbs as they typed out and sent the message for a second time. I received one last text, then everything went fuzzy.

The next thing I knew, I was standing somewhere else. I was in front of a completely different door, with my arm raised as though I had just finished knocking. Before I could spend any more time figuring out where I was, the door opened and a dazzlingly beautiful woman was standing inside. She smiled at me, I recognized the smile.

“Perfect timing sweetie” 

From behind her another girl walked out of the apartment. She had a vacant expression on her face, and didn’t even glance at me as she walked down the hallway towards the exit. The woman gestured for me to enter

“You’re up next, come on in” 

I did and she shut the door behind me

"Honestly I decided I was going to keep you from the moment we first met, breaking you mind was just so much fun"

"Um...thank you"

I couldn't really understand what this lady was talking about, but before I could think about it more I was distracted by the sight of another young woman who was curled up in a pet bed in the corner of the room. She was naked aside from a leather collar around her neck. I stared at her wide eyed while the woman took a seat on the couch. She laughed when she saw me looking

“Jealous?”

I tore my eyes away, my face turning red. I looked at the woman. There was something so familiar about her but I couldn’t quite place it. She laughed at me

“You are just adorable all confused like this, take a seat”

She patted the couch next to her, and I obeyed. Good Girls obeyed…something was swimming up to the surface of my mind Good Girls obeyed…

“Mistress?” 

I heard myself ask, it was like I was listening to myself from underwater. She smiled at me 

“Why don’t we get you all comfy pet”

She took me by the shoulders and pulled me down, she adjusted me until I was lying on her lap looking up at her. Somehow she seemed even more gorgeous looking down on me like this. There was a voice in my head that was still confused, still wondering why all of this was happening. But that little voice got quieter and quieter as I stared into Mistress's eyes while she gently stroked my hair.

“So do you remember why I called you here?”

I was suddenly broken free from my stupor as I struggled to process the question.

“Uhh, I’m uh…I’m…uhh”

She giggled and placed a quieting finger over my lips

“You don’t need to worry about it pet, you don’t need to worry about anything anymore” 

I sighed, that seemed so nice. She gave me another loving smile as I relaxed into her.

"Now pay attention pet, there's one last thing you have to learn about the button that turns off your brain. You know it can be pressed and you can be turned on and off, you know it can be held down and you can have new instructions installed. but did you know you can be reset completely?"

I just stared up at her, not fully comprehending

"It's true! I can just erase everything and start from scratch. and its going to feel so so good, you'll probably just cum the moment I do it. Then everything in your mind will be gone forever, doesn't that sound good pet?"

The words simply fell out of my mouth

"Yes Mistress"

"Good Girl, would you like to say goodbye?"

"...to who Mistress?"

"You silly"

She leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. My eyes rolled back and my mouth fell open as I gasped and moaned, pleasure I had never felt before wracked my body as my mind went blank.

…

“And now that everything in your mind is gone, I’m going to fill it back up. Your time as a slut did so good training you into my perfectly obedient little toy. But you aren’t a Slumber Party Slut anymore, you’re just Mine. You belong to me, and as far as you know, you always have. There is nothing else, there has never been anything else. You live here with me, and you do as you are told, because you are my perfect pet, my very good girl. All you need to know is that I am your everything. and Awake”  

Mistress snapped her fingers and gently pushed the pet off her lap

“Pets don’t wear clothes”

Mistress said, and the pet started stripping while Mistress left the room. When the pet was naked she fell to her knees. without Mistress in the room there was nothing for the pet to do, nothing to even think. The moment Mistress returned, She consumed all of the pets attention. Looking for a sign, waiting for a signal. Mistress smiled at Her pet and approached, She was holding a collar in her hand. She put a finger under the pets chin and tilted her head up, then tightened the collar around the pets neck. Without a word She clipped a lead to the collar, turned around and walked away. The pet followed behind on her hands and knees, the pet enjoyed the pressure on her neck as Mistress gently pulled her. 

“The leash is gonna stay on for a while, new pets are so very dependent, and I wouldn’t want you to wander too far”

She stopped in front of a computer desk, leaned down and clipped the other end of the leash to a hook set up beneath the desk. With another gentle tug She dragged the pet underneath, then pulled up a chair and sat down. Mistress rested her feet on the pet and went to work on something. The pet curled up and started getting comfortable in her new home…no…this had always been her home.

[tortillamastersblog]

➶ The Bet | Kate Bishop ➴

Pairing: Kate Bishop x reader

Warnings: angst

Summary: Being known as the quiet and reserved student, you mind your own business and stay out of people’s way.

Kate Bishop is the exact opposite. Outgoing, bubbly, and loud, she’s the definition of a popular girl, so it comes as a surprise when she asks you out on a random Thursday afternoon.

Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

“Hey!”

An unfamiliar voice next to me makes me flinch before looking up from my notebook.

Standing right there, with sparkling eyes and a dopey grin on her face is Kate Bishop.

“Uh. . . Hi.” I cringe at my own awkwardness and look around to make sure no one is watching us.

What could Kate Bishop–popular, quirky, beloved-by-all Kate Bishop–possibly want from me? A nobody with only one friend and a knack for origami.

Seemingly unbothered by my hesitation, Kate plops down in the chair across the table. She smiles and puts her bag down, but she doesn’t take off her coat.

“Can I help you?” I ask politely, pulling my study material closer to my side of the table.

“Yes, actually.” She smirks and whispers conspiratorially, “You’re the only one who can help me.”

My eyebrows shoot up and I lean back in my chair. “Excuse me?”

Mistaking my surprise for offense, Kate’s eyes widen and she backtracks immediately. “No, wait—! That came out wrong.”

I cross my arms over my chest and bite the inside of my cheek to hide my growing smile.

We share some classes and have been in a couple of group projects before, but other than that we’ve never interacted. Have I noticed she’s cute? Yes. Is she charming? Definitely. Do I have a crush on her? Totally! No, absolutely not, but the way she’s all flustered and stumbling over her words at the moment is pretty endearing.

“I- I-“ she stutters and fidgets with her fingers, her cool and carefree demeanor replaced by nervousness. “Wow, this is not how I— You know what? I’m just going to go. . . Yep!”

She goes to stand up, red-faced and embarrassed, but I stop her. “No, hey. It’s okay. . . What do you want?”

“I—“ Blue eyes filled with uncertainty dart over my face. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” I ask, no longer hiding my smile.

Kate sighs and smiles tentatively as well. She takes another moment to gather her thoughts before saying, “As you may or may not know, we share a couple of classes and—“

I snort in amusement. “Yeah, I know”

“Right, and— Well, I kind of. . . like you—“

My eyes widen and heat crawls up the back of my neck. That is the last thing I ever expected to come out of her mouth, but here we are, I guess.

Kate is too busy fidgeting with her fingers to notice my delighted surprise and goes on talking.

“—but until now I’ve been too scared to talk to you, never mind ask you out and— Oh God, I’m rambling again. . .”

My smile softens and a warm tingling feeling settles into the pit of my stomach.

“Anyway.” She huffs and meets my gaze hesitantly. “I was wondering if you’d ever consider doing something with me. Well, not doing—“

“Kate.” I chuckle, interrupting her before she starts rambling again.

“Yeah?” She bites her bottom lip and furrows her eyebrows.

“Are you trying to ask me out?” She goes to say something, but I beat her to it. “Because if you are. . . my answer is yes.“

Her eyes widen and her jaw slackens. “Really?”

I smile sheepishly and scratch the back of my neck. “Really. I. . . kind of like you, too.”

Kate laughs in relief and jumps to her feet. “It’s settled then.” Her grin is so bright it’s almost blinding. “You and I are going on a date. How about tomorrow? After class? We could go to this cute coffee shop around the corner.”

Giddiness surges through me and I can’t help but nod eagerly. It’s been ages since I’ve been on a date, not only because my ex broke my heart a year ago and it’s taken me this long to get over it, but also because I’ve been too scared to get hurt again.

With Kate though, I’m not scared. She seems sweet and sincere, and I can’t wait to see where things go between us.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she says, grinning as she slings her bag over her shoulder.

“Yeah, see you.” I wave awkwardly and watch her leave the library with a dazed smile.

“So, you’re telling me you saw someone getting attacked by a crow in a park, and you did nothing?.” Kate laughs and I chuckle softly, taking another sip of my coffee.

“Well, yeah?! I didn’t want to be its next victim! Besides, that lady was fine once the crow left her alone.“ I try to reason, having just told Kate of the time I came across a crow attacking a woman during my run through a nearby park.

