#thank you again bleu!! <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[leavingautumn13]

a fifties twist on this post my friend @bleumanouche sent me. definitely nora vibes!

[magics-neptunes-things]

Blue Words (One Love 8)

Hi guys!

Some of you asked for it, so this is the new chapter for One Love.

Please be aware that this chapter isn't the happiest of all I wrote for this series, but I tried to add some fluff in it.

Also the Title is from a french song called "Les mots bleus" and this is the only song with the world "blue" i could find, with Lucy going to Chelsea. (Still hating it)

Thanks again for reading me ♥

TW : Angst, Sadness.

(1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7)

London has always been a city who was foreign for Ona. Even when she was living in England, she was in Manchester and all the teams here were just opponent. Unless Laia Codina who came there in 2023 and Mariona who will be here now, she doesn’t have friends here. There are Laia and Leila in Manchester still, but she didn’t have any reason to come back in England since she left for Barcelona.

Well, it was before.

Because now, Lucy is going in fucking Chelsea, a team she hated all her life. It would have been better in her eyes if Lucy went in Arsenal, at least she will be with Mariona. But no, she’s wearing blue and Ona can’t get used to it.

When Lucy received another call from the Barcelona’s staff, they were both in Cuba, their day just finish after strolling in the city during the afternoon. They were enjoying the swimming pool of the hotel, Ona inside water while Lucy was happily drinking a Piña Colada, sitting on the swimming pool with her feet in it. Ona understood very quickly that the conversation isn’t going the way Lucy hopped.

Because the English woman really wanted to stay in Barcelona. She loves the city, the people, the team, the league, the wins… And she loves Ona, of course. She never decided anything in football while thinking about her love life, but this time she wanted to do it. Life chose to be different though.

Lucy didn’t take a decision without talking to Ona before. Lucy wanted to play as much as possible, she’s not young anymore and she knows that her months are counted. She’s not stupid. But Barcelona couldn’t promise her that, now that everyone came back from the respective injuries. Lucy could have accepted less money if she was still able to play as much as she wants. But it wasn’t Barça’s plans. So, after a long discussion with Ona, she didn’t accept Barcelona’s offer, with sadness.

Only one day later Chelsea came to knock at her door, and after some adjustments, she said yes. It wasn’t ideal to be that far from Ona, but it’s better than Mexico or the USA who wanted her too.

Between their trip in Cuba and Ona’s training for the Olympics, Ona managed to find some days to come with Lucy in London to look for a flat.

They managed to find a duplex on the last ground of a building near a park, for when Lucy will have to walk Narla. It seems pretty good to be honest, but Ona has trouble to imagine Lucy here. She always has known her in Barcelona, in a sunny home. Not a rainy and grey one. It makes her sad, without any reason.

Ona putted a brave smile on her face during all her trip with Lucy, not wanting to damage any memories they could have here. Their time is counted after all.

She met some of the Chelsea players and she doesn’t really like them. She doesn’t like the way Millie Bright seems to find normal for Lucy to be here. She doesn’t like how some of the other girls are all flushed when they see Lucy. She talked a little bit with Julia Bartel who was playing in Barcelona while Lucy was talking with some of her teammates from England, but it was hard to keep smiling.

The day after, they went to Ikea to buy some furniture for Lucy’s flat, she already made come what she will need here with a boat. She bought a lot of candles from their favorite shop in Barcelona to have a little piece of Barcelona in London.

She took advantage of Ona getting a shower to put the last details of her decoration, before they have to leave to go to a party organized by Niamh Charles with a lot of Chelsea’s players. Lucy asked her if she wanted to go, and Ona returned her the question. When she saw Lucy hesitated, Ona mumbled something about creating a bond with her teammates and they decided to go.

But Ona would rather have time with Lucy only. Once again, she chooses to put Lucy’s feelings before hers.

She has the same false smile on her face all night, talking from time to time with some of Lucy’s new teammates, working on herself not to stick with her girlfriend all night. She knows how the English are different from the Spain about touching and everything.

“She will be great in Chelsea Ona, you will see. We’ll take good care of her.” Millie Bright told her with a big smile at some point in the evening.

Ona just smiled, asking herself what the blonde meant by that. She knows that Millie is straight or at least engaged with someone, but it’s still sound strange in her ears. She talked the most with Aggie Beever-Jones and Jess Carter, munching some vinegar crisps.

Lucy went to check on her several times during the night, but Ona always told her that she was fine, with the best smile she could give her. But Lucy isn’t fooled by Ona. She knows very well when her girlfriend is pretending, and it breaks her heart every time that Ona assures her she was fine and that they can stay a little bit more.

But at some point, Ona just feels overwhelmed. She’s not angry, or sadder than before. There is just too many feelings for her at that point and with the noise, the music and people blasting it’s just too much. She just has to cross Lucy’s eyes for the English woman to understand that it was time to go home.

“Come on” Lucy just says, reaching her hand for Ona to take.

The Spaniard oblige, following Lucy who pretends to be tired with the move and everything.

“Hope to see you soon again, Ona” Niamh smiles at the Catalan when they went to her to say goodbye.

“It will be hard but I definitively want her wagging in London for me” Lucy smirks, grabbing Ona by her hips to kiss her temple.

“Alexia will kill me if I wear a Chelsea jersey” Ona points with a small smile.

Lucy snorts and they say their goodbyes to the last people before leaving the heath of the flat. It feels good to breath fresh air, Ona closes her eyes two seconds while breathing intensely before turning in Lucy’s direction.

“Uber or walk?” Lucy asks.

“Walk? If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not”

Lucy smiles at her and Ona smiles back. Her smiles grow bigger when she feels Lucy passing her arm around her shoulders, and she let herself go against the bigger frame of her girlfriend.

“Better that way” Ona whispers, grabbing Lucy’s fingers with her hand.

Lucy hums, her lips stroking Ona’s hair softly. She can feel the younger girl’s trouble, but she doesn’t want to push her buttons and forced her to talk to her. But she feels like Ona might explode at some point, and it’s not in her habits to shut down her feelings like that.

She choses not to insist to much with Ona, using a small talk during their trip to her flat. They know Mariona is getting her things done during those days too, except that her girlfriend was already in London to find her a good flat. Even if it will be at St-Albans, Ona is glad to know that there is at least some people Lucy knows already.

She’s happy to find back Lucy’s flat, even if it doesn’t quite feel home, at least it’s Lucy’s.

“Are you tired or do you want to watch something with a last drink?”

“As you wish Corazon” Ona shrugs.

Lucy looks at her several seconds before deciding for a movie and a drink. She makes some tea while Ona is looking at something they can watch, grumbling when she realizes that a lot of the series they are watching in Barcelona aren’t watchable here.

“What did you make a choice?” Lucy asks with two fuming cups of tea. “Careful, it’s hot.”

“Friend’s” Ona grumble, before throwing herself in Lucy’s front when she sits next to her.

Clingy Ona isn’t really new, but Grumpy Ona is, Lucy thinks. She play with her girlfriend’s long hair for several minutes, watching television with an absent-minded air.

“Are you ok?” Lucy finally asks.

“Sí, porque?”

“Because I don’t have the feeling that you are. You’re grumpy like an old man.”

“No, I’m not” Ona pouts.

Her face is so cute that Lucy can’t help but laugh a little. She hopes that it won’t make Ona even more grumpy, so to avoid that she starts tickling her.

“Yes, you are!” Lucy smirks while tickling her girlfriend.

Ona tries to resist the urge to laugh, but Lucy knows how and where she’s ticklish. It doesn’t take her more than ten seconds to have a laughy mess writhing under her.

“Stop, Lucy please” Ona manages to pronounce between two laughs.

Lucy finally stops and she looks attentively at Ona while the younger calm her laughters. She lets her take her breath, stroking softly and lovingly her cheeks. She lets five other seconds pass, during which she looks deep in Ona’s eyes.

“Come on, Bonita, talk to me. What’s going on?”

Ona sighs and look away, making Lucy frowns. She’s usually the one who is struggling to let her feelings and struggle out, not Ona. Ona talks to her, explain to her her thoughts without any fear to be judge or mocked.

“Hey” she adds after some times, turning delicately Ona’s face in her direction. “Come on, it’s me. You can tell me everything, you used to do that. Don’t shut yourself from me, please.”

Ona blinks several times, biting her lip, before finally deciding to open her mouth. She can’t refuse anything to Lucy when she talks to her this way.

“It’s just… I don’t know” she frowns in turn. “I knew what will happen, but this weekend is like the concretization of all of this. And I know that I push you to accept this offer, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to let you go.”

Lucy wants to talk, but she realizes soon that now that Ona has started to talk, she needs to get everything out.

“It’s hard to know that you will be here after everything we had in Barcelona. I hate coming home to have a reminder that you’re gone, I hate to see Coco looking for Narla, I hate not to find the toothpaste tube open with its plug next to it. I know it’s not your fault, but I miss you and it hasn’t even started.”

She really wanted not to cry, but she can’t help the tears rolling on her cheeks. Of course she knew, it doesn’t mean that it’s an easy moment to live. They were so delighted when Ona signed her contract in Barcelona, so far away to think that they will be in this situation again several months later.

“And this weekend, I really wanted to help you settle down and make your flat cozy and comfortable and lovely, but it’s like that damn sadness couldn’t leave me alone. It’s your flat, not ours. It feels so strange.”

Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, when she wipes harshly her tears with the sleeve of her sweater. Lucy needs to swallow the lump in her throat before talking, so she wipes herself Ona’s tears, way more softly than her, to have a distraction.

“I miss you too” Lucy mumbles before sitting, because she was still half lying on Ona. “It’s hard to imagine my daily life without your mess in it, but I swear on everything I have that I will come in Barcelona as soon as I have a day off, Ona. And I know you will come too.”

She stays silence for several seconds, during which Ona nods at Lucy’s words. Of course, she will come. Even if it’s mean catching a cold every weekend while freezing in the stand.

“And for the flat… Come on” she says suddenly, standing and grabbing Ona’s hand.

The Spaniard doesn’t have any other choice than following her to her bedroom. She frowns when she sees that Lucy has installed other frames, probably while she was showering before leaving for the party.

“This is the jerseys we swapped after the World Cup, but I thought it will be better to frame them together”

Lucy looks Ona when she gets closer to the jerseys while she’s talking. No one knows that they swapped their jersey that night and if someone just take a look at the frame, it won’t be easy to understand. But they both know and it’s enough.

“This one is a mix of the pictures we took when we won all our cups last year” she points another frame.

Ona gets closer of this one too, just to see a mix of official pictures of both of them, but unofficial pictures too. There is for example no way in the world that they posted picture of them kissing with the Supercopa cup, Lucy grabbing Ona’s waist while the younger has a bottle of beer in hand.

“And those are what I wanted to hang on other rooms too” Lucy adds while rummaging in one cupboard before taking out several other frames, of different sizes. “This one is for my nightstand (she shows a picture of them in Cuba), those are for my living room (there is a picture of Coco and Narla playing in the snow, one of them in Stani’s wedding, a selfie taking at Minorca and another one when Lucy’s family came to Barcelona to met the Battle) and I wanted to put that on my fridge (four photobooth pictures taking at Manchester, the first time Lucy came after they got together). Oh and this one is for the bedroom too (a picture of Ona with Lucy’s niece and nephew, playing on the beach).”

