#they also said something along the lines of

[shawtylex09]

⋆˙⟡Looking. Shota Aizawa x Art Teacher!Fem!Reader.⟡⋆˙

⋆.˚✮Valentine’s Day story 2/14✮˚.⋆

Warnings; swearing, pining, stupidly silly interactions and Mic’s wingman-ness.

Enjoy babes ✧˖°.

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Shota walked into the teachers lounge, his tired eyes scanning the room, gazing upon the computers and a few of his colleagues chatting amongst each other. He sighed tiredly and walked to the counter, pouring himself a steaming hot cup of coffee.

He brought the hot cup to his lips and took a slow sip, enjoying the bitter taste of the black liquid on his tongue. He knew most people preferred coffee with either sugar or cream in it, but he was content to drink black coffee. It was simple.

That was the thing about it, it was plain, easy. It wasn’t complex with layers that could add unnecessary components to something that didn’t need to be complicated.

Shota admired the simpler things in life, opting for a minimalistic lifestyle. His apartment was pretty barren, aside from the records he had on a shelf with his record player, and the few pictures of Hizashi and Shirakumo he had on his walls.

He wasn’t one for complicated feelings, and opted out of them if he could. However, there was one thing he couldn’t pick the simple route with.

Shota dragged his tired eyes from his coffee, to Hizashi, seeing him laughing and talking with a certain someone.

A huff escaped the man through his nose as he felt a small heat crawl up to his ears. This was the one thing he couldn’t seem to make simple.

This new school year, a new teacher joined the teaching staff, along with All Might. She was beautiful, with a keen eye for art and detail.

This new teacher was soft spoken, considerate, and made his cold heart feel warm. He scoffed as he heard soft laughter at one of Hizashi’s horrible jokes, glancing up to see you speaking with him, covering your mouth.

He furrowed his brows, a small twinge of something along the lines of longing pulling at his heart strings. Damn him and his feelings.

Shota looked down at his coffee, seeing his reflection staring back at him. His tired eyes, shaggy hair, the scar under his right eye and his ungroomed face. He shouldn’t get wrapped up in someone- someone who wouldn’t look his way.

What Aizawa was unaware of, was the soft and tender gazes you shot his way. You were always looking at him, even if he wasn’t aware.

You glanced over at him and smiled softly, feeling a warm flutter in your chest, and a gentle heat rise to your cheeks.

Hizashi followed your gaze and grinned “Pretty interested in the coffee maker over there?” He asked, elbowing you with a smirk, his grin growing as you blushed a bit harder.

“Something like that” you said softly, your eyes still resting on the man enjoying his coffee, his eyes closing as he tilted his head back and sipped from his cup, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank down the hot coffee.

Hizashi clicked his tongue and sighed exasperatedly “you’re really looking at Shota, you got a crush on him or something?” He asked, raising a brow and crossing his arms, leaning closer to you as he also gazed at Aizawa.

You hummed and looked down, tucking your hair behind your ear “please, we’re not kids, Hizashi, crush is a strong word. More like..I find him endearing.”

Hizashi chuckled and turned his attention from his his high school best friend, to you, giving you a sympathetic smile “you know he’s the most emotionally closed off and emotionally constipated man on the planet, right?”

You simply blushed and rubbed the back of your neck, looking away from him with sligjtly puffed cheeks. He was taking your affectionate gazes rhetorical entirely wrong way! You weren’t expecting a relationship with Aizawa! You barely spoke to the guy!

It wasn’t like you had dreamt about how softly Shota would tuck your hair behind your ear, gently caressing your cheek with his calloused hand and murmuring softly to you with his heavenly voice, telling you how beautiful you were.

Noooo no no, that wasn’t it at all!….right?

You sighed and chewed on your cheek, thinking before hesitantly replying to Hizashi, “yeah..I’ve picked that up from him.” Was all you could say. You knew it was true, Aizawa wasn’t an open book when it came to anything. You knew little to nothing about the man, but that couldn’t stop your heart from yearning for his touch and delicate voice.

Hizashi smiled a little and sighed, patting your shoulder “There there, Y/n, it’s not like you’re totally hopeless! He is human, after all, so you’ve definitely got a chance to win him over!” He said with his cheery tone, almost making you forget about your conflicting feelings.

You offered a small smile to the man as he threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning back at you. “Thanks, Yamada, but I’m not expecting some crazy relationship or expecting him to open up his emotions with me. I’m sure these silly feelings will go away.”

Hizashi felt his smile falter, before he huffed. In all honesty, he’d been hoping your resolve was stronger than that, he didn’t want you to give up on his best friend! Even if his friend barely knew how to express his emotions, he was a very interesting and intelligent guy!

Hizashi let his arm fall from your shoulder and crossed them, leaning closer to you “Y/n, listen to me. Once you get to know Shota, he can be one of the -genuinely- most considerate and supportive guys I know. He gave me the drive I needed to finally start my dream of running a radio show, so trust me, he’s a great guy under the stoic facade he puts up.”

You felt your heart thump in your chest, a soft blush creeping up your cheeks. Aizawa did seem like the supportive type.

You rubbed your arm and glanced at the man, who’d migrated to his desk, grabbing some things and sifting through his folders. Did you really have a chance? Would he bat an eye at you? Would he reject you?

These thoughts swarmed your head as you gazed at him. However, your eyes caught the sight of a package of caramel hard candies sitting on his desk, Aizawa reaching into the pack and pulling one out, popping it into his mouth as he stood.

You furrowed your brows before an idea came to your mind. A smile formed on your lips and you glanced to Hizashi “I think..I think I’ll try and maybe get a bit closer to him, try and figure him out a bit before I jump into asking him out or anything like that.

Hizashi visibly brightened and grinned “wait actually? That’s awesome! Shota really needs someone to understand him and look out for him. He deserves it, you know?”

You nodded and glanced at Aizawa as he walked past you. You caught a whiff of his cologne and smiled, your knees feeling weak. “Yeah..I get what you mean” you mumbled, a stupid, small smile gracing your lips. Were you were really gonna try and get closer with someone as prickly as Shota Aizawa?

Yes.

Yes you were.

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Thanks so so so much for reading! This is my first Aizawa one shot, and I’m thinking about making it a part two, soooo maybe there’ll be more! Anyways, have a wonderful night my beautiful people!

[ruewritesoccasionally]

hi girl could u do a Aaron x reader on a red carpet type of thing?

pairing: aaron pierre x black reader

warnings: pure fluff, implied flirting, suggestive whispering, Aaron being obsessed with Reader (as he should)

summary: Aaron is being honoured at a red carpet event, and Reader—his date and the love of his life—is by his side. She’s nervous, but Aaron is there every step of the way, making sure she feels like the star of the night. Between teasing interviews, stolen glances, and a whisper that nearly makes her lose composure, it’s clear to everyone—especially the cameras—that Aaron Pierre is absolutely smitten.

word count: 514

a/n: i have such love/hate relationship with asks cos when they're vague, it means that i have full creative control which is exciting but it's also overwhelming cos then idk if it's come out how the reader wants it to 😭😭 but anon, i hope this is along the lines of what you were thinking !

The flash of cameras was relentless, a steady wave of light as Aaron guided her down the red carpet with effortless ease. His hand rested at the small of her back, his touch a quiet reassurance beneath the whirlwind of it all.

“Breathe, love,” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, a whisper of warmth against her skin. “You look beautiful. They’re all going to be obsessed with you.”

She exhaled slowly, nodding, though the weight of a hundred eyes still pressed against her. This wasn’t her world—flashing lights, interviewers shouting names, the hum of celebrity chatter all around. But it was his. And somehow, standing beside him, fingers lightly grazing his, she didn’t feel so out of place.

They paused at a checkpoint, a journalist calling out to Aaron. “How does it feel to be honoured tonight?”

Aaron’s smile was immediate, easy, but before answering, he glanced down at her. “Feels like the real honour is having her here with me.” His voice held that familiar warmth, that teasing edge, and she rolled her eyes even as her lips curved.

“You’re so full of it,” she murmured.

“You love it.”

She did.

They moved further along, cameras flashing, their chemistry undeniable. The way Aaron absentmindedly adjusted the drape of her gown, how his fingers trailed over the dip of her waist. How, when she stumbled slightly—heels catching on the plush carpet—his reaction was seamless, catching her as if it was second nature.

Twitter was already in shambles.

📸 @PopCultureDaily: Aaron Pierre catching his girl like they’re in a rom-com?? We are SICK.

📸 @FilmFanatic: He’s so obsessed with her it’s actually unfair.

“Aaron, what did you just whisper to her?” another journalist called out, eager for a soundbite.

Aaron barely blinked. “Nothing fit for broadcast.”

The reporter laughed, and YN pressed her lips together, trying to fight the warmth creeping up her neck. Because what he’d actually said, voice husky against her ear, was—

“As good as you look in this dress, I can’t wait to take it off you.”

She nudged his ribs discreetly, and Aaron only grinned, charming and utterly unbothered.

The rest of the carpet was a blur of moments—shared glances, stolen touches, inside jokes murmured between posed smiles. But the real moment, the one that mattered, came later, when they finally had a second away from the chaos.

She relaxed as they stepped into a quieter space, heels aching, adrenaline still buzzing beneath her skin. Aaron turned to her, eyes tracing over her face with something softer now, something private.

“You did amazing,” he said, voice quieter now. “I know this isn’t your world, but… you handled it like you were made for it.”

She tilted her head, teasing. “Oh, so I’m a natural now?”

Aaron leaned in, brushing his lips against her temple. “You’ve always been.”

And just like that, the lights, the noise, the cameras—it all faded away. Because here, in his arms, was the only place that ever felt like home.

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[misfit0789]

Forever Out of Reach?

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader

Summary: R doesn't get to follow through on her plans…or does she?

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, maybe main character death

Part 1, Part 2

This is part 2 to my other KCC fic! It is a bit all over and the POVs switch but I'm kind of happy with the way it came out and I hope you all enjoy it! I did change this from my inital plan so it is not as angsty as I originally planned but this will do. Also this is not proofread! I wanted to get this out.

Kyra POV

"Kyra we get it, you're excited to see Y/n but please sit still! There's still an hour left of the ride before we reach London." Steph groans having had enough of Kyra bouncing in her seat next to her on the plane. Kyra sighs stopping her movements, sitting back in her seat.

"Sorry," Kyra whispers, "Yes I'm excited to see Y/n but something just doesn't feel right. I can't shake this feeling that something bad is going to happen or has happened. To make it worse I can't send or receive texts and calls until we land so I can't reach out to Y/n to try and calm my anxiety." Kyra reveals. Steph looks at the younger girl with a look of sadness, reaching over to wrap her arm around the midfielders shoulder and pulling her into her body. Kyra lets out another sigh this one more shaky as she tries to hold in her sobs from the anxiety rattling her body, resting her head on Steph's shoulder.

"It's okay, I'm sure everything is okay. Like I said we only have about an hour left of the flight. Try and get some rest." Steph whispers, rubbing her hand along Kyra's arm. The younger girl nods leaning into Steph more to try and be able to relax enough to get some sleep. Eventually Steph feels Kyra's breathing even out and lets out a sigh herself hoping she's right in that everything is okay for Kyra. She's never seen the girl like this and she hopes she never has to again.

~~~~~

Y/n POV

"Y/n/n! Wake up!!" Harper yells, jumping on top of me. I groan at the feeling of her foot in my ribs. I turn over wrapping my arms around her, holding her to my chest.

"Shhh, sleepy time," I mumble. I feel her laughing as she wiggles in my hold trying to escape.

"Harps, go join RaRa in the kitchen for breakfast. Y/n/n will be there soon." I hear Katrina say loosening my hold on Harper so she can listen to her mother. My niece sliding out of my arms and running out of the room. I let out a sigh turning onto my back and staring at the ceiling. My view is interrupted when Katrina's face appears in my line of vision. "Nervous?" I nod.

"I'm confident she'll say yes but I still have that sliver of doubt she'll say no. I don't want to lose her Kat," I say emotion present in my voice. I hear Katrina sigh before she moves to lay next to me in the bed. I sit up and shuffle over giving her the space to sit. She wraps her arm around my shoulder pulling my head to rest on her shoulder.

"If I know anything it's that Kyra will say yes to you. She loves you. There is no doubt about that. You will never lose that girl. I'm sure of it." Kat says rubbing my arm. I let out a breath relaxing at the words from my sister.

"Thanks Kat. I needed that," I wrap my arm around her pulling her into a hug. She pulls back a soft smile on her face.

"Of course. You're my baby sister and I love you. There is no reason for her to say no to you. Now Clara and I made breakfast, why don't you get dressed and come eat. You have a few hours before you have to head to the airport." Katrina says standing from the bed, moving towards the door to her guest room.

"As long as Clara cooked and you watched then I'll eat," I joke throwing the covers to the side, rising to my feet and stretching. She rolls her eyes.

"I'm not that bad of a cook, you like some of the things I cook," She says watching as I grab my overnight bag, rifling through it to find clothes to wear for the day.

"Emphasis on the some there Kat," I say tossing my bag to the side with one arm as the other holds the clothes.

"You're an ass Y/n" Kat rolls her eyes not noticing the person hiding by the door.

"RaRa! Mama said a bad word!" Harper yells turning and running towards the kitchen where Clara is with Koby. I look at Kat with a smirk as she smacks her forehead.

"Someone's in trouble," I sing walking towards the ensuite. As I turn to shut the door I see Kat glaring at me.

"That statement rings true Y/n," She says before turning and running after her daughter. "Harper!" I chuckle shutting the door, moving to take a shower.