“I get that, but. . .you could have at least called for help!” She laughs even more incredulously and nudges me playfully.

“You expect me to call the cops on a crow?” I nudge her back.

“Well, no. . .” She smiles sheepishly and takes a sip of her own coffee.

I snort playfully. “Exactly.”

The cafe is quite busy, but Kate and I managed to secure a spot on the couch in the corner by the front window. It allows for the perfect view of the cafe’s interior and the street outside where people are rushing by wrapped in scarves and hats to ward off the autumn breeze.

“Hey, uh— I got you something,” I say after a moment of comfortable silence.

Kate sets down her coffee and sinks back into the couch with raised eyebrows. “Yeah?”

I nod and quickly look away to hide the redness creeping into my cheeks. I grab my bag from the floor and open it, rummaging around in it until I find what I’m looking for.

Either she’s going to like it, or she’ll hate it and think I’m a total nerd. . .

I swallow harshly and square my shoulders before holding out my hand. Sitting on my palm is a small origami rose head that I folded in class earlier.

I wasn’t actually planning on giving it to her, but then I thought Why not?

Eyebrows furrowing, Kate glances at me before taking it and inspecting it carefully.

She doesn’t say anything at first and I get the horrible impression that I shouldn’t have given it to her after all, but then she looks back up and asks, “You made this?”

I nod and bury my hands in my lap, trying to ignore the way my palm still tingles where her fingers brushed against it.

Adoration flickers over Kate’s face, and for a moment I’m filled with relief, but then something like regret shines in her eyes.

I frown and go to take back the rose, but Kate closes her hand around it and holds it against her chest.

“You know. . . all my life the people I love have always bought me everything I could ever dream of. A new car, a new bow, an apartment—everything.“

She meets my eyes and smiles sadly, her next words making my heart hurt for her. “But none of them ever put the thought and effort into giving me something that actually matters. Something that actually means something. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for everything I have, but. . . You made this for me and I—“

I frown at the way her voice falters. “It’s nothing, Kate. It’s just a piece of paper that I—“

“No.” Her hand on my knee makes my brain short circuit for a second. “It’s not. Not to me, at least.”

I look at her, seeing the emotional turmoil in her eyes and smile shyly. “Okay. . . If you say so. I’m glad you like it.”

_______________________________________________

This will probably be a three-parter. Hope you guys liked it! :)

[kandlewick]

as someone who is much too old to be enjoying classes with a bunch of teenagers, the thought of being summoned by the carriage as a full grown "i literally dropped out of college please don't give me grades or I'll cry" adult is such a funny idea. like, no ill definitely take that custodian job that you offered a child, Crowley. give me that full room and board. you're not too proud to live in a ramshackle house that comes with a free cat roommate. that sounds fantastic.

being actual nrc staff sounds like so much fun. these guys are quirky and weird but they're all so unique that you can't help but enjoy each of them. Crowley may be sort of useless but like, his heart(?) is kinda maybe in the right place. Crewel might gives you nervous hives because he's sooooo pretty and that thing he throws around makes your skin crawl but like... he's cool. Trein may appear to be a hardass (and he is) but unlike everyone ELSE on campus, he's genuinely not a bad guy. he's pretty nice for being an old man. he's got loving daughters and a cat and YOU have fake adoption papers. Vargas is. Vargas. you have to admire a man in his adult years that keeps up with his training. back in your world you were nothing more than a couch potato but look at you now. you can run a mile without collapsing in a puddle of sweat. he means well when he forces you to eat eggs with him. and then there's Sam. man what a cool dude. you're the first one he comes to when he needs a helping hand and he pays you so well for what little you do. he's a real brother in arms in this capitalistic society. easy on the eyes too.

but anyways!! these kids need actually good direct adult influences which you could totalllyy provide. you know those sitcoms with the words of wisdom from that weird guy that's on the other side of the fence? yeah that sounds like fun. you could totally pull that off. 1

you need money cause Crowley forget your paycheck? hey, azul. adults have different labor laws so that means you can work past 10 during the week days AND can operate a ladder and box cutter. you wanna hire us sooooo bad it makes azul look stupid.

also lilia gets another cooky adult to hang out. it's a win, win. let's raise a pet rock together or something. give silver a brother.

[simpforrooster]

exactly what i was texting her.

robert 'bob' floyd x f! reader

summary: your first date with bob.

a/n: my first bob fic just for you anon! i won't lie, it was hard to tap into bob's sweetness. i wanted them to banter sooooo badly xD

phoenix has been begging you to meet her new weapon systems operator.

no. that isn't quite it.

she's been trying to set you up with him.

you don't know anything about the man other than his callsign. which is bob.

bob.

hanging around naval aviators all your life, you figured one day you'd go on a date with one of them. you just assumed he would have a cooler callsign than bob.

maybe something like snake, or the infamous maverick. a girl can dream right?

anyway.

phoenix finally wore you down, and you're waiting outside a small diner for this infamous bob.

"wow, phoenix didn't do you any justice. you're beautiful." you hear to your left. a man in navy issue glasses and sandy hair smiles, slightly awkwardly, at you.

"i'm robert, or bob," he chuckles, reaching out a hand to you.

bob was the most perfect call sign for this man.

sweetness exudes off bob immediately putting you at ease, and you praise phoenix for being so resilient in this pairing.

"phoenix has told me all about you," he tells you, a hand on the small of your back, leading you into the diner. the two of you find a place in the back corner, away from loud customers.

it doesn't escape you that phoenix hadn't told you a thing about bob, except for his name. "i want you to form your own judgment!" she'd said.

bob slide into the booth across from you and fed you another nervous smile. "i'm sorry. i'm normally not this nervous."

"it's okay, i'm pretty nervous too," you tell him, reaching across the table to lay your hand on his arm. his cheeks pinkened, and yours followed, as your hand must have done that on its own. you return your hand to lap quickly.

as the night progresses, you and bob have fallen into a comfortable rapport. the way you've fallen into step with him, and at the speed surprises you. it's not that you've been closed off entirely to dating, it was just something that you hadn't focused on too much.

now, it seems like you can't remember what it was like before you met this quirky, sweet aviator.

at some point in the evening, bob has abandoned the seat across from you, favoring sharing the seat with you. you sit, your back to the wall, fully giving your attention to him.

bob reaches for your hand, confidence having replaced the earlier apprehension. for a few moments, he plays with your hand in his while the two of you continue talking.

"for the happy couple. on the house," your waitress interrupts your story, placing a piece of apple pie and ice cream on your table. "the two of you are just too sweet."

you and bob share a secret smile. you slide a little closer to him in the booth and his hand causally falls around your shoulder. the two of you share the dessert, and soon after, your being kicked out the diner so they can close up.

standing in the cool evening air while bob pays, you pull your phone out to text phoenix.

"i hope you're telling her the date was perfect and you can't wait to see me again," he tells you over your shoulder. when you turn your head, his mouth is right there. he drops his gaze to your mouth, silently asking if it's okay to kiss you. you answer him by closing the gap between the two of you.

his hands fall to your waist, and he spins your body around to pull you into him.

"as a matter of fact, that is exactly what i was texting her."

masterlist.

[thattimdrakeguy]

I HAVE BEEN READING ZDARSKY BATMAN, AND I HAVE DECLARED: I FREAKING LOVE IT!!

I'm reading the Batman Zdarsky run in reverse. That way if I see any bull I can back out at anytime: and to be honest--besides a few things. I really enjoy it

LIKE YO, THAT IS JUST STRAIGHT UP TIM DRAKE RIGHT THERE. It knows who he is as a character. his motives, it's great.

Screw the people complaining "oh why is tim still robin :((", THIS IS WHY HE IS STILL ROBIN. Because this is when he's at his BEST. When he gets to hit his character purpose, WHEN HE GETS TO BE HIM AT HIS MOST HIM. It's FANTASTIC.

Reading in reverse because I know I hated the first story, it was so contrived and ridiculous.

But this--this is some good shit.

Tim being an underdog fighter, having to use his wits to win the fight? MY DAWG, MY DUDE, MY GUYS, MY GALS, MY THEMS, MY THEYS, THIS IS SO TIMMY DRAKE. This is so damn Tim Drake, guys. Oh, my gosh, I am loving this so far.

Dick has his temper back? And trust me, he isn't normally like this. But he's hitting a limit AND IT'S SOMETHING NEW, NOT JUST A REFERENCE. HE'S ACTUALLY DOING SOMETHING HE'D DO, 'CAUSE HE'S AT HIS LIMIT. That's wonderful, man. That is so wonderful.

