#simply because a quote grabs my attention

[rosyjuly]

Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg, Russia, 2016 x Power Politics by Margaret Atwood

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Seven)

CW: Jealous Simon, oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing, praise, bit of spanking

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

The morning air was gentle, a soft ray cast through an open window, blinds not shut. The tickle of hair brushed against your stomach, the scent of cotton and whiskey brushing past your ear as your eyes fluttered open.

Simon was warm, the pudge of his belly radiating against your back. You stirred, a soft groan leaving your head as your brain racked, throbbing with an arrogant hangover. Your body was compliant, sticking to the sheets as you wriggled, a quick hand grabbing at your waist.

“Stop wriggling like that,” Simon snapped, voice tense with slumber.

“It’s how I wake up,” you yawned, pressing at the static in your eyes as he laughed against the back of your neck.

“It’s waking me up too,” the evident hardness of his boner flushed against your ass. Your face stilled, movements stopping as you squeaked out an apology.

There was a gentle tick from cicadas outside as you walked into the garden, the bristle of hot air against your bare thighs as you nestled a cup of coffee into your palms. The flowers were bright, transcendent colours flickering across a simple green as you rested against a porch chair.

The English air was a windless ruin, the scent of the sun blazing against wood filling the air as you shielded your eyes, treading along grass as your hands tipped a metal can of water onto the flora.

“Gardens nice,” a voice said.

Simon’s hips hung low with a towel, distinct V-line disposing into the cotton as a delicate trail of hair followed. You swallowed, visibly.

“Thank you,” you gawked, eyes slightly wide as you breathed in the image of him, iris’ soaked in arousal.

“You want to grab breakfast?”

“And they call him Soap?” You giggle, mouth crinkling as your eyes closed, squinting as Simon explained his task force to you, or the men you indecently exposed.

“Gave it to ‘em because of how fast he cleans out a room.”

“And why do they call you Ghost?”

The name was strange leaving your mouth, the foreignness of someone so different to the military speaking it sending a chill through him as he maintained composure.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The café was bustling, the bricks stacked with corny quotes and pictures of regulars, the mint counter littered with coffee grounds and spilt milk. Eyes wandered on the bulky man next to you, but he didn’t pay attention, simply watching you as you spilled workplace secrets.

The croissant you were scoffing down crumby as it collected on the side of your lips, the tickle of pastry paying you no mind as you rambled. Simon took in the way your eyes darted back and forth when you spoke too much and the way your hands displayed actions when you wanted to emphasise something.

He noticed how your nose twitched slightly as you sucked in deeper breaths than normal, and he noticed the light fluster of blush across your cheek when he gazed at you.

You scrunched your brows together as he looked at your lips, his own creasing up slightly with amusement.

“What?” You said, confused before a calloused thumb reached out and rubbed at the side of your lip, speckles of crumbs falling from your face as you groaned.

“I had food on my face the whole time and you didn’t tell me?”

“Didn’t wan’ interrupt your gossip session.”

The environment felt stagnant apart from the two of you, his thumb still pressed against your cheek with a light pressure, umber eyes seeping through his sockets as he memorised every crease of your skin. His ears hissed with a monotone ring, too focused on the speckles of shade that fell between your facial apertures.

“You’re-“

“Y/N?”

The voice was familiar, yet foggy, an immediate sense of dread running through you as you stared at Louis, his body clad with a flannel shirt and scuffed-up jeans. His face was bright with a smile, arms wide as you stood, awkwardly waving.

“You ran off too fast last night,” he prattled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You pulled away in an abhorrent manner, turning around to face Simon, a scowl crossing his face.

“Had to deal with something,” you muttered as Simon raised from his seat, towering over the pair of you as he cleared his throat.

“Ah- sorry mate, you must be?” Louis yakked, his chest puffing slightly as he faced the larger man.

Simon nearly scoffed into the air, “Simon.”

“It was nice seeing you, Louis,” you smiled, lips tight as you grabbed at your neighbour’s wrist gently.

“Before you go,” he jerked, grabbing onto your shoulder softly, “I was wondering if you wanted to go out again, y’know, us two?”

“I don’-“

“She’s fine.” Simon’s voice was sharp, every syllable cutting through the thickening tension, barely visible cloud of discomfort clouding around your table as you excused the both of you, mingled bodies hustling out of the crowded corner store.

Your smile was amused, shoving at the muscle of his bicep, “She’s fine?”

The look from the Lieutenant was dirty but playful, almost tempting you to argue with him, luring more of his possessive words out, “Don’t need another man eating the pussy I ate, do I?”

The words rolled from his tongue in a motion of filth as you slapped his chest, a boyish laugh sounding from him as he opened the car door for you. The drive home was windy, the usual speckle of trees greeting you as his long fingers wrapped around the stick shift as he focused on the hardened tar before him.

Your thighs, covered by a gentle sundress, were wet, a combination of arousal and sweat leaking from your panties as an evident dark patch pressed against your heat as you shifted uncomfortably. Horny eyes glanced down to his jeans, an evident strain bulging close to his zipper as you swallowed.

Tantalising fingers stroked the flesh of his arm gently as he smiled at you before they fell onto his lap, groping lightly at the hardness of his thighs, a slow trail teasing his crotch as he coughed.

“What are you doing, sweet’art?” His voice tight.

“Returning the favour.” The jerk of his car was immediate, hazards flickering in the distance as he pulled down an emptier road, dirt skidding against the tyres as he halted.

Your fingers were quick as they unzipped his pants, his hands swatting yours away as he pulled them down, large curvature poking through his briefs, precum soaking across the tip as you kissed your teeth.

Your hand was quick to grab at his erection, letting the intimidating length rest in your palms as you watched him through hooded eyes. He was quick to rid his undergarments, healthy cock springing out as it slapped against gentle curls.

The head was flushed a light red, pearly silk collecting as you swiped a thumb across it, a gentle hiss leaving his lips. Your mouth was quick to lean down, a glob of spit landing on his shaft as your hands worked against his cock with a smooth pace, gentle groans eliciting from him.

Your mouth was warm, bathing him in instant pleasure as full lips suckled at the tip, tongue running along his member with ease as you welcomed him down your throat.

Simon’s fingers wrapped around your hair, working it into a messy ponytail as he bucked upwards, a choke sounding from your stuffed throat.

Your ass was flushed in the air as he leaned his chair back, dress pooling around your tummy as the fabric fell down the plushness of your thighs.

“Good fucking girl, so good at taking me, ain’t you? Bet this is nearly as nice as your pretty pussy.”

His words spurred you on, your mouth working faster along his dick as you held a tight grip on the remainder, another hand grabbing gently at heavy balls as he delivered a harsh spank to your exposed ass, panties wedged into the puffy lips of your pussy as you whined against him.

“Gonna fill this pretty mouth up, fuck- take you as mine. You gonna let me do that, baby?”

You nodded against him, cheeks hollowed around him as you traced a thick vein, earning a deep groan from him.

The windows fogged, dirty evidence surrounding the car as you gagged, slobbering down him as you hummed, feeding him down your mouth that would no doubt bruise later.

His hand was groping at your flesh, watching the way it melted into his palm with every slap, tender flesh jiggling against him. It was a sight for sore eyes as he guided you along his length.

His balls were taunt, desperate to release as you continued your pleasurable torment. “This mouth was made for me- Jesus Christ-“

With a final gag down his cock he was coming, your mouth rushed with the taste of tangy salt, a loud moan purring through his chest as you swallowed, pulling up with a pant as your tear-streaked eyes fluttered up at him.

“Fucking beautiful, ain’t you?”

[majinbangus]

Majin~ idk if my original ask sent so I'm gonna send it again just in case, Tumblr must find my asks delicious bc they get eaten like 85% of the time 🥲

Hello! Idk it you're taking requests now, or if you've already done this prompt/theme before, but I was wondering what it'd be like to be one of the many people Johnny flirts with on base, and you brush it off bc he's such a flirt. And yes, while Johnny will flirt with just about anyone bc thats his default setting, he's low-key going out of his mind bc he wants you to see that with you, it's different! It's genuine and sincere! What will it take for you to realize that the only person he's got a huge crush on is you?

Idk just wanted to see this from your perspective! No worries if you don't feel like writing anything for this, still love ya!! 😘

hey anon, sorry for the wait, getting my groove back slowly, but here it is. i might do another version of this some other time tho bc i had another vision for it but ended up with this

You don't know why he's been so affectionate with you lately. His playful flirting has gotten excessive, too. It's weird. He's being weird.

It's not like you dislike the attention, but you know he doesn't mean anything by it. That's just how he is. You know you're firmly designated as ‘friend’ in his eyes. A painful fact you've known ever since he made that comment to his ex about never seeing you in a different light because you ‘weren't his type.’ 

Yeah, that stung a bit, and you were a little offended, but that was more ego talking and less romantic feelings at the time. 

Unfortunately, things have changed. Feelings have changed. Yours, specifically.

You don't quite remember when exactly it happened, but you know it was sometime during the last few months of his last relationship. That was an agonizing time, and over a year since the end of that relationship plus several flings later, you're still pathetically pining over a man who will never see you as anything more than a friend because quote ‘he could never be attracted to someone who wasn’t his type’ unquote.

Now, you have to put on a smile and pretend it doesn't make your heart malfunction whenever he flashes that dimpled smile at you, or when he rests an arm over your shoulder while he walks next to you calling you all sorts of pet names he's never called you before. Not to mention all the times he feeds you a piece of his lunch, and when he grabs your wrist and makes you feed him. That barely scratches the surface of his newfound behavior around you.

Soap has never shown you more flirtation than the usual shallow amount he gives to anyone he's not dating. To be bathed in it out of nowhere is a shock to your system. An enigma you can't comprehend, nor are you eager to question it lest you lose his sudden affection. And despite the delusional part of you wishing he meant something by it, deep down you know it's simply false hope making you imagine the romantic adoration reflecting in those pretty ocean blues of his.

“–so what do you say?”

“I'm sorry, what?” You blink a few times, trying to force yourself to focus on Soap and not how bright his eyes are, or how warm his body feels pressed up against yours with his arm slung around your shoulder. He's so close, it's making your heart do fireworks.

“I asked if you wanna meet up next time we're on leave? We rarely hang out outside of work and drinks at the pub.”

“I can't.” It's not that you don't want to, but you don't really see the logic behind it, either. “One, we don’t live remotely close to each other, and two, I have family coming to visit.”

Soap laughs at your excuses, tightening his arm and pulling you impossibly closer. “That just means I can meet them, love! I've been meaning to sight see where you’re from anyway!”

It's your turn to bark out an incredulous laugh. “Sight see what? Soap, the city I live in is shit.”

“Och, can't be that bad if the locals are half as lovely as you, darlin’.”

“That was terrible!” You giggle, nearly doubling over at his cheesy flirtation, but despite yourself, you can't stop the fluttering in your heart, hoping he doesn't realize how much you actually like his attention and stupid charming words, or how you can barely share the same space with him without feeling like your chest is going to burst, or the obvious hearts in your eyes every time you look at him. “Please tell me you use better lines than that!”

Soap pays no mind to your laughter with that lopsided smile on his lips. He stares at you with those stupid, pretty blue eyes, strong arm still around you almost as if he's staking some kind of claim on you, like a leash or collar. You wish that was the case. You'd give anything to be marked as his.

“They seemed to work for me so far.” 

“Oh, really?”

“Aye.”

“Psh, then save the cheese for someone you want.”

“What if I want you?”

“What?” He sounds so earnest you have to stop a moment, shrugging off his arm, and turning to face him. Soap doesn’t flinch, staring back at you with such intensity you laugh uncomfortably to ease the growing tension in your chest. “Ha, ha. Very funny, Soap. You almost got me.”