~~~~~

After I was showered and dressed I made my way to the kitchen for breakfast. I see Koby in his high chair, Kat sat next to him helping Harper eat as Clara finishes up the cooking.

"Morning Y/n! Have a seat, I'll make you a plate," Clara says, a beaming smile present. I smile and nod moving to sit opposite Kat and Harper.

"Y/n/n! Nanna got Koby and I gifts when we went to see them! Want to see!" Harper exclaims. I chuckle and nod.

"Of course! Give me some time and I'll come see what Nanna bought you once I've finished eating. Okay?" I ask, Harper nods eagerly before sliding off the chair and running into the other room. "Thank you Clara. What did Kat cook? I want to know what to avoid," I joke as Clara places a plate of food in front of me. I jump when Kat kicks my leg under the table.

"Watch it," Kat warns, I chuckle as I begin eating.

"What time are you due to pick Kyra up?" Clara asks a few minutes later as she cleans up the kitchen. I finish my last bite and answer.

"She texted me earlier, they are due back around 6 so I'll leave here around 5 to hopefully avoid traffic." I say, standing with my plate to place it in the sink.

"You nervous?" Clara asks, rinsing my dish. I let out a deep breath and nod.

"Very, but Kat helped ease my nerves a little. I was overreacting. Ky and I have been through so much together, I was an idiot for thinking she'd say no," I chuckle, Clara nods, drying the dish and placing it in the cabinet before turning to face me.

"Your sister was right, that girl loves you with everything she has. She won't say no to you." Clara reassures me. I smile and nod giving her a hug.

"Thank you, I'm so happy my sister met you." I say. I feel Clara smile as she gives me a squeeze.

"I'm happy too, she gave me my family to love and brought you into my life. I've never had a better nap than when I'm with you," she jokes laughing. I laugh pushing her away.

"I'm happy to be of service," I joke stepping back, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go see what my mother bought my niece." I point over my shoulder where Harper is with Kat and Koby.

"Oh you'll love this!" Clara laughs. I give her a confused look before moving into the living room where Kat is sat with Koby on her lap as Harper plays with what looks to be a kids doctor toy set.

"Look Y/n/n!! I'm a doctor! Like you!" Harper yells walking over to me with a white lab coat and a stethoscope around her neck. I kneel down to her level admiring her look.

"Wow! Looking good Harps!" I say bringing her into a hug," Nanna did a good job with your gift huh?" I ask as Harper pulls away from me. Harper nods eagerly.

"Uh huh! She got me these too!" Harper exclaims moving to grab what looks to be bandages and a toy syringe.

"Woah! Now you really are like me! Do you remember how to use this?" I ask pointing at the stethoscope still hanging around her neck. She nods running over to ger her teddy bear and show me.

~~~~~

"I'll see you guys in a couple days for dinner." I say to my sister as I grab my bag from the floor by her front door, looping the strap over my shoulder.

"We will see you and your fiancée then." Kat teases. I roll my eyes pulling her into a hug.

"Thank you," I whisper. Kat gives me a squeeze before she pulls away.

"Go pick up the pest. Enjoy your night together." Kat say giving me a smile. I nod and bid my goodbye to Clara, Harper and Koby before making my way to my car. I throw my bag in the boot, patting my pocket where I have Kyra's ring. A smile on my face at the thought of seeing Kyra and finally proposing to her.

I get in my car and begin my drive to the airport, music softly playing from a playlist Kyra had made. I quietly sing a long to one of the songs before everything goes black.

~~~~~

Kyra POV

"Ky where is your girlfriend? She should have been here by now." Alessia asks me. I let out another sigh as I check my phone for what feels like the hundredth time in the last 5 minutes looking for any message or call from Y/n.

"I don't know. She told me she was leaving Mini's at 5 to avoid traffic. She knew we'd be here around 6. It's almost 6:30, she'd never be this late without letting me know. Let me try Mini. Maybe they got caught up talking and she left late forgetting to call me." I unlock my phone pulling up Mini's contact and pressing the call button. The phone rings twice before someone answers.

"Kyra!" I smile hearing Harper's voice, though a much as I'd love to talk to her I'm too worried about Y/n.

"Hay Harps! Is your mom or RaRa around?" I heard her shuffle around before a new voice is on the phone.

"Hello?"  

"Clara? Have you or Mini heard from Y/n?" I question quickly. My nerves at a high.

"Kyra? No? She left a little after 5 to avoid traffic to get you at the airport. Is she not there?" Clara questions, worry growing in her voice knowing how uncommon it is for Y/n to be late somewhere.

"No," I choke out, my worry increasing. "I've called her and texted her but her phone goes to voicemail and my texts are going unread. Clara I'm worried. Y/n would never do this," I say on the verge of tears, realizing something must be seriously wrong.

"Okay, I will call a baby sitter and Mini and I will come get you okay. We will figure out where Y/n is and what's going on. I need you to take deep breathes okay Kyra" I nod, forgetting she can't see me before whispering out a 'yes' as I begin to take deep breaths trying to calm my racing heart.

"Ky?" I turn to see Alessia, Leah and Steph looking at me in concern. Y/n was supposed to bring them to their apartments before we went home ourselves. I shake my head, saying a quick goodbye to Clara before hanging up.

"Clara said Y/n left their place a little after 5 and that they haven't heard from her since. Clara is getting a baby sitter then coming to get us." I explain, continuing to take deep breaths. They nod but stay silent having known Y/n long enough to know her being late is not normal.

After waiting a few more minutes my phone rings. I move quick to grab it hoping it's Y/n but instead it's Y/n's work. Why is the hospital calling me?

"Ms. Cooney-Cross?" A voice on the other side asks.

"Yes? This is her." I say confused moving away from the girls, avoiding their questioning looks.

"This is Casey from London General. We have you listed as the emergency contact for Dr. Y/n Gorry. I’m sorry to tell you but she was in an accident…" I stopped listening after that trying to wrap my head around what she said, standing in shock on the sidewalk in front of the airport.

"Ky?" I blink seeing Alessia's concerned face in front of me. "What's going on?" I just shake my head. The woman on the phone still talking. Alessia reaches for my phone passing it off to Steph who talks to the woman trying to understand what is going on.

"Y/n - " I cut myself off as a sob escapes me.

"Oh Ky…" Alessa rushes forward wrapping me in her arms letting me cry into her shoulder. Her hand runs up and down my back as she whispers quiet reassurances after Steph caught her and Leah up. "Y/n will be okay. She's tough Ky" Alessia whispers as I continue to cry.

"Kyra what's going on? Why are you crying?" I release my hold on Alessia to see Mini stepping out of her car, Clara following from the other side. I rush over wrapping her in a hug continuing to cry. "Woah!" She stumbles but wraps her arms around me any way, rubbing my back to try and comfort me.

"Y/n was in an accident," Steph starts. I hear Mini and Clara gasp as Mini tightens her hold on me. "They wouldn't tell me much, only that she's headed in for surgery. She was brought to London General." Steph explains as I let out another sob, not knowing she was in surgery.

"Okay, Less and Leah grab the bags and put them in the boot. I'll bring you two and Steph home after I drop Mini and Ky at the hospital for Y/n." Clara says gently leading Mini and I to the car.

"We'll stay at the hospital. Y/n is family. We won't leave." Leah says determined, bags in hand. Clara gives her a smile and nods helping Mini and I into the car as the others follow once our bags are in the car.

As Clara starts the drive to the hospital I sit in the back knee bouncing, showing my worry for Y/n. She's tough but she's never been through something like this since we've know each other.

Please be okay Y/n.

~~~~~

I jump out of the car as soon as Clara pulls up to the hospital ER doors running to the reception desk. Mini right behind me.

"I'm looking for Y/n Gorry?" I say as soon as I get to the desk.

"Are you family?" The girl asks.

"I'm her fiancée," I say before I can stop myself. Mini glances at me in confusion before responding herself.

"I'm her older sister," The girls nods before typing on her computer for what feels like forever. I anxiously tap my foot and my finger on the desk waiting for the girl. "Ky, take a deep breath. Y/n will be okay. She has to be," Mini says placing her hand on mine to stop my tapping. I nod.

"Looks like she just got out of surgery. Once she is settled in a room the doctor will come and get you both. Only family is allowed in." the receptionist explains. Mini and I nod before moving to the others who stand and look at us anxiously.

"Well?" Alessia asks when we reach them.

"She's out of surgery. They are putting her in a room then someone will come get us so we can see her. The receptionist says family only." Mini explains.

"You guys can go. It was a long flight. Mini and I will send you an update when we hear more." I say taking a sear next to where Mini sat.

"Absolutely not. Like we said before Y/n is family. We will wait here as long as we need to." Steph says, Leah and Alessia nodding in agreement. Steph moves to kneel in front of where I'm sitting. Placing her hands on my knees, crouching to be eye level with me. " I will wait as long as I need. Besides she's the only one that can reign you in, ya pest." Steph jokes. I let out a laugh, through my tears, pulling her into a hug.

"Thank you Stephy," I whisper. She pats my back before pulling away, a soft smile on her face.

"Always, You annoy me but I still love you," She presses a kiss to my forehead before standing to sit with Leah and Alessia.

"Y/n Gorry?" A man in a white lab coat calls, reading off a clipboard. All of us jump and move towards him. "Woah! I was told her fiancée and sister are here. I can only speak with them." He clarifies. Mini and I step forward.

"Sister," Mini says raising her hand.

"Fiancée," I say raising my own ignoring the looks from the others. The man nods.

"I'm Dr. Cursor, I handled Dr. Gorry's surgery. Please, follow me." He turns moving to a set of doors. He scans his badge to open one of the doors, holding it open, allowing us in. "Dr. Gorry suffered a concussion and three cracked ribs, one of which punctured her lung, which is why she needed the surgery. We lost her once but as you know she is a fighter. The rest of the surgery went great. She is still asleep but should wake up in a few hours. You guys are more than welcome to stay as long as you'd like." Dr. Cursor explains stopping outside a room. I nod though I didn't hear much of what he said after 'lost her once'.

"Thank you Doctor." I hear Mini say before she opens the door to the room. I gasp seeing my Y/n laid there on the bed looking so lifeless. Tears roll down my cheeks as I move to stand next to Y/n. I slowly take her hand in my, brushing my thumb over her knuckles.

"Oh Y/n/n." I whisper. I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead, stepping back to sit in the chair next to her bed.

"She's okay Ky," Mini says placing her hand on my shoulder.

"She died," is all I say. I hear Mini sigh as she moves to sit on Y/n's other side.

"She did…but she came back to us. She's still here." Mini says, sounding like she's trying to convince not only me but also herself. "She's still here," she whispers.

~~~~~

Y/n POV

I hear a faint beeping sound as I begin to wake up. My eyes are heavy as I try to open them, though I slam them shut at the bright lights in the room. I blink quickly trying to get rid of the heaviness in my eyes and also adjust to the lights. Once my vision is clear I take note of the hospital room I'm in. In addition to the beeping I hear soft snores from my right, turning I see Katrina laid back in the hospital room chair fast asleep, a thin blanket covering her. I smile at the sight. Turning to my left my smile grows when I see Kyra laying with her head on my arm and her hand wrapped in mine. That explains the numbness in my arm. I give Kyra's hand a squeeze moving my right arm slowly towards her before gasping at the pain that shoots through my body. Kyra and Katrina shooting up at the sound.

"Y/n!" They both exclaim.

"I'll go get the doctor," Kat says squeezing my shoulder softly before stepping out of the room, leaving Kyra and I alone.