Lucy looks thoughtfully at the pictures before raising her eyes on Ona, almost shyly. Ona is still crying, (or again), she doesn’t even know. But this time, she’s smiling softly.

“You are not living here, but you are still part of that place Ona. No matter where I am, you are still with me. Forever.”

Ona almost crashes in her arms when she went for a hug and Lucy seriously think about writing to Jonatan because damn, those arms sessions for Ona worked maybe a little too much.

“I love you, so much” Lucy says again, Ona’s face in her neck. “I’m leaving Barcelona but I’m not leaving you. It doesn’t change the plans we made. I still want to marry you, we will have those little Ona running around in the house and everything we talked about”

“I want a little Lucia too” Ona objects weekly.

“My brother would probably say that it’s a terrible choice, but everything you want Bonita.”

Taking a big breath making her shivers, Ona finally leaves Lucy’s neck. She’s not crying anymore, and Lucy kisses her face almost ten times before talking again.

“I need you to talk to me when you are struggling like that. Can you promise me you will do?”

“Only if you promise too” Ona answers, looking at her expectantly.

Lucy rolls her eyes, which makes Ona smiles softly. They both know who will need to work the most between the two for that.

“Promised” Lucy finally says.

“Promised back”

Lucy kisses her on the lips that time, savoring Ona’s taste and Ona’s body against her. They didn’t talk about it, but Lucy will miss the lazy mornings in bed and having Ona around her like an octopus with messy hair. Ona stilling her clothes too. Talking about that…

“And I will leave half of the dressing for your clothes too, for when you will come to see me”

Ona smirks.

“I was hoping to leave every time with some of your clothes”

Lucy laughs this time and grab Ona’s face with both of her hands to kiss her one more time.

“Time to go to bed? I’m kind of exhausted.”

“Yes please” Ona mumbles.

They take turn in the bathroom, Lucy going to turn off the TV and the lamps in the living room before going in her bed. Ona follows her soon after, crawling under the sheets to snuggle against Lucy.

“We will be alright Ona, I swear” Lucy whispers in the dark.

“I know. I trust us” Ona whispers back.

She left her loving position to be able to kiss her.

“I’m going to miss the fan’s speculations about us being together after every game though” Ona smirks.

“Oh, don’t worry. I have an idea for that.”

Ona raises an eyebrow, questioning Lucy that way but the English woman just shake her head with a devilish smile before kissing Ona again. She managed to make her forget about what she just said, but the O. Battle jersey from Spain is definitively coming this week for her to wear during Spain’s first game in the Olympics.

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 3.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a former ward of alicent hightower and aemond's childhood companion, shera stark, returns to king's landing after ten years. ten years after the incident at driftmark that left her and aemond permanently disfigured. after so many years apart, shera and aemond are almost strangers. almost.

shera's voice sounds like blue diamond in this clip. a soft, dreamy whisper.

wordcount: 4.3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence

story playlist

Shera didn’t waste much time getting back to her chambers. She was overwhelmed, confused and overall exhausted— and the day wasn’t even over yet. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she padded the stone to her rooms, hoping to the Gods, the old and the new, that someone wouldn’t stop and speak to her. 

“A bath, please,” Shera asked the chambermaids hastily once she reached her solar. “Scorching, as hot as possible. And… my oils, from my chest— if you please…”

They brought in the large copper tub and filled it with hot water, all the way near the top until Shera could see the wisps of steam billowing from it. The maids poured in vials of oil that she brought with her from Winterfell— lavender oil, rosemary oil and sweet honeysuckle oil. The concoction swirled into a lovely light purple color. 

“Will you need help undressing, miss?” one of the maids asked. 

“N-no,” she murmured. “Thank you— you may go. Return just before sunset.” 

Then she was alone. She could finally breathe. Wasting no time undressing, she shed her veil and choker and outer layers until she met the hard exterior of her corset. Fuck. Mayhaps she should’ve asked for help. Unwilling to call them back in, she grabbed a cheese knife from the small dining table near the balcony, slitting through the bindings of the corset like a lovely aged bleu. 

Moongeist nosed the latch to the balcony, prompting Shera to open it and let in the breeze from the sea. Nude at last, she all but jumped into the bath, which to her delight, was still scorching. She watched as the wolf sat on the terrace, nose poking out through the stone barrier. He took in the scent of the sea, the salty spray and lingering aroma of toiling waves— and of course, barked at a few seagulls. 

Her bones relaxed as she unpinned her hair, tossing the pins astray into the room— to either be stepped on later, or never found again. Shera let out an audible sigh, feeling her skin soften from the oils. This was the pinnacle of her days— she was very fond of baths and made her own bath oils. She loved the warmth, the enveloping heat of the water soothing her worry. It was like the most comfortable of blankets and she loved to get clean, to be clean. It was a ritual and a must for her to have a bath at least every other day. 

Her love for baths started because of Helaena, she supposed. When Shera arrived in King’s Landing all those years ago for the first time, she was a grimy and dirty child, wild to the bone, and detested baths. The maids didn’t know what to do with her, until they bathed Helaena and Shera together. They weren’t far apart in age at the time, Helaena being the polar opposite of Shera— but somehow she reeled her into normalcy. The princess would bring her wooden toys into the bath, much to the chagrin of her mother, and play with Shera, blow bubbles and tell stories. It was odd to everyone around them, as the two seemingly switched personalities when they bathed together. Helaena, usually a quiet child, would tell grandiose stories, while Shera would sit quietly, giving her complete and rapt attention to the princess. 

The girls bathed together until they were both eight and ten years of age respectively, but even then, they would be in the room with one another while they did— reading books out loud, gossiping, or just sitting in silence, enjoying one another’s presence. 

Shera’s undoubted companion in the Keep was Aemond, but she had a very close and special friendship with Helaena— a friendship that the both of them very much missed, subconsciously. It wasn’t as huge of a blow to Shera as losing Aemond, as the Lady of Winterfell and the Princess frequently wrote one another throughout the ten years apart. It was one of the only reasons Shera wasn’t completely mad. But, even so, letters can only do so much, can’t they? 

As much as she loathed this marriage and the ramifications of it… she would still be closer to her family, her real family, upon Dragonstone than in Winterfell. She laid in the bath until the water went cool, her mind wandering back to the encounter in the Godswood. Why would Daemon speak to her and with such a… driven attitude? What did he want? 

Her thoughts continued to flow, a finger tracing patterns in the mingling oils that lived atop the water. Did Helaena still like baths? If she so asked, would they be able to bathe together like old times? 

No– that would require… forgoing her veil and choker. Even if it was Helaena– she doesn’t know if she could truly bare herself to her– to anyone.

—

The hours stretched on until dinner, Shera pacing back and forth, working herself up to a point where Moongeist tugged on her sleeve with his teeth as an indication to calm down.

The maids who’d been assigned to her flittered around her like a flock of ptarmigan hens, pleading with her to let them dress her. She shied away from their touch, only allowing them to dress her in a new corset and skirts. 

She stayed in her veil, accentuating it with a few strings of pearls so mayhaps she wouldn’t look so haunting– a hope that always went unfounded, people found her so very terrifying either way.

Shera preferred to wear dark, muted colors and always had on some item of fur upon her; tonight’s being a gorgeous black and white mink stole, which Cregan had gifted her for her seventeenth name day four years ago. It was accompanied with one of her newly tailored dresses, one she sewed herself just a few moons ago and making some last minute alterations on the journey to King’s Landing. It was black lace, falling down to her feet and dragging behind her like a ghostly shadow. Coupled with a laced black veil, she looked in the mirror. 

The maid behind her glanced at her warily. “Are… are you in mourning, Lady Stark?” she asked timidly. 

“... no?” Shera blinked, taking in her appearance from her reflection. Ah. So, this is why people consist with the ‘Banshee’ title. Shrugging her shoulders, she wrapped the stole around her snugly

Letting Moongeist guide her to the dining hall, to which he followed the smell of roasting meats, she mentally prepared herself. Princess Rhaenyra was to attend, and with Rhaenyra was her brood of children and her rogue husband and the extended clutch of hatchlings– Baela and Rhaena amongst them. She felt sickly at the fact that she would be seeing the twins again, the former of whom was who disfigured her.

Walking into the chamber, the music was in full swing and everyone was already seated. Had she really been so late? All eyes turned to her and Shera scanned them with a bowed head, the tips of her fingers shaking as she locked gazes with Baela. A reminder of the pain that she’d caused, how she wielded the knife that cut Shera’s throat and blinded her in one eye. 

The wolf to Shera’s side let out the tiniest of whines, pushing Shera towards the table, and her seat between Helaena and Alicent– thank the Gods for small mercies. Although, she was directly across from Aemond, who hadn’t even blinked since she entered the room. 

“Oh, it's so good to have you here again, my dear,” Alicent hummed, taking one of Shera’s hands into her own. The queen was so warm, where Shera was cold. “It is just like old times, hm?”

“Beautiful pup, Shera,” Helaena whispered to her, a hand outstretched to Moongeist. “You see so well through him.” she cooed, a smile plastering upon her lips as the wolf licked her open palm.

“Yes… old times,” Shera responded softly, adjusting her veil. She looked to Helaena, who returned with a knowing gaze. “Hel?” she murmured, lower than usual. 

“Yes, dovey?” 

“… I’ve missed you dearly.” Shera whispered, offering her hand to the princess— to which they interlocked fingers. The two separately were considered touch-averse, with Shera shying away from touch and Helaena cringing at it. But the two had a deeper understanding of one another, it seemed. They always had, their bond only outshined by Shera and Aemond’s. 

But now, it’d be different, wouldn’t it? Aemond was a hot and cold mess to Shera— but Helaena welcomed her like no time had passed. It made her chest ache in a nostalgic way, tears threatening to spill. The good thing about her veil is that no one could see her cry. The whole day had been terribly overwhelming, taut with too many people wanting something from her, needing her to be someone she didn’t wish to be— is this how Helaena felt when she was married to Aegon? 

Tears did fall and Shera let them drip down her face, sinking and sliding from the mink stole to her legs. Helaena tugged on her hand. “Don’t cry, dragonfly,” she hummed. “Dance with me?” 

Shera blinked the tears away, even though they were replaced by new ones right away. “I… would love to. I will not be the most coordinated, though— will you guide me?” 

“Always.” the princess replied, pulling Shera from her chair and guiding her with a gentle hand to the space in the hall set aside for dancing. The music was lively and jaunty, with a lovely tune strummed from a fiddle, accompanied with a wooden flute. Helaena placed a hand on Shera’s waist, then kept their other hands interlocked. “Put your hand on my shoulder. I will lead— you can pretend I’m a gallant knight.” 

Shera snorted a giggle. “I do not want to dance with a gallant knight,” she mused as they began to sway. Helaena kept her upright and indeed took the lead, allowing Shera to stay close and follow her movements. “I want to dance with the butterfly princess.” 

“Ah, the butterfly princess!” Helaena cooed. “I suppose that can be arranged. What will that make you? Oh— my little wolf spider.” she giggled in return. 