“I’m being serious. I want you.”

“Since when?”

It’s a genuine question. You’re not playing dumb intentionally–well, maybe a little–but after so long of pining after him, this is something you need him to spell out for you. Even then, a part of you is ready to laugh off whatever he says next. 

Because what you have with Soap doesn’t go any deeper than a close friendship. It never has and never will be anything more than that. Even when you want it to be more, you know he’d never love someone like you. 

“Soap?” You tilt your head at him when he doesn’t answer. His smile has dropped and he’s looking at you with that cute frown of his you’ve always loved. The one when he’s deep in thought, doing all sorts of calculations or analysis on whatever has him stumped. 

“I don’t know how I can be any clearer, hen.” He talks slowly. Low and soft as if in disbelief. “Thought I’ve been obvious with my flirtin.”

“We ‘flirt’ all the time!” You laugh, trying to deflect the growing hope you feel. “We’re friends, Soap. Stop messing with me! Besides, I know I’m not your type.”

Surprisingly, he sounds offended when he asks, “Where’d you get that idea?” 

“What, that I’m not your type? You said it.”

“When?”

“When you were with what’s-her-face? The crazy possessive instagram model.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’, that always stuck with me, so thanks for that.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

You give a derisive laugh. “Then why’d you say it?”

“She was insecure.” Soap furrows his brows in regret, running a hand through his mohawk. “I thought I liked her at the time, so I said it to make her feel better. She didn't like you.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” You mutter bitterly. “I respected boundaries, and she always thought I was trying to ‘steal you from her.’”

Soap mumbles under his breath, “Don’t think I would have complained if you did.”

“What was that?”

“Nothin’, bon.” He sighs, the tension falling out of his shoulders before he squares them again, staring at you in a way that makes your breath catch. “Listen. I know it might be hard to believe, but I’m not takin’ the piss. If you give me the chance, let me prove how serious I am about you.”

“Soap…”

“Darlin’...”

Fuck. A flash of those blue eyes and you can feel yourself hope. Would it really hurt to give in? Just this once? Maybe, maybe not.

Sighing, you inwardly scold yourself knowing you’re jumping headfirst into the unknown, but…

 “Fine. One chance.”

Soap’s never broken that trust before, and from the grin on his face, it tells you he’ll always be there to catch you.

“One chance is all I need.”

[damn-stark]

Chapter 3 Learn to join the dance

Chapter 3 of Moonlight

A/N- Are you guys enjoying it?

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, fluff!, LONG CHAPTER, talks of death.

Pairing- Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader, Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- Before 1x08

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

“Oh come on, damn thing.”

Footsteps approach, but they’re quiet and cautious, and you’re too busy trying to climb a wall to pay attention to your surroundings. It’s not until a voice cuts through the night breeze that you’re surprised by the unknown lurker.

“Excuse me…Princess?”

Seven Hells.

You slowly drag your foot off the wall and slowly peer back, noticing that it’s the same young man from the gate when you were brought in.

He's far more handsome from up close though…

“Do you require assistance?” He asks with his deep voice and a heavy northern accent.

“Perhaps,” you say cautiously, “could you help climb over the wall?”

The man glances to the side and then blinks and looks at you. “What for?” He probes. “Are you leaving already?”

Someone's nosy.

“Can you help me or not?” You press in annoyance.

The man unclasps his hands from behind him and slowly begins to walk towards you, whilst the corner of his lips seems to be twitching as if he wants to smile.

Is he finding your agony and distress amusing?

“Could I know why it is that you wish to leave? You just got here.”

You let out an annoyed sigh and pull your hood off considering it didn’t conceal you from onlookers. “No,” you quip and see him stop just a foot away from you.

“Let’s see,” he drags on. “Give me a good reason why you wish to leave and I will help you climb over the wall or I’ll even help you past the gate.” He suggests with amusement, making you roll your eyes and shake your head softly.

“I…” you pause as words begin to choke you up. Words you don’t want to share. “I want to go home, my mother is getting married,” you put it simply without unraveling the emotional spiral behind those simple words.

The guy holds your gaze for a second, he clasps his hands in front of him and then looks around as if his next words are around the castle grounds.

Can he see right through you? Is that why he’s quiet?

“Home?” He quotes and meets your gaze, letting you see how his dark eyes gleam against the firelight in the distance. “I’m afraid that’s not efficient.”

“Not—” You scoff in disbelief and turn around to shake your head and keep your cool.

Sure because finding out that Prince Daemon is now going to be your stepfather isn’t efficient? It should be, it’s weird.

Nevertheless, you don’t say that, you bite the inside of your cheek and look up at the sky. Albeit that turns out to be a mistake because it’s as if your father's face is painted within the stars.

“Fine,” you grumble and grab onto a stone and lift your foot to step on another peeking out. “I’ll do it myself.”

You climb only a step or two and then come sliding back down, making the guy snicker.

You snap your head back and pierce your glare into him. He catches the anger and annoyance and clears his throat and lifts his hands.

“I'm being serious princess, I will help if you tell me why it is you wish to leave this late.” He repeats his offer with a quick change in his expression that lets you know that he is being truthful.

But you don’t want to just unveil yourself to a stranger that just came up to you. Yet there is something about this guy's dark eyes, something that tells you to trust him, that lets you trust him in this place you think is so forsaken.

Yet you can’t utter the words.

“I…couldn’t go back home,” you blurt. “She—the Queen didn't let me turn back to go see him one last time, and now I never can because I was on my way here.” You exhale shakily and drop your head to hide your tears. “I don’t want to be here,” you add much to your surprise. “I don’t want to live far away from my mother and brothers, I…don’t want this royal burden on my shoulders, I don’t want to live with the Queen either, I want to be with my father…but I can’t because he’s dead.”

That’s the first time you’re saying that out loud, accepting to yourself that your father is gone. Really, truly gone forever.

The letter from your mother said it was Ser Qarl, his secret paramour, she didn’t say why, but you do know your father died burning. No one could recognize him, that’s how bad it was. He died and you weren’t there, the last time you saw him was on that stupid dock, now he's gone…and you couldn’t be with him.

“I don’t want to be a Princess,” you continue in a quivering voice. “I want to be free, not tied down. That’s why I want to leave. To get far away.”

The guy swallows thickly and blinks repeatedly before he parts his lips and very quietly shares sweet words. “I’m sorry.”

Besides your mother, he is the first person who’s said that to you. And it’s not like people don't know, that kind of news gets shared, they just don’t care. So hearing him say it makes your breath catch and your heart skip the gentlest beat.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

The guy exhales softly and chooses to be sincere with you. “If it’s any consolation, my father would tell me that being a ruler, high born, a lord, whatever it is, it’s not a burden, it’s a responsibility. If you treat it as such then you’ll be good, if you don’t then you fail. Do you wish to be a failure Princess Velaryon?”

You sniffle and shake your head. “No,” you mutter.

The corner of his lips lift ever so slightly and he nods. “Good, now,” he breathes out and points his head back. “Come with me. I’ll show you how to look past that title you think of as a prison.”

You muster a smile and hesitate to follow. “Why should I trust you? I don’t know your name,” you remark.

The guy scoffs and flashes you a faint smile. “My name is Cregan.”

Your smile falls and you stand up straight as you immediately recognize his name. “Lord Stark,” you greet stiffly.

Cregan shakes his head. “I’m not a Lord yet,” he counters and pulls out his hand to offer it to you. “Come with me, Princess. Just because you’re a highborn lady doesn’t mean that you have to be miserable.”

You pull your hand out and reach for his, but hesitate even though you’re tempted and inspired by his words.

He notices your hesitation right away and quickly remarks. “Or do you wish to be miserable and brood?”

No, that would be a nightmare.

“All right,” you give in and place your hand on his, letting him walk you away from the wall and towards some dark corner of the castle. “Should I remind you that I have a dragon who can eat people?” You interject out of fear.

Cregan peers back and shows off a smirk. “Should I remind you to trust me?”

You hold his gaze for a moment until he turns to a door hidden behind moss, greenery, and leaves that leads outside the castle grounds and toward the woods.

“Can I ask how it is that you got that scar?” Cregan breaks the night's silence whilst he leads you towards the woods. “It looks fresh.”

You grip tighter onto him as you enter the darkness and quickly defend Aemond, “It was an accident,” you quickly defend Aemond. “I tried to stop a fight but I just got in the way and ended up getting hurt.”

He hums and nods.

“Where are you taking me?” You return the subject to what matters as you see nothing but a void of darkness.

“We’re not far,” he assures you. “Come. I promise it will be fun.”

“Is it hunting?” You just randomly share a thought that came to mind. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to hunt with a bow and arrow, but my Septa says that it’s not ladylike.” You share and roll your eyes in annoyance.

Cregan peers back and slightly narrows his eyes before he snorts. “Why would we go hunting at this time?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it was a thought.”

Cregan chuckles. “Well if you wish to hunt owls then we could.”

Your eyes widen. “Really?” You press with a growing smile.

Cregan meets your gaze and stifles his laugh as he shakes his head, causing you to groan and push him away. He laughs harder and points ahead. This time you catch a dancing light in the distance, and as you get closer you notice people hanging around a fire, you hear their laughter and conversation and it all begins to excite you as well as get you a bit nervous.

Every time you’ve snuck out of bed at King's Landing, you could only go to the roofs, you never could be with anyone else besides Aemond, so this is a welcoming change, it seems more fun. However, it’s also because there’s people that you don't know that you grow nervous too and come to a stop, making Cregan come to a stop as well. “Are you sure it's fine I come?” You make sure to ask.

Cregan doesn’t hesitate to answer and nods. “Yes, it is, trust me. Come, meet my friends.”

You carefully follow behind him so they don’t notice you right away, but the further you walk out the more noticeable you get until there’s no shadows or any part of the shield guiding you that hides you. The firelight shines on you, your unique silver-white hair, your gown made from the finest lilac and deep blue colored silks and all smiles fall as all the bodies grow stiff and uncomfortable as it takes no time to recognize you.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” you immediately interject nervously and avert your gaze to announce your name and title, but end up trailing off to a pause.

“She’s with me,” Cregan fills your silence. “Let’s show her a good time, yes? She’s one of us now.”

Seven hells you hate feeling this way. It’s so stupid!

“Come,” Cregan motions you to him where he proceeds to introduce you to his friends who happen to all be just men around his age and yours. Which isn’t horrible, they remind you of your brothers, of Aemond, and even Aegon. Yes, even fucking Aegon!

They take some time, but soon grow comfortable around you and finally show their kind sides.

“Wine?” One of his friends named Rolf with the reddest head of hair asks.

You glance at the drink cautiously and slowly take it from his hand.

You’ve only drank it twice in your life; once because of Aegon, and the other because of your…father. You hated the taste both times.

And the third is no different.

“Yep,” you groan and crinkle your nose in disgust. “That’s still not good.”

The boys burst out laughing at your reaction and Rolf pokes at you. “Sorry, it’s not the fancy wine you’re used to Princess.”

You roll your eyes.

“You’ll grow to like it,” Cregan interjects a lot kinder. “Give it here, you can’t let it go to waste.” He motions for the cup, but you don’t pass it right away because it’s your cup. He wants to share your cup…

Well…

“You’ll drink it?” He presses.

Maybe sharing cups doesn’t hold the same meaning so far north, so you hand it to him and watch him sit right across from you, leaving the fire in between you, and leaving you uneasy because he’s so distant after he’s the one that brought you here and the only one you trust.

After all, this is a new land for you, undiscovered territory to your mind and very eyes. These are new people that make you grow shy, which isn't like you. You don't like it but you can’t help it. You can’t help feeling small for so long until suddenly you meet the only gaze you’re familiar with across the flames that dance in the middle.