Once Kat is gone I make eye contact with Kyra. I frown seeing more tears building in her eyes. I reach up, ignoring the pain to brush away the tears that fell.

"Oh my love," I whisper reaching up to pull her into me. She breaks as she clings on to me. I rub her back trying to calm her. "It's okay. I'm okay Ky. I'm here." I whisper, as she continues to cry in my neck.

"You died," She whispers as she pulls away, cupping my face in her hands. I close my eyes leaning into her touch. I open my eyes to brush away the tears on her face, before leaning forward pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm so sorry my love, I - " I'm cut off as the door opens and Dr. Cursor walks in. Katrina in tow. I lean back in the bed from Kyra, but move to grab her hand, knowing she needs the comfort as much as I do.

"Good to see you awake doctor." he exclaims walking to the monitor by my bed. "How's your pain level?" he asks, writing notes on his clipboard.

"5" I grit out, he nods and starts to write that down. I wince when Kat hits my foot, followed by Kyra lightly smacking the back of my head. "Ow!"

"Tell the truth," Kyra says, Kat nodding in agreement. I roll my eyes.

"Yes ma'am…the pain is at a 9." I sigh. He nods, "I also have a headache. What happened to me?" I question realizing I have no idea how I ended up in a hospital bed.

"Well what do you remember?" Dr. Cursor asks. I go quiet trying to wrack my brain for what happened.

"All I remember is I left Kat's place after 5 to be able to pick up Ky and a few of the other girls, then…it's all black." I say laying back in the bed, taking a deep breath to try and alleviate some of the pain in my head. I feel Kyra brush her thumb along my hand trying to provide some comfort.

"You were struck by a drunk driver. They hit the passenger side of your car but your car flipped from the speed at which he hit you. You have a concussion and three broken ribs. Once punctured your lung so you went into emergency surgery. You coded once but we were able to bring you back. You've been out for a few hours from the anesthesia. Your sister and fiancée have been here with you since you got out of surgery." I look at Kat in panic at the word fiancée, but she shakes her head with a soft smile. Dr. Cursor doesn't notice as he continues speaking, finishing up his checks. "I'll be back in a couple hours to see how you're doing. I upped your morphine so you should be in less pain." He says before leaving the room.

"F-fiancée?" I question.

"Uhm, they would only let family in your room so I said I was your fiancée so they'd let me in," Kyra explains playing with my fingers. A nervous habit she has. I look at Kat who nods confirming what Kyra had said, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Speaking of, the others are still in the waiting room. I'll go let them know you are awake and double-check if you are allowed non-family visitors," Kat says. She moves towards me taking both my hands in hers, Kyra letting out a whine at the loss of contact with me, before putting something in my hand. "You got this," She whispers pressing a kiss to my forehead. I nod giving her a grateful smile as I feel the ring intended for Kyra in my hand. Kyra looks at me in confusion having heard Kat's words.

"You got what?" She asks. I smile and holding her hand in mine before taking a deep breath.

"When we met I knew you'd be the one for me. The way you brought out my chaos and the way I reigned in some of yours I knew we were perfect for each other. I had something planned a bit more our style but we are nothing if not spontaneous, so…with that said Kyra Lillee Cooney-Cross, will you marry me?" I ask holding out her ring in the palm of my hand. She looks at me in shock, before nodding her head.

"Of course I will!" She exclaims grabbing my face and bringing me into a searing kiss. I smile holding her waist in my hands as best I can with our current positions. I pull back when air is needed, resting my forehead on hers. "I love you," she whispers. I smile pressing another kiss to her lips.

"I love you too. Now I believe this belongs to you," I say holding her left hand in one of mine as I slide her engagement ring on her ring finger with the other.

"It's perfect," she whispers. I look into her eyes and smile.

"So are you, my love." I whisper pulling her into another kiss. We are cut off by cheers coming from the door. We part and see Katrina, Clara, Alessia, Leah and Steph standing at my hospital room door, smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes as they move further into the room

"Finally!!" Katrina exclaims, causing the others including Kyra and I to laugh. "Welcome to the family officially pest," Kat says wrapping an arm around Kyra's shoulder.

"I couldn't ask for a better one," Kyra says, squeezing my hand. I smile and bring her in for another kiss, ignoring the teasing from those in the room. "I love you," she whispers to me again.

"I love you too," I whisper back.

[novaursa]

Legacy (the great war)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the silence

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril @urdxrling

Casterly Rock was alive with chaos. The deep-throated clang of alarm bells echoed through the great fortress, reverberating through the stone walls like a relentless war drum. Shouts rang out from the battlements, the harsh barks of commanders directing men to their posts, the hurried clank of armor as soldiers rushed into formation. Something was coming.

The cold had settled in thick, far colder than anything even the endless winter had yet brought. The air was wrong—heavy with something unseen but undeniably present. The fires in the braziers flickered, their flames weak, barely holding against the creeping frost that coiled over the stones. Even the torches along the walls sputtered, dimming as if some unseen hand was pressing the life from them.

Tywin stood atop the outermost battlement, his gloved hands curled over the icy stone as he surveyed the lands below. His face was carved from granite, but his eyes burned—with rage, with concern, with an anger that only sharpened when he turned his head toward the castle behind him.

"One of them got in," he said, voice cutting through the night. "Into my home. To my son."

Beric Dondarrion stood a few paces behind him, his sword slung at his hip, his expression shadowed beneath the flickering torchlight. His men stood further back, some whispering quiet prayers, others clutching their weapons tighter than before.

"They're testing us," Beric said grimly. "They always do. Probing our defenses, searching for weaknesses before the full force comes." He exhaled, the breath misting in the freezing air. "If this was meant to be an omen, Lord Lannister, then it means their army is not far behind."

Tywin’s jaw clenched. He turned his gaze toward the gates below, where the guards had gathered, weapons drawn, shields at the ready. The thing that had managed to slip past their walls was dead now—burned by Thoros’ prayers, but the mere fact that it had come inside—inside his halls, his castle, had reached his child—

He would not stand for it.

Kevan approached, his face lined with worry. "We've doubled the patrols, my lord," he reported, though even his usually level voice was taut. "The scouts are already sweeping the outer ridges for signs of more."

"It isn't enough," Tywin snapped. "They killed our ravens. They have cut our entire realm from one another. And now they have slipped into my walls. We are blind."

Kevan nodded, though his lips pressed into a thin line. "Then what do you propose?"

Tywin turned back to the vast darkness that stretched beyond the Rock. He was thinking. Calculating. Every strategy, every contingency, every possible outcome that could be drawn from this damnable war that had been forced upon them.

"You said their army is not far behind," he said, eyes never leaving the blackened horizon. "Then we must be ready to crush them the moment they arrive."

Beric exhaled through his nose. "That is easier said than done, Lord Lannister."

Tywin finally turned his head to him. His stare was cold, sharp as Valyrian steel. "Then say something of use."

Beric held his gaze. "If they are gathering to march, then they already know what we are capable of. The wights alone may be endless, but their masters—the Others—they are not so many as the dead. They are few, but powerful."

Tywin nodded once, as if already weighing those words. "We must separate them. Divide them. And if they are as few as you say, then we kill them before they can command their horde."

"You can’t kill them with steel," Thoros interjected, stepping forward. His face was solemn, lined with something close to dread. "Not unless it's Valyrian or Dragonglass."

Tywin’s eyes flickered. "We have both," he said simply.

Beric glanced at Thoros, a grim understanding passing between them. "Then we fight," he said.

A cutting gust of wind howled through the battlements then, sending a shiver down the spines of even the most hardened men. Tywin's cloak billowed behind him, his golden armor catching the weak torchlight as he straightened, his shoulders squared, his stance unmoving.

Still, something nagged at him.

The lack of word.

He had expected it by now. Something. Even if only a single rider, a distant glimpse of gold-cream scales in the sky, the return of his wife.

The thought sank into his chest like a stone.

Tywin’s fingers curled against the cold stone of the battlements, his gaze flickering toward the sky. Where was she?

He had sent her out days ago, and now—nothing.

The wind howled again, a deep, hollow sound.

And for the first time in a long time, Tywin felt something dangerously close to fear.

The wind howls as Viserion finally descends, her massive wings kicking up a storm of snow and ice as her claws scrape against the frozen earth. The impact sends a tremor through the ground, a deep rumble that echoes across the lifeless landscape. The dragon trembles. The deep, guttural sounds of her breathing are uneven—pained—as though something unnatural had tried to burrow its way into her skull.

You sit slumped in the saddle, your body drenched in exhaustion, your mind a mess of pulsing pain that has yet to fade. You barely remember the moment you broke free of the unnatural darkness. The voice—the screeching, echoing shriek that had burrowed into your head—still lingers, the ghost of it pressing at your temples, a remnant of something wrong.

With trembling hands, you touch your abdomen. Beneath the thick furs and leather, you feel it—the small, barely-there swell. The life within you.

A child.

A secret you have kept.

A secret that you know now, deep in your bones, that the Others are aware of.

The mere thought of it sends a cold chill through your spine, something far colder than the frozen wind biting against your skin.

Viserion lets out a soft, warning growl, the sound vibrating beneath you. You lift your head, forcing yourself to focus. The world around you is empty—eerily empty. This is no simple field, no mountain ridge or valley.

It is a graveyard.

Abandoned wagons, shattered weapons, and frozen corpses lay scattered across the snow. The bodies—men, women, even children—are covered in a thin layer of frost, their faces frozen in screams. The sight of them is enough to send bile up your throat.

Then, you see her.

A lone rider sits upon a dark horse, a figure draped in red.

The Red Woman.

Melisandre.

Your heart lurches.

The last time you saw the woman, you had cast her out. Had condemned her for sending a shadow to murder your unborn son.

Yet here she is.

Standing before you, waiting.

Viserion lets out another low growl, but the priestess does not flinch. Her eyes gleam under the hood of her cloak, unreadable, calm—as though she had foreseen this moment long before it had ever come to pass.

You tighten your grip on the saddle, slowly sliding down. Your boots hit the frozen ground with a soft crunch, your body unsteady as the ache in your skull makes you sway. Viserion shifts, lowering her massive head toward you, protective even in her weakened state.

Melisandre remains still.

"You should not have come," you rasp, your voice raw.

Melisandre inclines her head. "And yet, I am here."

There is no mockery in her tone. No arrogance. Only certainty.

Your lips curl. "I told you once to stay away from me."

"And yet, you need me now."

You laugh. A short, bitter sound. "I need nothing from you."

Melisandre finally dismounts. Her steps are slow, deliberate, the hem of her red cloak dragging through the ice and snow as she approaches. Viserion stirs, agitated. The dragon’s molten eyes glow, but Melisandre does not waver.

"You are wounded," she says softly. "And there is much you do not yet understand."

You straighten, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. "You should choose your next words very carefully," you say, voice cold. "Because I am in no mood for riddles or games."

Melisandre studies you.

Then, she says simply, "Come with me."

You still. "Why?"

Melisandre exhales, a mist of white escaping her lips. "Because Jon Snow awaits you."

The name sends a shock through your chest.

Jon.

You haven't heard word from him since Winterfell. Since the final ravens had ceased to come. Since the silence had swallowed the realm whole.

Your mind races.

Is he alive?

Is he—?

You swallow. "What game is this, Red Woman?"

Melisandre shakes her head. "No game." She lifts her gaze toward the horizon. "The battle you saw is coming. The Great War. And you have a part yet to play in it. The Lord of Light has willed it."

"The Lord of Light is a liar," you spit.

Melisandre does not flinch. "And yet, he brought back Jon Snow. As he will bring you back to him."

You clench your fists. The voice. The thing you had heard in the darkness—it had called to you. Had known you. You had felt it in your bones.

And you had seen them.

An army of endless dead.

You look toward Viserion. The dragon has stilled, but her golden eyes remain locked on the red woman, her wings twitching, the heat of her breath melting the snow beneath her feet.

A choice.

You turn back to Melisandre. To Jon.

To the war that is coming.

You exhale.

"Lead the way."

The wind howled as Viserion’s wings sliced through the bitter cold air, the sheer force of them sending loose snow into wild spirals below. The encampment came into view—a cluster of tents, Northerners clad in dark furs moving like shadows between fires that barely seemed to hold against the creeping frost. Even from above, you could feel it. The exhaustion, the tension—a people fighting against something far greater than themselves, struggling against the inevitable.

Viserion let out a low growl, her golden eyes scanning the land below as she prepared to land. The moment her claws scraped against the frozen earth, the camp stirred. Men rushed out from their tents, gripping weapons instinctively, eyes wide with awe and fear as they beheld the dragon that now loomed in their midst.

