#sorry for all the musing lol

[lockandkeyhyena]

anyway, it sucks but i think overall i’m glad to be leaving the youtube warrior cats community, the tumblr wc community is the chillest section of the fandom imo and lacks a lot of the younger fans that have yet to mature or acknowledge the flaws in the books.

[tinystepsforward]

it's notable that while terfs have certainly discovered me at this point, they're generally not attacking me personally bc i'm not a trans woman

[ghoulish-art-tendencies]

i would get eaten up on phan twitter

yeah

[zhongrin]

*taps mic* yes hi hello is this working. ahem ahem. testing one two three.

ah yes. we're back to normal now lol

..... were yall surprised ( ��̀ ᗜ •́ )

long story short, i just wanted to do something for april fools… last year albedo made an appearance, so i thought of doing the same this year... but i felt like it would be repetitive. so given the recent developments and future events, this idea came up lol

in any case, it's the truth that i've been warming up to neuvillette.... i've been writing more for him, and if you saw my 2023 wrapped post you probably saw him as a 'runner-up'... and i really do mean it when i say he's been kinda occupying the back of my brain since last year hskdljfklsd at the end of his story quest... his tone when talking to kiara.... sobsob ueueue

however, i'm honestly still unsure if i can/want to have an actual selfship with him (ó﹏ò｡) i can't figure out how it'll work out yet... it just feels like with neuvillette's canon personality, he wouldn't even think of glancing my way in the first place, given the circumstances…. and zhongli... what do i do about him.... ough....

maybe he'll be a separate ship (e.g. zhongwrinth is one au, wrinlette in one au) on his own… maybe rinvillette will be a 'pining but not actually dating' kind of selfship.... idk..... on that note, i really should be making a selfship post huh lol

also, he's rerunning in less than 24 hours (like. 19 hours-ish for me) and i hoped this would be a sufficient offering for the hydro dragon to come home early… i'll play him twinkle twinkle little star on my guzheng while pulling or something, since it should arrive tomorrow afternoon lmao… i hope he likes the instrument that 'sounds like flowing water' hdlshdls

in any case, thank you for interacting in the short little event! it was more of a spontaneous decision on my part, but i hope you all had fun and i didn't butcher neuvillette's character too much, he's so hard to muse orz <3

lil doodle bonus of what could have been:

[jessieren]

Ok… I fully accept that he may very well not be naked/half naked here but imagination is a wonderful thing

Plus I love this episode- and the fact that he slept in the bath…

I mean what??

Side point.. I wonder if Evans does sleep naked.. Hmm I may need to muse on that point a little more

You know.. for science

[pendale]

secured a software dev internship IN THIS ECONOMY

[morningflew]

this is the only time i’m gonna make a post about it because it’s in my rules anyway and i assume everyone who follows me reads them beforehand, but i truly do not care whether you choose to write the targaryens romantically or not. i understand if you don’t like that but the incest is normal for them and it is highly significant in grrm’s universe, and some people are gonna hate this, but it does seem a bit hypocritical to tune into a show like hotd where you can’t just ignore the fact and then be mad that writers/roleplayers continue or even acknowledge what’s canon in it. as if this isn’t all within the realm of fiction.

[doloridis]

this is not directed at anyone + is simply something i've come to terms with since more and more alicent blogs have popped up and are floating around, but i'm really not very duplicate friendly. it's been a me-issue for as long as i've been in the rpc, but i typically am just very uncomfortable following solo blogs for characters that i myself also write, mostly because i am wildly insecure about my own abilities lol

[knight-commander]

OCKISS WEEK - DAY THREE

Siavash & Emery

this one definitely fits the prompt “rain” 😌 i originally had something else written for these too but after the post from @dujour13 yesterday I just had to do this. It got a little out of hand. Sorry :3c

If Siavash knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t answer the door.

That was Emery’s hope, because a part of him was terrified of what would happen if it did swing open and he had to look Sia in the eyes. Had he cut his hair? Changed his style? Would he smell the same? A few months could change an entire life, and he’d been gone for seven of them.