His friends begin to tell ridiculous stories to try and impress you, but Cregan and you continue to just look at one another as if you’re the only ones there.

And it’s not until his friends grow drunker and begin to sing and dance that you get swept up by the moment and feel drunk yourself even if you had the single sip of wine. You smile and laugh, you clap along to their songs, and feel happy for the first time since learning of your father's passing.

“Come dance with me, princess,” Rolf asks.

You meet his green eyes and shake your head. “I can’t. I don’t know how to dance to these songs.”

He snorts. “Don’t you take dancing classes?”

You nod and he chuckles at the ground before he smiles brighter. “I’ll show you this dance then,” he tries to assure you.

You reach over for his hand but hesitate for a second until you remember what Cregan had just told you about living, and make yourself take Rolf’s hand.

The boy then takes no time tugging and spinning you around with him. He doesn’t fail to make you laugh and enjoy the night.

You didn’t want to stop dancing from there on out, but you grew tired quickly so you sat back down across Cregan. And once again you can’t help but meet his gaze, finding yourself feeling intrigued by him once again and that feeling is kind of exhilarating, your heart races again but now you also feel giddy. This time you offer him a soft smile as he sits across from you, and Cregan smiles back with a smile brighter than the flames.

——

*3 YEARS LATER*

Life in Winterfell hasn’t turned out to be as dull as you initially thought, or as bland as the stone walls that surround you. Especially with this mutiny happening.

“What's the meaning of this?” Lord Bennard asks as he takes a seat on the wooden throne at the end of the hall without hesitation and as if he didn't expect it. “Who called this meeting?” He presses with his black eyes searching the crowd before he finds his sons and the maester standing below the steps for an answer.

Murmurs spread around the room in confusion as the people gathered around the hall also don't know why they needed to be gathered around. You did albeit, you know the Lord's time on that throne has been long overdue. He knows that fact too, but he acts oblivious as he’s too driven by power.

“Me, I called the meeting uncle,” the answer interjects from the entrance, making the lord on the chair stiffen while the corner of your lips tug to a faint smirk, and your eyes drift to Cregan walking further in the hall wearing his silver armor, holding his great dark stealed Valyrian sword called Ice in hand, and wearing a stern expression that made his gray eyes brew like a powerful storm…and made your heart flutter.

He slowly stalks inside with an army of his men behind him, like a pack of wolves stalking their prey. His eyes then find you hidden amongst the crowd and your breath catches, but he doesn’t see that so you offer him a deeper smirk. And like always he doesn’t break that serious expression he carries, he never does in public, no.

Now that he’s older, as he’s ascending to his rightful place as Lord, he chooses to look stern to his people, but after years of living together and of being friends, you know him better, you make him smile in private.

“Your time as Lord has come to an end uncle. Stand down now,” Cregan booms out as he continues his path to his throne.

You follow him to the throne as you remain hidden within the crowd and never lose sight of his intimidating figure.

“I’m not dead yet boy,” Lord Bennard counters and digs his nails in the armrest.

You roll your eyes at his defiance, whilst you fold your arms over your chest as you continue to watch and judge the man.

Cregan raises his chin and stops as he reaches the bottom of the steps that lead to the throne his uncle sits on. “No, nor do I want you to meet such a fate out of respect for my father, your brother,” he argues. “But if you don’t give me what rightfully belongs to me then I will have no other choice but to show your sons what happens to traitors.”

Seeing this fight now actually makes you happy that you don’t have to inherit Driftmark, and makes you not even want to entertain the idea of fighting for the Throne that should have been passed to you. You’re fine now with what you’ll inherit.

“Stand down,” Cregan repeats and lifts his sword to point at his uncle, causing the Lord's sons to unsheath their own swords to point at Cregan.

“Stubborn man isn’t he?” Rolf whispers as he falls by you.

You keep your eyes on Cregan and hum softly. “Aren’t they all?” You remark. “But the old Lord is a coward, he wouldn’t dare fight Cregan.”

Rolf scoffs. “Who would? Only a fool.”

You smile softly in agreement and keep quiet to hear Cregan feign a chuckle. “I see,” he mutters and nods slowly. “Well. I won’t shed unnecessary blood, cousins. But if you, uncle, refuse to stand down then I have no choice, guards…arrest Bennard, Benjen, Brandon, and Elric Stark.”

The old and stubborn lord scoffs and shakes his head. “I am the Lord of this castle, stand down guards! And arrest Cregan and his friends! And lock Princess Velaryon in her chambers, this is no place for her.”

The guard appointed to you by your mother, and Rolf beside you pull out their swords, whilst you also reach for your hidden blade as the two guards loyal to Lord Bennard try to storm to you.

“Touch her,” Cregan counters immediately. “And I will cut all your hands off. She’s not yours to order around.”

The guards halt mid-way to you and look back at their Lord.

“Arrest my uncle,” Cregan repeats and puts his sword down.

The guards behind him break away from their spot and charge at Lord Bennard and his sons. The two guards try to fight back, but they easily get unarmed. The sons try to fight back too, but Cregan's look alone makes them stand down, leaving a clear path to Lord Bennard.

“I am sorry it had to come to this Uncle,” Cregan spats as he climbs the stairs and the guards pull Lord Bennard off the throne. “I hope you remember I showed you mercy.”

Lord Bennard gets yanked away with his sons, but he still finds a moment to argue out of spite. “This is what you call mercy? Having your uncle arrested?”

Cregan huffs. “Yes. If you wish to meet a different fate, speak now.”

Lord Bennard clenches his jaw and stops squirming. Without anything else to add the guards take him, his sons, and the guards away, leaving the room quiet as if everyone was holding their breath so they could focus on Cregan as he stops before the throne.

And now that no guards try to threaten you, you push through the crowd and stand at the front to watch Cregan as he touches the throne his father once sat on.

“Lord Cregan Stark!” You're the first one to cheer.

“Lord Cregan Stark!” Rolf follows by saying and then lifts his swords in the air.

“Lord Cregan Stark!” Some people echo before mirroring Rolf’s actions.

“Lord Cregan!” Others follow by saying, filling the room with support for the true Lord of Winterfell and the North, and making the man exhale deeply before he turns and sits on the throne once and for all with his chin high, and his expression serious and intimidating to spread fear to those who even entertain the idea of siding Lord Bennard. You, albeit grin regardless of his expression and clap your hands together out of joy.

Cregan hears you and quickly finds you first amongst the crowd, making his lips twitch to that rare smile he doesn’t let just anyone see, and you can’t help the heat that takes over your face; no matter how higher ranked you are, no matter how hidden you are, or what he is to you.

However, that slight, faintest smile you only saw vanishes, and his eyes dart to someone on the other side of the crowd. You follow his line of gaze and see him look at a young lady with beautiful long dark brown hair, with the most mesmerizing dark eyes, and the softest and palest skin.

She flashes him a flirty smile that makes your faint smile vanish and makes you lower your hands.

He quickly looks back at you again and swallows thickly. The young lady catches his wavered attention and searches for what his gaze fixated on and finds you, the princess, daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, The Realms Golden girl, the Siren of Driftmark, and the most beautiful rose the North possesses.

Yet when you feel her curious gaze and slowly lock eyes across the room she doesn’t seem discontent, or caught off guard. She might mask her displeasure well, but she smiles at you, while other feelings begin to infiltrate through you, a feeling so intense that it makes your stomach begin to twist with a bitter feeling, something venomous and new. Yet you can identify what it is exactly…

Maybe…jealousy?

Stupid and unnecessary jealousy.

The crush you have on Cregan is stupid, it grew when you were young and stupid and it will lead to nothing. Your friendship will remain as it is because he’s your friend and you’re promised to another, to Aemond, your best friend, and a man you’re…eager to marry—even if he stopped writing a year ago and no longer responds to any of your ravens.

You’re just a ward—no, you were a ward because that lady is no longer the Lady of the North, so you’ll be returning to King's Landing soon. Away from Cregan.

Your crush means nothing.

“Come,” Rolf cuts you off from your train of thought and the shattering of your illusions. “He’ll make oaths now in front of the Heart Tree.”

You flash Cregan a strained smile before you look away and exhale deeply, and frown.

He’s just a friend, the longing looks you share every night means nothing.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

That girl…who might she be? She seems familiar, it feels like you’ve seen her once or twice over the past three years, but your mind can’t fully recall.

Why did she smile at him like that? And why did he look so nervous about it?

Has he mentioned her before?

She's very pretty. She looks like a true Northerner, something you’re not.

She’s like him, you’re not.

But…he doesn't smile at her the way he smiles at you, and you don't mean smile with his lips so the entire North can see, you mean smile with his gray eyes that shine brighter when he finds you in the crowd of people, when you tell a particularly funny joke when you’re surrounded by others, or when he simply just looks at you.

And yes, you do see the way he looks at you, you pay attention to everything happening around you here in Winterfell, you have to because you’re not in the safety of your home after all, so you know well he looks at you in the way you always wanted to be looked at. He looks at you the way Ser Harwin looked at your mother all the time. You also feel the tension, you know you pass lingering looks with one another. But…it doesn’t matter because it has never been acted upon because it’s a stupid crush and he knows you’re promised to another.

That’s why she shouldn’t matter. Whoever she is.

You like Aemond, you love Aemond. Yes…

You draw out a deep sigh and gently stroke the barn cat on your lap, whilst your handmaidens help you prepare for bed. You then look away from the cat on your lap and look out the balcony to look at the starry sky, and it’s as you do that you notice something hidden in the shadows of the night, a single rare Blue Winter rose on the railing of your balcony, meaning only one thing, Cregan wants to talk tonight.

You smile regardless of your running thoughts just a few seconds ago and lift your head to address the girls. “All right girls that’s it for tonight, thank you and goodnight.”

You have no idea what it is they were doing, you weren’t paying attention, but it doesn’t matter.

“Are you sure?” One of your handmaidens double-checks.

You nod quickly as you put the cat down and push yourself up from the chair in front of the vanity to face them with a sweet innocent smile. “Goodnight ladies. See you on the Morrow.”

The three handmaidens share a puzzled look with one another, but they don’t fail to listen and do as you ask of them.

It’s only when their footsteps recede down the hall that you spin around on your heels and rush over to pull your cloak out of your closet. Usually, Cregan tells you to meet him beforehand, or he leaves the beautiful winter rose on your balcony earlier so you know to change out of your nightgown, but today was one of the times he didn’t inform you with time—Not like you actually care that you’re in your nightgown albeit. He doesn’t either.

Therefore, after you blow off some candles that light your quarters, you climb down the greenery that’s underneath your balcony and sneak away to your meeting spot with Cregan that's past the castle walls.

However, when you get where you need to be he’s not here…

He’s always here first.

Perhaps he just got caught up. He should be celebrating over his acesention anyway. You’ll wait for him…here in the dark woods…all alone.

You swallow thickly and scan the area with the inside of your cheek between your teeth.

Moments of pure silence pass before suddenly you're startled by twigs snapping behind you. When you immediately turn around you see nothing.

Its nothing! You exhale deeply out of relief.

However, just as that fear is passing, arms slap on your shoulders and a quiet “boo,” is said by your ear, causing you to jump and quickly spin around. That’s when you see Cregan. He was the one that scared you like a creep.

“What’s your problem,” you sneer and shove Cregan back as he bursts out laughing. “You frightened me!”

You reach over to push him back again, but he then catches your wrists and shakes his head. “I’m Lord Cregan now, you can’t do that,” he says quite quieter than usual.

You shoot him a glare and pull your arms away to counter back sassily. “And I’m a Princess, I outrank you, so I can do as I please, Lord Cregan,” you tease and curtsy.