It was the first time the entire day, mayhaps the entire fortnight, that Shera felt… happy. She felt weightless dancing with Helaena and felt like crying again— damn the emotions. “Please don’t leave me, Hela,” she murmured, almost silently through garbled tears. “I’ve been so alone.” 

Helaena led the dance off to the further corner of the room where they would have more privacy to speak, still swaying. “I wouldn’t leave you, Shera. The wolf spider’s been so alone— so alone in the cold,” she hushed. “Now you’ve come back to play with the dragonflies and the butterflies— but we must watch out for the birds, the black tailed magpies, and oh, the hawks and gulls, my sweet.”

“May I steal Lady Stark for a dance, sister?” Aemond suddenly cut in, so silent in his approach that Shera hadn’t even heard him at all.

“I don’t know,” Helaena looked to Shera. “Say the word, and I shall release a clutch of spiders into his bedchamber.” she whispered lowly, as if telling a secret. 

Shera cracked a smile. “It’s alright, Hela. If he is untoward, Moongeist shall bite him.” 

Helaena embraced her once more before giving her brother a mock threatening glance. Aemond swiftly replaced her, putting his hands on Shera’s waist. It felt… different. Different from how Helaena had them, and how Daemon had touched her earlier in the Godswood. It wasn’t friendly, nor slimy— it made her want to turn tail and run away, but it also made her chest warm, heart thumping like a rabbit’s. 

“My lady.” he greeted, putting one hand on her lower back to help her posture. “I do hope you won’t sic your dog upon me– yet.”

“My prince,” Shera responded, looking up at him. “Mayhaps I won’t, we shall see.”

“Does it haunt you? That they’re all here in one room?” he leaned down to whisper, swaying back and forth to the music, albeit a bit rigidly. He wasn’t nearly as good of a dancer as Helaena.

“I am always haunted,” she echoed, blinking slowly. She wondered if he could really see her face under her veil. He was looking so intensely at her and she was unsure if he was putting her together or picking her apart in his mind. “Are you?” 

“It’s an agitation, like a brood of mosquitoes.” Aemond answered gruffly, looking away from her now. He wasn’t telling the whole truth, she noted. His lone pupil wavered, looking everywhere but at her.

“Do you have nightmares about it?” she asked, fingers prickling under one of the buckles of his doublet absentmindedly. “I haven’t outgrown them. Not even after this long.” 

He scoffed. “Nightmares? I’m not a child.” 

Liar. Liar. Liar.

The servers interrupted as they began to serve the first course— Aemond helped guide Shera back to her seat. 

“Thank you for the dance.” she murmured as he pushed in her seat. 

“Hm.” 

The dinner continued, Shera staying quiet while she prodded at her food. She preferred to eat alone and only ate enough, slipping it under her veil to not seem rude. Cregan was having a jolly time down the table, talking the ear off of Jacaerys. Baela and Rhaena were whispering to one another, as were Rhaenyra and Daemon. Shera’s skin crawled as she stole looks at the four of them– the twins hadn’t said a word to her, nor did it seem they would, merely whispering like mice. Aegon had excused himself after the first course was served and did not return. Aemond remained staring at Shera the entire time.

Blinking, Shera stared back at him finally, raising her head to lock gazes with him. The subtle shift of her veil indicated she had cocked her brow, as if to say ‘Why are you staring?’

The motion wasn’t lost on Aemond, as they fell back into their own silent communications that they were so well versed in as children. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders, responding in kind, ‘You know why.’

Alicent stood up, “I would like to propose a toast– to the return of our beloved Shera, as well as the visit of her brother and warden of the North, Cregan Stark. I cannot imagine it was an easy journey, but we are so blessed that you’ve made it, especially to finalize something that has… been in the making for a few years,” she held up her cup of wine, to which everyone else held up theirs, including Aemond. “Princess Rhaenyra, Cregan and I have been in much talk of betrothals and the like. I would like to announce, formally, the betrothal of Shera Stark,” she paused, taking a breath, “And Jacaerys Velaryon.”

Shera’s breath caught in her throat, her nails sinking into the soft of her palm. She focused solely on Alicent, even if she could feel the searing brand of Aemond’s stare on her. She refused to look, she couldn’t— 

But her sole eye betrayed her, her head turning ever so slightly to gauge Aemond’s reaction. He looked like a statue, his lone pupil narrowed to a slit, like a dragon’s. His hands were placed together dutifully, but the veins near his knuckles were bulging with strain, the fervor of what could only be described as fury coursed through him. The look in his violet iris scared the hells out of Shera. ‘Twas only a moment they locked gazes, but she felt, she saw the barely contained rage, the burning of the city and beyond from Vhagar’s back— 

And then it was gone, as if the candle of ferocity had been snuffed out. He sat up straight, giving Shera one last eyebrow raise before turning his attention solely to his mother. It terrified her how quickly he was able to turn it off, to bury deep as if it never existed at all. 

Perhaps she had imagined it. Surely she did– he didn’t have such a volatile temper as a child, if she could remember correctly.

Clearing her throat, she raised her glass higher as Alicent finished the announcement, gesturing in Jacaerys’ direction, who did the same in return to her. She wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of living upon Dragonstone, nor did she feel she was fit to be the wife of Rhaenyra’s heir. But, ‘twas the way of things. 

She thought Jace, as he had insisted she call him, was well and fine. He was a bit taller than she with a boyish charm and curled brown locks. Their few meetings as adults, where he had so gallantly rode all the way up to Winterfell upon his dragon, he always kissed her hand and smiled at her. It was easy to forget that he was a part of her and Aemond’s maiming when she turned her mind off and became the little puppet Lady that she was supposed to be— but then she would wake up crying in the middle of the night, begging for them not to kill her—

“I would like to propose a toast,” Aemond’s voice cut through Shera’s thoughts like a sharpened blade, the horrid screeching of his swiftly kicked out chair causing her to cringe. “A toast— to our lovely banshee, and her strong husband-to-be. I do hope that Jacaerys is keen on sleeping on the floor whilst a dog warms his wife’s furs– and let us pray for Shera’s health once they ruminate over Dragonstone. Do you still get sea sick, my lady? I cannot imagine a wolf gaining sea legs any time soon.” 

“It’s none of your business, uncle–,” Jace countered, pushing back from his chair to stand.

“Aemond, don’t,” Alicent hissed quietly, gripping her goblet with an iron fist. 

“I’m merely expressing my joy for their coming union, mother. Seems the issue is a bit touchy, hm, Jacaerys?” Aemond’s mouth twitched into a toothy smile, but it was nothing of joy. It was like the open maw of a dragon, daring anyone to walk near, lest they be snapped into smithereens. 

Jacaerys walked a bit closer to Aemond, his hackles equally raised in a challenge. Shera’s observation of the two was quickly surmised; Jace was soft where Aemond was razor-edged. A fight between them would be of little challenge. The underlying rage in Aemond was apparent once more, simmering and bubbling in the pot, threatening to boil over and scald everyone within his reach. His words didn’t sound like he was about to fly off the handle– he was in complete control of every carefully placed barb, every pause in his speech was intentional for added dramatics, to piss off Jace– and Shera, it seemed.

“Do you really expect your nuptials to be fruitful, nephew? Have you ever seen her without her veil? I must say,” Aemond nodded his head toward Shera’s direction as he got closer to Jace, whispering in his ear as if not to let anyone else in on their conversation– Shera heard, though. “I’m quite curious myself– do you think that our dear cousin’s blade,” his lone eye looked to Baela, who was arm-in-arm with Rhaena, Daemon looming behind them like the Dragonmont itself, “Was sharp enough, for a clean cut? Mayhaps it’s a mangled mess under there. Best to keep the covering on for your wedding night, hm?”

“I dare you to say that again,” Jacaerys growled, his hand itching as he flexed and unflexed his fist. “You can say what you’d like about me, but you shall hold your tongue before my betrothed.” 

“Jace,” Shera murmured lowly, feeling for Moongeist as she got up from her own chair, shaking. The wolf pressed to her leg, guiding her to where Jacaerys was at arm's length. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, whilst trying to quell the quiver of her bones, while keeping her eye upon Aemond. “‘Twas merely a jest– in poor taste… but a jest.” she had her head lowered diminutively, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Sure, the ‘jest’, as it was, hurt immensely to her already fragile psyche– but she had to keep a level head, especially here. 

Still holding his own goblet, Aemond’s nostrils flared as he watched Shera caress Jace, as if they were truly close. The tip of his brow twitched as he hardened his jaw, lowering his cup and proverbial feathers, remembering himself, remembering where he was. “A jest— of course. Though, I never was the jester of our group, was I? Once upon a time, it’d been you, Jacaerys.” the second son exhaled, eye still trained on Shera. But he approached Jace, hand outstretched. “Congratulations.” he said, his voice clipped. Once again, the rage had been shoved deep down and quelled for the time being.

Jace tentatively took his hand, nodding slowly. “Thank you, uncle,” he squeezed Aemond’s hand before pulling back. “You’re better with a blade than a joke, that is for certain.”

“Mayhaps we shall spar sometime, then?” Aemond suggested. Everyone in the room knew it was a chance for him to kick Jace into the dirt like he desperately wished to do presently. 

“Yes– on the morrow, uncle,” Jacaerys nodded. “Lord Stark should join us, yes? Let’s make a proper gauntlet out of it, then.”

Shera’s hand, in turn, retreated from Jace’s shoulder as she rested a hand on Moongeist’s head. Turning to Alicent, who looked on the edge of an anxious breakdown. “Thank you for the dinner, your grace. I am… feeling quite faint, so I fear I must retire,” Shera whispered, curtsying as best she could. Turning to Rhaenyra and Daemon, she bowed her head. “Princess, prince.” 

Rhaenyra gave a wry smile. “Feel better soon, dear.” 

Daemon said nothing, just nodding his head as his finger traced the rim of his cup. 

“Allow me to escort you, sister,” Cregan was at her side in an instant. 

“It’s not nec—,” 

“I insist.” 

It wasn’t a lie— Shera did feel quite faint from the events and excitement. Letting Moongeist guide her, she escaped the dining hall mostly unscathed, despite feeling a gnawing pain in the pit of her stomach. 

Keep the covering on during your wedding night– mayhaps it's a mangled mess under there.

“O-okay,” she responded monotonously, as if she wasn’t even in control of her own body, her own words. 

Cregan held her in his steady grip, guiding her out of the hall. He was quiet until they entered Maegor’s holdfast. “Dragons are quite tempestuous, aren’t they?” he began.

“… yes.” 

“Your childhood companion— the prince— he certainly had a lot of great things to say about you, didn’t he?” 

“… Cregan.” 

“Listen to me, Shera,” he said as they entered her chambers. “They’re not your friends— not anymore. They’re strangers to you.” 

“But—,” 

“They don’t know you anymore, they only knew who you used to be.” 

And you’re a shell of who you used to be. But that was left unsaid. 

“You shan’t waste your tears any longer on them, on him,” he continued. “And do not give me that look, don’t think I don’t hear you crying at night.” 

“Mayhaps I cry at night because you shoved me into something I am unfit for!” Shera shouted, her voice cracking, followed by a hiss of pain. Something I do not wish for. Jacaerys helped make me this way, Cregan. Don’t you care? Does it matter more than your fucking oath?