The rain hadn’t stopped for days, and Emery was soaked to the bone, because neither had he. He had pushed Mánath further than ever before to make it to Siavash’s door, and now that he was there, he couldn’t work up the nerve to walk up the steps.

What was a promise to wait? Was it worth anything? Doubts flitted across his mind, and then guilt swiftly followed. He shouldn’t be accusing Siavash of anything; he was the one who had left, after all. Even after being asked not to. He was the one who should be left out in the rain.

But Tiger was bundled in his arms, and so was a poorly salvaged bouquet of sodden flowers, and at least for their sakes, he had to give this a try. Emery squared his shoulders, the weight of his armor bearing down on him, and walked up the three stone steps.

The knock was gentler than he intended. Cowardly. He hoped Siavash didn’t hear it and so that he could chalk this up to a failed attempt that they could mutually walk away from, and he could just turn around and spare Sia the—

The door swung open.

Bleary-eyed Siavash stood there, rubbing idly at his face as he held the door ajar. A flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder caused Tiger to leap from Emery’s arms, rushing inside to warmth before either of them had a chance to react. Sheepishly, Emery looked back up at Siavash.

Gods, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that even after seven months, Siavash was just as beautiful as he remembered. Sleepy, confused, and wearing a mismatched shirt and pants from being disturbed, but beautiful all the same. His blond hair was tousled, his lips pursed into something near to a pout.

“Emery?” Sia’s voice was rough from sleep, but he could still hear that honey-smooth purr he’d fallen in love with. “What are you doing here?”

Panic began to set in again. “I-I know it’s the middle of the might, but I—“

“You’re soaking wet,” Siavash cut him off. Emery stuttered over the rest of his sentence as Sia wrapped him in some coat he kept hanging by the door and dragged him inside. Emery was pretty sure the coat was worth more than he was, but he didn’t say that out loud, either. “And you’re freezing. We need to get you out of your armor.”

“It’s only some rain,” Emery protested, but the warmth of Siavash’s home left him shivering in comparison to the cold and wet he had dragged in from outside.

It wasn’t long before Siavash had Emery sitting warm and dry by the fire, dressed in some loose cotton clothes and wrapped up in the fluffiest blanket that the bard could find. He gratefully accepted the cup of tea that was offered to him—lavender and chamomile, his favorite—and found himself pleasantly surprised when Siavash settled in next to him on the floor, comfortable as if no time had passed at all.

Emery couldn’t resist pressing up against Siavash in return.

“Now,” Sia broke the silence, carefully, in a tone Emery knew meant that he was about to test the waters. “You know I love to see you, Emery, but it is the middle of the night.”

“I am aware,” Emery said between nervous sips of his tea. “I hadn’t intended to intrude upon your sleep in this way. I just rode straight from Cheliax, and I didn’t think I would hit the storm, or that it would be so late, and—“

“Emery.” Siavash brushed his hand across his cheek, and he raised his head to meet Sia’s eyes. “You weren’t due to be on leave for another three months. You said that in your last letter.”

Tell him the truth! Tell him you were wrong!

Emery parsed his tongue across his lips and glanced away. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Is that all?”

“…No,” he sighed, shoulders heaving with the effort. Although he tilted his cheek into Sia’s touch, he closed his eyes rather than look him in the eyes again. “I… I left. I took them up on the honorable discharge they’d offered at the end of the Crusade, stayed to sort out the paperwork, and left as soon as it was official.”

Emery could feel Siavash’s thumb brush gently across his cheek, but fear kept his eyes shut.

“You… did?” Siavash asked. “When it was first offered, you were adamant that you wanted to stay with the Order of the Pyre.”

Emery made sure he turned his face away from Siavash before he opened his eyes; he stared ponderously into the fire instead. When he raised his hand, he could see the years of accumulated burns from his Reckonings scarred all along his forearm. For the first time in a long time, there was no compulsion to hold himself aloft over the flames.