Cregan scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Don’t do that,” he addresses your curtsy.

You chuckle and clasp your hands behind you while you pull your lips to a happy smile. “Now really, why aren’t you celebrating with your friends? I would have imagined you would be drinking now.”

Cregan flashes you a smile and quickly argues back. “I am celebrating with you, my friend.”

You hum and turn to walk deeper into the woods, causing Cregan to follow right beside you. “I suppose,” you interject a bit quieter but with none of that teasing tone he greeted you with.

“This might be our last night with each other.” You mention and lose your smile before drifting your eyes over to him, which ends up with you meeting his gaze right away since he is already looking at you. “With Lady Karstark no longer Lady of Winterfell, I have no place here, I’ll depart to King’s Landing shortly and live with the insufferable Queen.”

Cregan holds your gaze and without hesitation brings up an unheard-of plan, “or you can stay until you have to leave in two years. I am Lord, I can say the word and you’ll stay.”

You scoff and shake your head. “No, I won’t. You know why, you’re a man and I’m a woman, I can’t be your ward. Nor will I reduce myself to being your cupbearer.”

Cregan drops his gaze and doesn’t say anything on the matter, you don’t press him either. Instead, you smile at him and hook your arm around his. “I will say that being here has been good, it’s been the best years of my life. I’ve learned a lot.”

Cregan’s lips pull to a faint smile before he meets your gaze to share that soft look. “So are you saying you’d stay?” He queries.

You giggle and shrug. “Well, I do miss the warmth. And the ocean.”

Cregan chuckles. “I could take you to see the ocean. I could find hot springs for you so you’d be warm. Even lasso the sun and have it shine over the castle.”

You giggle softly and feel glad he can’t see how hot your face is burning.

“Or what?” He quips. “Do you still want to leave? Explore this world? Be free?”

He remembers.

“I have everything don’t I? I have wealth, I’m a Princess, I have a dragon.” You share a completely different mindset than what you had three years ago when you were both strangers.

“What else could I want?” You mutter.

If your younger self heard you now she’d be shocked and in disbelief. Mad too that your dreams were robbed from your hearts chamber.

“But?” Cregan presses. He knows you too well.

“But,” you add and look up at the sky. “Nothing…”

Your younger self need not worry because the part of you that wants to see the world, that wants to fly in the endless sky with your dragon still lives within you. You’re just learning to push her away. Slowly.

So regardless of that, Cregan keeps his gaze on you regardless of your answer, he watches as you admire the sky with a gleaming gaze. He knows you now, he knows that you still dream of being far, and he knows you want more, you have yet to learn what he’s been trying to teach you, to accept what you are, find what you want with what you have. Because it’s there, what you seek, you just need to learn to see it as he has. He can show you though.

“I want to show you something,” Cregan interjects, intriguing your curiosity.

“What?” You query with a giddy smile.

“Not here,” he says and stops to face you.

You begin to squint your gaze on him and he continues.

“It’s close. Albeit if we want to make it back by sunrise we…” he pauses and licks his lips. “We need to take your dragon.”

You grow even more intrigued now. “Astraea?” You probe with a giddy grin. “You want us to go on dragonback?”

Cregan hesitates but eventually nods. “It will be worth it.”

——

*LATER*

Perhaps this was a dream, Cregan riding on Astraea with you.

Perhaps you need to be more wary of why you keep flying further north, why in the distance is the notorious wall that keeps away the wildlings, and what lies further North.

Yet, even if it is a dream, it’s the most amazing dream you’ve had and one you never want to wake up from. For one, Cregan for some reason wants to ride behind you. Two, the big beautiful white moon glows against the dark night sky, and three, the sky from this part of this world seems endless like the sea. If you could, you'd just keep flying.

However, the moment you get close to the tall ice wall, Cregan tells you to land. You don't question him even if you should and just nudge the handles on the saddle down so Astraea can land on the ground.

Albeit just as your purple dragon tilts, Cregan interjects. “No, on the wall. Land on the wall if you can.”

You peer back at him to meet his gaze and show your doubt.

“Trust me,” he assures you.

You hesitate for a second before you exhale and nudge Astraea up, causing her to change course and instead swoop back up. When she lands on the wall, Cregan carefully climbs down first, and you hesitate to get down now, feeling all eagerness blown away by the sharp and icy that run so high up.

“Come on now,” Cregan encourages you.

You tighten your grip on the handles and narrow your gaze to share a quizzical look with Cregan. “What’s the meaning of this? Why have you flown with me? No one ever does. Why are we here?” You press with suspicion.

Cregan scoffs in amusement and just waves you down again. “Just climb down Princess you’ll see.”

You look down at the wall that stands probably thousands of feet from the ground and question if you really want to stand on it.

What if it just breaks? Or if something more horrible happens?

Yett…Cregan says to trust him, and you do, he won’t hurt you—you hope…what if he’s actually crazy?

Damn…

You let go of the handles and swing your foot over the saddle to climb down to the wall. “<Stay,>” you command Astraea in High Valyrian and then face the man who promised safety. “Now,” you add with a questioning look. “Tell me why you brought me here. Are we running away?”

You know it wasn’t a possibility, he cares too much about his people and his responsibility as Lord, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.

“No,” Cregan shakes his head.

You furrow your eyebrows and narrow your gaze further. “Then?” You press. “Why—”

“Just come,” he cuts you off and grabs your hand to pull you away from the safety of your dragon side to drag you with him towards the other edge of the wall.

“Cregan,” you call out in a shaky voice. “What are you doing? It’s too—”

“You fly a dragon, and said you climbed on the roofs of your castle,” he cuts you off again. “What’s the difference?”

You dig your heels into the ground to stop him from moving you and yank your arm away from his grasp so he won’t move you any closer. “What’s the difference?” You counter and throw your arms out. “My dragon keeps me safe, she wouldn’t let me fall! And the roofs curved! This-this is just flat! What if we slip? No.” You shake your head. “I won’t go closer.”

Cregan rolls his eyes and sighs before he stomps over to you. “I won’t let you fall,” he adds for assurance but it’s not so assuring. “I’ll be with you, grabbing you the entire time. I just want you to see what lies beyond the wall. I just want you to feel what you seek.”

Right away that fear begins to fade away and disbelief eases your hardened gaze but also brings curiosity that makes you approach him.

Cregan smiles softly at your willingness. “Close your eyes and don’t open until I tell you.” He tells you as he takes your hand.

Without a doubt, you shut your eyes and let him walk you further ahead. You trust him and don’t stop now, you just grip tighter onto him as the wind keeps trying to push you back.

He eventually brings you to stop and you want to open your eyes, but he stops you. “Not yet.”

You draw out a small and inpatient breath, but also begin to feel your heart race with how nervous you actually feel because of this anticipation he fills you with. He then proceeds to walk behind you without letting go, and you grab onto him as he slides his hand over to hold the other one so he can also grab your waist.

The touch makes your breath catch and tempts you to open your eyes to look at his hand on your wrist, but you keep strong and keep them closed, instead, you just think of his touch.

“Okay,” he whispers in your ear. “Open your eyes now.”

You do as he says and immediately gasp as you see the land that resides beyond the great ice wall, as you see how peaceful and hauntingly beautiful it all looks. You smile with awe as you see how the ice and snow glimmer, how tall the mountains stand, and how small the tall trees look from here.

Now that that land further north seems truly endless, yours and everything you’ve seen feels small in comparison.

Now as the wind tries to push you back all you can do is let your body go because Cregan is behind you, because at this very moment, you finally feel what you’ve sought for, freedom.

As the wind pushes you back, as you dangle off the ledge you feel free.

“Is it everything you've ever hoped for?” Cregan asks softly. “I know I truly can’t give you what your heart desires, but does this satisfy your desire?”

You nod softly and muse. “It does.”

Will that last though?

You'll see.

“You aren't trapped princess,” he adds. “Perhaps you’re not as free as you’d want to be, but you are free to do what you please because of your title as Princess. You just need to learn how to take control of it from your position.”

You hum softly and drift your gaze to the corner of your eyes to meet his gaze, noticing how insanely close you are now. You can feel his breath unfurl over your skin, and feel the warmth of his lips behind your ear.

“Will you show me?” You whisper unwarrantedly, your desire just took over. “Like you did now.”

Cregan glances at your lips and then meets your gaze and nods. “I can.” He assures you.

You smile softly, and then steal a glance at his lips. You let your gaze linger there for a second, whilst his own gaze lingers on your own lips, albeit he doesn’t look away like you do, he watches you move them to ask him a question. “What do you want? We always ask about me, but what about you? I mean besides wanting to be Lord, is there something else?”

Cregan lets out a soft breath and nods. “You,” he answers without a minute to think, causing you to gasp out of disbelief because you’re actually hearing him admit it.

This goes far beyond your wildest dreams. You can’t believe you’re hearing it, and you turn around without thinking about the ledge to look at him with that disbelief.

Cregan swiftly pulls you away from the ledge whilst he continues to explain it to your disbelieved heart. “I try, I try with all my might to stop thinking about you, but” he pauses and shakes his head. “I can’t. Ever since I met you I knew you were special, that you were meant to be mine. And I know you feel what I do, there’s no need denying it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and shake your head before you counter. “But you can’t. I’m promised to another.”

“And I’m to be married to someone else…”

What?

It’s that lady, isn’t it?

“Who?” You ask right away, letting your jealousy show.

Cregan swallows thickly and averts his gaze. “Lady Arra Norrey. My father made a promise to hers, one I can’t break. But she means nothing, we will perform our duties, but that’s it because I want you.” He tries to assure your worry whilst he reaches for your cheeks.

However, you push his hands away and shake your head.“I can't do that to her. I,” you scoff and turn away from him. “No matter how much I burn for you I can’t.”

Cregan’s breath catches at your confession, encouraging him to reach for your arm and pull you around to face him. “She knows. She knows. You won’t hurt her.”

And that smile she gave him? That nervous look he gave you?

“I saw it,” you blurt and push his arm away.

“Saw what, my darling?” He presses.

You draw in a deep breath. “Her smile,” you breathe out. “Will you tell me she feels nothing for you? Can you tell me that?” You ask and meet his gaze with tears forming in your eyes.

Cregan stays quiet for a moment before he shrugs. “I can’t control what she feels, but she knows, that’s all that matters. She’ll keep our secret.” He then reaches for your cheeks again and you let him cup them this time. “She’ll let you be her ward so you can stay.”

“Stay?” You repeat. “I won’t stay forever Cregan. I’m destined to leave two years from now. What then? We pretend like it never happened? How do you expect me to leave then?”

“Then we part ways,” he mutters. “You marry your prince, I stay here, at least I’ll be satisfied knowing I lived some of my life with you. Can’t you say the same? Isn’t that what you want? Freedom? Don’t torture me by leaving now.” He says beautiful words you never thought him capable of before he presses his forehead against yours and begins to caress your cheeks. “End my agony,” he continues to tug at your heart. “And be mine for however long we have.”

It’ll hurt far worse when you leave, knowing you’ll never see him again, but he makes your heart flutter, he fills you with happiness because he tries to give you what you want with what you have. He watches you the way you want to be looked at, he cares for you and makes you burn.

You want him and you want control of your own life, freedom. Going back to King's landing now will bring that to an end, Cregan is willing to give you that and so much more. The pain will be worth it.

“Okay,” you give in foolishly perhaps. “Okay. Let me be yours for however long we have.” You grin and glance at his lips whilst you cup his jaw.

Cregan beams at you and without hesitation, he pulls you in for your first kiss, for a deep and passionate kiss that sets you on fire.

The taste of his lips makes you melt into his hands. Once again you feel free, and now it’s with him.

.

.

.

.