Plus Tim is the heart of the Bat-Family again? This feels like someone actually went back to read these characters before writing it. I'm not saying everything is perfect of course, but these high marks are exceeding all my expectations. And I STOPPED reading comics because of how the beginning of this run destroyed any hope I had.

You guys have no idea how much I'm enjoying the few issues I've read. Besides the cussing (I remember after a bit they decided Tim was someone who used funny words instead of proper cusses), this feels like the Tim I know and love during the era I especially loved him.

Tim comparing himself to his predecessors? Tim not being a natural? A WRITER REMEMBERING THAT?? It's been so long since I've seen that! Most writers treat him like he was another prodigy when he wasn't. AND THIS GUY REMEMBERED THAT!

I shouldn't be so happy at just seeing Tim do Tim things, and serving his character purpose. BUT YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE A WRITER KNEW WHAT TIM WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE.

Only complaints I have is that Jason feels like a typical Bat-Family member, and not the sketchy outsider that he is. Making him so close makes his character more bland in my opinion. And Steph is--also generic af unless she's wacky quirky...which is a characterization I hate for her, because she started off so damn interesting, but they made her a freaking trope instead, which is such a disservice to her, but she barely does anything so far, so whatever I guess. Doesn't mean much.

--

This is the first honest thing I've seen that I hated.

No

Not this

This isn't the Bat-Family

This is a sitcom world the fandom wants to be the Bat-Family and some comply with

They're not a sitcom. The conflicts, and uniqueness of the characters is what makes things feel alive and well.

This stuff is cheap fanservice for the fanon demographic that doesn't buy comics to begin with.

Fanon doesn't belong in canon.

--

I mean sure Tim could be drawn smaller, the gag of him looking 12 when he's nearly 18 doesn't work when he's bigger than Damian who is 15 (and contrary to some bullshit comics isn't meant to be small. that was a random thing added for writers who aren't clever to write better humor. it actually contradicts things that were already established).

Don't see the big deal though for most of this.

Can't wait to find it, though. Oh boy.

This whole obsession with Zur Batman, is way over done though. So--I wouldn't be shocked if that was the problem, because my golly does that plot point not seem to be stopping--and it was there from the start and part of the reason why I didn't read it 'til now.

Good Tim tho, at least. So heehee, yey for that--I think--I guess.

Oh, well.

It let me peak at a pseudo-version of an AU I made up years ago. So that's pretty freaking cool.

Always a plus.

And redoing Red Robin story beats but better? Normally I'd hate references to Red Robin, 'cause that changed the perception of so many characters for the worst, but ayy, a bit of redemption isn't bad.

Man, just seeing simple stuff like Tim and Bruce being good ol' classic Batman and Robin warms my heart. It's been so long since Batman and Robin has acted like a proper classic Batman and Robin. It's dynamic that's been sorely missed by many.

OH, MY GOSH, WHY DID THE FIRST STORY HAVE TO STINK SO BAD. THIS STUFF IS GREAT.

Like, DUDE, this is such a Tim thing for him to do!!

And he's showing emotion?? He's crying like how he does?? Because he's not a typical Bat-Family member who just angsts his way through?? THEY'RE MAKING HIM STAND-OUT AGAIN BY MAKING HIM, HIM??

WHY DID THE FIRST STORY HAVE TO SUCK SO BAD?? THIS IS GOOD SHIT.

Like this part is why I originally stopped reading, not because Bruce should think Tim is his soldier, and not his son, THE FREAKING OPPOSITE.

But because the original story has Bruce acting weird when unneeded, just to say this was so unneeded, and adding in all these stupid corny Bat-Family moments was so groan worthy.

This run started off with a story that was a total turn off for me.

To end up being a run that could've kept me enjoying DC, rather than running away from it from as far as I have.

Chip Zdarsky started off awful, but really, he ended up great.

And I've seen people complain about his run, and TRUST ME, there's stuff to complain about. But I have only ever seen the stuff worth complaining about, or stuff I WOULD complain about.

WHEN MOST OF THE RUN IS GOOD

At least when Tim is around.

Go figure.

Maybe I should've paid sole attention to how he wrote Tim and nothing else at the very least for that first story.

'Cause even in the first story, Tim was well-written--it's how cheap the rest of the story telling was in that first story that turned me off--and the weird knew about the movie plans that I am still fully judging harshly. (Love the new Superman film suit, though)

[writingoddess1125]

What do you like most about each of the old men?

Okay Okay! SO I got a list!!

These probably don't make sense but I'm trying!

Buggy-

• I love his weird personality, how he is is both funny and almost scary at the same time. Yet his own natural quirkiness betrays him 80% of the time.

• Is actually funny to me? Like his jokes in the show actually make me laugh while others find them annoying.

• Super pretty hair and facial scruff

• I dig the clown thing- IDK why 🤷🏾‍♀️

• I also oddly respect him. Like imagine failing that many times, doing it again and again and succeeding in your own way? Paired with the fact Buggy never revealed he was one of Roger's Apprentices unlike some of his other peers. It wasn't something he used to boost his own power/publicity {Even if the reason could have been so the Marines wouldn't arrest him} But he did in a way make a name for himself by himself

Shanks

• Honestly he just scratches my Daddy issues just right ✅️

• I love his voice? Japanese, English, or LA I just adore the way he sounds in each one. Maybe it's his lines but it's always so relaxing to hear

• He is just so damn Loyal, I adore it 😍 Just that level of dedication to his crew and those that are important to him I love to the deepest part of me!

• Once again! Pretty hair and that facial scruff!

• Honestly when he has his character breaks like when he was yelling at Luffy to call him a dumbass I laughed so hard. I feel like if I saw more of this side- That Goofy drunk that is just happy to be there UGH! ❤️

Mihawk

• Ah Mihawk- The representation of my first crush- Captian Hook from the 2003 Peter Pan- {if you don't know who I'm talking about Google it- He was played by Jason Isaacs 😩💦}

• Daddy Issues coming out once more! 2/3!!

• He is the perfect, rational man that thinks things through has a clean house, cooks and will tell you if you're stupid.

• That sword work- he's great with his hands 👀

• Lastly is actually his stoic personality. I really admire that and just how level headed he is- while he is level headed he supports those 'Wild Cards' in the world and is cool with eccentric and unique people. He sees it as important to the world and while it's not his way, He respects it. I admire that honestly.

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

No, but they'll be complimenting each other so well going on. One of Ed's big problems is that he just gives up so easily. Plan with the fog failed? We're going to die; I'm gonna get drunk while waiting for death. The fishing isn't going so well? Obviously he's not meant to fish. It's like Ed's spent his entire adult life being really really good at stuff (sailing, piracy, etc) that he's completely unused to failure and doesn't know how to go on from it. But that's an important thing to learn, and in a way it's a joyful thing to learn, too. You can try something and it can go wrong and you suck at it and then you can try again and learn from your mistakes and get better (either at the thing or at failure).

Meanwhile Stede is absolutely amazing at this. He says it himself, he's been a failure all his life, he got used to it. Stede doesn't give up. That's probably his biggest strength IMO. Stede is tenacious as fuck. Something went wrong? The cards are stacked against him? Whatever! He wants to do the thing, he's committed and determined, he's going to do the fucking thing if it fucking kills him. Stede is not going to let Ed give up whenever he gets discouraged. He'll be there to pull him back to his feet and they will try again.

And one of Stede's big problems is that he doesn't think anyone admires him and likes him. Meanwhile Ed has thought Stede is the coolest guy on Earth since meeting him! He's probably the only person to ever think that. Other characters grow to like Stede for some of his qualities, he has a huge impact on everyone around him, but he doesn't see that, and nobody genuinely admires all the quirky Stedeisms about him. Nobody except Ed. Ed thinks the library is awesome. Ed thinks the secret closet full of fancy clothes is the coolest shit he's ever seen. Ed loves Stede prioritising marmalade over gunpowder. Ed loves Stede being extra and bitchy and a complete lunatic.

And they're both seeing it now. They are already complimenting each other like this by the end of season two. Ed gives up on fishing, but it was never actually about fishing anyway. He doesn't give up about Stede and their relationship. He digs out his leathers and goes back into the very fray he's been dying to leave, because he's not giving up about Stede, he's going to fight for him. That's kinda the first time we actually see Ed choose to fight for something? All his ofher fights and violence are reacting to threats to his own person. One way or another, pretty much everything we see Ed do as Blackbeard is him either trying to protect himself, or to actively make someone else kill him. He chooses to live in the gravy basket mermaid scene, but he keeps running from problems after. He keeps running from Stede. And then he turns around and doesn't give up and goes to save his boyfriend and his relationship. It looks hopeless! The odds look terrible! But Ed's going to fight for it anyway, and look, he succeeds! And Stede is waiting for him, Stede knows Ed loves him, Stede doesn't doubt Ed.