You could hear the mutterings.

"A dragon… Gods be good."

"Is that one from Dragonstone?"

"Not the selfproclaimed queen, the other…"

"The Targaryen who married the Lion."

But you barely heard them.

Because the tent flap had flown open, and Jon Snow was running toward you.

His black cloak billowed behind him, boots crunching heavily against the frozen ground, his breath fogging in the night air. There was something desperate in the way he moved, his expression torn between relief and disbelief.

"Mother!"

Your heart lurched.

Jon reached you just as you slid off Viserion’s saddle, barely giving you time to find your footing before his arms wrapped around you. His grip was tight, unyielding, as if he feared that if he loosened it even a fraction, you might disappear like a wisp of winter mist.

You exhaled, pressing your face against the familiar black furs of his cloak, the scent of cold steel and leather grounding you in a way you had not realized you needed.

Jon pulled back just enough to look at you, his grey eyes scanning your face with fervent urgency. "You’re alright?" His hands cupped your shoulders, as though checking for injuries, for something that might explain why it had taken you so long to come to him.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I’m here."

Jon exhaled heavily, his grip on you tightening briefly before he finally let go. He shook his head, his lips pressed into a firm line. "We thought something happened to you. There’s been no word from the West—no ravens, no messages. Nothing." His jaw tensed. "We thought the Rock had fallen."

Your chest clenched. The isolation was not just on your end. Whatever had been cutting the West from the rest of the realm was far worse than you had thought.

"It still stands," you assured him. "Tywin has fortified it. The lords of the Westerlands have gathered, ready to make their stand."

Jon's brows knitted together. "And yet, you’re here."

Before you could answer, a rough voice cut through the icy air.

"Is she a bloody ghost, or do my eyes still work?"

You turned as Tormund Giantsbane strode forward, his red beard dusted with frost, his wild blue eyes squinting at you as if trying to determine whether you were real. Behind him, Davos Seaworth followed at a slower pace, his expression more measured but no less filled with relief.

"She’s real," Davos confirmed, his lips tugging into the barest smirk. "Or at least I hope so, else we’ve all gone mad."

Tormund let out a barking laugh, shaking his head. "I always knew there was something strange about you, woman." He gestured toward Viserion with a broad wave of his hand. "And I see you still have your beast."

Viserion let out a low huff, golden eyes narrowing at the Wildling as if she understood the jest.

"She kept me alive," you said simply, your hand grazing over the slight swell beneath your furs.

Jon caught the motion. His gaze flickered downward, brows drawing together, but he said nothing. Not yet.

"We should talk inside," he finally said, nodding toward the largest tent at the center of the encampment.

You inclined your head, but before you moved, you turned back to Viserion. The dragon watched you intently, her wings half-folded, muscles tense as if she could feel the unnatural presence in the air.

"Stay close," you murmured to her.

Viserion blinked slowly, but did not move.

Tormund let out a huff. "You think she understands you?"

You merely smiled. "I know she does."

Then, you followed Jon Snow into the tent, stepping back into the war you had fought your whole life to prepare for.

The tent was dimly lit, the only sources of warmth being the low-burning brazier in the center and the flickering candles lining the wooden table. The cold crept in regardless, biting at the edges of the canvas, seeping into the ground beneath their feet. The air smelled of damp wool, of wax, and of steel left too long in the frost.

You stood near the table, the weight of your furs heavier than usual, though it was not the cold that burdened you. Jon, Davos, and Tormund stood across from you, their expressions grim. Behind them, a handful of Northern lords and Free Folk chieftains lingered in the shadows, their eyes flitting between you and the map sprawled across the table.

"I thought the North had fallen," you admitted, breaking the tense silence. "When the ravens stopped coming, we feared the worst."

Jon shook his head, his hands braced on the table. "It hasn’t fallen." His grey eyes flickered up to meet yours. "Not yet."

You frowned. "Then why are the dead not here? Why did I see them—miles and miles of them—heading West instead of taking the North?"

It made no sense. If the Others had breached the Wall, if they had truly begun their conquest, Winterfell should have been the first to fall. But instead, their forces marched past it, like wolves that had caught a stronger scent.

"They’re being drawn to something," Davos said carefully. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, like a man trying to walk through a field of glass without breaking it.

You turned to him. "What?"

"Something—or someone—has them focused elsewhere," Davos continued. He exhaled through his nose, rubbing a hand over his scruffy beard. "They passed through the North like a storm passing through empty fields. There were attacks, but not the full force of their army. No sieges. No massacres like what we’ve seen before."

"They move like they have a purpose," Jon muttered, jaw tightening. His fingers curled against the edge of the table. "A singular purpose."

A sense of unease coiled in your stomach. "And you believe that purpose lies in the West?"

Jon gave a slow nod. "They’re all moving there." His voice was low, heavy. "And if the ravens never reached you, it means someone or something is making sure the realm doesn’t see it coming."

Your lips parted, but no words came.

You thought back to what you had seen—the unnatural darkness, the snow that swallowed sound, the whispers that clawed at the edges of your mind. The creatures were not moving like mindless hordes. They were being led.

And now, every step they took brought them closer to Casterly Rock.

Jon’s gaze flickered toward you. He saw the way you stiffened, the way your fingers curled subtly over your abdomen again, as if shielding something.

He said nothing once more.

But Davos noticed, too this time.

"We assumed the worst when the ravens stopped," the older man admitted, leaning slightly on the table. "We thought the Rock had fallen." He gave you a pointed look. "You arriving here on dragonback—alone—doesn’t exactly help settle those fears."

"The Rock still stands," you said, your voice stronger now. "And Tywin Lannister has fortified it well. He has gathered every lord and banner under his command, all prepared to make their last stand if need be."

Jon scoffed. "I bet he has." His expression darkened slightly. "But we both know your husband, Mother. He won’t act until it benefits him."

You met his gaze squarely. "He will act because I will make him act."

Silence stretched.

Tormund snorted, arms crossed over his chest. "I believe that."

Davos huffed a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly.

Jon, however, did not look convinced.

His eyes searched yours for something. Some kind of assurance, some unspoken promise that you could do what no one else had—convince Tywin Lannister to fight for a world that was no longer his.

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

"If you can," he murmured, his voice just barely above a whisper, "then we might actually have a chance."

But neither of you were certain if even that would be enough.

The cold wind cut through the camp as you strode swiftly toward Viserion, your heart hammering in your chest. The moment you heard of the Others’ movements—of their march toward Casterly Rock—your body had acted before your mind. Your children were there. Tywin was there.

Viserion had barely begun to settle outside the encampment, her massive body coiled like a great snowdrift in the darkness, wings shifting restlessly. She knew. She always knew.

"You're leaving? Just like that?" Jon's voice was sharp behind you, hurried footsteps following.

You didn’t slow. "I have to. My family—my sons—they are there. I cannot stay here while the dead march toward them!"

Jon caught up to you, stepping in front of your path, blocking the way. His jaw was tight, the wind pulling at his black furs, his sword at his hip. Behind him, Davos and Tormund came just as quickly, their faces dark with concern.

"You’re not flying alone," Jon said. "It's too dangerous."

"Everything is dangerous!" you snapped, emotion laced in every syllable. "Every moment I waste here, they get closer! I cannot sit idly by while the Rock prepares for war—I have to be there, Jon!"

Jon’s eyes searched yours, frustration and something deeper warring behind them. "Sansa and Arya said the same when I left Winterfell," he murmured, voice low. "They wanted to go with me. To fight. But they had to stay behind because Winterfell needed them there." His fingers curled into fists at his sides. "And you are needed here."

Your chest tightened. "Casterly Rock is not Winterfell," you said, voice measured but firm. "And I am not Sansa or Arya."

Jon’s jaw ticked. He knew there was no stopping you, not when your children were at stake.

Davos stepped forward. "If you must go," he said carefully, "at least wait until we move. Our forces march for the Westerlands, my lady. If you fly alone into the dark, there’s no guarantee you’ll make it back to the Rock alive."

Tormund nodded in agreement. "Listen to the old man. You don’t know what’s waiting in that sky."

You shook your head, feeling the ache in your chest sharpen. "And if I wait? If I wait for your march to reach the Rock, what then? What if I return to nothing but ruins and ice?"

Jon took a slow, heavy breath. "And what if you return to your death?"

Silence stretched.

Viserion shifted behind you, her golden eyes locked onto the exchange, tail curling.

You exhaled sharply, gripping the hilt of your belt. "I have fought for my family before, Jon," you said, voice steadier now. "I will do it again. If my sons are in danger, I will not hesitate to act. Not now. Not ever."

Jon stared at you for a long moment.

And then, his shoulders lowered slightly, as if some great weight had settled there.

"...Then we will follow," he said at last, resigned. "We will all follow."

A sharp wind cut through the camp, rustling the banners, biting at the fires.

You turned to Viserion, who lowered her great head toward you, waiting.

Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed onto the saddle, pulling yourself up.

Jon and the others watched as Viserion’s wings unfurled, the earth shuddering beneath her feet.

"Be safe," Jon called over the rising wind.

You looked down at him, your expression softening just slightly.

"Tell that to Tywin," you murmured.

And with that, Viserion leapt into the sky, her roar tearing through the endless dark.

For days now, Casterly Rock had withstood the encroaching darkness, fighting off scattered raiding bands of the dead. Scouts reported isolated skirmishes beyond the cliffs, testing their defenses—small packs of wights slipping through the snow-covered ruins of abandoned villages, probing the fortifications of the Rock. Each time, the Lannister forces managed to push them back, burning the corpses until there was nothing left but blackened bones.

But this was different.

Tywin stood atop the battlements, his furs pulled tightly over his golden armor, the bitter wind slashing across his face. The cold had sunk into his bones, deeper than it had in his youth, but he ignored it, his gaze locked on the horizon.

The fires of the watchtowers flickered and died.

The torches along the walls shuddered.

A deep, suffocating stillness settled over the cliffs—one that clawed into the chest of every man standing guard. Even the wind had gone silent.

And then, they saw it.

A wave of darkness, stretching from one end of the horizon to the other. A wall of glowing blue eyes, unmoving, waiting. It was not like the previous raids—this was a force beyond comprehension, an army so vast that it swallowed the distant land behind it, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Thousands upon thousands stood motionless, weapons in hand, dead faces blank and hollow.

Kevan sucked in a sharp breath beside him. "Seven Hells…"

Thoros of Myr gripped the hilt of his sword, his breath a cloud of mist. "They’ve come."

The army of the dead had finally arrived.

A tremor ran through the castle walls, as if the very stone recoiled at the presence of such unnatural horror. Tywin’s face remained unreadable, but his mind was already calculating, moving through possibilities and strategies like a machine.

Behind him, Lannister soldiers shifted uneasily, gripping spears, axes, and swords lined with dragonglass. The men of the Westerlands had faced Rebellions, revolts, wars for crowns and vengeance. But never this.

One of the younger knights stepped forward, his voice almost a whisper. "What… what do we do?"

Tywin did not look away from the impossible force before him. His voice was calm, controlled.

"We hold."

The knight swallowed, fear visible in the tightness of his jaw.

"Send out the signal," Kevan ordered to the men below. "Every outpost, every soldier within a day’s ride. We need every sword at the walls."

A horn bellowed from atop the battlements.

The call echoed through the stronghold, a deep, ancient sound that carried across the windless night, bouncing against the cliffs. The men below began their preparations in haste—dragonglass weapons were distributed, barrels of oil were hauled to the ramparts, and the gates were reinforced.

But Tywin knew.

They could not hold forever.

His mind was keen, ruthlessly logical. Casterly Rock was strong, but not impenetrable. This was not an army that could be broken by sheer force or numbers alone. If the dead were here, then their leader was close.

A deep rumbling echoed from below the castle.

The soldiers stiffened as Arraxes let out a guttural growl from the depths of the mines, the dragon sensing something unnatural in the air. The men muttered superstitiously, casting uneasy glances toward the tunnel entrance, where the beast had taken refuge.

Barristan Selmy stood at the head of the soldiers, his hand resting on his sword. "Where is she?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the murmurs.

Tywin did not need to ask who.

He turned his gaze to the sky, looking for a flash of dragon scales against the darkness.

But there was nothing.

Only the sound of the wind, and the army of the dead standing in eerie silence just beyond their gates.

The siege of Casterly Rock had begun.

[aangelinakii]

HALKIDIKI HOLIDAY.