“I was wrong,” he said softly. “I was wrong, and you were right. I was going back to what was familiar because I was scared. Scared of… everything, I guess. Everything being all… different. I don’t know. It’s hard to say.”

Emery felt warm arms shift around him and pull him close, and he was barely able to slide his cup onto the nearby table. He looked up to see Siavash beaming down at him, and it was so infectious and familiar and gods he missed it so much that he couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Sia murmured. “I understand. And I’m just glad that you’re here—soaking wet at my doorstep or otherwise.”

“You’re not funny,” Emery said through a mirthful chuckle. “Poor Tiger was more wet than I was.” The cat in question had curled up in the plush chair nearby, purring louder than the thunder outside.

“But you didn’t see you,” Siavash countered, flicking Emery’s chin up with a gentle tap of his finger. He leaned in. “Hair all stuck to your face, eyes all wide. You looked like a drowned rat.”

“You think you’re charming?” Emery asked softly, closing the distance between them. Tea forgotten on the table with the sodden flowers, he braced his hand against Siavash’s chest as their lips met. Sia was as warm and sweet as he remembered, and his reciprocation was delicate, as if he might scare Emery off.

Siavash’s touch traced down his arm before clasping his free hand, and he was the one to pull away from the kiss first. Emery could’ve gotten lost in his eyes if it weren’t for the furrow of his brow.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” Siavash asked.

“If you’ll have me,” Emery said. “I know it’s not the proper way, showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night. I thought the flowers might endear you to the thought of letting me stay, at least just for one—“ He found himself cut off as Siavash raised his hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.

“I missed you,” Siavash said. “And your smile.”

Emery could feel his heart pounding uselessly against his ribs, could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, combating the dark circles under his eyes. He looked away, still grinning.

He remembered the first time Siavash had kissed him like that—it felt like a lifetime ago in those distant stables. Emery still harbored the same hopes deep inside, and Sia’s eyes still harbored that same addictive adoration that would make anyone’s insides jump.

“I missed you, too. More than anything else,” he said. “I don’t know what is in store for me now. Now that I’m not… knight-commander, now that my father is dead. Whatever it is, though, I want it to be with you.”

Suddenly his world spun, and Emery found himself on his back, cushioned between Siavash and the soft blanket underneath him. He laughed, watching the dark mirth of Sia’s eyes reflect the firelight.

“What are you doing, hm?” He asked, but Sia’s teasing kisses upon his hand and down his scarred wrist didn’t stop.

Siavash paused in his kisses just long enough to answer.

“Making up for lost time. No better time to start than now.”

“Won’t we have plenty of time for that?” Emery asked, but his voice softened with a sigh. Siavash pressed kiss after kiss down to his elbow before switching to the other arm, granting it the same treatment.

He wasn’t sure when his shirt came off or when one of his hands got tangled in the silken strands of Siavash’s hair, but Emery keened softly when Sia’s lips found their way to add a warm kiss atop the scar that split down the center of his chest. A final Reckoning, of sorts. His tangled hand tightened into a fist, and he heard Siavash’s hearty laugh echo in the space between their warm bodies.

Siavash lifted his head up just enough to peer at him; cast against the golden firelight, Emery knew he had made the right choice. No pyre could ever come close to being so beautiful.

He didn’t know what the morning would bring. As Siavash pressed their lips together once more, it was the first time that Emery felt peace with plunging into the unknown. As long as he had Sia there by his side, he could face anything.

[princesssarcastia]

so, what if, instead of writing what I was supposed to write, I wrote 2.2k more top gun fanfic instead? That would be fine, right? Right.

Here, have the first chapter of the story I promised in the end notes of my last top gun fic.

Rooster gets a phone call. Phoenix and Fritz spectate, speculate, and get their heads spun.

(now also on ao3)

——————

Fall 2008

They’re thirty minutes away from freedom when he gets the call.  Thirty minutes away from boarding.  He’s been looking forward to this vacation for months, it took so much fucking work to get his and Phoenix’s and Fritz’s leaves to line up like this, and now—

Now he’s going to be in a bad mood for the entire flight.