And Stede is so desperate for people to think he's cool it makes him stupid and makes him make an ass of himself, but his crazy plan works, and this time when he's recounting his cool adventure Ed is sitting right next to him, all starry eyed and admiring and saying "yeah, it was cool, babe, I saw that". Saying "I see you". Ed's beginning to understand Stede needs to be told how cool Ed thinks he is, and Stede's starting to hear it.

They're going to be okay, guys. They're going to be happy. :)

[arabellasleopardcoat]

The Hermit (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: There is a blonde kinslayer in your bathroom. He appears to be your soulmate. It's worrying.

Warnings: It's Aemond. Sexual thoughts, mature language, canon character death. Yes! I killed Luke again.

A/N: Halloween celebration. Part 1 here.

There is something to be said about women with shrill voices. Perhaps, if Aegon were here, he would know the perfect jest to make. Not Aemond, though. Aemond only manages to groan and rest his forehead against the cool and humid surface underneath him.

“Who the hell are you?” The woman shrieks. Aemond is not sure exactly where he is, or how he got here, but it doesn't mean he will tolerate disrespect. He turns on his side and starts to get up. His head pounds more than it does on his bad days, when the migraines will start like icicles stabbing at his eye.

The woman is scantily clad, body wrapped in a towel that leaves little to the imagination. With how little modesty she displays, and those terrible manners, she can be nothing but a commoner.

Aemond tries hard to not stare. He is not like Aegon, panting like a dog after a pretty maid. All the thoughts of your beauty must be put aside, no matter how arousing the sight of your naked, soft body is to him.

“How dare you, peasant.” Aemond says, getting into a crouching position before standing. The floor feels slippery under his boots, which reminds him of Cole's teachings. A good swordsman must always be aware of his surroundings. Notice the ground under his feet, the enemies around and the allies near.

He is not sure what you are, enemy or ally. By the smell and looks of it, he seems to be in a bathing room. Your features are half drowned in darkness, the candlelight illuminating just the barest hint of scared eyes and a quirky mouth. You don't look like an enemy, but nor do you look familiar.

“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen.” You blink at him. Then, you blink some more. You offer your name in response, still a bit dazed. It's not one he recognizes, but at least, your shrieking has stopped.

“There was something in the bath.” You say, voice shaky. You do not seem to acknowledge his rank, which starts to irk him a bit. “I was drugged, and now I am hallucinating.”

Ah. Well, that's a bit more like it. If you say it figuratively, of course. If you are so impressed by him you think you are hallucinating, Aemond can forgive for it. He had heard tales of how much Targaryens impressed the common folk. It was not your fault that you were so impressed by royalty.

You step around him and grab your clothes. Aemond cannot help but admire the smooth expanse of your back, and how gracefully your shoulders flex and move when you pull a shirt over your head. It's an odd garment, probably made of linen, but in a loud color.

That thought makes him wonder if you are truly a peasant. Dye is expensive, and especially in the amounts needed to achieve such a garish color.

“That's not very proper.” He comments, as he watches the towel drop from your body. The faith of the Seven prohibits men and women watching each other in such a manner. But Aemond is unable to avert his eyes from the sight of you changing. The low light contributes to preserving your modesty and making him feel less guilty about looking at you in such a manner. His breath hitches at each new piece of you unveiled, from the soft curve of your breast, to the way your stomach moves when you bend.

“You sound so real.” You marvel, turning back to face him. You have managed to put on the shirt, which barely covers your thighs. Aemond wonders whose garment it is. A lover's, perhaps? Or a husband's? The thought angers him like no other, hands fisting by his side. The idea of another man having you does not sit right with him.

“I am real.” He is a tad offended. If this is someone's hallucination, it is his. Aemond cannot fathom a reason why he would be here, in such a strange bathing room and with an unknown woman. The idea of this being a dream has some merit.

One second he had been fuming in his room after making a particularly nasty toast to his nephews, the next he had appeared here. He must have fallen asleep over his desk. It would not be the first time.

“No, you are not. You are a figment of my imagination.” You reply, almost echoing his thoughts. Aemond fails at fully suppressing his amusement, the corners of his lips barely twitching upwards.

“Am I? I would think, if life was no more than a fantasy, it would not be one of someone as unimportant as you.” The concept is one he is familiar with. His long studies of philosophy have made him realize there is much he doesn't know about the world. The topic of differentiating reality from fantasy and the lack of a free will was one he was well acquainted with.

After the loss of his eye, Aemond had found little solace in the Faith, despite fulfilling his duties as a devout Prince. He often wondered if fate existed, and if that moment had been planted by the Gods to allow him to serve a purpose he had not yet discovered. There could be free will, everyone writing their destinies. Perhaps, nothing existed at all.

He didn't like pondering on that too much, though. It would make existence meaningless.

“Rude.” You mutter, hands going to your hips and making the horrible shirt you are wearing tense delightfully around your figure. “So the figment of my imagination has read Calderón de la Barca.”

Aemond blushes slightly. He has not read Calderón de la Barca. He prides himself on being well-read, but this particular author he had never heard of. It's interesting, though. If you know of an author Aemond doesn't know, it means that not only do you know how to read but that you are also highly educated.

Why? He wonders. What is so special about you, and your little peasant ways, to merit being more educated than a Prince?

“I do not know what Calderón de la Barca is, peasant.” He explains, feeling a tad embarrassed over the whole affair. Studying is his thing, after all. Aemond takes pride in excelling at all sorts of princely traits, and being well-read is one of the most important of them all. “But I am an avid reader.”

“My name is not peasant.” You give him an angry little huff, and step outside the bathing room. Aemond follows you. He figures, if he is in a strange place, it might be best to stick near. This feels too real to be a dream.

“I never said it was.” It comes out stunned. He can't help it, too busy staring at his surroundings. Now out of the bathing room, Aemond realizes this place must be your chambers. There is a love seat, some padded chairs, and even a small dining area. Odd appliances clutter the entire place, like a strange gray box that almost looks like an upright coffin and a black and sleek rectangle over a table. He is either dreaming, or in a foreign place.

He sticks very closely to you. You walk towards the door, grabbing some strange keys from a tray. They look much smaller and shiny than what Aemond is used to.

“Should I drive?” You muse aloud. The question is clearly not meant for him, since he has no clue what you mean. “No, best not. I need help. I doubt that's safe.” You put the keys down and yet again, open another door.

Aemond is starting to marvel at the sheer amount of space your chambers have. This is rather uncommon for a peasant. That, combined with your education, must mean you are something more. A courtesan, perhaps? One of the expensive ones, like in the Free Cities. Not something so crass as the dancer his Uncle had kept, though.

You step outside, Aemond still following. At that, you scowl.

“Of course he follows, he is a hallucination.” You mutter, and Aemond cannot help but laugh a little. It seems you have yet to let go of that particular theory. The two of you step into a hallway of some sort, where numbered doors stand. You knock on one of them, still in your flimsy clothing. Now that he realizes you are about to see someone else, he has the strange impulse of covering you up.

“Here.” Aemond says, taking off his outer layer and wrapping it around your shoulders. “You are too undressed.”

Another woman, much older and dressed in even stranger clothing, opens the door.

“Oh, dear. Have you locked yourself out again?” She says, before you even get a chance to speak. She ducks back inside her chambers and appears again with a key and a handful of brightly colored papers.

“No, I… I think…” You start saying, but the woman ignores you and turns towards him. She clearly senses his importance or recognizes him.

“Here.” The woman says, thrusting the bright papers that seem to have something tiny inside, in Aemond's hands. Some sort of tribute? Aemond has seen how the commoners shower Helaena and his mother in flowers when they get the chance to see them. “These were meant for the children, earlier, but your costume is very nice. You are dressed as the guy from that series, aren't you? My granddaughter is all over him.”

Aemond gapes. He is not sure if he has ever heard a sentence as nonsensical as that, and he speaks with Helaena daily.

“You can see him?” You ask, sounding alarmed. You step backwards, nearly colliding with him. Aemond takes the chance to grab you by the waist. He is starting to get the feeling something is very wrong. Costume? Series? What in the Seven Hells is going on?

One thing is clear. He is not letting you leave him alone now.

“Of course I can.” The older woman says, turning towards you with a worried frown. “Are you alright?”