Cregan wanted to bite back, but instead furrowed his brow. “Are you alright? Shall I fetch a maester?” 

“N-no…” she whimpered, her voice broken and full of gravel. She pressed a hand to her throat, swallowing a cough. “… tea.” 

“Of course,” Cregan murmured, guiding his sister to sit on the loveseat near the fire. “I’ll get a maid… and… and the tea.” 

Shera nodded, watching him leave. She didn’t care for the pain, even if it felt like someone was dragging a brush of thorns inside of her throat— she felt like she was falling apart at the seams mentally, akin to her old mended dresses, the threads wilting and falling away. 

She felt lost. Lost in the fact that… she wasn’t sure she belonged anywhere. They thought her not cut out for Northern life from her delicate sensibilities— and she wasn’t cut out for King’s Landing for the same reason, except it wasn’t the physical environment, but the barbed tongues, the venomed words, the games of the mind. 

She didn’t belong. 

Would it even matter if she wasn’t part of the equation? Rhaenyra would get her alliance with the North somehow, Cregan would fulfill his oath, Jacaerys would have a number of other betrothal options. 

It mattered not that she was here. 

Didn’t it?

Keep the covering on during your wedding night– mayhaps it's a mangled mess under there.

Her jaw clenched all night as she nursed her tea to soothe her throat– but every other part of her was purely on fire. The one person in the entirety of this Gods forsaken world who knew what she felt, what she went through– the one other person who was there, who was on her side, who she… she lost everything for– was keen to jest at her disfigurement. 

She stood up from her chair, hours after Cregan had left her, throwing the porcelain at the wall. The teacup smashed into bits and pieces and she sunk her teeth into her own lip until she tasted copper. The kettle was next, hocked upon the mantle of the fireplace as it too, split apart. 

I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.

Her damaged vocal cords mustered her wails they best they could, forlorn and haunting and low– 

Where was home? She wanted to go home, home– but she didn’t belong anywhere. Where was her home? 

The banshee yowled like a creature with a broken leg, echoing against the walls, ever enclosing.

[gingerjolover]

Maskin in each other’s presence - Josette Maskin (MUNA) x fem!reader (soft!gf)

sypnosis: chronic migraine!gf "ruins" dinner, but jo makes it all better:)

g's notes: look...she's late but she's here, (she's also unedited and not titled grrrr) I'll be posting vday fics until the 16th :-)

thank u cutie anon for the title <3

warnings: RPF, migraine-y symptoms, nausea but no s!ck, fluffy fluff, jo being a sweetheart, crying, smutty comments, jo's soft!gf is lowkey grumpy!gf, no physical descriptors?

Most of your life you hated Valentine's day. Once mandatory valentine's day cards were stopped in school and it started to get romantic is when your opinion on it changed. The pressure, even as a teenager, to have a valentine, combined with the hyper-consumerism of it all made it almost unbearable. almost. until you met jo.

Granted, every day felt like Valentine's Day with Jo. If there's one thing Josette is good at, it's spoiling you. She somehow cracked the walls around your heart and buttered you up with bouquets of flowers, chipping away at your disdain for the holiday with every specialty pint of ice cream and "all you can carry" trip to the bookstore.

This Valentine's had been nothing short of perfect. Jo had been busy recording Gayotic and working on the album, but Muna was finally taking a break after the Grammy, and her plans for you aligned. You had agreed on no gifts, but there's one thing Josette is going to do: get you practical gifts that you can't get mad at her for.

She awoke you with breakfast in bed, a wonderful assortment of pastries, and your favorite tea before curling into your side, her lips moving up and down your neck and jaw, biting into the junction of your shoulder softly. With kisses on your shoulder, you get dressed for a short hike, stopping by Katie's to let Bleu run around and play with her friends. You had lunch by the beach, strolling down the coast in a rental car, top-down, as Jo's hand rests on your thigh as she weaves through her hometown streets. You nap together on the hammock in the backyard; Jo reads to you from your current read, one she picked out for you (again, practical gifts), as you rest your head on their chest, fingers gently threading through your hair and rubbing your scalp.

The day had been perfect, basking in each other's presence and welcoming the sunshine after LA had been weirdly cold and rainy. You're sitting on the floor doing your makeup in front of the standing mirror (your unbuilt vanity in boxes because Jo doesn't have the guts to ask Naomi to help her build it) while Josette stands behind you, tucking their dress shirt into a pair of slacks. It's slight, but the pain behind your left eye makes you freeze, mascara wand in front of your eye.

"What's wrong?" Jo murmurs.

"Huh?"

"You look like you saw a ghost..." Jo giggles undertones of worry in their tone.

"Oh, just- was thinking- need to make sure I shut the curling iron off," you say quickly, coming up with an excuse. Your refusal to let the inclination of a headache or migraine ruin your night.

"Can I unplug it now?" Jo asks sweetly, heading towards the bathroom. Jo heads in and unplugs as soon as you nod and continue doing your makeup.

"Thanks," you mumble, focusing on not getting any mascara on your pink eyelids. The pain subsides, and you continue getting ready.

It's not until you're in the car, the headlights make you wince, the lights bright and looking like starbursts, that you realize you're indeed getting a migraine. Jo's hand is again fixed on your thigh, tapping gently along with the music, when a slight pain shoots up the base of your neck to your head. As Jo parks and holds out her hand for you, you wobble slightly, Jo's eyes flashing with concern as you giggle it off, blaming it on your heels.

All throughout dinner, Jo keeps a close eye on you, noticing your blinks becoming longer, the way you push your food around on your fork, sipping cold water gently. Josette goes to the bathroom and, on her way back to the table, sees you with your fingers at your temples, rubbing gently as you crane your neck. Jo comes back, rubbing the back of your neck, "Why didn't you tell me you were getting a migraine?" she murmurs softly, eyes flooded with worry and disappointment. You quickly straighten up, trying to brush it off.

"I'm fine, Josie, I swear," you say, face paling at the sharp pain behind your eyes.

"You can't fool me, doll," Jo groans, pulling out their wallet as they sit back down.

"No, wait, we haven't even ordered dessert," you slur out, cursing yourself for not taking something to prevent the bad symptoms earlier.

"Baby girl, you're slurring; we can get dessert later; I need to get you home," Jo says, voice firm and definitive.

You pout, tears welling in your eyes as Jo pays for your meal, feeling guilty as she gently holds your back and walks you to the car. Instantly Jo is in caretaker mode, the food is placed in the trunk sp the smells don't bother you, she has you close your eyes, opening the windows for fresh air, taking a piece of peppermint gum and handing it to you gently.

"Just until we get home," Josette mumbles, buckling in your seatbelt and wiping your tears away with her thumb. You can't help but cry, yes, from the pain but also for ruining a perfect day, knowing there won't be any fun, intimate activities tonight.

Jo starts to drive quickly but safely, trying to keep the movements of the car limited, knowing the pain could turn to nausea quick.

"Don't cry, baby, I know it hurts; you didn't bring your meds, did you?" Jo asks, rubbing your knee.

You shake your head. "No," chewing the gum gently as you try to take deep breaths, the pain becoming more intense every minute in the car.

"I don't feel good, Josie." You cry, the mind-numbing pain now paired with nausea. At the next red light, Jo reaches into the glove compartment, getting alcohol pads, ripping them open to have you sniff to curb the nausea. "You're okay, sweet girl, just breathe," she murmurs again, trying to get home as fast as possible.

The second you're back home, the migraine routine Jo can do with her eyes closed begins. They immediately help you into pajamas, propping you up with a bin at your bedside. They grab your face roller, eye mask, and migraine gap, collecting your water bottle and meds before heating up a heat pack for your feet.

"Come on, that's my girl," Jo mumbles proudly, voice filtered with a teasing tone, watching you sip water after taking your meds, the room as dark as possible, Bleu lying at the end of your bed, head resting on your feet. "Good girl...you nauseous?" Jo whispers, smiling when you shake your head no. "Okay, stay still for a little," they say softly, moving to the bathroom to set up after the medication kicks in.

After 45 minutes and a quick nap, the pain is duller, and your migraine cap is thawed. Bleu's head is resting on your lower stomach, your hand moving to scratch her ears. Jo returns to the room when she hears her tail thumping against the bed. "You awake?" Jo whispers, walking over to your side of the bed and rubbing a hand down your arm.

"Mhm," you mumble, removing the cap. The room is dark except for a few unscented candles scattered around.

"Bath time?" Jo smiles, rubbing your cheek softly, holding your chin as she leans in and kisses your cheek. They help you get out of bed, gently stripping you of your pajamas and helping you get into the bath, the hot water and Epsom salts helping soothe your muscles. The bathroom is dark, besides unscented candlelight. Jo is sitting beside the tub, rubbing your back gently as you sit in the warm soapy water.

"I'm sorry," you say tearfully.

"For what?" Jo asks curiously, moving to wash your hair.

"Ruining dinner," you sniffle, wiping your eyes.

Jo chuckles softly, massaging your scalp gently. "You have no reason to be sorry, baby..." they start, moving to rinse your hair. "Do I wish we were in the tub doing... other things... yes, of course... but it's not your fault you got a migraine. In fact, it's a good reminder that you need your shot tomorrow," Jo says softly, squeezing the excess water out of your hair.

You groan, thankful that Jo has been willing to give you your migraine injection in the outer thigh for most of your relationship thus far, but it's never enjoyable. But even the things that were never enjoyable, like Valentine's Day, are much better with Jo. As she sits on the floor next to the tub in sweatpants and a sports bra, you can't help but be grateful for all they do for you. Jo makes everything full of love and light; for every migraine, birthday, illness, stressor, holiday, party, and everything in between.

"What kinda things?" you mumble, cheeks heating up as she scrubs your back.

"How about we have a do-over tomorrow? Let me wake you up with some of the things I wanna do, eh?" they say with a smirk, kissing your damp cheek with a cheeky smile on her face.

[mcfallen-god]

Tagged by @zaegreus thanks bestie ✨💜

Do you make your bed?

I often make the bed when I leave for a couple of days, or for a night over, so when I come back home I feel comfy and all hehe.

What’s your favourite number?

Yub, 3

But why? Eh.. The shape? The 'color'? The vibe? Occurrences in my life liked to the three? Idk, just 3 and all the 3 related numbers (33, 333 etc)

What is your job?

Student is not a job, because I am the one losing money, but yeah

If you could go back to school would you?

Probably, I'd like pre-school/middle-school, when I could learn new but easy things lol and I loved the smell and things at my school back then. I'd like to go back in whatever you call that period between 15-18 yo school time, but not for all aspect, let's say I was in a school specialized in art and it was a lot of fun to have a class like that. And for some reason too (but definitely NOT ALL ASPECTS) I'd like to be back to study literature, a part of it...

Can you parallel park?

Yub kinda but I don't like it, and I think it is easier to park on the left part of the road than the right (note: my country drives with wheel on left and road on right)

A job you had that would surprise people?

I didn't had any real job, but maybe the fact I study English literature... Because when I was a kid, until hmm 13/14? I had a deep hatred for English language xD don't ask me why, it is just a fact... This, and me studying literature to begin with, when I barely ever read.. (note: I love to read, but due to other reasons I have a very, very hard time to read even things I really really wanna read :( sed)

Do you think aliens are real?