Bradley stares down at the little rectangle of light.  Rachel. 

Rachel is calling him.

Phoenix finally turns to him, shifting in the shitty little airport chairs.  “You gonna get that, or what?”

He doesn’t want to.  He doesn’t want to have a fight with his…with Rachel right before he gets on a plane.  Doesn’t want to have a fight with her in front of Phoenix and Frtiz, who have never heard her name before.  Doesn’t have the wherewithal to string together all the words and context it would take to explain Rachel, and why she’s calling, and why they’re fighting, and the horrible words that are about to come out of his mouth and out of his phone speaker.

But if Rachel is calling him, he needs to pick up.

Bradley flips it open on the last ring and puts it to his ear.

Static.  The line is open.  But no words.  Bradley wanted today to be a good day, wanted to continue his week-long-streak of not consciously thinking about them, so he’s feeling petty enough to make her talk first.

“Wrong number?”  Phoenix asks, and she’s close enough that Rachel definitely heard. 

Bradley sighs, closes his eyes.  Gives in.  “Hey.”

More silence, and he swears, he swears he’s going to hang up the damn phone and get on the damn plane—

“I really thought you were going to let it ring out, for a second.”  Rachel’s voice sounds strained, which, nothing new.  But it also sounds quiet.  She sounds quiet.

Rachel has never been quiet a day in her fucking life.

“Rachel, what’s going on?”

“Rachel?”  Fitz asks, amused, and he catches Phoenix’s elbow to his stomach for it, because it shakes Bradley out of the strangeness of the moment and his seat.  He gestures that he’ll just be a minute, ignoring Fitz’s pout and Phoenix’s smug curiosity. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—interrupt,” she says haltingly.  Almost polite. 

She’s never been polite to Bradley a day in her life, either.  Certainly not in recent memory.  “Yes, you did.  So, tell me, because I’ve only got thirty minutes here.”

“Oh.”  Even more silence.  “You’re.  Uh.  Going somewhere on your leave, then.”

“Yes, Rachel, I am entitled to….hang on.”  All it takes is the implication to ignite something in Bradley’s blood.  Something hot and choking.  “How the hell did you know I’m on leave?” 

“Mom told me.  She keeps track.”

“And how did Aunt Sarah know?”  Bradley grinds out. 

“Because she asked Dad to tell her when you were on leave.”

The duh in her voice is overpowering, and the hot feeling spreads to his eyes, his cheeks.  Bradley pulls the phone from his ear and presses it to his chest.  Closes his eyes.  Tries not to bite his own tongue off.  It’s an abuse of power, he’s not under Iceman’s purview right now, he’s nothing to them, they’re nothing to him, why can’t he just leave Bradley alone?  Can’t they give him that much?  Can’t they leave him alone?

His phone buzzes against his chest, sound reaching his bones even though it can’t reach his ears.

One breath.  Two breaths.  Deep, deep breaths, Bradshaw.

Rachel’s on the phone, and she’s quiet, and polite, and Bradley needs to know why.

“…please, I’m sorry, okay, but I need you to—” Bradley catches as he brings it back to his ear.

“Need me to what?  Why are you talking to me, Rach?”

“I need,” she breathes in so loudly Bradley can hear it, and he almost wants to smile.  Temper, temper, he wants to say, until he realizes its Aunt Sarah’s words trying to come out of his mouth, and they stall in his throat, another burn.   “help,” she finishes, and he almost misses it.

“Help.”

“Yes.”

“My help?  Rachel.”

“Yes, asshole, your help, you’re the one I’m calling.”