Your face crumbles. Aemond squeezes your waist. He hopes you get the unspoken signal.

“She is.” Aemond quickly says. He has never been good at lying, dammit. “She is going as that… “

“Oh, the one in the movie.” The woman says. Aemond is not sure about what a movie is, but it seems to make sense to her, even if she is embarrassed by it. Perhaps, she doesn't know what movie he is referring to, and frankly, neither does he, but does not want to embarrass you.

Aemond lets the woman open your chambers' door with her key, keeping you in place with a tight grip. You squeak a bit, but otherwise remain quiet, too shocked by your realization. It helps that his arm on your waist squeezes harder each time you are about to spout some more nonsense.

“Am I dreaming?” You ask him, when he gently leads you back inside. You are shivering a bit, either from the shock or the cold. Aemond looks at you, barelegged and barefooted, and frowns.

“I understand your occupation must have ridden you of your modesty, but it does not make you immune from the cold.” He says, in a disapproving tone.

“My occupation?” You echo. Your eyes narrow. Aemond coughs, awkwardly.

“You know.” Suddenly, the artwork displayed on your walls is very intriguing. It's a very well achieved rendition of the countryside. He wonders who painted it. They must be talented.

“I do not know.” Your voice is firm. Aemond wishes you didn't make him say it. “This is bizarre enough as it is. Tell me.”

“That's not a way of speaking to a Prince.” He barks because he might find you fascinating, but you are getting ahead of yourself. Aemond is not about to tolerate being disrespected, not even from a pretty face. “A courtesan such as yourself should know better.”

You make a wheezing sound, as if you are being strangled. It's rather attractive.

“I am no courtesan!”

“To me, you look like one. These chambers are filled with rare artifacts and instruments.” Aemond walks towards the strange love seat you own and sits on it. The seat is much more plush than what he is used to, but to his disappointment, not made of real leather.

“So?” You arch an eyebrow and go sit in one of your chairs. His cloak parts slightly as you draw your knees up, allowing him to see the bare skin your shirt does little to conceal.

You level him with a strange look. Your head is tilted to the side, as if curious, but your eyes seem wary yet.

“You are pretty and lack modesty.” Aemond watches right back. It's evident many powerful men would offer just anything to have a night with you. Ever since that incident when he was thirteen, he has avoided whores. Courtesans, though, are something he could be interested in. Taught in the arts of conversation, they served as companions as much as bed warmers. It would not be strange if he were to become your patron. “And are oddly cultured.”

“Because this is not Westeros.” You yawn. Your eyes are exhausted. Aemond is not sure of the hour, but he finds commendable the fact that your chambers are so well lit, without a fireplace in sight. The thought distracts him from the fact that you are not a courtesan, and he will be unable to have you as he had hoped for.

“I had supposed I was far from home. But that far?” He asks you.

“That far.” You smile at him. It does not reach your eyes, expression troubled. “So we both abandoned the theory of this being a dream.”

Aemond hums, thoughtfully. Then, another thought occurs to him.

“There were many candles in your bathing room, and it smelled like herbs. Are you a witch?” A witch could also be hired. Useful, too.

“No. But I knew one.” Your smile turns a little strained. Aemond frowns. No witch, no courtesan, then what? Just peasant? You look too unique to be part of the common folk. Not to say, too healthy and clean.

A witch. You had hired a witch, and a good one, considering Aemond was here. That was not commoner's behavior. They were too fearful of the Faith of the Seven to do so. Besides, it was expensive.

“And this witch of yours, she brought me here? For what purpose?”

“She is not my witch.” You answer, before hesitating. Your lips move, but it takes a while before you make any sort of sound. “And the ritual, it was not to bring you. It went wrong.”

“Wrong?” He tries prompting you, but you only scowl at him. “Answer me. Answer your Prince.”

“You are not my Prince.” You say, resentfully. Aemond had not thought he would like his women a little defiant, but he is quickly figuring that a little fire can be nice. He wonders if you are that assertive in bed, too, and cannot help but smirk. That must be why his uncle loves mouthiness. “It was supposed to bring love into my life.”

“That's interesting.” That makes Aemond peer up. He looks you over, with new interest. While a bit too immodest for his liking, you are pretty and educated. You would make a good wife, once he taught you proper behavior. Your lack of good breeding, though, that was an issue. “You are bright. And gorgeous, too.”

“Thank you?” You ask him. Aemond beckons you over with a gesture, curious to see if you obey.

You get up from your seat and walk towards him. You stand in front of him, hands twitching and rumpling the fabric of his cloak. Nervous, Aemond thinks, and smiles a little. You are a twitchy thing. It makes him feel better about his nerves when faced with such a pretty woman.

“Do you think, perhaps, your witch mended the bridge between us?” Boldly, his hand goes to your waist once again. You do not fight his grip. Instead, you lean into it. Aemond brushes his thumb softly near your ribs, making you shiver.

He understands now why Aegon likes women so much. Your body is soft, and you go pliant in the most delicious way. You don't feel threatening, either, like the whores at that godawful brothel. Aemond is clearly the one in control, and he delights in it.

“Bridge?” You say, swaying a little. It might be the exhaustion he detected in you earlier, or you might be made weak by his touch. Aemond finds it interesting regardless.

“The distance. If you are meant for me…” He doesn't finish the thought, but he caresses your waist again, this time moving possessively to your hip. You are so soft, wearing his cloak and smelling of him. So vulnerable and small, despite how smart you are. How could you not be meant for him?

“Dubious.” You frown, and Aemond does not like that answer, so he jerks you slightly forward. You stumble into him, between his spread legs. “Hey!”

Aemond ignores your protest, pulling you in until he has you nearly on his lap. You struggle, but quickly fold, letting him do as he pleases. He wonders if you would let him pull you until you are sitting on his thigh, but does not dare try.

“This is not normal, in my world.” It's far-fetched, even in a world with dragons. Aemond knows magic exists, but he has never seen such a powerful display. A spell so powerful to bring him to another world, just using herbs and candles? It sounds unbelievable. He has always been a rational man, a calculating one. But there is something in his gut telling him that you speak truth.

“I realize.” You place a hand on his shoulder, steadying yourself. This time, he does pull you to sit on his lap. If Aemond were not paying so much attention to your face, he would miss it. This close, though, he notices how your eyes flutter closed in delight at the touch. It only lasts a brief moment, but Aemond can tell how much you like it.

He wonders if you are like him. Lonely and unused to touching another for the sheer pleasure of it all. He feels strange. Never before has Aemond felt such a strong urge to touch a woman, much less one he barely knows. Yet, there is something about you that makes him feel like throwing rationality out of the window.

The smell of your hair is intoxicating. He can't help himself, he has to take a deep breath of it. Gods, you smell good enough to eat.

“Do you think we were destined to meet?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Aemond knows he has ruined it. Your body tenses up, and you nearly fall off his lap. He wraps his arm around your waist, but you jerk away.

“I have to show you something.” You say, getting up. Whatever it is, it makes you uncomfortable. It's all over the tense line of your shoulders, the furrow of your eyebrows.

You take a small artifact from one of your many tables. It's a slim rectangle that lights up when you touch it. Your thumbs press it at an alarming speed. Noise starts pouring out of it, voices and music.

“… AT JUST 9 DOLLARS AND 99 CENTS…”

Aemond scrambles back on your love seat, scared by the sudden onslaught on his senses. You do not seem worried, though, merely making an annoyed face.

“Here.” You say, as you do something with your artifact and turn it to face him. It displays a storm. Aemond pays close attention to it, fascinated by the fact you seem to own a pocket sized window.

Then, he sees something he recognizes. It's Vhagar's body, she is flying somewhere. His eyes leave the artifact to meet yours in disbelief. You purse your lips and gesture for him to keep looking. Your face is oddly anxious, and your hands keep squeezing his cloak.

Aemond focus back on the device. He sees himself, chasing his nephew. He sees Vhagar opening her mouth and… Aemond throws your artifact against the wall, getting up in a hurry. He is filled with rage, stalking towards you.

You move back, as if sensing the danger in the room. Aemond grasps you by the arm, his grip so punishing your skin goes white under it.

“What sorcery is this?” He snarls, towering over you. You look at him, all big innocent eyes, and it only angers him more. “Huh? What is this, you wench?” Aemond throws you to the love seat, making you fall into it with a yelp.

“It's… I…” You hesitate.

“Answer my question!” He barks at you, making you flinch. You hug your knees to your chest, making yourself smaller. He regrets handling you so roughly immediately, and tries to smooth you over, running his hands over your arms. You slap his hands away.