Sure, but not in the sci-fi kind of way. I think it is absurd to think Earth is the only planet in the infinity of space that met the right conditions for life to develop. But I doubt these forms looks like... humanoid-green/grey skin beings or that they look anything as we know on Earth. I don't even know if there's any 'developed' (in human's terms) form of life, but definitely things that feed and live. (Once again, I doubt they come on Earth with super technology and such... if they do, I really hope they see their mistakes before making first contact and go far far away, before getting involved with the toxic humanity...)

Can you drive a manual car?

Lol of course I can (this question sounds very American oriented question(?) but in my country, manual car is base, we have many non-manuel, but majority is manual) but yeah, I can drive it

What’s your guilty pleasure?

Uh... I don't really know... Some shows? Some I don't even 'like' but more because it reminds me of my youth? (Glee, Ugly Betty, Bones, etc) Idk if it is count as guilty pleasure... If anything else... uh I have unspeakable kinks (only in fictional/role play dimensions, nothing sicko irl), collecting PopMarts figurines? Fried chicken with spicy sauce?? Chocolate biscuit with chips??? I DONT KNOW

Tattoos?

Not yet, I wish to have some one day, but first I need to find *the one* I have many artists/kind of tattoos I like, but eh

Favourite colour?

Green and Purple (mostly all the hues) but also: pale mint, pale yellow, pale peach, pale pink, pale bleu, pale lavender, black, white and orange...)

Favourite type of music?

I literally can enjoy anything, from rock, pop, electronic, classical, ethnic/traditional, etc... I have some issues sometimes with some form of Jazz or RnB, but I still enjoy songs from these genres, so I can't say I hate it... I would say rock is always a go-to?

Do you like puzzles?

Most of the time yeah, if it is like puzzle board game 🧩 or puzzle video games 🎮 or riddle games ❓I love it all (Im not saying I am good at it, I say I like it)

Any phobias?

Won't say it is phobia? But I feel grossed at any .. milling bugs? Like colonies of ants or when baby spiders get out of mother spider 🤢 This and I'd say it is more anxiety, but I have a hard time being in crowded place/windowless places (a bit agoraphobic/ claustrophobic but since I can manage to deal with these situations sometimes, I won't call it phobia)

Favourite childhood sport?

Maybe archery🏹 ? Or hmm basketball 🏀 and badminton🏸 ... And I kinda like to play football ⚽ but the toxicity around that sport is making it annoying and boring

Do you talk to yourself?

Rarely out loud, but pretty often in my own head. I feel dumb when I hear my own voice/sometimes it is even stressful because I grow aware of silence around me after I spoke....

What movie(s) do you adore?

Hmm tough question... Many for many different reasons.. But let's say: Legally Blonde (the vibe and the topic, go girls, can be barbie and have a brain), Princess Mononoke (base), FFVII: Advent Children (thirst), Nanny McPhee (chiiill), Crazy Kung Fu (top tier), Ne Zha (2019) (bery nice), ... That's it for TODAY's pick, what about tomorrow..?

Coffee or tea?

Both but ✨☕C O F F E E☕✨(even if Earl Grey Yin Zhen is honestly DOPE)

First thing you wanted to be growing up?

🤔 Idk which come first, but I remember I had the mad project to do "all my dream jobs at once", so I'd have been: a painter, going around the world with a circus where I'd be acrobat and magician, and yet, using the world-travelling to heal any animals I find on my way 😂🤣

A forever go-to @davi-doo

I tag... *go through mutuals*

@beardedladyqueen @kales09 @chinchilla-7 @astraluxe @general-kalani @alladeline @chromium-siren

PLEASE LEMME KNOW IF I AM PESTERING YOU! I WILL STOP!

[typosandtea]

3 and 16 of the winter asks for Tango and Murphy!!!

[Prompts]

Thanks for the ask Bleu!! ^_^ @romaniwasteland this was a lot of fun to think about! Murphy and Tango are not having a good time in winter </3

3: How does your OC feel about cold weather?

Murphy thought she knew what cold and winter were, they have those things in australia too you know.. she is so very very wrong!! When she and Nathan first moved to america they moved in the spring and spent summer waiting for, well the summer weather to start! Compared to outback aus where she and Nathan are from Boston's summer temps are like outback winter.. She didn't wear shorts and barely took off her jacket all summer and was very disappointed when it started to get colder again. It gets to mid autumn and its already the coldest shes ever been, shes a rather small and too thin woman which doesn't help keeping warm. by the start of the first winter she is petitioning and being as annoying as she can to their project lead to add some heating or at least some padding to the prototype armours shes testing, bloody hell that metal gets icy once they step outside for tests. Spends the entirety of the first winter shivering and standing next to whatever heater is available when she isn't on duty. Unfortunately for Murphy, their squad is sent to anchorage shortly after the deployment of the first generation t45s to teach others how to use it without accidentally killing yourself or your team, as well as to maintain the suits they get sent with, At least she got her way and they've finally relented and added some warmth to them, it just took them being deployed to fucking ALASKA to get the budget for it. Anchorage is not a good time for anyone involved and the frozenness is only part of it. Bombs drop and all the vault 111 residents (all vets) get mutated for use as supersoliders with very mixed results, Murphy handles the cold a little better now but still doesn't like it at all, the heat of boston summer is about the only time you'll see her without a thick jacket on, and quite a few people are surprised she has tattoos after knowing her for many months haha. TLDR: Realizes that the outback doesn't get cold at all compared to Boston and was not prepared in the slightest.

Tango doesn't have a body anymore so the temperature outside the armour doesn't really bother them very much, the suits environmental system is made to support a full adult so has no trouble keeping a brain at the correct temperature despite needing to run the controls quite a bit hotter than they would normally go (37c/~99f). Its certainly helps that Tango has so much custom hardware and like four fusion cores rather than relying on one to power everything. But do you know what comes with cold that really really sucks when you're made of hundreds of kilos of metal? SNOW. fuck snow. Traversing boston nuclear winter levels of snow is impossible for them basically, they have to walk through it rather than over it cause they weigh so much. Even when its not preventing them from going anywhere even a little bit of snow also makes everything into a filthy slurry and one of Tangos biggest pet peeves is being dirty. In the past and back west a bit in the mountains they have definitely been stuck in settlements for the winter cause of how much snow is around and had to begrudgingly settle in for a few months. Really does not like relying on others but is savvy enough about resources and skills to make themselves useful enough for a small settlement to warily accept a cranky suit of power armour as a temporary and unexpected resident, tech and science are always useful after all. TLDR: cold is fine but fuck snow.

16: What is your OC’s warm beverage of choice?

Murphy loooooves a good cuppa coffee, or at least she did back in aus, is briefly disappointed by diner style coffee.. wheres the frothy milk? what do you mean most eateries don't have baristas to make coffee? Cafe coffee is a treat now she guesses. Though she does change her tune about diner coffee pretty quick once a. she realizes how cheap it is in comparison to cafe and, b. someone points out that you get way more caffeine per cup. Grows to love it though even though she initially drank it out of warmth and for the caffeine hit haha

Tango doesn't really need to drink as such anymore since they are a brain in a jar at their core.. but one of the other robobrains who made them into tango was quite fond of his alcohol. Darren devised a system for the three of them (Tango, Darren and Bobby) to still be able to 'enjoy' the effects of alcohol has on the brain. SO aside from necessary water intake, Tango enjoys whiskey, or more accurately the effects of whiskey. Thats not really a warm beverage but they literally cant intake milk drinks, I mean they could try but it would end poorly for them, they are not equipped to deal with that.

[thewidowsghost]

hiii can I request an enemies to lovers with Maddox x reader? thank you!

Sure!

A/n: I went with a Season 3 Maddox on the Yellow team vs. R on the blue team :) 

Thanks for the request <3

“Rise and shine, Shallow Lake!” Corbin Bleu yells in the boys’ bunk. 

“Intruder!” Ricky screams. “Get him!” Ricky stumbles out of his bed, and charges towards Corbin. 

“Ricky, stop!” EJ grabs Ricky’s arms. “It’s Mr. Bleu.”

“What if I didn’t have a shirt on?” Carlos exclaims. 

“Looks like you have three shirts on,” Channing, the cameraman, replies.

“You. You filmed me behind the bush,” Ricky says angrily, pointing at Channing. 

“Hey, you,” Corbin blares his airhorn, looking at Jett. “Up.” A stuffed duck tumbles from Jett’s bunk. “Cute duck.” Corbin comments, and Jett jumps down, grabbing the duck off the floor.

“I’m calling it,” Kourtney comments, stepping into the boys’ bunk and looking at Corbin with disdain. “Corbin Bleu has officially lost his mind.” Then she catches sight of the duck in Jett’s arms. “Cute duck.”

“Folks, we’re two hours away from Camp Shallow Lake’s most exciting tradition. Tune in to see a bunch of theater kids get their heads out of the clouds and into the game.”

“I’m praying the game is chess,” Carlos deadpans.

“Report to the amphitheater at 8AM sharp for a day of sports. It’s Color War!” 

. . . 

“And then turn the paddle up near the ceiling near the end,” Maddox tells Gina. “Over and over again.”

“Like that?” Gina asks, mimicking the motion. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Maddox says. 

“Okay,” Gina keeps making the rowing motion. 

“Yeah, got it,” Maddox says. “Natural.”

Gina laughs. 

“You just gotta commit to one side,” Maddox says, and Gina looks over, seemingly bewildered. “Of the canoe. Or else you’ll fall out. You’ll be fine. (Y/n) always is, and she’s so bad at canoe racing.”

“I heard that,” two figures walking through the barn door. Gina and Maddox look at the door, and both girls’ expressions brighten. 

“She isn’t wrong,” EJ says, nudging his sister with a shoulder. 

“Yeah, I hate both of you,” (Y/n) deadpans, but she winks at Maddox. 

“Good morning,” EJ’s gaze falls on Gina. “And ahoy?”

“Oh, brother,” (Y/n) grumbles. 

“Yes?” EJ asks, and (Y/n) lets out a groan. “Come on, Maddie,” (Y/n) says. 

“Good luck, sailors,” Maddox says, and she and (Y/n) head out the back door. 

. . . 

“When I heard that the camp that’s putting on Frozen for Disney Plus has a day that’s emotionally similar to the 2006 to 2008 Disney Channel Games, I and the folks at the Mouse HQ jumped at the chance to include this in our docu-series. Dewey, you wanna explain the rules?” Corbin asks the camp director. 

“Uh, sure,” Dewey steps forward. “Yeah. Every camper is required to participate in a few challenges. There’s two teams . . .”

“And within each team are teammates,” Corbin interrupts. “Okay, I got this. Okay. You know her. You love her. The captain of the Yellow Team, Maddox!” 

The campers cheer, and (Y/n) nudges her friend. 

“Not sure everybody loves me, but thank you,” Maddox says, and (Y/n) cracks a grin. 

“Didn’t say they all did,” Corbin replies, and Maddox takes a spot at the front. “And the captain of the blue team, we’ve got the youngest Caswell, (Y/n).”