“Language,” he says automatically.  Turns back to Frtiz and Phoenix, both of whom are watching like he’s the most entertaining thing in the boarding area.  He meets her eyes and Phoenix starts to frown, starts to lean toward him, starts to mouth something that might be, ‘you okay?’ And he doesn’t want to answer her, so he turns away again.  “Listen, I don’t exactly have the experience to advise you on whatever college crisis you’re going through right now.  And I’m on the other side of the country,” he manages to bite off ‘as I’m sure your father’s apparently told you,’ “So why don’t you call your mom, who’s in the same city, and just—”

“Bradley!  I can’t.  I can’t call Mom, okay.”  Ah, now that’s more like it.  Shouting.

“Why not?”

Silence.  Again. 

Bradley sighs and rubs at his eyes so hard he sees stars.  “If you want my help, you’re going to have to give me a few more details, Rach.  Any details.  Any at all.”

“I need you to come to San Diego.  And.  And help me.  Here.”

“Come to San Diego?”  Bradley laughs out, incredulous.  “Not for all the fucking money in the world, Rach.  Not for god or money or, or a fucking promotion.  No.”

“Bradley, please.  I need—”

“Help, yes, you’ve said.  With what?  What can I help you with that Aunt Sarah can’t, that’s so important I have to fly across the country for?”  He’s getting mean, and he hates it.  Guilt starts curdling his stomach, because she’s just a kid, she doesn’t deserve his shit, but she won’t tell him what’s going on.

“This isn’t something I can tell you over the phone.”

“What, are they tapping your lines, now?  You gotta give me something.”

“It’s not over-the-phone news, Bradley, god, would you just—”

“No, I will not just, Rachel.  Tell me what’s going on, or so help me I will hang up the phone right now.”

“Bradley,”

“Rachel.”

“Bradley, just—”

“Rachel, just,” he fires back, mocking, and hates himself a little, but his flight is in twenty minutes and he wants this conversation to be over.  “I have to go, brat.  Call me back if you want to actually talk.”

“I’m pregnant!”

All the blood drops out of his face at once.  He staggers with the rush. 

“I’m pregnant, and I can’t tell Mom, I can’t, I can’t call Dad, I can’t call Uncle Maverick, Bradley, I can’t.  I won’t.  Please.  Please, will you just—”

“I’ll grab the next flight out.  Text you when I know my ETA,” he manages to say, and slaps his phone shut. 

Breathes.  Deep breath in.  Deep breath out.  Don’t pass out.  There’s a huge ellipse in his head, crowding out conscious thought, and for once it’s not because someone said Maverick’s name.

He needs to change his ticket.  He has to get to San Diego.

His feet carry him to the ticket counter on autopilot.

—

Rooster’s got a phone call, Phoenix wants to tease, sing-song, as Rooster walks away from them, because Rooster never gets phone calls.  This one must be something special.

He never brings girls to base or bars or hangouts, but he definitely shows up with hickeys sometimes, so she knows there are girls.  Theoretical girls.  This is an actual girl, actually calling Bradley, and Phoenix feels a little giddy at this snatch of new information.

She’d feel bad about that, except Fritz is just as enthralled sitting next to her.  Rooster’s just that close-lipped about his entire life before he joined the Navy, and his life outside it.  If she didn’t know it was impossible, Phoenix would have to assume he was born at age eighteen, in full uniform, ready to serve.

“What do you think?  Girlfriend?  Sister?”  Fritz asks, and Phoenix snorts.

“Oh, girlfriend, definitely.  If he had family, we’d know.”

“Not necessarily.  C’mon, it’s Rooster we’re talking about here, he could have ten sisters and not breathe a word of it until they were standing right in front of us.”

He’s not wrong, but she’s ready to fire back anyway, until Rooster turns back to them.

Wow.  Maybe it’s a break-up call, because he looks…

He looks….

His cheeks are flushed red, eyes glittering.  He looks dangerous.  He looks pissed-the-fuck-off. 

Seeing as he’s never looked so much a flustered, even when Hangman’s gunning for him hard as he can, Phoenix feels something lurch in her gut at the sight.  She leans forward, tries to catch his eyes, ask if he’s okay.

But he turns away.

“Shit, man,” Fritz breathes next to her. 