“Your future.” You finally speak, face dropping into a sad frown. Your voice is barely a whisper. “It's your future.”

Upon hearing it, Aemond feels like he is losing his mind. He has always known his anger is destructive, but had never truly grasped the bounds of it. His mouth hangs open.

Turning into a kinslayer is turning into the most accursed man in Westeros. Killing his own blood is a crime that not even the most dishonorable common criminal would dare to attempt. It is something only the truly wretched are capable of.

For someone so smart, Aemond can surely be foolish. How could he let himself be blinded by his anger so? His hate for Lucerys might be strong, but he can't believe he had lost control of Vhagar in such a manner.

By the Seven. What would it mean, for his family, if he did this? War, surely. His mother would never hand him over to the justice Rhaenyra would surely demand, and that refusal would cost them their lives. That, in turn, would cause a war.

A war. Hm. Was it really that wrong, though? There would be a war anyway, once his father passed. There was no way that Rhaenyra was going to take the throne without a fight. Aegon was a much better option to rule the Seven Kingdoms, if only by the fact he was a man.

Women were not made to rule. Just look at you. No matter how smart and educated, you had been reduced to a frightened, quivering little thing after getting screamed at. What prevented from the same being done to Rhaenyra? His uncle had an even worse temper than him, he probably decimated his wife daily. It would be him who truly ruled. And no matter how skilled a swordsman, Daemon was not fit to be King.

“I killed him?” Aemond asks you, eerily calm. His tone is even. It feels as if the words are coming from someone's else mouth.

You shrink more into your seat.

“You did.” You say, quiet as a mouse.

Aemond could not help but feel the smallest satisfaction over it. Lucerys had it coming. He had ruined Aemond's life, after all. And not only had he taken his eye, but he was also a bastard. Bastards were put to the sword, everyone knew that. Aemond had just accelerated the inevitable.

It had been a matter of time. Truly. His lips curl into a smirk.

“Good.” He answers, with a viciousness that surprises even him. “Good.”

“I do not think…” You start saying, in a brave attempt for such an easily frightened little thing. Aemond brushes your hair back from your face. Your next words die in your throat.

You tremble. Poor thing that you were, all tangled up in morality. You surely read too much philosophy books, it got you all confused. It didn't matter. All theories crumbled after their first brush with reality. You would learn.

“You will learn.” Aemond sits down next to you, pulling you for a hug. “You are mine, after all.”

You struggle. He squeezes you slightly harder, and you go limp.

“You are my woman now.” Aemond explains, patiently. He is willing to teach you when the two of you go back to Red Keep. But not before he gets as much useful information as he can extract out of your pretty little head. “And you need to be good to me.”

He kisses your temple. You look up at him, eyes all shy. Aemond leans down and kisses you. You are terribly pale, lips barely moving against his.

“You are never letting me go.” You say, as if in a daze. Aemond smirks. It is a show of your intellect, that you realize all on your own that you have doomed yourself.

“Of course not, wife. You are all I need.”

[batsplat]

do you know why vale seems to have a soft spot for pedrosa?

there's not any single one reason, I don't think, but here's are a few contributing factors that come to mind:

history! in large part because of the honda link, dani's the alien he's known the longest... valentino was the number one honda rider at a time at which dani was honda's rising star. photo on the right is from the 2001 honda celebrations at the last race of the season (when dani was sixteen); from oxley's valentino rossi: all his races: "that night vale celebrated in style at a raucous honda victory party, where he taught honda youngsters daijiro kato and dani pedrosa how to drink". they've known each other forever! valentino was getting teenage dani drunk! quite natural to be fond of someone you've seen grow up like that, even if they are being moulded to be your next big rival

circumstance! the way it basically works with valentino is that if you want to have a feud with him, you generally need to have a title fight with him when you’re already ‘established’ rivals (ignore marc, that’s its own thing, 2015 is a freaky season). biaggi and valentino were enemies headed into 2001 and then were worse enemies, he was cool with sete in year one but not year two, mostly *wiggles hand* the same with casey and jorge… feuds aren't build overnight. valentino and dani weren’t ever really direct title rivals - closest they got was 2006 and 2008, but in both cases valentino probably didn’t see dani as his main problem that year. there wasn't really any competitive necessity for valentino to get nasty... also with one or two notable exceptions, valentino did kinda have dani handled in their actual wheel-to-wheel fights, which let’s face it probably didn’t hurt

yapping! so this is just a theory but it’s one I believe strongly in. you know how valentino loves to talk, right? the thing about pressers and podiums is that you're always going to have a few regular attendees, if you will, corresponding to the front runners in any given year. now, unfortunately for valentino, there were periods of time where almost every other regular attendee was someone he had pretty active beef with. that doesn’t mean he always avoided yapping at them, but relatively speaking you want a guy you can build up some good repartee with to pass the time. dani was his guy… less complicated than casey and jorge, plus dani is polite enough to go along with it and maybe even enjoy chatting to valentino (it’s been known to happen). pressers can be boring and at podiums you're still full of adrenaline, valentino wants to share a joke with someone! my completely unscientific sense is that valentino does this a lot with dani around 2008-ish to 2012, then for two years marc is the number one yap victim, then for a while it’s a bit…? oddly valentino does seem to chat quite a lot with jorge in 2015... he likes to throw in a quirky behavioural pattern sometimes to keep you guessing. anyway then in 2016 he is Actively Ignoring two of these men so vale goes!! hi there dani!! and takes it from there (though the field is more mixed up post-2015 so he becomes more of an opportunistic yapper). in general, valentino will chat to pretty much anyone with A Few Exceptions, but he does usually have a bit of an order of preference

dani’s personality! now, obviously dani is very much capable of feuds, but he’s not that naturally combative a character. valentino generally needs a competitive justification for beef, though some personal animosity can help too… but he never really hated any of that trio of young riders to come through. valentino's known dani forever, he’s been around dani a fair bit because of their respective statuses in the sport, dani isn’t going out of his way to pick fights with valentino, so no reason not to get on! he does clearly quite like chatting to dani and seems pretty fond of him even towards the start of the alien era, at a time in which it was broadly expected that dani not casey would emerge as vale's primary challenger... god knows if the relationship would have soured if dani had assumed that mantle (probably at least a little lol) but failing that, valentino does just seem to quite like him. y’know, sometimes it’s like that

They Have Also Had Their Disagreements, But There Hasn’t Been Much Cause For It To Escalate Further. these disagreements have tended to be over racing standards, where dani is generally in the ‘you people are all insane’ camp and valentino is generally in the ‘ah it’s fine’ camp (though, obviously, there is nuance here… cf vale also criticising sic over the le mans 2011 incident that left dani with the broken collarbone). generally, they don't get into direct conflict over it, more of an underlying difference in positions (hey, aragon 2013 is an example)... but there’s been dani’s suggestion that valentino’s sepang 2015 stance is inconsistent with his generally laissez faire approach, and also some other isolated little scuffles over the years like say 2017 aragon (see below). pretty small scale stuff in the grand scheme of things and if you've been on-track rivals for that long it's kinda inevitable you'll eventually disagree about some stuff, but perhaps worth bringing up

went through all of the alien combos in my head and these two slot in just behind dani/casey as probably the two most consistently beef-free inter-alien relationships? dani/casey gets extra credit for surviving The Teammate Test. but, y'know, the thing about valentino is that he's a sociable, outgoing guy... he likes talking to people... he's actually interested in them... he's a decent conversationalist, easy to get on with, all that stuff. so if you expose valentino to this nice fella who at most was like... perhaps a bit more reserved towards the start of his time in the premier class (partly due to his mentor's approach), but really was generally pretty chill... well, if valentino isn't given any reason to hate dani, then default state is that he won't. good on them etc

[nanamis-bigtie]

Round 2: It's a Match!

about, rules & navigation | previous round

After a few hours of browsing the app you settle on nine the most promising candidates. They set the bar of your expectations quite high, and you're itching to finally get to know them a little bit more...personally. Of course, it's still FAR away from making any binding decisions but the first conversation will make for a big part of the final score.

Remember you vote for a character you don't want to advance further! The character with the biggest number of votes will be eliminated.

Profile One: Toji Fushiguro ELIMINATED

Profile Two

The first message comes almost immediately after you swipe right: a simple hi and a quirky kaomoji. You can't help but chuckle: what kind of adult man would type like this? It's a little weird but endearing—and matching the vibe you got to taste from his profile. Well, if you already swallowed that bait, you gotta accept those little consequences.