“Let’s go,” (Y/n) says, and everyone cheers. (Y/n) steps up beside Maddox. “You know my team is gonna win.” She says. “My team wins every year.”

“And every year, we’re on the same team,” Maddox says, her lips twitching. “Maybe it’s me, and not you.”

“Ha, you wish,” (Y/n) replies. 

“No, with a big smile,” Corbin says, handing (Y/n) the clipboard, “tell the camera which of your Frozen friends are on each team.”

“What about the other campers?” (Y/n) asks. 

“We had to blur their faces out for the doc, so, legally, we aren’t naming any other names unless they’ve signed the release. Yeah,” Corbin replies.

“Okay,” (Y/n) says. She clears her throat and reads. “On my team is Ricky, Ashlyn, Gina, and EJ.” The blue team cheers, and they gather around (Y/n) up front. “And on Maddox’s team, has Kourtney, Carlos, Jett, and Emmy.” When (Y/n) says Jett’s name, Maddox freezes slightly, and (Y/n) notices it out of the corner of her eye. 

“Just so y’all know,” (Y/n) hears Kourtney say, “I’m scrappy. I fight dirty, and I will cheat.”

“Hmm!” Maddox says. “So it’s in the bag.”

“I’m also incredibly afraid of heights,” Kourtney continues. 

Maddox’s smile falters. “Okay, so plus, minus.”

“Guys, if you were on a deserted island and could text one person, who would it be? Your mom? Your ex? Your life coach?” Corbin steps off the stage and up to Channing, who is still holding the camera. Tomorrow, the winning team can text whoever they want when they get their phones back.”

The campers cheer loudly, talking loudly with their fellow campers. 

“Get your team colors from the bins,” Corbin continues. “I’m Corbin Bleu, and you’re watching Disney Plus.”

. . . 

(Y/n), now clad in all blue, runs over to find Jett lying on the ground picking at the glass.

“Hey, man,” (Y/n) sits down beside him. “Gettin’ in the zone?”

“Not exactly,” Jett replies, picking up a yellow and black soccer ball and throwing it between his hands.

“I guess it was pretty intense last night,” (Y/n) says. 

“Do you think I’m the worst? For the stuff that Maddie yelled at me about?” Jett sits up, looking at (Y/n). 

“I’ve done more than a few things I’m ashamed of, dude,” (Y/n) replies. “I’m not one to judge.”

“I thought those texts came from a guy, and I was like, why does she get to date and I can’t. I didn’t even know what I was looking at,” Jett says. 

“Does Mads know this?” (Y/n) questions. 

“Not sure she’d even hear me,” Jett replies. “We used to sing together all the time as kids. Now we barely talk.”

(Y/n) crosses her legs underneath her. “So, I once knew this girl who was pretty mad at me, and I’ll tell you, I deserved it. Um, but the one thing that really helped is that I threw myself into something she cared about. Like, I joined the crew, and I worked really hard.”

“Is being a theater kid the answer to, like, everything in your world?” Jett asks.

“It doesn’t always have to be theater, but . . .” (Y/n) takes a moment, knowing that what she was about to say might make her team lose. “Look, Maddie loves camp. It’s Color War. Maybe help her win?” (Y/n) leans back. “I mean, it’s a fifty-fifty shot, dude. One team wins, or the other does.”

“Or there’s the third option, where they toss the results in a pizza oven,” Ashlyn walks over. 

“I get it, that’s good,” (Y/n) laughs.

. . . 

“How you feelin’, Maddie?” (Y/n) asks, nudging her friend. 

“Oh, you know I’m gonna win,” Maddox replies, turning to face (Y/n). 

(Y/n) looks over and watches both Gina and Ricky miss their practice shots, “Yeah, you’re probably gonna win this one.”

Maddox looks over at her friend, studying her face. She looks away quickly before (Y/n) turns her attention back to Maddox. 

. . . 

“Gina,” (Y/n) shakes her friend’s shoulder. “Gina!”

Gina sits up, her forehead slamming into (Y/n)’s nose. 

“Oh my god,” Gina says apologetically, as (Y/n) clutches at her nose.

“I’m fine,” (Y/n) replies, her eyes watering. “Are you? You collapsed?”

“I’m, uh, fine,” Gina replies and Ricky and (Y/n) help her to her feet.

“You still have a chance to be our hero,” (Y/n) says. “We’re tied. If you make the shot, we win.”

“You got this,” Ricky says. “Probably.” He hands her the basketball. 

“Back up,” Gina says, and everyone takes a few steps back. 

She spins a few times, throws the ball and it swishes into the net.

“Blue Team wins!” Corbin yells and the Blue Team cheers. 

“Nice, G,” (Y/n) offers her hand for a fist-bump. Gina accepts. 

“That was crazy!” Ricky says. 

(Y/n) turns to Maddox. “Nevermind,” she jokes. “Blue Team might just win after all.”

. . . 

“Hey, Dewey?” (Y/n) hops on one foot. “Is Simon gonna sue you for stealing his game?” (Y/n) asks. 

“I don’t know Simon personally,” Dewey replies. 

“Breaking news,” (Y/n) jokes still hopping on one foot. “Dewey Wood locks Simon of Simon Says in his basement.” 

Maddox laughs. 

“Dewey says stop!” Dewey says and the campers stop hopping. “Dewey says dance like you’re at the camp prom.”

The campers begin dancing, except for Ricky and Ashlyn. 

“What he say?” Ashlyn asks. 

“There’s a camp prom?” Ricky asks. 

Peep, says Dewey’s whistle. “You two, out,” he says. “Stop.” Gina stops spinning. Peep, “Out,” he gestures to Gina. “Dewey says spin in a circle,” Dewey says. “Simon says stop.” (Y/n) stops spinning. “Oh! I’m Dewey, not Simon! You’re out.” (Y/n) hops over the line. “Dewey says that is a great victory for the Yellow Team. Congrats, you two.” Jett and Maddox are the only two left. 

“Whoa, hello, new person who’s trying really hard today,” Maddox turns to her brother. 

“Yeah? Let’s keep it going!” Jett says, lifting his hand for a high-five, and Maddox accepts.

Jett passes by (Y/n), breathing a thank you, before he goes to stand by Carlos and Kourtney. 

. . .

“Okay. Hi,” Val steps onto the stage, all the campers having gathered back in the amphitheater, now sitting sorted to color. “Um, it’s a tie game,” Val says, “so the outcome of this cheer-off determines the fate of Color War.

“Wooo!” Ricky cheers. 

“Let’s go Blue!” (Y/n) adds, and the Blue Team cheers louder.

“Okay. So, this year, I have picked It’s On from Camp Rock 2,” Val continues. “And I’ve printed off lyric sheets, but if you don’t know the words, that means something went deeply wrong in your childhood, and you didn’t watch this iconic sequel. Oh, and as a reminder, when I stop singing, somebody has to take over. Here we go.”

“Drums,” Jett starts.

“A little guitar, please,” Val takes over. “One, two, three, four,” Val continues.

“I hope you're ready for the time of your life Just look at me, I put a gleam in your eye Buckle-up, we're gonna take you for a ride”

“Let's go, we gotcha goin' good in a vibe Everybody put your hands to the sky Buckle-up, we're gonna take you, take you high” (Y/n) takes over, passing in front of Maddox and winking. 

“Show me, show me, show me, show me, show what you got Come on, come on, come on, come on, ready or not La-la, la-la, la-la, let me see how you vibe It's on, it's on, it's on” All the campers join in.

“Get crazy, crazy, crazy, take it over the top 'Cause we, 'cause we, 'cause when we rock we let it rock Rock it, rock it, rock it, rock it, dance 'til we drop" It's on, it's on, it's on” All of the campers again.

“Okay now, are you ready? One, two, one, two, three, four” Jett takes over.

“Show stoppin' when I step in the place Before it's done, you're gonna beg me to stay Get on board, come on, let's ride the wave” Jett continues.

“Let's go, let's go, we just do what we do Watch me break and pop, I'll pass it to you You wanna rock like us 'cause we're never second place” Maddox takes over, passing by (Y/n) and doing a similar wink. 

“Show me, show me, show me, show me, show what you got Come on, come on, come on, come on, ready or not La-la, la-la, la-la, let me see how you vibe It's on, it's on, it's on” All the campers chime in once more.

“Get crazy, crazy, crazy, take it over the top 'Cause we, 'cause we, 'cause when we rock we let it rock Rock it, rock it, rock it, rock it, dance 'til we drop It's on, it's on, it's on”

“Okay now, are you ready? One, two, one, two, three” (Y/n) takes the mic. 

“Th-th-there is no competition That's why we in the number one position Your crew can't hang with us, man, we're too dangerous” Jett takes another mic.

“Ain't got the style or the stamina” Maddox takes Jett’s mic. “Just doin' my thing, get hooked on my swing” Ricky and Ashlyn take (Y/n)’s mic. 

Rockin' the place, droppin' the bass, makin' all the girls sing” Carlos and Kourtney chime in. “Yeah, we make the bell ring

It's on, it's on” Jett and Maddox sing together.

“Show me, show me, show me, show me, show what you got Come on, come on, come on, come on, ready or not La-la, la-la, la-la, let me see how you vibe It's on, it's on, it's on Get crazy, crazy, crazy, take it over the top 'Cause we, 'cause we, 'cause when we rock we let it rock Rock it, rock it, rock it, rock it, dance 'til we drop It's on, it's on, it's on Show me, show me, show me, show me, show what you got Come on, come on, come on, come on, ready or not La-la, la-la, la-la, let me see how you vibe It's on, it's on, it's on Get crazy, crazy, crazy, take it over the top 'Cause we, 'cause we, 'cause when we rock we let it rock Rock it, rock it, rock it, rock it, dance 'til we drop It's on, it's on, it's on” All of the campers finish. 

“It's on,” Jett finishes, and the Yellow Team lifts him on their shoulders. 

“America, I am so glad that the missing camper got rescued, because he just won for the Yellow Team!” Corbin announces in his mic. 

Val walks over and hands Jett the trophy-oar, and he shakes it in the air happily. 

“Whooo!” Jett says, as yellow and blue confetti explode from the confetti cannons. He steps over to his sister. “Hey. Don’t tell anyone, but today wasn’t the worst,” he hands Maddox the oar. 

Maddox looks at her brother for a moment. “Quite the turnaround, Jett.”

“We did it together, Maddie,” Jett says as (Y/n) watches the two. “We got the win,” Jett adds.

“Yeah,” Maddox’s tone softens. “Yeah, we did.”

Jett steps off to talk to Ricky and Gina, and (Y/n) steps over to her friend. 

“He’s a very committed young man, huh?” (Y/n) nudges her friend. 

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m not sure exactly what changed,” Maddox says. 

“Maybe he just wants to show you he cares?” (Y/n) asks. 

Maddox looks up into her friend’s face. “(Y/n), I think I see what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it so much. But we’ve had good days before and . . . I just don’t wanna let my guard down and get hurt again, you know?”

(Y/n) nods thoughtfully, and Maddox wraps her in a hug. 

“I meant it when I said I appreciated it,” Maddox says. (Y/n)’s expression softens, and she returns the hug. 

. . .