“Shit,” Phoenix agrees.

“Listen, you’re taking the middle seat, I am not sitting next to a pissed off Bradshaw for seven hours straight.”

“Hey, fuck you, that window seat is mine.  We already flipped for it.”

“Yeah, but he won’t get pissy at you.  He’d definitely get pissy at me.”

“Bradshaw’s never been pissy a day in his life, Fritz, keep it in your pants.  You’ll be fine.  Respect the sanctity of the coin flip,” she adds, final, when she can feel him gearing up for another whine.

Fritz grumbles, giving in because he knows what’s good for him, but Phoenix is glued to Rooster again, because he just tripped over nothing on the open floor.  “Maybe we should go check on him?”

“Oh, you want to go bother Mr. Professional about his personal life?  Your funeral.  I’m staying right here.”

Now he’s walking toward the ticket counter.  Checking their flight details again?  They’re all belt-and-suspenders types.  You can’t be any other way when you risk your life every day in a multi-billion-dollar deathtrap for the U.S. Government.  But Rooster is outright anal retentive at times, like he knows the story behind every rule and knows its written in blood.

On anyone else she’s call it anxiety, but Rooster’s not anxious.  He’s just…Rooster.

Calm.  Collected.  Delightfully mean, when you catch him on the right day, in a way that makes Phoenix wonder sometimes whether he really does have sisters.  But she always tucks the idea away without asking.  Her own sisters are written into her DNA.  She can’t imagine what would have to happen to them for Phoenix to keep them a secret, even from herself.

Fritz is starting to wax poetic about their destination again, and Phoenix turns to listen, because that’s more interesting than feeling vaguely sad about Rooster’s empty life. 

She gets so engrossed in the promise of great weather and warm beaches, so close now she can almost smell it, that Rooster manages to startle her when he hustles back to them.

“Hey, guys, change of plans.  You’ll have to go without me, sorry.”  He’s digging into this carry-on and pulling out the printed itinerary and hotel information before either of them can blink.  “Here’s the local map, and the rental, and here’s the stuff for the hotel.  Should be under your name, Fritz.”  He’s swinging the now-closed back up on his shoulder and turning back around before she or Fritz can even breathe in his direction.

“What?”  Phoenix manages to get out, yelp, really, at his retreating figure, before Rooster stops dead and turns back around.

“Yeah, hang on a minute, man, what the fuck?”  Fritz calls.

“My bag’s already checked for this flight, can you guys grab it when you get there, and bring it back?  I’m good for it, I promise.”

“I—yeah, Bradshaw, I can grab your damn bag, but what’s going on?  Where are you going?”

“Who was that on the phone?”  Fritz adds, and Phoenix doesn’t even elbow him this time.

“Sorry.  I’m sorry about this,” Rooster says, intent on them all of a sudden.  “Just—emergency.  I have to go.”

He doesn’t just turn on his heel and sprint this time, and Phoenix stares up at him, still…kind of flabbergasted.  “Where are you going?”  She asks again, faintly.

A beat.  Phoenix almost wants to take it back, the way she always does when someone asks Rooster a question he doesn’t want to answer.  But this is—absurd.  This is absurd!  They’ve been planning this vacation for months.  The sudden prospect of doing it without him sort of hollows her out.

“San Diego,” Rooster says, finally, and nothing else.  But he’s still standing there. 

“It’s alright, man,” Fritz says, gently, and Bradley nods at him, but he still doesn’t move. 

Phoenix works her mouth a bit, wondering, until she realizes.  He’s waiting for permission.  Her permission.  “Go on,” she sighs, feeling soft in a way she tries so hard not to be, around him.  “I’m sure you have a plane to catch,” she adds, and tries to give him a smile.  Only sort of succeeds.

He doesn’t smile back, just nods, and Phoenix does her best to keep it from cutting at her, watching him walk away.

“Text us when you get there!”  Fritz calls after him, and Phoenix shakes off the hurt feelings.