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Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne

[sgiandubh]

Five minutes of Instagram fame

The Brazilian fan is back with more attention-grabbing content, one week after she had thousands of eyes on her London shenanigans. Which I am not going to discuss, simply because I do believe there is no need to give the anecdote more space than it deserves. Enough is enough, and the apparent collective loss of all sense of measure is a sure sign that pause is needed, in that department.

What I am going to discuss, however, is the chutzpah of a 23 year old Nobody, who just wishes to keep those five minutes of fame rolling on and on and on.

Yesterday, she felt compelled to publish another batch of Instagram stories, in which she delivers her Toxic Shipping 101 lecture:

In the process, she basically just rephrases the main Anti Bible arguments, calls thousands of people 'insane', quotes two influential shipper blogs (slàinte mhath, @bat-cat-reader!) that didn't even come close to what I wrote about her, brings on board her mother and grandmother just to explain how upset she was about 'older American women picking up on her'. And ends with a rather pathetic plea for all of us, shippers, to 'seek immediate medical attention'. Same unnerving sotaque Paulista (São Paulo accent), with a posh and very fake tinge of British English. Same incoherent, amateur and immature discourse, endlessly seeking to bring attention to herself, mildly trying to victimize herself. Blah, blah.

I would have given her grace, were it not for this particular argument, in response to a X user asking a rather uncomfortable question, as she definitely has the constitutional right to do:

'OH God, not her again 23 yr old Brazilian trying to be a reporter in London, complete fail. but in BIG OL LONDON, 'JUST HAPPENED' TO Spot Sam, how dumb do you think we all are?'

Answer is the real dumb part of the story, if you ask me, especially coming from a very young woman: 'Forbidden to be a journalist and meet a celebrity in the street. Forbidden to go for a walk as a journalist, paging all my colleagues, ok? I had no clue I could be as scheming as they say I am.'

Ok, buttercup: it is my honest understanding that you want to be taken seriously and treated as a professional, right? Did I miss something, here?

Right. As the daughter of a journalist and a former Government expert in media policies (specifically dealing with media content broadcasting), I am going to do exactly this and honestly ask you, Mrs. Silva:

Do you consider, in all good faith, that you acted like a professional journalist, in this very circumstance?

Do you consider to have kept your impartiality and have you at least checked all the relevant facts and POVs, before slandering all those people on your social media account? Or did you content yourself to report the hearsay shared with you by other bloggers, and just conveniently quoted four random bloggers and commenters?

Have you the slightest idea that one of the commenters who reached out to you on Instagram, questioning your version of the facts, is not even a shipper (and actually, very violently far from being one)?

During the week separating your first post and this reaction to people's feedback, have you or have you not respected your due diligence obligation to contact and engage with the people you so easily treat as a bit less than the scum of the Earth?

Did you or did you not ask for permission to quote their published content on your social media account, especially in a polemic context?

Unlike you, I have diligently perused both your website and your Linked In account. Maybe it is time to tell all those people you have insulted the truth about who you are, professionally, at this very moment:

Marketing student, 3rd semester.

Let me count: 3 internships (correct me if I am wrong), in various junior positions for 1 local media outlet, 1 international corporation and 1 website, 4 different jobs - or should I say 'stints' (3 with your current employer, 1 as a freelancer for a local media outlet).

Still learning. There is absolutely nothing bad about it. But you have still a LONG way to go until you could pretend to be a real voice. And there is nothing in what you posted that could grab my professional attention and make me hire you. Quite the contrary and, believe it or not, I am awfully sorry to say so.

My three free and totally unsolicited pieces of advice:

Always check your facts, always get in touch with the people you plan to write about. In fact, your anger and ego got the best of your professional self and you lost a great opportunity for a paper you could have even titled ' Viagem na Shipperlândia' (A Trip to Shipperland). I would have read that. But you haven't. You preferred to act just like all the other 23 year old girls and make a belly-button story about yourself.

Never bring your family forward in questionable contexts. You expose people who have nothing to do with the irrelevant insanity of a fandom war, to which you contributed your own, perhaps involuntary, dose of chaos and unnecessary drama.

Never lie on your Linked In resume. Potential employers might and will read it. Never write things like:

.. when you also fail to accurately describe your former job position, denoting poor spelling:

Especially when words are your craft, bread and butter. The devil is always in the details:

As I mentioned in a previous post, you could have been my daughter. I have been that 23 year old girl myself, desperate to list every single internship and tempted to inflate language proficiency, in the hope it would land me the job of my dreams. And I have learned the hard way that being a true professional is cancelling your ego.

You'll learn. Until then, stop bitching on things you have no idea about and act like an adult, not an attention hungry teenager. This comes from a place of tough love: sometimes, the most effective life lessons are given by complete strangers.

[joshfuckingkiszka]

𝔈𝔫𝔡 𝔊𝔞𝔪𝔢 - 𝔍𝔐𝔎

jmk x f!reader

first of many, enjoy ;)

THIS BLOG IS 18+ MINORS DNI

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fake dating trope (it's a fave and I not be sorry), bit of angst, josh is a cutie

taylor's version masterpost

reputation masterpost

☮

Young Starlet Caught in Compromising Position!

Your publicist was less than pleased about the headline. Even though you had insisted nothing had happened, and that picture was simply a case of a bad angle. It wasn’t looking great, though. To be fair, the picture was pretty bad. A bruise painted your neck, lipstick smudged around your mouth as some guy grabbed your hips from behind.

It would be hard to explain yourself out of that one, to be honest. Regardless of whether the picture was accurately depicting your actions of the night, the fans had seen it. Your image had already been tainted in their eyes, and it would be nearly impossible to recover. 

Big reputation, big reputation Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah

Rather than attempting to, it was decided that you required a rebrand. It started with the incorporation of darker clothes into your “wardrobe” - quoted only because it was what was chosen for you. Interviews began to shift to questioning the possibility of heavier music, to which you would coyly suggest it was possible. 

Then you released a new single. It caught the attention of rock fans everywhere. There was a sudden call for a genre change, which you hoped so desperately for. The last few years of your life had made you feel like a sell out. You traded the humanity and meaning in your music for tracks that would generate streams and ranks on charts. 

Within a couple years, no one remembered the popstar you had been. It was all about the rockstar you had become. And you were a big one. 

It wasn’t overwhelming anymore. The work you put in was hard and abundant, but it was genuine. It showed in the love that poured from the fans over social media and in the crowds of your sold out shows. 

A world tour was in the talks and an opening act was in question. Someone suggested a band you had heard a handful of times before: Greta Van Fleet, not that you ever really had time to immerse yourself in a new band. From the videos you’d seen and the songs you’d heard, you would be lucky to have them on tour with you. They were getting relatively popular and you knew you had to strike fast to get them on the setlist. 

“I have a surprise for you!” Gene, your publicist, exclaimed in a sing-song tune. 

“Ugh, last time you said that, I had a snake draped over my body. Still mad at you for that, actually.” You only looked up from your phone for the last sentence, otherwise preoccupied with a daunting game of 8 Ball with your best friend. 

“Well, this one I’m not sure is much better, if we’re being honest,” he trailed off, “the label loves you, you know that.” 

“Uh oh.” You weren’t worried. 

“But in a recent poll, they found that fans think you’re …how do I put this …boring?” He strung his words together carefully, as to not offend you. It wasn’t his tone of voice that concerned you. 

“Boring?! I’m practically fucking a mic stand every night!” 

“Not enough anymore, babe.” He was being rather nonchalant, and you realized that being called “boring” wasn’t even the main issue that was being presented. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, “So what are they going to do about it, Gene.” His name came out like the sparking embers of a fire on the forest floor. 

And I heard about you, ooh (yeah) You like the bad ones too

That was how you ended up at an intimate restaurant in Nashville, across from Josh Kiszka. He was nervous and it was actually kind of cute. It reminded you of a real date, something you hadn’t had in ages. 

“I like your dress. Green. That’s my favorite color,” his eyes raked over the silk of your dress. It extended to your ankles, a slit daring to expose your leg. The straps were a little tight, and prevented you from wearing a normal bra, and the tape holding up your breasts was peeling from sweat. 

“I know,” you chuckled, “everything about this is set up to be as persuasive as possible.”

“Oh. Either way. It looks great on you.” He was genuine, and as the night went on, you found that it wasn’t even his most endearing trait. 

Just as the clock was about to hit 11, he was standing on your front porch, wishing he didn’t have to leave. This was an arrangement, a plan to draw attention to the both of you, driving up streams and ticket sales. 

As you stood on your porch, hand lingering on the door as if it was a riddle, so close to him that you could practically taste the wine on his lips, you realized something. You realized that you were going to inevitably fall in love with Josh Kiszka, undeniable force meets immovable object. It was almost expected that dread would fill your stomach as you recognized this fate, but it never came. Instead, butterflies flew in its place. 

I've passed days without fun, this endgame is the one With four words on the tip of my tongue I'll never say

A month and half later, and several dates to show, you had proven yourself correct. But, who could blame you? What about Josh wasn’t lovable? 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you announced to the meeting. There were a few label executives, Gene, and Josh with his team. 

“What?” Josh was the first to say anything, and his face portrayed betrayal. 

“Yeah, what he said,” Gene added. 

You sighed, “I don’t want to pretend to be in a relationship anymore. That’s not what my job is, and I don’t see how it adds any value to my music.” 

“B-But, this is what’s going to sell the tickets. A love story, performing together in the throes of romance.” You glared at the executive. 

“No, our raw talent and meaningful music will sell tickets. I will not be told who I can date, when I can see them, and especially when I can break up with them. If that’s a problem, I’m sure another record label would have no problem meeting my demands.” 

This is what drew Josh to you: your fiery passion. In spite of that, he was upset, especially since you hadn’t even discussed it with him. He was under the impression that you liked him, maybe even liked him. God, he felt like a middle schooler again, paired with the pretty girl for a project only for her to ask for a different partner halfway through. 

I don't wanna touch you (I don't wanna be) Just another ex-love (you don't wanna see)

As it turns out, the label no longer had a problem meeting your demands. You waited outside the board room for Josh, pulling him aside when he came out, head hung low. 

“It’s not you, trust me.” 

“Oh, then it’s you?” 

“No. Listen, I don’t want to be told to date you, or what happens over the course of our ‘relationship.’ I don’t want the pressure of having to pretend to love you.” 

“I get it, believe me. You don’t have to explain.” 

“I want to do it by myself, on my terms. Love you, I mean. And believe me, I do.” 

He looked up for the first time, his eyes were beautiful. But you already knew that. 

“I don’t want to have to forget you, and never see you again because the tour is over. I want our love to be ours, and no one else’s.” 

Josh smiled, he agreed.

I wanna be your endgame, endgame

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417, @brokenbellz, @gretavanfleas, @pyrojoshy, @greta-van-chaos, @xserenax-13, @hayley1623, @kdarling1, @autumns30, @keighoe, @chalametpwk, @sammysvanfeet, @shawnsthighs, @gretavanbitches, @sammiejane22, @gretavanbestie, @jordierama, @alexxavicry, @spark-my-nature, @rainy-darling

joshy: @prophetofthedune, @loofypoofy, @gretavangracee

[aphtwitterau]

(20) Yin and Yang

Travis was walking across campus, going to the dormitory building. His afternoon communications lecture ended and he wanted to just fall asleep. Travis was idly scrolling through his phone, laughing at the interactions between his group of friends. Due to not paying attention to his surroundings, however, he bumped into someone. Travis sputtered slightly, feeling embarrassed over a preventable mistake. Travis went to apologize but paused at seeing just who he had collided with: Zane. Immediately, Travis' tanned face started to change hue, forming a blush on his cheeks.