(Y/n) heads down to the amphitheater and begins helping pick up some of the blue and yellow streamers off the ground. 

“You know you don’t have to do that,” Maddox says, though her tone is teasing. (Y/n) rolls her eyes playfully. 

“You say that every year, Madds,” (Y/n) walks up to her friend. “And every year I still help.”

Maddox grins, amused, at her friend. 

(Y/n) studies Maddox’s face closely, taking in her friend dirty blonde hair, and splash of freckles. 

Suddenly, both girls surge towards each other. 

Maddox cups her friend’s face, and presses their lips together. She suddenly pulls back, “I-i’m sor–”

(Y/n) snorts, and pulls Maddox back in, cupping her face this time. 

The fireworks go off overhead, and Maddox pulls away, looking at the beautiful colors in the sky. 

“Fireworks,” Maddox murmurs. 

(Y/n) laughs delightly. “Makes total sense to me,” (Y/n) looks back down, looking into Maddox’s face once more. 

Word Count: 2718 words

[foodsies4me]

WIP GAME

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

So, the lovely and wonderfully talented @echo-bleu tagged me again to showcase the ridiculousness of my WIP titles, thank you Echo. I won't list them all because there are wayyyyy too many to list at this point, but here are some of the current ones on AO3, as well as some of the ridiculousness saved on my computer.

(Note, many of these have already been mentioned in this game, but I have some snippets that haven't been seen for most of those by now.)

The normal titles:

Bridges Over Lakes of Salt

Apollo: Blood Wars

Walk, Fight, Fashion Baby

Of hiding and waiting (yes I am still planning on finishing that fic despite not having updated in nearly two years)

Along Came A Shadowhunter

Meet me in the Future, Love me in the Past

The Past Bleeds Golden

Crow's No Good, Very Bad Day (chapter 3)

The ridiculous ones:

Max's Unfortunate Adventure_Still-needs-t-be-changed-because-he-nearly-DIED

Of spoken words and part two's missing

That Alec birthday fic you SILLLLLL didn't finish

Vaguely beauty and the beast inspired

Vaguely beauty and the beast inspired with Alec this time

Alec saves Raziel and gets a powers boost

That one Omega fic I don’t want to write

That one kind of but not really zombie fic I don’t want to write cuz zombies SCARE me-WTF-brain

Why do these OC-s-have so many backdtory-NOBODY cares Lys

Camille being the worst-thats-ASSAULT-also Malec are both big sad

That Alec dies but doesn’t fic-how do I resurrecting him though

That OTHER AWG inspired fic because of course someone had to feed the bunny- Aec has a soulmatk

The Tumblr prompts you still haven't finished becase you're slowwww and life is bussyyyy

That similar fic to Four seconds and two steps but with Jace and maybe Izzy not being let inside

MAKE IT DRAGONGS

The spity spite ALEC CAN DRESS HIMSELF OKAY

(Yes the whole things are the working title. This is them in their complete unadulterated glory because a bean has no chill):

I am tagging @miss-mouse, @sandylee007 (with the evil snippets), @lawsofchaos1, @fiyaerrigan, @to-the-stars-writing (because I love to see all of the different folders you have :D) and anyone else that sees this from me and wants to participate that I am too shy to tag because tagging is still scary.

[azspicegirlstimeline]

any events in early June '97 please? I really appreciate the blog tysm <3

once again super sorry this is so late! i haven't been on the blog (it's been running through queue) and didn't think anyone would send requests (but im very happy you did!) fortunately this time i can give you guys some actual events.

spice girls events in early june 1997:

june 1, 1997: the spice girls arrive back in london to heathrow airport. emma is pushed in a wheelchair as the day prior she broke her ankle while leaving a tv station. geri was either not photographed or was not on this flight.

update: THANK YOU to pinterest user my teenage dream 🌟, without them i don't think these images would have been saved.

unfortunately, as zigazig-ha has been offline for nearly a year now, all i can find for other images are these super low quality thumbnails.

june 2, 1997: geri joins her spice companions in london and arrives at heathrow.

june 3, 1997: emma, geri and melanie c are seen together. i believe i have somewhere that this was them at a theme park(?).

emma was also seen outside of her home(?) posing for paparazzi.

june 4, 1997: the spice girls begun recording/working on their second album, spice world.

june 5, 1997: the girls arrive at whitfield street studios in london. the girls partake in a writing session, including never give up on the good times and practice a run through of spice up your life. this footage would later appear in girl talk.

june 9, 1997: victoria is seen entering bleus beauty salon in ware.

june 9, 1997: the girls begin filming spice world on this date. they start with an unknown scene that would ultimately be deleted, unless i've managed to just completely miss it?

and for right now that's all i can find from early june.

[allisonbeacomic]

to whoever this letter may concern,, what is your favorite way to assemble a cracker? (i.e. cheese and crackers, hummus and crackers, toppings, etc.) sincerely,

rain :4c

Allison replied:

hiya rain :3 !! idk if this rly counts .. but I have very happy memories of having peanut butter crackers @ school! as an adult I usually cant afford to buy these often -w-' 💸💸💸(fly high) so wbat I usually do is buy one big box of saltine crackers and 1 big jar of peanut butter and gthen tada! peanut butter crackers for months!

i tried sharing with Bea once but the peanut butter got stuck at the top of he rmouth 🥜🐕 and she got soooo embarassed so i promised that id never let that happen again even though it was really funny and cute . - .

P.S. Your typoe is really silly! :4c looks like one of those stronghenge guys 🗿🗿🗿

P.P.S. Bea is telling me that the funny stone guys 🗿 are actually from "eater island"??? sounds lime my kind of place tbh maybe we can go on a vacation there

Bea replied:

Thank you for the inquiry, Rain. I don't want to make myself hungry so I'll keep this reply brief, I hope that's acceptable. I usually get a small package of those round crackers, any meat (I don't really have a preference) and then bleu cheese (specifically the ones from Roquefort, it's my favorite out of them all, thank you France!). Even while keeping this reply brief I'm still getting hungry... so I'll leave it there. Have a good night and thank you for the compelling question!

[help-an-alter]

Oh, wow, we are back again. Honestly considering the fact we're both polyfragmented and have a low split tolerance it's not too surprising, we'll probably be a common anon here lol

But yeah, it's kind of the same situation here, no name or anything really just some themes / basic ideas I can give you (that's how it goes for most of our fragments lmao)

But yeah, the themes / ideas are ; crying / crybaby , childishness , fear and the colour dark blue

Thank you so much, we have a feeling this blog is going to quickly become one of our favourites lol

- 🦋🐛

i adore this concept so much!! i hope these help! <3

names: baby, dolly, bram, lila, blue/bleu, noelle, honey, etta, bee, atlas, etta, lucie/lucy, lance, jupiter, juno, mel, melli, rue, bunny, lanie, remi, delia.

pronouns: bun/bunself, soft/softself, cry/cryself, bubble/bubbleself, lamb/lambself, cloud/cloudself, blue/blueself, doll/dollself, plush/plushself.

things that may bring comfort: soft blankets, cartoons, sensory items, sleep, gentle music, lullabies, dolls, stuffed animals, small pets, and coloring.

[vault81]

🧶 🐰 📓 for all three? Hier sind kekse.

Ahh hello Bleu!!! thank you sm for the ask!! happily do those for all 3 :)

🧶 - Do they do any arts, crafts, or creative hobbies?

Jack: for Jack I would say his hobby is photography! It probably started in the Vault one day when he found an old camera, I don't think he thought much of it at that time but he'd slowly come to love it. I don't think he'd like photographing people though, he finds it a bit awkward. I think he'd love to photograph the landscape around him, any view he finds interesting he'll instantly get his camera out to capture it. Also, any plants he comes across are getting captured! doesn't matter where! he'll lay flat on his stomach to always get as close as he can for a good picture. (totally not projecting here lmao)

He probably has stacks of photo albums in his home/bag just full of these photos.

Eliza: I can easily see Eliza being into drawing, primarily sketching. See something interesting in the wasteland? lemme just make a quick sketch of that and move on! or if she finds a piece of interesting tech she's drawing a full technical diagram of that thing. She probably just started it one day in class, and just kept on drawing the things around her. I think she'll be perfectly able to draw a robot accurately, but if you asked her to draw a human you'll get a stick figure.

Stephen: for Stephen I think he'd more musically inclined compared to the other two. I can see him really enjoying playing the Piano or Keyboard! He probably picked up this hobby post-war, It's a hobby he probably always wanted to get into but couldn't afford at the time. But now he doesn't have to pay? he's totally stealing a Piano from a ruin and dragging it back home so he can learn. I think he'd enjoy being able to express himself musically, being one of the few thing's that can relax him. He just switches everything else out and focuses on the song. (again totally not projecting here lol)

🐰 - How huggable is this oc?

Jack: Very huggable, please hug him. He loves hugs! but none of his friends do! He's perfectly built for them as well! Strong Arms ✔️ 2 Big Pillows on his chest ✔️ a soft tummy? ✔️ prime hugging body! I think he'd give bear hugs too, or if you haven't see him for a while he's picking you up and spinning you around.

Eliza: Contrasting Jack, do not hug her. She hate's them, she only tolerates Jack's hugs because he's her brother. If you hug her she'll immediately tense up and make a foul face over your shoulder. She wouldn't turn them down because she doesn't want to be too rude, but she won't enjoy the experience either. If she is the one giving hugs, be prepared for the most awkward half-hug of your life. It's so stiff, and she won't fully embrace into it, she'll keep a respectable distance from you with one arm behind you.

Stephen: I'd say Stephen is huggable, but only from people he knows and likes. He doesn't like that kind of physical contact with strangers, it makes him very uncomfortable. I don't think he's afraid to put up that boundary either. On the other hand, if you know him then he loves to give and receive hugs! he'll always ask first though if you would like one. I think Stephen's hugs would be very soft, barely any pressure applied but still nice and comforting.

📓 - Do you associate any quotes or lyrics with this oc?

Eliza: I think the quote that I associate with Eliza the most is from Integra from the Hellsing anime (prime inspiration back in the day) the quote is: "You want me to roll over like a dog? Give up, and accept defeat.. Ha! That seems to be the sort of language that your kind is used to using. Language for cowards who forfeited their humanity, because they were too weak to survive as such. Don’t look down on humans, you monsters. Come on. I’ll send you all to hell." that quote does a good job of summing her early character really, she's changed a lot since then but I'll still always think of her when I hear this.

Jack: for Jack the lyric I'd associate with him is: "I'm a peace-loving decoy, ready for retaliation" from Dirty Harry by Gorillaz, again I feel like that does a good job of summing up his character! Jack prefers to talk out his problems with other people rather than get violent, but don't mistake that for him being unable to do so. (that's how I interpret that lyric anyway)

Stephen: the lyric I'd associate with him is: "Welcome to my world (My only world) It is full of Space Junk But your words are getting through I'm riding on the Space Junk and It's bringing me to you Bringing me to you" from Space Junk by Wang Chung, just captures his feelings up waking up in this now destroyed world, but also seeing the beauty and value in this destroyed world.

[anotherapostate]

Tag 9 people to get to know better

I was tagged by the lovely @thedeconstructionist , thank you! Typing this on mobile so hopefully the formatting isn’t atrocious.