— define "like."

summary : after going with damian and his family on holiday, pretending to be his girlfrienf no less, you realise pretty quickly that neither of you are pretending anymore. you've been simply friends for so long that it's difficult to cope with. it wouldn't make a difference if you just went back home, would it?

note : female reader !! apologies,, this was a request and they askef for a fem reader, but i have tons of other works with gender neutral readers :)

note 2 : i also hope it's okay that i changed some of the stuff because i decided to only write a certain chunk of the story, and i made it so they were friends before everything, so they aren't enemiez like you asked,, so sorry but i hope this is still okay !!

when your lifelong friend had offered you to go away with him and his family on a holiday to greece, you hadn't expected to be laying in your bed, staring out the window at the waves swishing in the darkness; what's more, you hadn't expected to have to pretend to date him.

you're not sure what the reason was, really.

maybe it was that damian felt out of place when dick asked bruce if he could bring along kory, his girlfriend, or when tim asked if bernard could come; this still left jason, duke, cassandra and steph without anybody. and it wasn't like bruce was bringing any love interests, either.

it was during lunch one day that damian sprung the question on you — "will you go to greece with me?"

it seemed quite forward at the time, but then after you asked your parents and whatnot, and came back to him the next day to say you could and that you were really excited, and to send you the details, you came to see really just how forward damian wayne could be.

his browny-green eyes stayed staring at his alfred-made sandwich as he unwrapped the cling-film, like he couldn't bear to meet your eyes as he said it. "and do you think you could pretend to be my girlfriend, too?"

at this point, your miso soup almost shot out your nose.

it had started off all fine, smiling and holding hands, but dropping them as soon as all eyes were off.

but after a week, sinking into him became all too easy; sitting on a terrace restaurant as the sun sank below the sea, and all you could look at was the way the oranges and pinks danced along his face. perhaps you should've looked at the sun.

each night you went back to your shared room, although bruce had forbade you from sharing a bed — much to both your relief — and talked long and deep into the night until one of you stopped responding, and only soft breathing followed, meaning it was time for the other to sleep.

before this trip, you'd been friends and that was that.

when he enrolled into gotham academy, you'd been eager to make a new friend, especially since he was such a loner at that time; strictly speaking, he still is quite, but you've forced him to open up his shell.

thinking about it, you didn't like him, of course you couldn't. you were friends and that's where the line ended.

eyes were supposed to wander when you splashed in the crystal greek waters with a cute guy your age, even more so when he tussled around with his brothers, muscles rippling with the waves.

it was just hormones, it didn't mean anything.

but now, the most you could see illuminating the world outside was the fragmented reflection of the white moon against the blackened ocean. the sheer curtains were pulled open, and the window had been pushed to, but not a breeze ran through the room.

you're not sure how long has passed since you and damian were talking after getting ready for bed, but one of you stopped speaking, and you were left here to rest, although your day played back in your mind.

that morning, your eyes had blinked open as the sun coming in through the curtains ebbed out of sight, something blocking its shine. standing before your bed — it would've been terrifying had you not been used to this for a week now — was one damian wayne, your boyfriend for this trip. his tan was dark, defining his features, the white t-shirt he wore a stark contrast, but making him look all the better; in one hand he had a ceramic bowl, santorini blue, with a spoon perched inside it.

"eat," he'd said, and you're sure you'd seen his jaw twitch, like he wish he'd been less brash but it was too late to go back.

after seeing dick take back kory a bowl of greek yoghurt, mountain honey and chopped peaches, damian had been doing it, too, though you weren't sure if it was because he wanted to or because he thought he was supposed to.

you weren't complaining anyhow.

biting your cheek to hold down a smile, you pushed yourself up, joints aching and cracking as you did so, and took the bowl from him.

this morning he'd added banana slices along with the usual peaches, but you weren't sure whether to comment on it — maybe he just hadn't been thinking; surely it hadn't been anything to do with wanting to give you a little more flavour and nutrients.

then, after eating, you'd changed into your swim stuff and joined the rest of everybody on the beach; maybe you were seeing things — heat does that to people — but, even in the water, damian seemed to straighten up and get a bit more rough playing around with dick and tim, like he was trying to be stronger than them or something.

it had to have been a mirage, your eyes playing tricks on you.

after dinner — another one of those terrace restaurants with the sunset and you can't even focus on your food — you and damian stood in the mirror, struggling to bite back smiles as you brushed your teeth. although your mouths hung either wide or clenched shut, the crescent of both eyes was impossible to miss, and the gap between your shoulders was practically non-existent.

and then once you'd got into bed, lights off, listening to the rest of the villa get ready to sleep, the two of you talked mindlessly, but you weren't getting any more tired.

recalling it now, it must've been damian who'd stopped talking first, letting your statement on how good your souvlaki had been that you would definitely be dreaming about it later hang loose into the darkness, and you'd stayed staring out the window since.

he had to be asleep by now.

shuffling in bed, you redirected your gaze to the bed at the wall opposite yours, where, although you couldn't see much of him, the outline of damian's shoulders shuddered with sleep.

if he were awake right now, sitting on the floor, leaning back against the bed frame, laughing with you like it didn't matter it was keeping jason and duke up next door, you'd be watching how his cheeks, kissed a rose by the sun during the day, plumped up with his smile.

oh, god...

never in your life had you counted the beauty spots on someone's face, or revelled in the mess of their hair after a shower.

never in your life had you memorised the lines on someone's hand, or laced up someone's shoes when they couldn't do it themselves.

you were just friends, you couldn't... you couldn't be.

suddenly, all the souvlaki you were sure to dream about gurgled in your stomach, and you were quick to sit up so it would all settle back down there. you couldn't have fallen in love so quickly, could you?

and, in the dead of night — the time when all decisions made little sense — there was only one thing left for you to do: leave.

being here for a week already, you knew the town stayed up deep into the night, and you could probably find a taxi to thessaloniki airport with the click of your fingers; the only problem being staying in a house of vigilantes, where any creak of a floorboard was bound to wake the whole villa up.

regardless, you decided you were going to take any chances, and you carefully pulled your feet out of the light covers, a light shiver running up your legs as your toes came into contact with the cold linoleum.

constantly checking over your shoulder to make sure damian was still facing the wall, snoozing away — though he certainly was rather quiet — you quietly approached your suitcase in the corner of the room.

knees clicking as you kneeled down, you, as silently as possible, unzipped it round, leaving it open so you could gather all your things.

"are you looking for something?"

a voice breaking the silence of the night, your body gave an immense jolt, sending a spring through your shoulders, and you spun around to find damian sitting up in his bed, eyes almost seeming to glow with the way the moonlight hit them.

"fuck, damian!" you whispered, heart still thumping like a rabbit's when you pressed a hand to your chest. "you scared the shit out of me."

damian reached over and clicked on the lamp, filling your shared room with an amber light, of which you could audibly hear whirring through its wire.

trying not to change your plan with him staring so intently you could feel holes drilling into the back of your head, you continued rummaging through your bag, stuffing a t-shirt you weren't even sure was yours in there.

"what are you doing?" damian's voice asked, soft but confused that it was evidently difficult to not be a little forward.

after a few breaths in and out, you turned around, rising fully to your feet, as self-conscious as it made you feel. "i can't stay here anymore, damian, i'm sorry."

in the dim light, you mistook a flash in his features; a furrow in his brow causing a crease in his forehead, the corner of his lip twitching.

"why not?" he asked first, then, after a few silent beats. "have i done something?"

your head began to move before your mouth did. "no, not at all, it's not that... i can't say."

now you really saw it — it wasn't just a trick of the dark — his mouth was tugging down in the corners, very alike to a frown. "why not?" he asked again. "please tell me. i can fix it."

"you can't, though, that's the thing." and you turned to look out the window, arms coming to fold over your chest. you were so close to the open window that you could hear the water sloshing even from here. "i'm going home."

another gap of silence.

"i think that's a bit dramatic," damian replied, but his voice wasn't harsh. "if anybody has made you feel uncomfortable, i can talk to them. anything you want."

a long breath brushed from your nose, and you began to step back to your bed. when you crawled back on top of the messed covers, you sat your back against the cool wall and drew your knees to your chest, hugging them close like it would save your from this illness they called love.

"i just don't fit in with your family here," you shrugged. it was easy to lie, but, with damian, difficult to make it believable.

"that's not true," he shot back without a beat. "bernard is having fun, tim told me. and kory is from an entirely different planet; their beaches probably rival our earth's, and i can tell she likes it here. we embrace both of them, so i know my family embraces you."

shaking your head uncertainly, you let out a shaky sigh. "what's there to embrace? we're lying to them, we're not actually dating."

with a quick glance his way, you saw the crease in damian's brow soften. no way he'd forgotten you weren't actually dating. surely not.

"you're right, we're not," was all he returned with. his hands had began to fidget with the linen bed sheet.

yet another empty song filled the room, a fluttering of eyelashes but gazes never meeting.

"can you turn the light off?" were the words you spoke when you finally broke the absence of sound. damian wasn't one to ignore your wishes.

once the room was bathed in black once again, you felt less vulnerable, less seen. damian couldn't see you — he knew you were there, but he couldn't see you. if he wanted to, he could reach out, get up from his bed and step over to find you, but even then he'd just be groping around in the darkness for a warm body that he'd never find.

with one deep breath, you spoke again.

"i'm not your girlfriend, but it's feeling too real. i think that's why i want to go home; because i hate the thought of lying to you or your family anymore."

"i know we're lying to my family, but how are you lying to me? we're just pretending." he didn't sound accusatory, just confused.

lips trembled, tremoring to stay together, aching to come apart and spill it all. when a big beast is fighting against you, it's difficult to hold it back.

"i'm beginning to think i'm seeing you in the way a real girlfriend would see her boyfriend. and i can't do it, i can't let that happen. it would ruin our friendship, ruin everything we spent years building. it would be easier for me to go back home and pretend like none of this ever happened."

with a blink, you turned back to damian's side of the room, only for the view to be obscured.

you craned your neck up, and, instead of perched in his bed still, damian wayne stood by your bedside, fingers still fidgeting, but now with the light linen trousers he'd bought from the merchant in town.

for a moment your heart stopped — would he slap you for being so stupid? shout at you? shove you? eat you? god, you hope not, that would be going a bit far.

when his arm flinched by his side, moving an inch, your body stilled, but it took a lot to not outwardly start.

carefully, slowly, he rose his arm, bringing a soft hand to your head.

first it was the tips of his fingers that made contact, like a watt of electricity jolting through your bones, starting at your hair follicles, and they brushed back sweetly along your scalp. once they'd done one full sweep, they pulled back and came back to where they'd started, doing the action again, softer.

"so be my real girlfriend."

not the answer you were expecting to that.

your forehead tightened as your eyebrows pulled together in a furrow. "what?" you couldn't help but blurt.

damian pulled back, the hand running itself through your hair finding his other hand and cracking the knuckles cathartically. "no more pretending. for either of us."

despite his words, you could practically feel the nerves radiating off him, a warmth that seemed to be embarrassed to be so warm. an uncertain kindness.

"you... what?" you stammered again, that ill feeling in your stomach beginning to subside finally.

and then he had the audacity to laugh — well, more of a chuckle, damian wasn't much of a laugher. but he turned on his heel and began to step towards the gap in the curtains. "i think you're amazing; i think you're intelligent, but really? i'm surprised you hadn't figured it out."

"figured what out?"

"what guy asks a girl to pretend to be his girlfriend on a vacation with his family? no sane guy, that's for sure." he gave a scoff directed at himself, and you could see a moonlit silhouette shake its head in self-deprication. "i don't know why i did it. i sort of regretted saying it when i did—"

then he quickly spun around. you couldn't see his expression, but you could guess alarm. "that's not me saying i regretted bringing you— i suppose i just realised afterwards that it was quite forward. i would have said no if i were you, but..."

"but here we are," you breathed, finishing the sentence for him.

"yeah..."

a new heavy cloud hung low, like a fog of confusion.

"so, you like me?" you finally asked, watching him in faint curiosity.

"i'm not sure 'like' is a strong enough word," damian replied with a chuckle, which ended in a gulp. he brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his head awkwardly. had he already ruined this? "are you still leaving?"

this was what he was most worried about.

but your lips only curled up.

"hell no."

[lordofmelancholy]

Arcane Silent Frontiers: Isha and Jinx's Relationship

Alright! Time for something new! The (tragic) Relationship between Isha and Jinx in Silent Frontiers

Now for those who read This (if you haven't go read it), you might have notice that I put down one of the inspirations for Isha's character in SF as not only just Ellie from The Last of Us but also Joel as well.