Zane glared at Travis with his eyes (eye..? Either way, Travis likes his piercing blue eye. Or piercing blue eyes.. he doesn't know which one would be grammatically or physically correct.)

"Don't you know it's polite to say excuse me or are you always this stupid?" Zane snarled under his mask, grabbing Travis' attention away from the grammatical issue in his head.

Travis, trying to put on his suave, charming self on to impress Zane, smartly replies, "only when it comes to you." Travis tensed up when he realized that what he said made zero sense.

Zane narrowed his eye at Travis, "I make you stupid." Zane repeated before laughing at him in the same condescending, sarcastic laugh he uses. The same laugh Zane uses for everything that amuses him. The same laugh Laurance says is an evil laugh. The same laugh that Travis adores. The same laugh that unexpectedly caught his attention in high school.

Travis admires Zane laughing at him, almost spacing out again. Dante would call him crazy for liking the laugh so much. There was so much malice in it, a laugh made to tear the other person it's directed at down. But for Travis, it only reeled him in more. Because despite the laugh sounding so evil in everyone else's ears, to Travis, it sounded light and fun. The malice part was just part of Zane's exterior but obviously from other people's perspectives, like Aphmau and Nana, even Blaze despite how much Travis hated to think about how close the two were, the laugh— Zane— was fun internally.

Travis was snapped out of his thoughts, literally, when Zane snapped his fingers in his face.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you keep spacing out like an idiot?" Zane said with disgust hinted in his voice, not that Travis took it to heart. Instead Travis smiled at him.

"I'm not an idiot, cyclops. You're the one wearing all black and a mask in 80 degree weather," Travis smirked at him, igniting a short banter session between the two yin and yang figures. Black and white, avoidant and flirty, zero and one, Zane and Travis.

"And I suppose you'd want me to dress like you; neon green on top of more and more neon green. Like a damn highlighter," Zane rolls his eyes (eye...? Travis is going to have to debate about this with Dante), "just how many people have you blinded today with how bright you are, hm?"

"I don't blind people with my clothing, simply my beauty," Travis says exaggerating a charismatic voice, "one day I'm going to blind you with my beauty and if that doesn't work, I'll win your heart with my charm and wit."

Zane deadpanned him for a short while, tired of hearing Travis gloat about himself. "The day you 'win me over'," he uses air quotes, "is the day hell freezes over."

"I'll be quoting you on that on our first date, MCR." Travis says with a wink, taking Zane aback slightly. Travis smiled at the second Zane was caught off guard. Travis smiled at how his demeanor faltered, even just a smidge.

"I'll be looking forward to it," Zane says in a false cheerful tone before quickly adding, in his brooding voice, "not." Travis continued to smile at him, no matter how dopey he looks right now. No matter how confused Dante was over the smile or how interrogative Nana became when she saw the smile or how bothered Zane is right now; he continued to smile at Zane, letting himself have this moment.

"Sorry~ for bumping into you, your highness. What are you doing out of your emo themed castle anyways?" Travis questioned, wanting to keep talking to the masked man, despite how tired he was prior to this interaction. Zane scoffs at the white haired man and crosses his arms, glaring at him with his one visible eye.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Zane growled at him, almost offended that Travis showed interest in his life.

Travis exaggerated a pout and sad eyes, "oh please, please, please tell me, Zane. I would love to learn more about you! What are you doing outside of your cave!"

Zane gasped in offense, having annoyance running through his face (well.. from what Travis can see on his face. Which is not much considering the mask and hair.) Zane narrowed his eyes at him and furrowed his brows.

"If you must know, and you must. I'm going to work," Zane started and before Travis could reply, Zane quickly added, "that's right: you're a boob. Work is something responsible people go to for money."

"I always love our bantering, sweet Zuzu," Travis winks at Zane again. Zane's demeanor falters again; from both the wink and the nickname only a selected few have used before.

Before this interaction, Travis would have loved to go back to his dorm room and knock out in bed, sleeping until next year. But hearing that Zane was out and about, albeit for work? That is a chance Travis cannot get away.

"Funny you should say you're going to work because I'm going to the café!" Travis cheerfully stated, smiling ear to ear, getting closer to the raven haired man and slinging an arm over his shoulder. Surprisingly, Zane didn't turn or recoil away. Something that Travis would bring up in his debrief with Dante. (Irene, he sounds like a girl, doesn't he? He can almost hear Dante calling him lame for even thinking about how it means something that Zane didn't shove him off.)

Zane obnoxiously groaned out loud, "of course you are. That's why you were walking in the opposite direction of the café, huh?"

"Well, I wasn't before.." Travis trailed off in a quieter tone before ramping up to his louder voice, filtered with charisma, "but then I heard my favorite emo is going to be working there right now and now I just have to go keep him company. I'm a nice guy like that."

"I'm going to pour blistering hot coffee on your head." Zane replied coldly.

"Mmm.. promise?" Travis joked with a cheeky grin on his face to get on Zane's nerves.

Zane groaned, nonverbally declaring this jesting session over by shoving the green eyed man's arm off of him. He walked in the direction of the café, Travis following closely behind, talking his ear off, seemingly to forget just how tired he was previously.

[lookclike]

when you're not yet done with the summer

task: the last interaction when: august 2nd, last performance of romeo & juliet

getting undressed in her small room backstage felt different that night. that was the last time she was going to wear that white dress, the last time she would feel the weirdly sweet fake blood sticking to skin as she rubbed it off. getting in and out of costumes was easy when you could return to them at any time, but goodbyes... eliza didn't particularly love those.

the pink peonies (her favourites) resting on the table were a good reminder to not get caught up in emotions now, to get in and out of the backstage area as soon as possible so she could actually see richard. he had been there in the audience, the expression so similar to those many times when he took them to the theatre as kids, a sight that didn't exactly make eliza nervous (she could quote the entire play on her sleep by now) but still felt weird. some of the others had come to see her, of course, but seeing richard in new york always felt a bit uncanny, two words that were separate parts of eliza. new york was chaotic and cruel and dizzying, and woodrow… woodrow was home.

“richard!” she said happily as soon as she saw him waiting outside the theatre, throwing herself at his arms mostly out of habit. richard’s hug was just as warm as she remembered, the same steady arms that used to pick her up as a child. 

“lizzie! you were quite wonderful up there, dear.”

she let herself bask into the compliment for a couple of seconds. eliza had never been one to crave richard’s approval desperately, perhaps because she knew it would always come. still, a part of her still wondered if this — the shakespeare, the theatre, the false sense of independence and accomplishment — hadn’t been born out of what she thought richard would like to see. eliza was good at playing whatever role she needed to, after all.

“don’t you think the blood bath was a bit too much?” she finally let go of the hug, looking up to him with a little humorous smile.

richard simply laughed. “quite a brave directing choice.”

“brave doesn’t always mean good.”

“but it’s almost always better than the opposite.”

lizzie didn’t let her smile falter, though the comment stirred something inside her mind she didn’t quite appreciate. onstead, she opted to grab richard’s arm and to lead him in the general direction of sardi’s. part of her wanted to take him to a mcdonald’s just to see his reaction, but that would have to wait for another night. “c’mon old man, dinner is my treat.”

“i really ought to be heading back…”

“there will still be plenty of time after we eat. please?” and that’s why eliza never really had to battle for richard’s attention like so many of the others. she could pinpoint the moment when his eyes softened and he nodded. it would be easy to just let herself get lost in the joy of the moment, dinner with her pseudo-father, but even then a little voice piped up from inside her head: it’s not you he wants to see and share a meal with. he is saying yes because of a girl who isn’t you. the cool night breeze wasn’t always enough to get eliza out of her head, but they made their way to the bustling restaurant mostly unscathed.

“are you sure you wouldn’t rather be celebrating with your castmates?”

“trust me, there was enough celebrating to be had every other week. besides, i’ve got some good news.” that got richard to smile with a questioning expression. “not telling until i’ve had a preposterous amount of fries.”

eliza did get her french fries, munching happily as the adrenaline of being on stage started to leave her body completely, making her almost melt into the seat. The dinner was filled with conversations that took her straight back to woodrow, literature and theatre and everything in between.

“so, the news?” richard finally said as they started eating dessert (they both had a sweet tooth, after all).

“well… there is a big julius caesar production happening on broadway this november, and i got cast as portia!” she couldn’t quite hide her excitement, but richard’s eyes seemed equally content.

“that used to be your favourite as a kid. you would beg me to read antony’s speech again and again-”

“-because i loved the way it sounded. i remember.” memories had never been an issue to eliza, at least not when it came to woodrow. it felt like a consolation prize in a way. she had no real past, no real family, but the time spent at the house, with richard and with the other wards, would be forever etched into the crevices of her brain. a gift and a curse, something the greeks would love.

when they said goodbye for the night, eliza hugged richard tightly, and he didn’t hesitate in matching the force.

“bye lizzie. call me anytime, okay?”

that night, eliza went home to an empty apartment decorated with books and half empty bottles. she put the peonies in a beautiful crystal jar and then cried herself to sleep like she had done so many times as a little girl. she wished she still had a night light to guide her out of her own head. she wished she could just stop ruminating over things. mostly, she wished she could be the daughter richard actually wanted.

[sortyourlifeoutmate]

Alright so, there's a lot of little angles to this and they all sort of rush through my brain at once so let me try and lay them out in something like an order.

The Tories are in a bad place. We're all very happy about this. The Tories themselves, however, are reacting to their looming, inevitable defeat by basically frothing at the mouth and screaming. One the one hand you have them scrabbling for every attention-grabbing idea they can lay their hands on like how someone sliding towards a cliff might scrabble for something to stop them falling to their death.

Uh, Angela Rayner did, uh, a thing! Uh, Rwanda! Yeah! Immigrant on a plane to Rwanda! Uh, fuck, uh, benefits! Sick note Britain, yeah! One of these has to got work, right? Right?! Please God one of these has to work!

So that's happening. And alongside that, you have the internal conflict of which of them gets to be King Rat of the Sinking Ship. You know, the dregs of the dregs racing to slit one another's throat to be the one in charge.

Speaking of which, Penny Mordaunt.

Basically, what set me off was an interview she has apparently done wherein which she said the UK simply must invest the Iron Dome system or something of nature of ward off attacks like the one what Iran did against Israel. And, like...

Okay.

Here's an actual pull quote:

She told The Sunday Telegraph: “To those that say about our defence ambitions ‘we can’t do, shouldn’t do or can’t afford to do’, I say ‘look to Israel’ – a nation a fraction of our size, that has staved off an attack from a nation 10 times its size.

One. Israel is much smaller then the UK. Like, much smaller. The area they have to possibly defend is smaller and, also, more concentrated. The economics involved in scaling up a system like Iron Dome to defend the whole of the UK blows my mind - especially as it's a system designed to counteract a specific security threat we don't have!

But we'll get to that.

Two, it doesn't really fucking matter that Iran is bigger than Israel, does it? They weren't invading, they were firing a lot of drones and shit. Iran may be physically bigger and more populous than Israel but Israel's military budget (and level of development, and investment) kicks the shit out of Iran's. So who gives a fuck if Iran is bigger when that wasn't even a factor?

Three, not to do down Israel's military prowess (not for nothing do people buy their shit) but having heaps of military assets from heaps of allies (including us!) in the area to provide support probably didn't fucking hurt and, in fact, explicitly helped because it's been stated that it helped!

And look, fuck...

It's a nothingburger, I'm aware. She's just taking the current issue of "Oh the world is a dangerous place and we need to defend our citizens rahrah!" that is seen as important here and the "Oh look, Iran attacked Israel!" and mashing them together, but it's such an incoherent, stupid position it hurts my brain.