“And when you’re on your way back!”  She adds, and they get a wave in response.

And then nothing.  Rooster disappears into the crowds, the stack of papers on the seat next to her the only sign he was ever here at all.

“Christ.  Must be some emergency,” Fritz says. 

“Yeah, must be,” Phoenix gets out, but refuses to start speculating again.  When they finally land, she'll manage gratitude for Fritz, who doesn’t call her on the fact that she mopes all through boarding, and the first half of their flight.

For now, though, she wallows in the sulk.

[anthromimicry]

heyyy, y'all... so how are we all doing? i just wanted to say that my topic of discussion for today on here is that i have been contemplating adding one more power to misao's arsenal, BUT i promise y'all that it ain't anything major - i just think that it could possibly be kind of interesting if she could sort of 'partially' become a spider i guess you could say? and by that, i mean she could summon six (spider) legs out of her back that would allow her to like climb things and be able to strike people if they're within a close distance to her as well? yeah, because that would make her more 'monster-like' in a way BUT feel free to tell me what y'all think about this if you want :D

[lumiilys]

What if I just rambled in the tags rn?

[mad-hunts]

here comes a list of the different levels of friends that you can be with barton, because i said that i would explain what being a ' level 2 friend ' to him would mean and i fully intend to keep that promise! so here we gooo.

level 1 friends: you're the type of friend to barton that he would wave to whenever he sees you. he would also complain about his work with you, but NEVER about his second 'business.' ( his organ trafficking && dollmaking. ) and in turn, he would let you complain about your work to him as well, or anything that might be bothering you. barton isn't really serious about your relationship emotionally, but he will encourage you and praise you for accomplishments / achievements. you two also may share a few interests, which barton enjoys talking with you about.

level 2 friends: you're the type of friend to barton that he is now moderately emotionally invested in. barton will DEFINITELY share his number with you at this stage, so expect him to call you if he needs something, or even if he just wants to talk with you. he also trusts you to a medium level and will help you reach your goals without ever being asked for it. barton does subconsciously have the expectation that you are willing to do the same for him, however, which is really neither a good thing nor a bad thing. you two go beyond just having similar interests... you share certain values with him and/or ideals, and because of that, barton sees you as someone he can depend upon. he would also save you in an emergency situation, BUT i can not say for sure that he will be willing to die for you.

level 3 friends: barton is now FULLY emotionally invested in you, so don't expect to be getting rid of him anytime soon! because you're stuck with him now, MUAHAHAH. barton will do things like raising a toast to you just because you're friends and will reach out to you himself whenever he sees that you're struggling with something. barton also lets you take a glimpse at what's really going on in his head sometimes, and in return, he'll be there for you as well whenever you need him. at this stage, literally, all you need to do is be around barton to make him smile. expect him to feel safe enough to be as silly as he wants around you and do things like give you unprompted hugs + allow you to cuddle with him. barton trusts you with his life, and he would put himself at risk of dying to protect you. so, yes, he would be willing to die for you.

[jrueships]

Never saw how sexy lou dort was until you drew him like that. Now I want him pregnant. I blame you.

iT AiNT MUCH BUT IT'S AN ONEST WORK, ANON 🫡‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[sarafangirlart]

Why wouldn't Terpsichore work with Apollon isn't it pretty much stated that he's beloved to all Muses? I don't remember him being a dick to any of them and he seems kinda humble witht hem. Like when he calls himself the follower of the Muses, when everyone else calls him the leader of Muses.

But what kind of dynamic do you think Ares and Terpsichore will have? I imagine Ares has a volatile personality and Terpsichore is all about discipline and order. Even without Aphrodite screwing them over, I feel like they wouldn't last long together.

I just don’t like Apollo lol

He’s too much like Zeus in the “lovers” department, if you know what I mean. Ares x Terpsichore is more of a vibes ship than anything, I don’t really expect them to be endgame, I imagine Terpsichore has a spunky personality like the one in Down to Earth 1947.

[brutalmasks]