This is because, both Isha and Jinx take the "Joel" role in this AU; which is basically a fancy way of stating that both of them have major attachment issues stemming from trauma and apparent abandonment. Because of this, both Isha and Jinx actually don't get along to each other as quickly as they do in the show. The need to Bond is there, but Isha often finds it hard to gain attachments towards people following immense heartbreak in her life, and is in many ways similar to Jinx in this notion. However what should bring them together, instead makes it hard for them to do so. There's a pull of course that neither can understand, but it's a pull that tends to lead them both at the current time to face first into a wall. They have to break that wall and it's a process. Its literally has to build up. But with every build up, there can be an explosion which with Isha and Jinx happens.

Thus then comes the Isha (ellie) and Jinx (Joel) parallel Remember This Scene, in the first TLOU

Well. . .Jinx and Isha basically go through the same thing Despite the attachment issues, throughout the story of SF, Isha does end up getting close to Jinx much like she does in the show. This however is where it gets complicated for JINX because Jinx's whole thing IS the fear of getting close to someone in a world that tends to take them away too easy.

The only one she's EVER close to is Ekko. He's been her rock since they were kids. But anyone else doesn't get as close easily and it's just how she's been for years.

She's been so stuck in her ways that It honestly scared her how quickly she got attached to Isha she got and as a result her first instinct is to push away.

To not only protect others, but herself.

Jinx's biggest breaker in this whole thing was the fact that Isha once accidentally called her mama by mistake and Jinx's first instinct was to fear the word because she never expected it to make her feel good. It was what started the OG argument (similar to the one Joel and Ellie got into in the first game) and what had caused a small rift to form between the two of them, because Isha tried to get close but Jinx pushed back and thus Isha basically "gave up"

which she was actually starting to NOT DO because of Jinx.

Jinx ends up of course beating herself up over it later on down the line because she realizes how stupid she's actually been about all this. Realizing that Ekko was right, that everyone was right and even Isha was right about a lot of stuff. But her stupidity this time caused her to go and "Jinx" it cause it's obvious that Isha is distancing herself from JINX now and it's not the other way around

When what happens with Isha happens (basically what caused the events of the fic: Alone in this Platinum Field which can be found there in the link), Jinx is distraught over it because not only could she possibly loose Isha, but she'll also loose Isha at a point in time where there's a big chance that Isha hates her.

But the issue is, is even now Isha doesn't hate Jinx. And that's the sad part. Made even more sad with the fact that She never did, nor does she think she ever could

It's just that Isha's hurt

She's hurt because in the process of pushing her away, Jinx had also said things that just got Isha the wrong way

Because as we all know when Jinx is scared, Jinx can't shut up for shit and has to put her foot in her mouth.

Jinx never really leaves her side shortly after what happened. The issue with the field was something she couldn't avoid, it sucked but she couldn't. But after that she never strays too far. She's always close by. Always within reach. But while part of it is her just being observant, there's also another reason as to why.

She keeps trying to apologize

Every once in a while, sometimes in the dead of night, while everyone is asleep or at least trying to sleep. You could often hear whispers. Hushed sounds. And it's Jinx trying to talk to her. Trying to apologize. Shes trying to apologize because the thought that Isha is going to die with the thought of Jinx not caring in her head absolutely terrifies Jinx to no end now.

So every once in a while you'd hear a hushed apology. "'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it".

And sometimes when Isha's awake, at least long enough to actually hear those words somewhat, it would often seem like she would jump at the opportunity to accept it. To put it all behind them and forget about it all. But then she would get a look in her eye, as if she was remembering what exactly got said to her.

Playing it all back in her head.

and then Jinx would notice the sullen look. As if even now Isha couldn't bring herself even to forget. Or to forgive

But Jinx keeps trying to apologize.

And that's the sad part really in all this.

But what somehow makes it even worse. If that was even possible to begin with. Is the fact, that that's not the only thing Jinx tries to do. What she always seems to try despite it never working in the end.

She thinks the others don't hear her when she say's it. But they do. They always do. And it breaks their hearts to hear how desperate she sounds when she asks Isha to call her Mama once more.

Because they know the odds are slim now that she ever will. Not after everything.

But Jinx need's to hear her say it. She wants Isha to say it. Mouth it. Sign it. Garble Anything. Now more then anything

She doesn't care how Isha says it because at least if she does. At least if this is does turn out to be the end, Jinx can at least know and hold on to the warm feeling that Isha calling her Mama made her. Can hold on to that warmth at least for a while, just a little. Just long enough to help her cope with the fact that she may never get to hear it again if this truly is the end.

She hopes its not.

God she hopes its not

Because she still needs to make up for what she did.

So she's keep trying. As long as it takes. However long both her and Isha have left.

She knows she sounds selfish. Wanting Isha to say it now when there's a chance this might all be it. To say it now after pushing her away the way that she did. She knows it sounds selfish. Sounds cruel

She knows it probably is in some way. But its not. Really its not She's not being selfish nor is she trying to be cruel. Not really anyways. She just finally has come to accept something. Just a little too late. Just a little too much at the wrong time

But

"Just once. That's all. Call me mama again. Please just say it. Just once, that's all. You can say it. I wont be mad I promise…I won't just…-"

"Please?"

____

(Also as a added bonus in pain. Imagine Isha referring to Ekko as Papa by mistake when they make it back to the compound. They get her all fixed up for the time being and her being slightly drugged up for the pain, accidentally refers to Ekko as papa when he shows up to see them. Imagine being worried that she "did it again" and that she's going to be rejected by Ekko just like she was by Jinx. Imagine her being terrified of the potential rejection. Jinx did it, what's really stopping Ekko from doing it as well)

[luna-the-cretar]

Yall ever talk to yourself out loud as if you’re talking to an audience, and come to a conclusion?

Like, I was just talking to myself out loud about how it’s fair that people think that Twig is annoying and untrustworthy (I also think she’s pretty annoying at times), especially since she’s supposedly older than Gideon and runs her own fucking Inn, and yet acts like a child, and I said out loud something along the lines of “And yet around Gideon she acts like a 3yo, almost to the point where it’s almost manipulative”

Which, quite literally made me stop myself mid sentence, and repeat the phrase “To the point where it’s almost manipulative”

And now it fucking makes sense. She’s a warlock, and her patron is Baba Yaga (and now part of me suspects that she might actually be Baba Yaga based on the description of the Inn). It also makes sense why she acts this specific way towards Gideon and nobody else. I mean, Gideon got attached to her by the end of episode 19, and she fucking knows this. She only started acting like a child towards him once she realized that she has him wrapped around her finger. Which makes the trade-off between his groove and the sticks so much more sickening (especially since she seemed to know EXACTLY which stick was the wand).

And I think she “killed” herself on purpose, trying to get Kremy’s hat. She knew it’d upset Gideon. Maybe she hoped he would give up another thing just to get her back. I mean, it’s also odd that her puppet form just conveniently awakens when they need her? Like going into Thither, before going limp once more.

[mcytgaynessshowdown]

REMINDER THIS IS ON THE GAYEST CHARACTER!

Skizzleman

Number of submissions: 3 From: Hermitcraft, Life Series, Naked and Scared Headcanons: Gay, Reasons: - “I know you want my spit.” “..I could take a piss in your mouth.” “I can’t beat off four people!” “man meat.” “G-spot” “G-String” to name a few… hes the straightest man to the point of being a bit fruity - Skizz (le man) x ImpulseSV. They are very dad and them together is the ultimate power couple, in my unbiased opinion. - Impulse and Skizzleman act like a married couple sometimes and historians would call them best friends. - The Imp and Skizz podcast, nuff said. A co-creator has quite literally said that they are NOT beating the allegations. Skizz was almost an HOUR late to something he had planned because he wanted to hang out with Impulse for longer. - he is the goofiest gay dad lesbians want as a father.

Smallishbeans

Number of submissions : 7 From : Hermitcraft, Life Series, Empires SMP, SOS SMP Headcanons : Bisexual, Gay Reasons: - shipped with everyone and is obsessed with fellow (male) mcyt ethoslab - Obsessed with four different guys but denies it also has a thing for neck kisses - Talks about neck kisses and makes jokes abt how everyone is obsessed with him - Etho. Jimmy. Need I say more? - he is married to a woman but so intensely committed to the bit that he’ll put that aside - He has a “child” with Sausage in Empires, Etho exists, he has called Jimmy “babe” (this doesn’t really count but he’s open up episodes of Hermitcraft with something along the lines of “Hello idiots welcome back to ‘why are these these men obsessed with me SMP’” sooooo ya:D - He’s the definition of a chaotic bisexual. He is the epitome of ‘be gay do crime’. - He has a wife and despite this he still has men chasing him, he calls Jimmy ‘babe’, he’s obsessed with a Canadian man who he also called ‘babe’ after being complemented by said Canadian man while playing the Canadian man’s game (this is Etho if you haven’t caught on by now), and I swear to god everywhere he goes he manages to flirt with and attract even more men. - he's obsessed with etho

[letmeeatyoursoul]

Hatefuck with Thanos

Angels note: more like hatesuck i guess but wtvr.. this is my first request so i hope its good! Ermmm i was fighting sleep at the end of this so it might seem rushed…. Also it deleted the first half of it and so i gave up on like adding a real intro. But you basically pissed him tf off during mingle for being a bit rude

About 30 minutes had passed by and everyone was getting ready for lights out, including you. You crawled into your thin mattress covered bed, laying on your side and thinking about every rude comment you said to Thanos. After lights out, you got up to use the restroom, thanking the guard and quickly making your way to a stall. You looked at yourself in the mirror after finishing, wiping your clean and wet hands off on your jacket. You heard the door open and close, followed by footsteps. Your heart dropped when you saw a 6 foot tall figure with purple hair behind you in the mirror. “Thanos! What are you doing in the restroom.” He covered your mouth with his hand, “Shut the fuck up, jesus.” You looked at his pupils that were blown wide, he was high. “You don’t know when to shut your mouth ever, do you?” He looked you up and down, putting his hands on your shoulders aggressively. “If this is about earlier, I’m sorry for—“ you were rudely cut off by his lips crashing into yours. You tried to pull back gently, “Thanos what are you—“ He shushed you with his finger, “shhh…i need this..please.” His voice was slurred slightly but still laced with anger. You stuttered as you looked up at him, him mocking your stuttering, making you shut up. You looked up at him and nodded, giving him approval to continue. “Thank fuck..” he mumbled as he pulled you into an angry, sloppy kiss. He ripped the zipper of your jacket down, attacking your jawline with his mouth, sucking and gnashing his teeth against your skin. “You’re a fucking bitch sometimes, y’know that?” You winced softly as he pinched your skin in between his teeth, making you whimper. He took your jacket off, “arms up.” You obeyed his ask, letting him take your shirt off. “See, isn’t it better to be cooperative and a nice girl?” You avoided eye contact with him out of guilt, watching his manicured nails snake behind you to roughly take your bra off. He sighed, palming your breast softly compared to his other touches. He stepped back slightly, taking his shirt off, his jacket already probably lying on his bed. You could see the waistband of his boxers and a light happy trail along with his v line. Damn was he lean. You watched his cold gaze stare holes into you, making you exhale shakily. He grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks to make you open your mouth, spitting in it. “Get on your knees.” You nodded, dropping to your knees, looking up at him. The look on your face alone was lewd enough to make his dick hard to where it hurt. “Do i have to get it out for you or can you use your fucking brain?” You hooked your fingers over his sweatpants waistband, pulling it down along with his black boxers. Your eyes widened softly as you watched his cock sprung up, slapping against his lower abdomen. You brought your head forward, giving his pink tip kitten licks softly. You felt his hand grab your hair gently, making a makeshift ponytail. He very slightly pushed your head forward. “C’mon baby,” he gestured for you to suck his cock. You followed his request, opening your mouth to take a few inches in your mouth, your tongue licking the underside of his shaft. You felt him thrust into your mouth, making his tip hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water. You moaned against his cock, bobbing your head up and down. You grabbed the base of his dick, taking almost all of him in your mouth, making him groan softly.