Who. Who would be attacking us Penny? Were they be attacking us from? Iran is not that far from Israel in the scheme of things. Who do we have nearby who would do this to us, Penny? We make jokes about Europe and the Irish but those jokes aren't going to translate into actual drone attacks, Penny. What the fuck are you talking about, Penny? Do you have something in mind?

Maybe we could use the money that might go into your batshit insane useless fucking waste of an idea and, I don't know, get some dentists?

Seriously, where would a massive drone and missiles attack on the UK come from? I know we live in the future but not that far in the future.

And she's not the only one!

Admiral Lord West, the former First Sea Lord, said: “The bottom line is that if we had 300 missiles fired at us, we wouldn’t be able to repel them in the way that Israel did, albeit with help from the US, the Jordanians and so on. We have nothing like the Iron Dome and I think there is a need for us to ensure we have that.”

What in the fuck are you talking about.

You know when it snowed a few years back and all the flights got cancelled and people were like "Well in Finland this never happens" and it was like, yeah, because this happens all the time so they plan around it. Israel has the Iron Dome for very specific reasons. Is Israel prepared for a volcano erupting? No? Because that's not a concern and so why would they fucking waste their time and money on it? Oh, fancy that!

Argh! What is wrong with you people?!

The things you're saying are stupid! The situations you're conjuring up are stupid! Or am I just losing my mind?!

I'm so tired!

Why can't you people just lose and go away already?!

[connisk]

(Fanfic that I really like by @kitsunefyuu )(strongly recommend)

Something about this mental image of AFO dressing izuku in fancy clothes, like very dear doll, just stuck with me. And I felt like drawing a few of the more feminine outfits since every one of them has some kind of meaning to the story.

The first more feminine outfit was the one izuku chose specifically when he tried to convince his father to let him go to UA.

"Dad, I want to go back to a real school and make actual friends," Izuku spoke bluntly. Trying his damn hardest to keep himself calm as he asks, and had even prepared himself with his dads favorite outfit. It was a traditional green Hanfu dress with flowers. More than aware it is for women, but it isn't as if it matters in a home where the only company he's allowed is his father.

Absolutely creepy, but in sweet way. As he doesn't care about what he supposed to be wearing and enjoys everything, but at the same time trying to persuade his father to what he wants with it.

The second outfit I drew was the black dress he wore when he accidentally met his childhood friend. And it escalated quickly to the worst

Maybe Izuku was desperate for some kind of recognition. To gather a fraction of the past that his father took him away from after all these years. That he dug far back to that nickname he hated even if didn’t want to say that name as Kacchan was about to leave, “How about Deku?”

Now that seemed to trigger something and a curiously amused expression showed on Bakugou’s face. The recognition sparked in his eyes as a loud hum escaped him.

“Oh yeah! Deku must explain why you look like a weird doll,” Katsuki said with amusement.

Izuku felt a stab in his chest at the other words.

This happened right after izuku ran away from his dinner with his father. Naturally he was wearing a dress. I can't find the exact quote but I remember it being described as dress with a ribbon. Maybe it was just my imagination, but izuku wearing a dress and looks like a doll, Plus kachan recognizing him by his old nickname just felt very symbolic. Like Deku will never be more than just a doll for others.

The last image, and the one I liked the most was izuku wearing his school uniform.

"Dad! Can you grab me my uniform!?"

(...)

Izuku doesn't even check what the man brought feeling pretty good right now. Though clearly, he was going to end up late so he just throws it on.

(...)

"Sorry he's just- Well he's excited I have a friend," Izuku noted only to realize Shoto was looking at him up and down. "What? Is something wrong?" Ugh, did he not put on enough makeup? Did he put the uniform on and mess up his hair? Izuku felt nervous at his friend's suddenly very critical gaze wondering if he needs to run back home to fix up-

"You look nice,"

(...)

Though when he arrived at the school Izuku felt like he was getting a LOT more looks than normal. To the point if he was honest he kind of felt almost anxious about it as while attention can be nice it felt more like they were weirded out. Wondering why that is the case, he worked hard on his appearance! Even Shoto said he looked nice, did he miss something? "Hey do I look weird?" Izuku questioned wondering why people were staring knowing his friend would be honest. Shoto glanced around a bit then back at him in confusion before a light bulb seemed to register. Those eyes light up as he finally decides to answer the question.

"Probably because you're wearing the girl uniform?" Shoto questioned. As if he hadn't just revealed the most horrifying thing Izuku could have done. The innocent way his best friend didn't even think to point out the uniform was for a girl.

The betrayal izuku felt. For his father it was simply a joke. For izuku it was world shattering. How he took izuku's trust and played with it.

Shoto, with his pure heart didn't question it.

I reason chose to give izuku white hair even when he supposed to still have his green is because he's under his father's manipulation. From the moment his mother died his father was everything to him and he was everything for hisashi.

And still, he plays with izuku's life like he's some kind of doll. Just because he doesn't see a problem with it. But for izuku it affects everything.

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

Welcome to Day 2 of my self-imposed challenge for October, where I listen to 31 albums I haven't gotten around to listening to yet in an attempt to clear through my overwhelming Spotify library and document my thoughts.

Day 2.

The Weird And Wonderful Marmozets by Marmozets!

So I found this album actually a few days ago on Google, my homepage has news stories, and an article brought up this album as being "the weirdest rock album of the decade" and I was simply intrigued by how they worded it. I quote "mixed mathcore, punk, indie, and alt-rock into a fresh new take that took the scene over by storm." and as someone who loves a bunch od those things- If not all, I pulled up my spotify IMMEDIATELY to add it. I didn't even bother reading the rest of the article quite frankly. I'm sure it's alright but this, seemed like everything I'd be interested in.

Upon the first track it immediately engaged me with the drums and riffs. Almost electrical in a sense that it ignites the energy and then pulls away to allocate for the vocalist to yell... WHICH... as I'd spoken before I'd just found this from an article so I did not have a whole lot of prior knowledge on the band. I did look a little through their catalog to see they've been inactive since 2017 and that they only have two albums out and an EP(?). I'll have to look into the other album at a different time more in depth, but the female vocalist was NOT expected but holy crap!!!! She literally comes into the track and absolutely owns it. If I could explain her voice, it reminds me a bit of Against The Current's vocalist X Bea Miller during her "Not An Apology" album X Cassidy Mackenzie's covers on YT. Like- it's got a similar sound definitely but unlike anything I'm familiar with.

I adore it! The realization that I have not found many bands with a female vocalist with this type of sound is insane. The only thing however is I do not entirely love the lyrics. Yes, everything SOUNDS great, but the lyrics. It's giving Disney Channel Pop-punk. Which isn't a bad thing at all, but genuinely the sound is great, but the first track fell short in the lyrics.

AND THEN the second track hits. And holy damn the fry in her vocals absolutely was not expecting. GOOD. I completely fucking loved that shit, and it's much more up my alley with everything it is.

Which is amazing because when I write a band au, this is the sound I'm envisioning. This sound. It's so fascinating. Grabbing your attention with the drums and riffs and then toned down to let her be known full force. Such a interesting sound and I think that this track genuinely was everything. "Captivate You" completely enamored me as well, I adored it. A lot of this album I can say I genuinely loved to experience. I don't know how I hadn't found these guys before now!! I would've eaten them up years ago I think. The lyrics sure aren't as mature as I'm familiar with but I think the vocals are genuinely such an eye opener and theres a handful of absolutely amazing track on here. Semi replayabilty, I think I could definitely listen to this a bunch and not feel bored and its a decent length. 46 minutes! Not bad at all.

Would I recommend this? Hm. Possibly? I'm not too sure, I don't think I'd recommend the entire album because it can feel a bit cheesy but I think it's sound is something I have NOT seen before in bands I'm accustomed to listening to. It sets them apart having that female vocalist for me, which I've prompted to educate myself on more bands with female vocalists because it seems that most pop-punk is male dominated, unfortunately. Which this is definitely something of a gem. I think its a good thing to take a chance on if you enjoy the genre and want to switch it up. There's good stuff here. It would be worth the time to give it a spin if you wanted to, but I don't think its a needed thing in full if you just want to see the good stuff. There's cohesiveness, but not all songs are differentiated to where it doesn't feel too different from one another. There's good to be had here, and I did enjoy my time and will be relistening to this record, but there's also better introductions and examples of pop-punk as a genre.

[thunderin-brainstorm]

Oh I’m SUPER curious now. What would RB’s actual quotes be for the battle stuff that goes on in Legends Arceus? Things like their quotes for how they’d react to seeing an Alpha for the first time, getting hit by a wild Pokémon’s attack, fall damage, being spotted while sneaking up on a mon, low HP, battling a Noble Mon and stuff like that!

ooo you mean like if she had NPC stock dialogue type of quotes? 🤔hmm. honestly the lack of general dialogue options for the player character in PLA kind of makes this easier, but the way i took the story and developed it far beyond the simplified game plot makes it a bit harder lol. actually let me just lift a few bits from what i've drafted already!

her first time seeing an Alpha (or at least the first time she knows it's an Alpha) is actually when helping out Mai with the Kricketune. she's not paying attention to the explanation of Alphas so much as she's just staring at it like :/ "i don't mind bugs, i even like them, but this one is as tall as i am and i don't know how to feel about it"

getting hit by an attack is just a lot of cursing tbh. the first time a Zubat nips her she just starts praying that Poké-rabies doesn't exist please please please plea-- but honestly she starts giving back as good as she gets? she throws rocks at territorial Buizel that try hosing her from a distance, she dropkicks Paras before sprinting away, she gets very good ducking away from diving Staraptors and tossing one of her partners to nail them in the back. after months of being constantly annoyed by Drifloon pursuing her whenever she sets foot outside after sunset, she actually spins around and grabs one dogging her footsteps and literally POPS it with her bare hands! it's this kind of irritated pushback at local wildlife that earns her a dangerous reputation in Jubilife

her reactions to the Nobles vary wildly. battling Kleavor is mostly just. sad. this is an old creature being pushed to his limit by an outside force and she pities him despite the fact he's already managed to cut open her shoulder. Lilligant is more of a whirlwind she doesn't have time to think coherent thoughts about when she's just trying not to get hit, trying to breathe through the smoke, trying not to twist her ankle again, trying not to slip in the mud-- ouch being tackled by a plant ballerina SUCKS. dealing with Arcanine is... terrifying. RB isn't in there alone at least, she's got Iscan backing her up, but that's one more person to worry about and the active lava should be boiling them alive and it's raining so she can barely see through the steam and oh my god i'm going to die. Electrode is the worst one by far, being so fast and so dangerous and probably the most stressful event she's ever had to survive. with Avalugg by comparison she's almost willing to die, simply because the Noble is so huge that she feels like she's trying to fight a force of nature and honestly if she fails she's not going to blame herself for losing against a mountain.

sorry i don't have any specific dialogue, i've drafted 150k words worth of outline but haven't actually gotten to the prose part yet!

[uncloseted]

how do you deal with envy? I find myself envious of people who seem to have great lives or stable minds or better childhoods than I did. sometimes i want to be like these girls so badly i become unhappy for their happiness or i want to be liked by them so badly i act desperate, how can i be happy and grateful when i don't have anything i want? or anything i need in a way, somethings i simply can't get, like stable families or naturally pretty faces or childhoods back

I feel like this answer is going to simultaneously feel too simple and impossible to do, but I really do think the way to handle envy is to practice gratitude. Our brains pay attention to the things that we train them to think are important. So when we focus on other people, what they have, and what we're lacking in relation to them, that's what our brains start to label as "important" and it's what they'll automatically start paying attention to. On the flip side, if we focus on the things that we're grateful for, our brains label those things as important and automatically start to look for other things to be grateful for. And in the process of looking for things to be grateful for, our brains start to ignore what other people have that we don't.