1. Three ships: Hackle, MillieJean, Starbroom. Sister Michael/Janet Taylor from Derry Girls is currently consuming my waking thoughts, which is very cool for a rarepair, thank you, brain 🙃 (I have a WIP for them, but we’ll see if it ever reaches the light).

2. First ever ship: I’m pretty sure it was Zutara. Is there a “teenaged Zuko fangirl to adult lesbian that looks like Zuko” pipeline? If there is, that’s me.

3. Last song: Currently listening to the B-52’s. Rock Lobster is playing as I’m typing this. 🪨🦞

4. Last movie: Female Trouble… again. It’s hard to explain but I find John Waters’ early movies (Pink Flamingos, Multiple Maniacs, Female Trouble) very affirming, despite all the… unique writing decisions. Queer people unapologetically adoring themselves, living completely authentic lives despite “decent” society’s repulsion of them, that’s some good shit. I need some more of that in my life.

5. Currently reading: just started “Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Top Cafe.”

6. Currently watching: Derry Girls/M*A*S*H reruns

7. Currently consuming: a hot (now cold) pumpkin spice latte that I let sit on my desk for too long

8. Currently craving: very specifically, a rocket (chicken cordon bleu supreme) from Benedetti’s in Haverhill, MA, US (iykyk)

9. Tag 9 people: I’m opening this to anyone who wants to participate! I’d love to see the responses!

[alrightbuckaroo]

hello friend! I will absolutely give you reason to talk about the parisian summer romance au at length because I'm in love with it! 💖💖

2: What scene did you first put down?

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

Hello friend! Hope life is treating you kind :)

First, thank you so much! I know you were excited to read it so I'm glad you fell in love with it and it didn't disappoint.

2: What scene did you first put down?

Answered that one here :)

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

My favorite is actually something that happens in part ii, but it's a big ol' spoiler for anyone on the dash who hasn't read it yet so I'll give it to two from part i!

I think it's a toss up between

He knows that Carlos’ father is a Texas Ranger who’s biggest weakness is a good Chili con Carne and he knows that Carlos’ mother makes the world’s best Chili con Carne. 

and

He can hear Luisa’s voice now, telling him he’s doing that thing again, where he’s ashamed of doing something human. 

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

Alright, so barring the cheesy answer of learning how to tell a love story, I have learned a LOT about what NYU's Art History degree, Le Cordon Bleu's certificate program and kind of just about French culture in general.

I tend to do this thing that when I create an OC and I know what age they are, I look up what name was most common around the year they were born. It's how Nadine, Dumas, Carrie, and Nick all got their names.

So now I know Nick was pretty popular in England in the early 1990s!

ask me about my parisian summer romance fic!

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

Thanks @cha-melodius for the tag. Loved reading your fic fragments.

Rules: Pick five fragments from your unfinished WIPs and then tag five people to keep it going. Let’s have fun with it and help each other shape those fragments into published fics!

Okay, so before the fragments, I thought I'd have some cathartic confession of half finished stuff in my writing folder.

Loki - 8

Stranger Things - 6

Witcher - 4

Midnight Mass - 2

Our Flag Means Death - 1

And now, in no particular order...

1. Witcher

The first time Geralt caught Jaskier in a back alley, on his knees and wiping his mouth, it was just after they'd first met.

The brooding witcher stared at him while the man Jaskier had finished servicing dropped coins on the ground.

Jaskier ignored the man patting him on the shoulder and walking away. All he could feel was the unbearable weight of Geralt's stare. It felt like a physical blow to his skull.

"Are you just going to gawk or do you want something, dear witcher?" Jaskier asked, looking up as he pocketed the coins from the dirt.

2. Loki

The glitching only started after he spoke to not-his-Mobius. When the agent had stared blankly at him and asked who he was.

It was a question that hurt, not only because this Mobius didn't know him, but because Loki had often asked himself the same thing.

A chameleon. A trickster. A shapeshifter. These were all things Loki did, but who was he?

3. Our Flag Means Death

Stede let out a long breath as the altar boy fiddled with the drawer in the vestry. He really ought to get someone to build the church a new set because at some point they weren't going to be able to open it any longer and would have to smash the thing to get everything out.

He could see the boy sweating and Stede tried not to watch him too closely, distracting himself with ensuring the cords were on the right pages of the Bible. Honestly, he had heard the boy cuss before and didn't want to openly hear it again. He'd rather avoid the conflict.

4. Stranger Things

Steve stood by the bed, his hands twisting the edge of his shirt. He looked so small, all 5 foot 11 inches of him standing there and radiating nerves.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," Eddie crooned from the bedroom door. His hands clutched around the open door frame, allowing him to swing nonchalantly.

"I, um-" Steve stammered, opening and shutting his mouth while he tried to think of how to say the words floating around his head. He bit his lip again, making it red and swollen.

5. Midnight Mass

Riley leaned against the doorframe, looking at John standing on his path with his hands in his pockets.

"It's chilly tonight," he said, noting John's lack of a jacket despite it being almost winter.

John shrugged, walking up to the door, then stopped. He looked past Riley into the house, an eager look passing over his eyes.

"Can I come in?"

Tagging more than 5 like the rebel I am: @diabla616 @mimisempai @officerjennie @mojowitchcraft @the-evil-stick @insert-witty-user-name-here @goofgoofdildo @xianvar @echo-bleu @themanta @katwritesthings @katwriteswitcherthings @lambden @pherryt

[bleachanimefan1]

Sarge's Heroes The Final War Part 3

Echoes From the Past,

Sarge came tumbling out of the portal and landed face first into the ground. He had landed in the other world in a forest. Sarge groaned as he opened his eyes, waking up and slowly tried to push himself up. He fell back down too weak to get himself back on his feet. Sarge looked at his wound to see the gunshot in his abdomen and let out a hiss in pain. Sarge tried to put pressure on the wound as green liquid plastic slowly pooled out. He needed a med kit. He needed to get back! Vikki needed him, and the boys needed him as well. As Sarge managed to get himself to his knees, Sarge heard the portal behind him began to ripple and three tan soldiers ran out of it. Sarge sighed and tried to back away from them. The three tan soldiers kept their guns aimed at Sarge.

"Are you here to join the party, boys? It was starting to get lonely without you." Sarge retorted. 

"What should we do with him?" Sarge heard one of the soldiers whisper to another.

"Let's finish him off right here!"

"But General Plastro ordered us to capture him alive."

"Yeah, listen to your buddy." Sarge replied. The three tan soldiers aimed their guns at Sarge, getting ready to fire. Sarge closed his eyes. Suddenly, a shot rang out, but Sarge didn't feel the bullet hit him. He opened one of his eyes to see one of the tan soldiers, drop to the ground.

"Who's there!? Show yourself!" The second tan shouted. Another shot rang out through the woods, hitting the tan in the chest blasting a hole clean through. 

"I'm out of here!" The last tan soldier cried out and ran towards the portal. A shot ran out and the last soldier fell to the ground. Sarge looked behind him into the woods to see a woman step out through the trees, holding a rifle. She had pale skin, short black hair that looked to be painted on, wearing a black vest and dark cargo pants and boots. Her piercing green eyes met with Sarge and she started to inch closer to him after she finished inspecting one of the dead tan soldiers.

"Listen, I don't want any trouble." Sarge warned her. The woman smirked and let out a small laugh.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so already." She spoke in a soft tone, almost velvety. Sarge blinked at her then smiled in relief.

"Oh, good to know." This woman she appeared to be on his side. But then again, he fell for Briget Bleu's trick. All nice and acting innocent. She even brain washed him at one point and put Vikki in danger. He wasn't going to fall for it again! But Sarge couldn't help but get the feeling like he knew this woman somehow. She held her hand out to Sarge and he took it, and she helped pulled Sarge up back to his feet.

"Thanks for the help. I need to get back." Sarge turned to the portal only to see it deactivate. The bomb must have gone off. "Blast it! How am I going to get back now!?"

"I know of another portal. I can take you to it." The woman spoke. Sarge quickly turned back to her.

"Then what are we standing around here for let's go-!" Just when Sarge took a step, he fell forward and the woman quickly grabbed him, before he hit the ground.

"Let's get you patched up first. We can make a quick pit stop at my place. It's not far. Then you tell me what happened on the way back."

"Sounds like a plan." Sarge groaned and nodded his head. The woman smiled and supported Sarge as the two walked through the woods, heading back to her place.

Sarge told her as they walked, how he got separated from his team and his girlfriend Vikki, and that he really needed to get back. The woman quietly listened to him as the two continued. Then Sarge noticed a small cabin within the distance on a hill made completely out of Lincoln logs. "This is the place." She told Sarge and walked them inside the cabin. She sat Sarge down in a chair and left to grab the med kit. Sarge looked out around the room. The were some random pictures hanging on the wall, a small fireplace slowly burning, a twin bed in the far corner of the room.

"Nice place you got here." Sarge called out. The woman walked back to him, carrying a med kit and set it down on the table and started to bandage up Sarge's wounds.

"Thanks. We like to keep it simple. Not to draw attention to ourselves." She spoke.

"We?" Sarge questioned.

"My husband." The woman smiled then Sarge noticed it drop a little and she continued to fix up his wounds, finishing up. Sarge watched her take a seat next to him across the table and he examined her again. 

"You know, I've never gotten your name. But you-you look a little familiar. Have we met before?" He asked her. The woman turned to him and smiled.

"We have." 

"Then what is it?" Sarge asked her, wondering where he had met her before.

"It's Ari." 

"Ari..." Sarge repeated her name a few times thinking of where he had heard that name before. Then his eyes widened in shock, now realizing who she was. "Ari Armalite!?" Sarge shook his head in disbelief. "But you died! No one ever found you."

"That's because I didn't want to be found. I faked my death." Ari said.

"Faked your death? Why? Why did you leave? You were one of the best snipers on the base apart from Bullseye!" Sarge exclaimed.

"I got tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of a war that was never going to end." 

"How could you do this? You lied to everyone. You lied to me. We were friends! You betrayed the Green Nation!" Sarge shouted, angrily. 

"I saved you, didn't I?" Ari smirked, pointing her finger at him.

"Well, yeah, but-" Sarge sputtered.

"I've had enough. I saw an easy out, so I took it. I didn't betray anyone. All I wanted was peace and now I have it." Ari explained to him.

"How did you survive for so long without getting plasturfied?" Sarge asked her.

"I've heard from our little blue friends that they came up with a mixture that prevents complete plasturfication, so I stole some. And speaking of which, here you go." She slid Sarge a small bottle of the mixture. Sarge took it and sprayed a little on himself and he could feel his limbs loosening up a little. Ari stood up and picked up her rifle and slinged it over her shoulder.

"I said that I will help you get you to your portal and I will. But I am also coming with you to help fight the tan." She replied.

"But I thought you said you've had enough." Sarge said, confused.

"The tan took someone very important to me. My husband. So, they've made it my business. And I am going to get him back no matter what it takes." Ari explained and she held her hand out to Sarge. "So, up for one more round for old times sake?"

Sarge stood up and shook her hand. "Welcome aboard, soldier." Ari smiled.

"Great! We get your buddies and I'll get my husband and we'll go our separate ways."