“Finally doing something right,” he snickered softly at his own words, making you whimper quietly. You brought your hand to cup his balls, bringing your head forward to deepthroat his dick, a small gag coming from you. You felt his hand keep your head there, not letting you pull back. “Breathe through nose, dumb bitch.” You put a hand to his thigh for support, feeling him let you pull back, your slobber coating his length. You pulled away to cough slightly before going back to his cock to suck on his tip, making him moan. You jerked his dick with your right hand as you continued. You felt his cock twitch in your hand ever so slightly, making you jerk him off faster. You opened your mouth, waiting for him to orgasm. You saw him tilt his head back, “fuckkk, just like that.” He let out a low groan as he felt his release inch closer and closer. You felt his cum shoot out on your lips and tongue, some getting on your nose. He moaned rather loudly, feeling you stop your hand. You stood up, his cum still on your tongue and lips. He pulled his pants up, tucking his now soft cock back into his boxers. He watched you spit out his cum, he didn’t really care, the drug making him feel rather carefree now. He couldn’t even remember why he was mad with you. He watched you put your clothing back on, a smirk on his face. “Lets go back now, the guard is probably getting impatient dontcha think?”

[harmonysanreads]

We literally have no information about Anaxa and yet I find myself simping for him, how great.

Anyways, I have a feeling that Anaxa is going to be cursed or something along those lines, he gives off those sort of vibes, doesn’t he? Plus, he has some weird mark on his hand and an eye patch, there is no way that this man is an ordinary scholar. How about you, Harmony-san? Any ideas for Anaxa? :o Also, I like to imagine that yandere! Anaxa is delulu lol.

Darling: How- Why are you in my house, and who are you!?!?

Anaxa: ……You’re my lover, isn’t it obvious to spend time with your beloved?

Darling: I don’t even know who you are…..

I would go absolutely feral if his pet name for darling was ‘beloved’ or something along those lines, like aaaaa I love him so muchhhh orz

(And, if possible, can I please be 💫 anon……? I’ve always loved your works, but never had the courage to send an ask…. But I do plan to send more since I have severe brain rots, so I think you’ll be seeing me lurking more in your posts lol)

Of course! Welcome to this... uhh brainrot dump 💫 anon! Have a cup of tea <3

Not so much as being delulu but, there is the popular hc of Anaxa being autistic, which I agree with as well. There's npc dialogue that hint towards a Chrysos Heir who is very nitpicky about the water's temperature in the baths, there's also some that suggest that Anaxa might not be very well-received around Amphoreus. Which, him being a heretic and all, makes sense. They also call him a yapper, but I think it's a bit of an exaggeration on the npc's part. He's a fundamentally quiet man, but he's simply passionate (in his own way) about the topics he has interest in.

So, my current perception of him is that he's someone who doesn't conform to societal standards without strong (preferably logical) evidence. This bias has contributed to a detachment from human and emotional connection, making him inexperienced and frankly, quite dense towards those prospects. Even if he understands the concept of loving someone on paper, he isn't bright in processing the emotions that are stirring inside right off the bat. And this lack of understanding makes him a bit unintentionally impulsive when it comes to the outer reaction part.

For Yandere!Anaxa, I've been on board with him being devoted to his darling to counteract his lack of faith since they revealed him. You could either go with him having fully accepted darling as his savior or, just keep him in that ‘conflict’ zone where he's questioning his whole existence from the mere realization that he's that endeared by someone. For nicknames, I like the sound of beloved as well, especially if it's said very sarcastically. But I think a concept or object that is very particular to him would be even more precious. We'll just have to wait for the details.

[dehlizalah]

Namgyu : Friends With Benefits Head Cannons

Warnings: nsfw / Drugs / spit kink / slight description of sex / slight abuse / possessive

Hello fellow namgyu apologists 🙏🙏 I’ve been wanting to post sm like this for a long time ! This is a little icky but wtv

• When you’re angry with him, he’ll just stand there and take whatever you have to say. Weather you get angry and decide to slap him, he’ll take the slap and continue to stare at you until your done. If your arguing he’ll probably try to grab your hands to make sure your listening. Not necessarily in an aggressive way, but more frustrated. Every time you talk he’ll slightly bite his lips or inner cheek, out of habit. After arguing he’d probably completely ignore you for a few hours, expecting you to come and make things better again, he doesn’t want to be seen as weak or vulnerable, so begging for your forgiveness is not his style. Although he doesn’t come to you at first, if it’s been a few days he’ll try to approach you slyly and try to get on your good side by trying to hold hands or him patting your shoulders while you do something.

• He becomes way more affectionate on some kinds of drugs, it really just depends on what he’s taken. On weed, you noticed that he would become more clingy and more willing to please you, more hungry for you but is also a little lazy on cannabis. on cocaine he is more confident with himself and is usually quite cocky. When you visit him at the club, it’s like drawing out a wildcard, he may be out of his mind on drugs, talking to other girls or hiding in the nearest corner trying to count the seconds till his shift is over.

• That man definitely has a spit kink… As you kiss, he would try to muster up enough spit so he could pass it to you through your lips and make it sit in your mouth. After you swallow it, he would whisper something along the lines of…

“You like my spit? You’re so disgusting” into your ear as he smirked and slightly laughed to himself. Whenever appropriate, he would try to use spit. It didn’t matter to him, if it was on his hands before he attentively stuck two fingers into you, watching your eyes roll back to the back of your skull, or aggressively spitting on your breasts just to see it drip down your chest.

“So beautiful” He says as he scans his dark evening dust eyes all over your body, watching the spit drips from top to bottom.

• On days you couldn’t go to see him, you’d send him a quick photo of your body, sometimes not even getting a reply from him until a few hours later, regardless of wether he had read it the second you sent it. He wanted to play hard to get, like you not being able to come over to see him meant that you didn’t love him. He loved to play bratty.

• Your relationship with namgyu is more of a close friends with benefits situation. He treats you like his girlfriend, but it hasn’t been labeled whatsoever. Having asked Namgyu about it, he had always said “Why does everything have to have a name.. like why can’t we just do what we do?”

This hurts a little, because you want a relationship with him. You want to be able to post cute stories about him on your instagram, you want to have the stereotypical romance story relationship that all of your friends have, but namgyu is against the idea. Like he’s scared of commitment, scared of the idea of being emotionally wedged to a person. You know he loves you, in his own strange way, but he is cold. Bad at showing true feelings. You once confronted him about it, he waked out and ignored you for days, then came back, the first thing he did was touch you. You hate how easily you give into him. You hate how you’d always come back for more, no matter what he did.

[messrsrarchives]

Hi Robyn. I appreciate you taking the time to always articulate your thoughts on Rowling and topics like that. I was wondering if you have thoughts on this or an answer to this question:

In a recent post you said things like "there's no ethical way to engage" and that you're trying to do "the least amount of harm possible." A few years ago, I believed these things very literally and believed it was completely immoral to engage in HP at all or engage in the fandom at all, and therefore I did not. Now obviously my beliefs have changed and I no longer believe it's so immoral I can't interact with it, and obviously neither do you or any of the rest of us. Are you able to articulate why? If there's no ethical way to engage, how do you justify being in the fandom? If you're trying to do the least amount of harm possible, do you believe you're still doing harm by being in the fandom and how do you justify that? If this is all inherently unethical and harmful, why are we doing it? How is it morally justifiable to be in the HP fandom at all, to post about it and therefore "promote" it? How do you justify to yourself being in the fandom?

I don't know the answer to that, and since you're someone who often has thoughts on this sort of subject I hope you are able to articulate this in some way that makes sense. I know it's a big question that may not even really have an answer, but I would like to know your thoughts or feelings about it if you'd like to answer.

Secondly, have you ever written up one single list along the lines of "things I believe we should not do"? Like listing it all out in one post: don't watch the hbo show even if you have a subscription, don't post about the show, don't comment on fancasts' posts, don't spend money on merch, don't post merch even if you didn't pay for it, and so on.

Thank you so much <3

HIII !!! always here to yap about these things <33 this is going to be so long i'm sorry !

i think one of my pinned videos on tiktok talks about guilt. there's so much guilt for engaging here and i know that i'm not the only one who, not only feels that, but feels as though it's a lot heavier recently. regardless of how you're engaging, we're promoting her universe and we are complicit, and there's so much guilt that comes with that.

but i think sometimes guilt is useful. i think there's a certain amount of guilt in this scenario that,,, i don't know? makes you better?? i think if you feel a bit guilty for being here, then you're aware and you're more likely to be conscious about your engagement. i think if you're not feeling at least the slightest bit guilty for being here, chances are you're unaware about the effects (whether direct or not) and you're too comfortable. we see a lot of people say "well i'm queer she hates me anyway" or "well i read stories she would hate" or "this fandom is everything she hates" etc etc as if our mere existence here is,,, an act of protest? but i don't see it as that. i don't see me engaging here as an act of protest, i see everything else as one.

and i guess that's why i came back to these spaces. i was told about ATYD by a friend and i already knew the basics about JKR, so my first action was to reread the books for the first time in years and try to see if anything read differently - a lot more stood out because i was more aware, and i spent a solid two weeks just doing research and thinking "okay, if i go into this, what do i need to do?"

at that point, all i thought i had to do was boycott and not put the same ideals into fanfiction, but it's a lot more intense than that. there's the risk of promoting a fic of someone who doesn't stand with us, or of commenting on something in a promoting way, or of showing off old merch and not specifying etc etc - there's a lottt of hidden ways we promote her without realising. that's also why i don't tend to talk About the books unless i'm recalling canon information for a plotline. or the movies unless i'm doing the same.

i think where you say "how do you justify being in the fandom" the most important word there for me is You.

there's the basics, of course: don't profit her, don't post things that profit her, don't perpetuate her ideals, don't promote harry potter in random comment sections, don't talk about the reboot even if you aren't watching it etc etc.

and then everything else is You. once you've got the basics of ethical (as much as possible) engagement, the justification part comes down to you personally. what do you need to do? what will make it feel safer for you? what will make you feel more comfortable? what balances it out for You?

for me, that's talking about it. and it comes off very lecture-like and like i'm scolding people and on one hand,, yes. it's a lecture, it's education, it's demonstrating what to do. but on the other, it's for me? it's for Me. and for Me to justify being in this space, it's to be loud and vocal. i've always said not everyone needs to be loud about it! i think forced activism is harmful but for Me personally? it's the talking about it that justifies it. for every negative comment that i get, i get 10 people that didn't realise the impact. for every person that says "this is such a non-issue" i get a DM from someone else asking more questions or thanking me for talking about it.

for every person in the fandom that doesn't value trans lives and lets me know that, i get 10 trans people who thank me for being loud about it.

and i think that's it for me. formulating a safe bubble for me and everyone else that has been harmed feels like justification. i won't ever be able to change her views or make a mass change, i'm just one guy without much to offer, but i can get one dm from a trans person who is glad to have found a space and,,, yeah. i can make A difference. i'm glad.

and then that all comes together when it comes to me posting. posting even fics is promoting her but i like to think (maybe potentially ignorantly, i'm not sure) that if someone new(er) to the fandom fics a video i've made on the fyp and they want to know more, they'd swipe across to my account, hypothetically. and then they'd find the jkr playlist, they'd find the pinned videos, they'd find the yap playlist and the jkr powerpoint etc etc, and i - definitely ignorantly - like to think that it balances out somewhere. maybe. hopefully. it definitely does more than just posting about the fandom/studios/merch on something like tiktok with an incrediblyyyy loose algorithm and not mentioning anything at all.

it's a hard balance. it's a hard balance of wanting to educate but not wanting to come off kind of,,, like superior? dictorial? placing myself above everyone? but also not wanting to sit back. and i don't think i've found that balance yet, but that's okay! it's all a curve.

for someone else it could be that they add the disclaimers to their fics and don't talk about it publicly often. like here on tumblr is very different to over on tiktok, and i'm sure justification works different on a systemic level here than there. or for someone else it could be that they simply read someone else's talks about it and try to adapt. it could be anything really, it's so individual!

you can justify it however you need to, as long as you have the basics down and you're not causing harm. as long as your justification isn't rooted in assauging your guilt (by that i mean for example, "im queer and jkr hates me anyway so i'll go the studios in protest" because that causes harm)

but at the end of the day i think it comes down to not letting TERFs win. at the end of the day i think we all justify it by not letting them take away another thing we love, even if it's something as silly as a magical universe. it means a lot to us, we aren't going to give it up for someone like her.

so we make a change. we don't separate art from artist, that causes harm. we don't call it reclaiming, you can't reclaim IP of someone still living and profiting.

but we can claim a bubble within it, and we can surround ourselves with people that get it and some of us will step out of the bubble and try to get more people to join us, others will be happy just staying in there and enjoying their time, and we all just get to Breathe.

i don't know. this is long and rambly and i don't think i'll ever justify it fully. i think i'll always feel guilty and i'll always talk about it and i think i'll always have moments where i wonder if maybe i am doing more harm, or times where i feel like i'm screaming myself hoarse and people don't seem to get it but,,, i also have 20,000 people that i didn't have before. and lifelong friends. and communication skills i didn't have, and a rekindled love for something that dominated my childhood.

and i feel good, i think. about the way i've gone about it. i think the version of me that bought crusty and dusty falling to pieces books off of etsy and sat there highlighting things would be proud that this is the way we take it, and i think the 15 year old version of me that realised he was trans and threw everything away would be proud too.

and i think that's how i justify it.

am i making myself proud with this? am i proud of how i went about this, and will i be proud when everything unfolds and we see the harm reach it's peak? will i be proud of what i did to Try?

and i think that's the big question to be asking ourselves.