Obviously that's easier said than done, and like a lot of things I've been talking about on here lately, I think it's a process that will take time. I would maybe start by just taking a few minutes every day to notice things that are good, even if they're small. For example, for me today, it's a beautiful day outside and I don't have any obligations so I can do whatever I want with my day. There's a plumber coming to fix my dripping tap, which I'm super grateful for because it means that I have my own place to live that has indoor plumbing that I can afford without stressing, and it has a really kind and thoughtful handyman. I'm grateful that we have to call the plumber because I know that he and the handyman are friends, and it gives them an excuse to hang out. I'm grateful that when I feel like it, there are a bunch of places within walking distance where I can go grab a snack. I'm grateful for the mug my friend gave me for my birthday because she knew I really wanted it even though I kept telling her not to get it. I'm grateful that I have the vast world of information that is the internet and that it means I get to connect with all of you.

Lots of things in the world suck. There will probably always be some things in the world that suck, at least a little bit. But a lot of those things- things that are in the past or that are fixed parts of who we are- aren't within our control to change, and so focusing on them will only serve to drive us crazy. Not to quote the Serenity Prayer, but I do think it's important to change the things that we can and accept the things that we can't. Sometimes things are just out of our control and I think that in those cases, all we can really do is try to find ways to move forward, whether that's through recognizing the good that there still is in our lives or trying to find other ways to meet our needs.

[agirlinsearchof]

So, I have an ebook that I recently had to edit, because of the incredibly bizarre line breaks and typos. My mom had it, I don't know where she got it from.

As a result of editing it, I read it in its entirety, and actually enjoyed it (though I must confess, I would have enjoyed it more if I weren't so focused on correcting the formatting and typos).

It's called Nightlight: A Parody. It's a Twilight parody about a teenage girl named Belle Goose who falls in love with Edwart Mullen, a teenage boy with a love of computers and awkward social skills, who she concludes must be a vampire after he accidentally "saves" her from... a flying snowball.

TL;DR: I did not even like Twilight, yet I loved this book. And I bet even people who do like it will also like this.

Spoilers below!

So this parody has a couple of major twists to it that made me like it even better than I would have if they had stuck strictly with adapting the source material!

First of all, Edwart turns out to be a regular human guy, who Belle assumes is a vampire based on a series of coincidences. He's genuinely very sweet, and I was happy that he got together with Belle. I liked him way better than Edward!

Belle herself was also enjoyable to read about! She starts off kind of conceited, thinking every boy who pays attention to her is in love with her, but she outgrows this by the end. Her taste in boys changes, too! She's initially attracted to Edwart, aside from his good looks, because she thinks he is a vampire. Then they get attacked by an actual vampire, and when Belle finally directly, unambiguously tells him he's a vampire (up to this point he thought Belle was simply an eccentric role-player), he runs away, so she goes out with said actual vampire (who never meant to actually kill her, he was just pulling a prank). When he treats her badly, though, she and Edwart get back together, and the final chapter ends with a sweet scene of them as a couple.

And said actual vampire who Belle goes on a date with is Joshua. Ironically, personality-wise, while Edwart is closer to how Stephanie Meyer intended Edward to come across, Joshua is closer to how Edward was actually written. And unlike Edward, whose creepier behaviors were glossed over by the narrative, Joshua's mistreatment of Belle results in her leaving him in favor of Edwart, who she loves even if he isn't a vampire like she thought.

My only criticism of the writing is how unrealistic the video game Edwart made seems. Is Belle using an arcade stick? The way she's described using her pinky and middle fingers to press buttons suggests as much, but the game is apparently on the Wii? I know there's a Wii arcade stick, but I don't know how realistic homebrew Wii games are for late 2009. (Was the Wii arcade stick even around in 2009? Or does Edwart's uncle work for Nintendo?)

To quote the book itself:

[Edwart's] hands grabbed my hands like they were video game controllers. He pushed down on my left index finger. I low-kicked. He pushed down on my left pinkie. I jumped. He pushed down on my right thumb. I paused in mid-air. He kind of rotated my wrist while pushing down on my right middle finger. I crouched down and shot a fireball from my hands.

Like, what the frick is going on with that game controller? I get the feeling that between Edwart "saving" Belle from an old man trying to sell her "Sega products", telling her to stick with Nintendo, and... this mess of a description of someone using a game controller, I get the feeling whoever wrote those scenes was old enough to remember the Nintendo and Sega console wars, but hadn't played video games in a long time and wasn't up to speed on the fact that Nintendo's primary competitors were now Sony and Microsoft.

But this is just a nitpick. It doesn't bother me enough to stop me from recommending this book to anyone remotely interested in a Twilight parody.

[rnschneider]

ever since the night i changed weapons, i’ve been having the same dream about my brother. i have no clue why it’s been recurring, and i don’t know i feel so sick every time i wake up from it, but.. it doesn’t hurt to at least try and put it all into words.

so, i’m in the city, roaming through the streets as per usual, but rather than stalking through alleyways at night, i’m just freely going down in what feels like the afternoon. even in a dream, i can feel the sun’s rays on me like a warm embrace, and even if i start to sweat a little, the feeling is still nice.

thing is, i can hardly pay attention to the sensation once i realize what's on the walls of all the buildings i pass by. missing posters. all with an eerily detailed image of him—jaiden leblanc. about twenty years old. african male. six feet tall. last seen with a large wound stretching across his chest.

i don't know how much sense it makes for the injuries tara left him with to be a part of the missing report, but it only added to my guilt. knowing i left him bleeding to frolic off with tara, even if resonating with her actually feels like our souls were working as one, he's still my brother. i still abandoned him.

regardless, i start running. i run as fast as i can, and i don't even know what from. my eyes are shut, and i can hear my feet frantically hitting the concrete as i try to get away, get out, get somewhere—

and then the sounds of concrete stop. or more accurately, i hear grass instead. i open my eyes again, and find myself in a field. i have little desire to turn back around towards the city, so instead, i look up.

at first, it's simply a tree sat on a hill. then, i look up further.. and it's balloons. large balloons. big enough to hold a person. big enough to hold.. fuck.

i scramble up the hill and try to climb up the tree. i don't get high, but it's enough to grab onto a piece of string and hop down the tree to yank a balloon down. i'm panicked. i pull, and i pull, and i pull, and eventually, i'm staring at a silhouette in a yellow balloon.

without me even saying another word, it pops. it's jaiden, obviously. i don't know if it was luck or fate that brought him back to me here.

i stare at him. he just.. stands there. i remember his "expression" perfectly.. in quotes because his locs hide his eyes. i don't try to push them away from his face. i don’t think i should touch him at all.

normally, he always has some kind of smile on his face—a sneer, a grin, a smirk—but now, it's completely blank. i vaguely recall a look of fear on him when i caught a glimpse of his face as tara attacked him, but i was too caught up in the rush of something new and cool to even bother taking a second glance.

his face only gets worse as he starts coughing violently. instinctively, i want to back away, but my body refuses to move, even as i feel the blood he hacks up onto me staining my top. it's disgusting and disturbing—but like a car crash, or maybe a tornado, i just couldn't find it in me to look away.

his coughing isn't getting any better. i guess tara's attack did a lot of damage to him. he always seemed so strong on our missions, compared to me always being tired and drained—is this what he was really like all along? without a meister, no, a vessel to cling onto?

the display starts to get upsetting, and as jaiden starts to double over, i find it in myself to step back. i turn around to run back into the city, but something stops me in my tracks and i feel nauseous.

of course. if this really was a dream, why wouldn't there be some twin symbolism? as my brother falls, it makes sense for his sister to go down as well, and i realize for a second that our souls can never work as one, because that would imply they aren't already one in the same.

this guilt, this pain, this self-loathing doesn't just come from myself, and the cacophony of coughing helps me realize. even if i left him, i can never really abandon jaiden. we're stuck with each other. and as a pool of blood forms beneath me, it's not myself that i see in the reflection. it's him. and with that terrifying realization, i wake up, doomed to repeat the cycle again the next night.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The Atlanta Journal Constitution wins for their headline describing last night: “Zoom Call Crossed With a Space-X Explosion.”

As has been said often, a picture is worth 10,000 words, but given my joy at getting to kick three morons too stupid to know how stupid they are, high on their own supply, who think that because they're rich it's impossible for them to be incompetent at anything, who completely demonstrate the meaning of the words, “what a bunch of clowns,” you’re going to get the 10,000 words as well as the pictures.

Especially since one of them is the Dumbest Silly Con Valley Bro In Existence.

If anyone had any doubts, last night demonstrated that Elon Muck doesn’t have the brains to swat flies successfully. His “high tech” idea to launch a 21st Century political campaign was to do a radio broadcast that wasn’t up to the standards of 1923?

While DeSatan didn’t lose the 2024 Republican presidential primary last night, his campaign kickoff on Twitter was not only an unmitigated disaster but also has real and potentially lasting effects on his efforts going forward.

The used car salesman from Flori-dumb who would definitely run a bait and switch on you if you walked onto his lot, whose campaign motto is "Make America Florida" can't even be bothered to launch his campaign on home turf? The same turf he holds so dear he wants the rest of the country to reflect it? This was exactly the launch event DeSatan deserved.

Announcing a 21st century run for the presidency on Twitter was supposed to be an edgy, attention-grabbing ploy that would get DeSatan loads of attention while cozying up to the edgelord himself Elon Muck. Instead it was a glitch-filled amateur hour run by two idiots to introduce a third that primarily showcased the limitations of Muck’s toy after a year of his genius at the controls, and that DeSantis is a Not Ready For Prime Time Player.

DeSatan and Muck did a radio broadcast with poor reception. FDR did it better 90 years ago. Of course, the woke mind virus wasn’t around then to infect people trying to communicate.

You only get so many chances in a presidential campaign, and the biggest is your announcement. Done right you get a week’s worth of uncritical press coverage with straight takes quoting your speech and noting how much money you’ve raised.

DeSatan really needed this to work, to prove that despite being in free-fall in the polls, he is still a serious alternative to the Orange Menace. He desperately needed to show competence and readiness, to prove that running for President of the United States wasn’t too big for him. Instead, he proved the exact opposite. Rather than being the start of a new phase of his campaign in which he truly became competitive with Trump, the announcement looked like another data point for his decline. That isn’t going away.

Putting it as simply as possible, DeSatan’s Twitter “launch” was one of the worst unforced errors I (or any other observer) has seen at this level of politics. Just a huge unforced error. It’s a reminder that the reason some things are “traditional” - like the traditional way of announcing for president with a speech in an early-voting state followed by a lot of TV appearances - is because, well, it works. There are some things Silly Con Valley cannot improve on.

What happened last night is what is known as Campaign Malpractice.

Now DeSatan is covered in Muck’s muck. The public has come to see Muck’s no tech genius, and last night was (hopefully!) the nail in the coffin to his self-generated mythology.

Really - last night was great! I love it when the wingnuts completely expose themselves as the morons they are. And I really love Elon Muck revealing himself as the complete tech non-genius he really is. And David Sack demonstrating that the Silly Con Valley Bros are the otherwise incompetent little geeks who should have stayed in mommy's basement they are was wonderful.

Topping it off with Democrats getting to make Marjorie Traitor Goon the object of laugher she should be when she demonstrated her ignorance of the English language once again (“You will act with decorum!”) was the cherry atop a beautiful sundae. I really loved that.

The only thing that could have made last night better would have been if the three morons had been stuffed in one of the Unreconstructed Afrikaner’s toy rockets and fired into the sun. Make the Universe Great Again.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and predict that my birthday present (month after next) will be that DeSatan has become “Ron Who????”