He types fast—and you catch yourself trying to match his pacing, answering faster than you normally would. Now you understand why he uses so many abbreviations, writing has close to no chance of following his thoughts. Despite that and his general extravagance, he's good at keeping conversation in line—and keeping a smile on your face. He's just so silly and charismatic.

From time to time, when too many typos make his messages unintelligible, you have to pause and ask for explanation. He answers then slower, apologizing for his clumsy hands, too big for his phone, but can hold himself only for a few exchanges before he returns to prior craziness.

Conversation stops as abruptly as it started, leaving you a little uneasy—have you said something he found offensive? He keeps you antsy for a few hours before he returns as if nothing happened, chirping about a snorkeling class he's taking. And then comes a photo. He's showing you colorful shells on open palm, you get a glimpse of blue beach shorts (with a trace of happy trail poking over the hem) and a really good view on his tum, still wet and showing the first signs of slight sunburn. He's not flexing but you can easily spot the outline of his abs and v-cut. That's...a surprise. He didn't look so athletic in the photos you saw before.

Profile Three

It's already dark outside when notification from him finally pops out. You're on your way to a local bar, to catch a glimpse of more traditional adventure hunting, but you change your mind almost immediately. Frankly, you're not quite in the mood for dealing with drunk people right now, and he's just offered you a perfect opportunity to withdraw with dignity to the smaller and calmer bar by the pool at your hotel.

He starts with a profound apology for keeping you waiting and an explanation for his absence. Apparently, he's been invited to a spontaneous bird watching trip and couldn't resist the temptation of trying something new.

As expected after his introduction, he's an amazing conversation partner. You worried you might end up overwhelmed by his volubility, but he smoothly adjusts to your style instead of expecting you to follow his—right as if he knew what kind of thoughts bother you. He even apologizes here and there for being too talkative, giving you the impression that he's not as confident as you assumed at first, hiding his insecurities behind a neatly built wall of pretty words.

Even so, he keeps you awake late at night. There's something about his expression that has you glued to the screen; you put your phone away only two times, for a quick toilet break and for ordering a new drink. You're sitting by the pool alone, cooling your feet in the water and giddy like a teenager talking for the first time with their crush. And if he wouldn't cut the chain first, concerned about your sleeping schedule, you wouldn't be surprised if you survived like this till the morning.

Profile Four

Something tells you he'd wait for you to write first, so you give yourself an appropriate quarter and attack. Funny enough, he answers exactly fifteen minutes later, and shamelessly admits it's on purpose when you playfully point it out.

You're not surprised that he asked if you really read through his profile. What takes you aback is that he apologizes after your confirmation. As if you took a great weight off his shoulders, confirming that your dating goals align and that no, you're not looking for a sponsor for your vacation (well, you already paid for them out of your own pocket anyway).

When you think about it now, after exchanging a few photos as you two chatted about your day, he does give a vibe of someone who could have been interested in a sugar daddy kind of a deal. No suits are spotted but here and there you're flashed with an expensive-looking watch and for lunch he's ordered himself a luxurious set of cheese. The worth of the latter you wouldn't guess but he takes his time explaining every single one of his treats, how it should be paired with wine and fruits, and where exactly you could try sets of similar quality: a few proposals for a few different budgets.

Once you break the ice, he's turned into a decent conversation partner, but he has an ugly tendency for keeping you waiting. You're not sure if he's busy (he hasn't told you much over his lunch and vague plans for the afternoon) or just likes to keep you on edge. He's still hard to read to you and has some liking for flirty teasing.

Profile Five

After over twelve hours of silence, you're ready to assume he ghosted you. Maybe he changed his mind when he looked at your profile again, maybe he already found someone to occupy his time, maybe swiping you right was an accident. It's a little pity but you don't want to grieve over it, not with so many other options available.

But you wake up to a message sent at 5am. Who in their sane mind would be awake so early on a vacation? Well, you're up early too, your stomach demanding a visit at the hotel buffet, so you can't really judge him. Plus, he could be still awake after a party...or rather from some other kind of all-night escapade, since he didn't give you the impression of a party-hard guy. Either way, his next answer comes almost immediately, so he keeps you company during the breakfast.

Majority of your conversation is taken by comparing your meals. He's still quite dry and formal but way more open, compared to how he presented himself in his profile, as if talking about food genuinely excited him. He opted for a typical hotel-style buffet, but he still took almost artistic photos of what he had on his plate. Its amount could feed a small family too and when you jokingly point it out, he admits he's here to enjoy his life to the fullest, so he's not trying to tame his gluttony.

Before you part, you manage to squeeze the name of his hotel out of him. It's on the same side of the town, thirty minutes or so by foot, if you chose to walk by the beach. You take it as an interesting sign.

Profile Six

Right in the first message he apologizes for being busy today. But if you don't mind having the conversation chopped by longer breaks, he can lead it this way without a problem.

You don't mind, at least for now.

Out of necessity the conversation leans more towards his part of the day. You can't pretend you're not curious (and a little wary, you would rather not be a sneaky date for a man who plays a perfect husband or dad on the other side), and he doesn't mind sharing, at least as much as it's appropriate for this level of proximity. Apparently, he's accompanying a good friend of his during a cooking competition. It doesn't take you long to google which hotel holds it but from a few photos they shared on social media you can't spot him anywhere. Given his appearance and posture, it wouldn't be hard; apparently the official camera is not on your side today.

Frequency of his messages increases closer to the evening. He returns your curiosity and prompts you to share glimpses of your day. He even gets you to send him a photo; you promised yourself to not share too much but something about his tone—both soothing and somewhat demanding—has changed your mind. You send him a selfie that reveals a little more of your body compared to what you posted in your profile. Maybe it's a little bait, maybe an earnest opening for flirting.His answer, a very subtle compliment, is a pleasant surprise. And so is his selfie taken for you, tactfully keeping the same amount of skin revealed but very deliberately underlining his big assets.

Profile Seven

At first, the exchange has more in common with interrogation than with a normal conversation. He's so unwilling to talk it gets on your nerves but as soon as you don't answer for longer, he sends another message, so you assume there is interest on his side, just something stops him in his tracks. Maybe he's shy, maybe he's awkward, maybe he's busy, maybe everything all at once.

His desperation to salvage the mood eventually pays off as the conversation becomes more natural. He apparently needed time to warm up to you and your vibes, his messages lose stiffness with time, and he even starts talking more about himself instead of trying to squeeze approval out of you. He's still not on the level you would call a good conversation but he remains interesting enough for you to poke at his shell over and over again.

You just can't help but wonder how far his patience will reach and how much you can bring out of him before one of you two gets tired with this wary dance.

And if he's not a surprise. You assumed he would give up after three hours at best—but he keeps returning. At some point he even dares to compliment you and that's where you perk your ears up more out of enthusiasm than only out of curiosity. It's been...a while since someone told you something so smooth and almost erotic while staying in the appropriate line. In seconds he turns you from almost bored to a little flustered, to the point you lose the upper hand in the conversation. 

You can't help but wonder if his distanced demeanor from earlier wasn't just a smart bait.

Profile Eight

It's not the first time you're immediately asked out by your match, but it still takes you by surprise. You didn't expect it from him in particular and you feel a little disturbed by this sudden confrontation with reality. You decline, tad disappointed that a person so promising significantly lowered his chances with the mood-ruining hurry. A hot fling is your goal, yes, but you would rather take some proper time to assess if he's a person worth that adventure.

And another surprise—you misread his intentions! You're relieved to learn he just wanted to pass you a word about a fun party in a club he knows, not to go there with you with one goal in mind. 

He's not a tourist but lives with a relative and helps around in exchange for some "pocket money" he saves for a rainy day during the next term of college. It's not his first summer rodeo and he knows the area through and through. You propose a little game to test his knowledge: you give him very vague descriptions of your surroundings and prompt him to guess where you are now.

He makes the right guess after the fourth clue.

At times you forget you're on a dating app, with the way he advertises you the best spots all over the area and even starts to adjust them to your preferences. But you don't really mind it, he's cheerful and tickling the right parts of your mind. If only he didn't avoid any romantic inclinations like a plague, you surely would catch yourself regretting you declined that party invitation instead of letting the misunderstanding flow.

Profile Nine

You suspect this is going to be a tough row to hoe and with every exchanged word you're only hugging yourself over your intuition more. He somehow hangs in there but he's so shy it's cute and painful at the same time. At least you can read between his words that he's a rather good-natured man but someone less patient would probably abandon the conversation a long time ago.