(and in terms of one post, i have a PDF powerpoint here that explains a Bit, but - not to just promote myself lmao but who's reading all of this actually - i will be releasing three episodes of my podcast this week ALLL about jkr! (1) things in the books (2) twitter, political action, robert galbraith books and (3) fandom responsibility - and that third one will contain everything. for now at least. it's constantly changing but for now, it will include everything we need to do to keep this space safe and comfortable and as ethical as possible)

[woof-squiggles]

mephone4s being a racer!

where's that one quote where one of the core 3 said that most mephones would have the ability to drive or something along those lines

also bonus 4s in a full car because i drew it before completely changing the composition

[v1olent-l1ttle-th1ng]

It’s been 2 weeks since Onyx Storm came out so I feel ok posting this now. This contains spoilers for Onyx Storm below the cut so if you haven’t read it or aren’t finished reading it scroll away!!!

So, after fishing the book, and re-skimming through multiple times, as well as sitting it with it for a while, here are some thoughts that I have. I also have several theories, for not only what this book revealed but also the Empyrean series as a whole. I’m planning to do weekly posts for that, so each theory gets its own focus. If that’s something you’re interested in stay tuned!

-First, Violets second signet is dream walking! I literally predicted this!! I felt like a genius when I read it. That’s all.

-Second, if there can be corrupt riders, why can’t there be good venin??? I mean all Xaden’s ever used his power for is destroying venin and wyvern and protecting Violet. He’s never actually done anything bad. So if a corrupt rider is bad, then can a corrupt venin be good?

-Third, I think Aaric took the missing the dragon eggs. He’s a precog, so he obviously knows something is up. Plus the queen of Unnbriel said she’d help them IF they brought her dragon eggs. Him and Molvic are seen flying AWAY from battle (south) when everyone is headed into it. Violet and Tairn both comment on how weird it is. “Molvic has been spotted along the cliffs.” “If he gets himself killed-“ “He was seen flying south, away from the conflict.” “it’s not like Aaric to run away.” “Nor Molvic.” Obviously we know that he gave Violet the dagger to kill Theophanie but I think after he did that he took the dragon eggs to the isles.

-Also, dang did I cry like a baby when Quinn died. It was like Liam 2.0 and I was NOT prepared.

-Fuck I thought Mira was a goner for sure. And Ridoc. Honestly, I kept waiting for Ridoc to die all book and thank god he didn’t. RY said someone we love won’t survive book 4 and I just can’t help thinking it’s him. She spent so much time developing him in this book, and he’s had a few near death experiences already (the knife on Hedotis, the arrow on the Madarro pass) that I just don’t think he’s safe😭

-I absolutely lost it when Andarna left like excuse me. She came back though. THANK GOD. That whole plot line was wild. Like I have so many questions??? And HOW IS SHE BACK WHEN SHE QUITE LITERALLY JUST LEFT.

-Rhiannon and Imogen’s POVs gave me LIFE. Like omg my girls. It also gives me hope that they’re gonna survive the series.

-At the end of the book Andrana says, “I won’t let them burn you”??? Like excuse me are we talking dragon fire??? Because the only way Violet would be burned by dragon fire is if she’s a TRAITOR. I need to know what happened Rebecca please.

-Finally, I’m just… shocked at the end??? Not that the marriage was shocking necessarily, because RY definitely hinted at it enough during the book. I just didn’t expect it in THE LAST THREE PAGES. Same goes for the memory wiping. I kept waiting for Imogen to use it on Violet. Overall, to me it’s not as bad of a cliffhanger as iron flame. I don’t really know how to explain it but I feel like there’s almost more closure this time around. Maybe I’m weird idk😂

Anyways, that’s all for now. Like I said, I have several theories and will be doing a series called, “Weekly Empyrean/Onyx Storm Theories”. Stay tuned for weekly updates on this! I’m also currently doing a re-read so as more thoughts surface I’ll share those as well!

[endwersed]

WIP Monday

I was tagged in last week by the wonderful @seaweed-water & @violetfairydust, and also as requested by a lovely @anon today: here is another sneak peek of my Sterek high school AU, call it off! An upcoming story featuring closeted Derek and a healthy dose of angst 🤠

-

Of all fucking places, Derek shoves him inside a damn closet. It is so ridiculously ironic that Stiles is barely able to pay any mind at all to the feeling of Derek’s warm hand on him, his thick fingers clutching at the fabric of Stiles’ hoodie, before that grip is quickly gone again.

The door shuts quietly behind them. Inside, the tiny room is stacked to the ceiling with cleaning supplies, bottles of it hoarded into corners, lined up on shelves, mops and brooms and everything in between leaning against the walls. The only light beams from the dim hang of a lightbulb, swinging faintly just above their heads, its steady buzz of electricity the only noise to be heard.

They stare at each other. Stiles takes in the hard set of Derek’s jaw, the wild shine to his pale eyes, the curl of his hands down at his sides, tight fists that seem to twitch uselessly when Stiles glances down at them. He drags his gaze back up to Derek’s face and lets his mouth curve into an imitation of a smile.

“So,” he says, “are you gonna make the obvious closet joke, or am I?”

Derek does not look amused. Not that Stiles expected him to, really.

“I’m not gay,” Derek says.

Stiles arches an eyebrow, not a word passing through the purse of his lips. Something genuinely close to an honest to god growl rumbles around in Derek’s puffed up chest.

“I’m not,” he repeats, he insists, taking a step closer. “So don’t – don’t tell anyone I am.”

A sharp, harsh scoff of a laugh bubbles from Stiles’ throat, too loud for the scale of the room. He folds his arms over his chest and peers across at Derek, that single pace closer now.

By all accounts, it looks like Derek wants to intimidate him. His shoulders are squared, his feet planted solidly against the ground, his hands still those tight, shaking fists beside his thighs. He barely has any height on Stiles, nothing more than an inch or two at most, but he is bigger, still, broader and stronger and fitter, a high school jock through and through.

He wants to use that stature, that status, Stiles can tell, to make a towering figure out of himself. He wants to put himself forward as this menacing person who could be – who should be – feared.

But Stiles does not fear him. He was not born with the self-preservation instincts to keep himself alive into adulthood, his dad has always said. And, besides… he does not genuinely believe that Derek would hurt him; not really, not even now.

Tilting his head, Stiles narrows his eyes and regards Derek coolly.

“Huh,” he says. “That’s weird. You sure kiss a hell of a lot like a dude who’s into dudes.”

That growling noise comes back again. Rippling up through veins raised along the golden line of his throat, spitting up to be caged in between the harsh grit of his bared teeth. He takes another step forwards, already barely enough space in this room for the both of them as it is, barely any space left between them at all as he presses closer.

Stiles tilts his chin up. He stands his ground.

“I’m not,” Derek says again, his lip curling around the vitriol of his denial. “Look, just – don’t fucking tell anyone, all right?”

Stiles sneers, his entire face twisting with it. He uncrosses his arms, letting them hang down at his sides, his fingers flexing in the stagnant air that is trapped inside of this windowless room with them. He moves closer, too. They are practically toe to toe now.

“Of course I won’t fucking tell anyone,” he snaps. “I would never fucking out somebody.”

“You wouldn’t be outing me,” Derek hisses quickly. “There’s nothing to out.”

The sneer on Stiles’ face shifts into a laugh. The breath of it is soft, and it is quiet, but it’s also hollow, almost nasty.

“Oh, yeah?” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, cocking his head to the side. “You’re straight, that’s what you think? You think other hetero guys go around kissing dudes out of nowhere? You think other strictly pussy-eaters tenderly hold a guy’s face while they put their tongue in his mouth? Really?”

Derek looks away. He has no rebuttal to any of that; no counterargument with even an ounce of sincerity.

“It wasn’t like that,” he tells the floor.

“Felt a lot like that to me,” Stiles throws instantly back. “You kissed me, man. Not the other way around.”

In the blink of an eye, Derek’s head snaps back up. The intensity in his eyes makes Stiles’ breath stop all the way down in the burning stretch of his lungs.

“You kissed me back,” Derek says quietly.

Stiles blinks. A beat passes. His breath pushes out of him in a soft, unsteady exhale.

“Yeah,” he agrees on a whisper. “I kissed you back.”

Another beat goes by. Before it can even make it to two – they are kissing again.

-

No pressure tags: @crownofstardustandbone @demonicfaerie @eevylynn @hedwig221b @renmackree 🩷🩷

[juh-wasnt-deactivated19691231]

tumblr note: this is a living document. Tap the original post header to see the most updated version.

a weary traveler’s guide to the poison bogs of tumblr

welcome to the land that cannot be killed in a way that matters. we have plenty of in-jokes, but this post isn’t about sightseeing: it’s about survival. there are many things to be wary of.

bots, nefarious

most of our evildoers appear to be automated. they spread lies and hate, but mostly they spread inflammatory language, with the goal of wasting your time and making you mad. often you’ll see that these blogs have no pfp, or they are Single Issue Bloggers, or they leave an inflammatory comment on everything they share. block and move on.

bots, annoying

i would classify the gazabots, pornbots, and thirst traps here. gaza is a real tragedy, but the bots sending spam aren’t helping. porn is wonderful, but the bots are scams. the thirst traps have little substance to them, but they must exist for some greater purpose—i think they metamorphose into full-fledged scams or maybe evildoers later in their lifecycle? block and move on.

terfs and other fascists, human

similar to the nefarious bots, but seemingly more human. this does not change their goals or my recommendations, though. they are not here with an open mind, and you cannot reason with fascism, because it has no root in reason. block and move on. do not engage.

morality

mos eisley cantina is our spiritual ancestor. this is the “lying, cheating, and stealing for fun are good and morally correct and you should do them always” website, at its extreme. there are folks who think you shouldn’t hold a food sharing program unless all of the food is stolen. BUT there are also folks who just think sharing is good. we really run the gamut here. trust your gut, you can ask questions once in a while, but don’t be surprised if a stranger bites your head off. understand that if something seems fishy, there’s a good chance it is, and you need to factor that into how much thought you give their statements and how much you care about the discussion.

on that note

yeah so tumblr is a very queer place (in spite of its management, as with everything else we do). there’s a lot of pro-queer stuff, there’s occasionally someone who thinks they’re pro-queer but would get mad at me for using the term “queer” for some reason (? block and move on, or point and laugh, dealer’s choice). if you are not some form of Not The Default, or if you just feel Too Normal, it’s okay. i am personally granting you permission to be here and to have fun. if someone has a problem with that, block and move on, or even just ignore it. a lot of people here are not good at conveying their points, a lot of people are angry, and we are famous for our piss-poor reading comprehension. don’t take it personally. they’re just Like That.

seriousness

most of tumblr ranges from neutral to deeply unserious. if someone’s discussing a heavy topic or making sense, they might be serious, we do have some of that, and sometimes there’s really good things to see here. but don’t expect a whole lot of Genuine Discourse and Thoughtful Discussion on average, unless you find your way into those circles. i tagged a post #christianity once and my notes were clogged with people having philosophical discussion about forgiving satan and it was weird.

argument

I once saw advice here that said, some people like arguing, and others don’t. If you like arguing, it’s super important to find other people who enjoy arguing, so that you can have your stimulating discussions with them, without totally burning out your friends who just want to get along. this really cleared up a lot of things for me, and i saw the light. (it turns out i don’t like arguing)

the bottom line

you’re here to have fun! so do that. our motto is “do whatever you want forever.” if you’re not having fun, take a step back to wonder why. you don’t have to post, or comment, or add tags, or even like the posts. you can just scroll if you want. if you like interaction, you can curate a blog (original posts and reblogs) that you like or that you think other people will like. my blog is mostly shitposting, cats, and advice, and sometimes computer things, but i moved most of that to my datacenter blog. you can send asks, you can receive asks (but don’t be disappointed if you never get any—most of us don’t. be the change you wish to see in the world!). understand that there is no Algorithm, and the only way to find something is to tag it and remember that tag later. godspeed mooncat.

further reading