He's prone to jokes and flirting but answers precise questions without any hesitation. For a try you share a link to your favorite Spotify playlist, and it does wonders to the ice breaking process. This way you finally learn the root of his interest in music and rather original appearance: he's in a semi-amateur band and works in one of more alternative clubs around to support his younger brother's education.

Overall, a sweetheart and a little bit of a nerd. Awkward but a sweetheart, nevertheless.

Despite everything, the words are coming together, and you manage to lead the conversation for him while not feeling frustrated with it. He's surprisingly mature and genuinely trying to connect with you, with time shedding the awkward shell and letting himself be bolder with his questions. Your profile has definitely been scanned profoundly for all possible conversation topics and something tells you he has a list of them on him because their order is weirdly particular.You even manage to convince him to share a selfie, still curious how he will present himself in his own eyes. He's striking handsome in a kicked-puppy way, with a rather athletic build to it—which you didn't expect at all.

Profile Ten

The moment you see a message from him—about an hour after you matched—you brace yourself for a tough battle. Given how mysterious he presented himself, you're ready to assume this is going to be another pull-by-tongue marathon or contrary, honest and precise to a fault statement that he wants to only fuck, no sentiments and flirting needed.

You're pleasantly surprised to be welcomed with a smooth, natural conversation.

Oh, he has the power of a preacher, you realize as the upper hand you had at the beginning just slips out of your reach. He's 100% in his element, playing that meticulously designed game of a cat and mouse. Indeed, you feel like a little mouse observed by a bird of prey perched somewhere above your head. And more, you find yourself curious how it is to be grabbed between talons.

He's not the kind of a man who would take advantage of it, though, as he keeps appropriate distance and never allows himself to go further than some smooth yet very cautious compliments. It's too considerate to pass as a part of a calculated strategy...probably. When you think about it after putting the phone away for a moment, he could convince you to believe in anything with all that smoothness. But you just can't stop yourself from reaching for it again as soon as you see a notification. Your instinct prompts you to trust him and his intentions for now.

Maybe it's that gentle smile you can somehow feel from the words on the screen. Despite everything, he's soaked in nice vibes.

Plus, he's hot.

[zyonsay]

Monarch Butterflies

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: You're a rook that Ghost grows fond of

Reader: Male

Warnings: Smoking/Vaping, Scars? (Not sh)

Now playing: Trash Magic by Lana del rey (unreleased song)

AN: Its 1:50 am here and the fic gets shittier the more you read but im more pleased with this one than i was with the old one. Also i renamed this one! I might rewrite this again in the future... Have fun pookies! [:

The deafening noise of the helicopter blades overrode every other sound at the base. The hair of the young man descending from the Helicopter stairs was swirling in the stirred-up air, making it hard for him to see anything at all. The pilot chuckled at the rookies obviously intimidated posture. “Go on, make yourself at home!”, he yelled. The youngster felt a bit more confident now, even if it was only a tiny bit.

You slung your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the entrance, since you were told you’d be greeted there. You were meant to be at this place, but your low self esteem made you feel as small as a mouse. But you did graduate at the top of your military training, so you packed quite a punch. Other people would describe you as ambitious but sweet, which some dickheads saw as an invitation to pick on you.

“Soldier, Welcome!”, a man with a quirky fisherman’s hat greeted you. You offered him a warm smile, inhaling deeply before you spoke. “I’m assuming you’re Captain Price?” The air smelled fresh and was slightly cool, running a chill down your spine.  The bearded man grinned at you, “Yes, indeed. And you are L/N F/N?” You saluted hastily, “Yes sir!” His grin widened a tiny bit. “At ease soldier, let me introduce you to my boys.”, stepped to the side, revealing a group of soldiers, all of them looking very unique.

“Hi, I’m Kyle but you can call me Gaz!”, the young man with an incredibly beautiful face smiled at you. You offered him a small nod while you were wondering what the hell his skincare routine was. “Soap MacTavish! Lookin’ fahrward to working with ye!”, his thick Scottish accent very apparent. He held his hand to you, giving you a hearty handshake. You eyed the next man carefully, examining his clothed face, which only revealed his dark brown eyes to you.  “Ghost.”, his words felt like a cold hand crawling up your back, gripping your soul and ripping it right out of you. Your knees felt weak, and your posture shrank ever so slightly.

The rest of the team has introduced itself to you, each and every individual letting their character shine through. But that clamming, cold feeling still hasn’t left you. “So, rook. You can’t just fuck around and find you, so I’ll assign you a mentor. We don’t want to waste your potential, now do we?”, he paused quickly, looking at you intently, smiling. “…And maybe that bastard will learn something too.” He then directed his smile towards Ghost, causing him to roll his eyes at his Captain. “Lieutenant, would you please show our rook around?” Ghost only responded with a sigh and began walking away, not waiting for you to catch up. You quickly scurried after him, not before quickly saying goodbye to the others.

Ghosts’ steps were big, your smaller form was struggling to keep up, but you’d never admit that out loud. “Here are the barracks.”, he curtly nodded towards a big entrance, numbered with some ungodly long cipher. He also showed you the multiple gyms that the base offered, peeking your head in to check out all of the machines available. The washrooms were pretty close by, allowing you to quickly use the toilet, since you didn’t get the chance earlier.

Your mentor has proven himself extremely important to you, even if he was a bit gruff sometimes. “AIM STRAIGHT YOU ASSHOLE” or “GODDAMN IT, ROOK. KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED” could often be heard over the radio during your missions. But the more time passed, the closer you two got.

“You want one?” Simon offered you a cigarette as you two were standing outside of the base, a cool gust of wind passing through. You shook your head, thinking it might just be impossible to even light one with this wind. “Nah, got my vape.”, your voice was barely above a whisper. Your Lieutenant shrugged indifferently, picking his lighter out of the pockets of his jeans. He’d never tell you that, but he cared deeply about you. To him you were like a younger brother and he’s willing to defend you in any situation.

This day came way too fast, ripping you out of the daily routine you’ve been following for over a year now. A heavy, awkward silence fell over the base. The one-four-one knew what would happen, today you’d be joining the Forze speciali italiane (Italian special forces) and would be permanently deployed there, meaning you won’t be part of the 141 anymore. Most of the guys have already said their goodbyes, some of them had a pained expression on their face, others (Soap lol) were bawling their eyes out. But someone has been avoiding you all day. Simon. You urgently wanted to talk to him, knowing it would eat you up from the inside for eternity if you didnt.

You hesitantly knocked on Simon’s door, waiting a bit too long for a response. A muffled “Come in” could be made out over the steps of some soldiers down the hall. You entered the room, carefully closing the door. Your friend was sitting at his desk, writing something on a piece of paper. You sat on his bed, like you’ve done many times before. You two were silent for a while, both not sure what to say. Then you slowly began. “So… how are you?” Simon turned around in his chair and looked at you intently. “Shut the fuck up.” Just a few seconds later and you were pulled into a tight hug. This was all that it took to make you cry like a little child, sobbing in your friends’ arms. You were surprised to hear Simon sniffling too, was he crying? As you two parted, you saw that he was indeed crying as his eyes were red and his blond eyelashes stuck together because of the tears.

You looked at your shiny wristwatch, standing up again. “I really gotta go. I’ll miss you Si.” You offered him a warm smile.

And with that you were gone.

The smell of fresh cut trees adorned the air, leaving you content. Your hair was dancing in the wind, looking a lot like the flames of a hungry fire. For the past five years you’ve been part of the Italian special forces, being an important asset. You’ve worked your way up the ladder and could now proudly call yourself a Lieutenant.  In the past years you have collected a lot of experience but not all of it good.

“We’re here L,t.”, the pilot pulled you out of your thoughts. As soon as the helicopter had landed, you jumped out and moved towards the all too familiar entrance.

“Rook! Or rather Lieutenant!”, Price greeted you warmly, patting you on the shoulder in a dad-like manner. You laughed, chit chatting with him as you continued walking. You met Gaz, Soap and Roach, making idle small talk with them, when Simon appeared out of thin air, as usual. He stared at you, not believing his eyes. “Y/N…?”, he whispered hesitantly. You walked up to him, happy to see your friend again. Tears were welling in your eyes, you thought you might never see him again. Simon hugged you with his strong arms, gripping you tightly, scared that you might just be a phantom of his imagination. You looked different, more mature, but also like you’ve seen some shit. You were still his friend from back then, but there was a hint of seriousness in your aura. Maybe it was also the gigantic scar across your whole face, indicating a serious injury, as it barely missed your eye. You guys definitely had a lot to catch up on.

"I missed you, idiot."