#this is not me pitting these characters against each other so if you reblog don’t make it about that

[nestastits]

Idk about you but I heavily vibe with Lucien humbling the fuck out of Az in the upcoming books

[rassicas]

Hello Rassicas.

I am working on a video about Nintendo’s lgbtq characters. Of course when it comes to splatoon, there’s a certain duo that comes to mind, off the hook.

The problem I’ve been having is that it seems a lot of the information, wether that be the English/japanese bits of dialogue, interviews and other bits of lore, seems to be completely scattered around.

Considering you describe yourself as the “CEO of splatoon lore” I was wondering if you could help me compile any bits and pieces of those two gay cephalopods.

(My apologies if this is moreso something I should be asking in dms instead)

i think the ask box is a good place for this, i'm not as hardcore of a shipper as other people are (more of a worldbuilding enjoyer), but i know there is so much and I don't wanna dig for all of it. I'll share a few off the top of my head. pearlina fans reading this, please feel free to share anything else in the replies/reblogs. 1. Pearl interview from Octotune: its on my mind since i just brought it up in a previous ask I think the artwork in this interview has the strongest implication that pearl and marina live together. Also the question: Q17: What is the best gift you have ever received? Pearl: The chance to meet Marina. 2. Marina's manga, "Dear Pearl". a manga that, in-universe, is drawn by marina.

genuinely i think this is one of the gayest things there is in canon like theres hearts in that LOVE letter thats directed towards pearl COME ON (i consider it canon as its drawn by seita inoue, who handles splatoon's art direction and a lot of lore/worldbuilding). you can read it here

3. Marina's tagline on Splatoon Base calls her a 恋する乙女 "young lady in love". the word for 'to love' (恋する) is specifically romantic.

4. Off the Hook didn't fight against each other in the s2 final splatfest like the Squid Sisters did because they're on such good terms with each other.

I’ve heard people saying that since the final fest for the last game was a showdown between the Squid Sisters, this time it was bound to be between Off the Hook.

Nogami: I think that’s probably the obvious conclusion, but the development team don’t actually want those two to attack one another. Since the Squid Sisters have their own talents and abilities, even though they are a duo they are also kind of rivals, so we thought we would pit them against each other. Off the Hook, though, are much more of a unit and on good terms with one another, so we didn’t want to force them to fight.

5. Marina has a photo of pearl as her desktop wallpaper. the framing of the photo very much looks romantic and intimate. there is no heterosexual explanation for this

i'll stop here, there's definitely more and I don't wanna be here for hours. I haven't even touched on any in game dialogue. again guys feel free to make additions to this with sources. is there a pearlina masterdoc or something LOL i feel like thats something that deserves to exist (someone please make it because i wont)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Hold On You 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, bullying, depression, controlling and abusive behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to look on the bright side of life but a man comes along to blot out the sun.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Thank you all for feeding into this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s a nice day to get out. One of the last sunny days of autumn. You can smell the soil and leaves and hear the call of pumpkin spice. Maybe on your way back. 

You can’t spend another day inside. Not after the week you’ve had. Besides, once the winter hits, you’ll have more than enough reason not to go past your front door. You’re going to make the most of your day off. More so, you’re going to keep your mind busy so it doesn’t fall back into the pit. 

It feels good to move around. Between hunching at your cubicle desk and squinting over your dining room table, that crick in your neck needs to be ironed out. You have to remind yourself to stand up straight as the muscles tug between your shoulder blades. 

You stop and turn to face the record shop. As you do, you’re nearly bowled over by another pedestrian. You hadn’t realised they were so close behind you. You back up and apologise but the man doesn’t even look at you as he veers toward the front door. The bell jingle as he enters with a huff, the back of his dark jacket a vague splotch in your vision. 

Oop. You’re in the way. Again. You do your best not to do that. You never want to stir the waters or be a bump in the road but somehow you always find a way to do that. No good comes from wallowing in it. As stressful as it can be to brave the public and its unpredictability, a smile keeps you from falling apart. 

You approach the shop and swing open the door. Oof, it’s much heavier than that man made it look. You greet the associate behind the counter with a beaming morning and ‘hello?’ He asks how you are and you give the easy answer; ‘good, how are you?’ He responds with the same empty courtesy. 

You look around the covers and the little signs that delineate every genre. Before you can get into all that, you need the most important piece of all. A record player. For as long as you’ve been waiting to set foot in the shop, you’ve been saving up for the player. 

You near the table stacked with varying shades of suitcase players. You read up on each brand and style. It will be best to tuck away when you’re not using it. Your small apartment is already too cluttered. 

You pick a lilac player with little white roses stamped over the cover. It’s on sale. A sign above proclaims that you can get twenty percent off three or more records when you by a player. Well, how about that? It isn’t all doom and gloom. 

You hug the player under your arm and near the shelves mounted to the walls. You peruse the titles intently. Something new? Something you know? You definitely don’t want to get just one genre.  

As you sidle along, the corner of the box knocks against something. You look back and another ‘sorry’ bubbles from your lips. It’s that man again. He’s browsing the end cap behind you and growls at your apology. You stare at him for a moment, he seems at home in a place like this. 

“Um, excuse me, sir,” you say, “do you have any recommendations?” 

He grumbles and puts the album back in its slot. He looks over his shoulder with detest curled into his lip. The stone chiseled into his jaw makes you gulp. 

“What?” He scowls. 

“Sorry, I didn’t... I was only... curious. Have a good day, sir.” 

“Good? What’s good about it?” He hisses. You wince and move to the next section. Not far enough as he sighs, “you know, you wouldn’t like my taste anyway. Stick to your girly pop.” 

You resist a frown. You’re not going to let someone like that bring you down. You can tell that he looks for the worst in everything and everyone. You wouldn’t judge someone by their appearance but his demeanour says as much as his words. You won’t add to his cynicism but bothering him further. 

You pick out an Etta James album that you recognise. Your grandmother had the same one. You think your mother snatched it up after she passed. You didn’t get much from the inheritance. As it is, you’d rather have your grandma back. Someone to talk to. 

You move on to the rock section. There’s hair metal and classic rock and grunge and all sorts. You’re not unfamiliar with the genre but you don’t want to be too obvious.  

A scuff startles you and you glance over at the man in the dark jacket. He seems familiar. His short brown hair, his stubbly jaw, and his intensity trigger something in your head. You definitely don’t know him. Everyone you know is too busy for you. 

“Probably don’t even know how to use the damn thing,” he snips under his breath as he gets closer. 

You realise he’s talking about you. It’s no good arguing. You’ve met his kind before. Back when your friends had the time of day for you, you met that type at their parties. You avoided them. 

You leave the aisle. You don’t want to be in his way, though it seems no matter what you do, you are. You find yourself exactly where he predicted. Well, who cares? It’s all a matter of brain chemistry, right? You don’t get to choose what you like, you just like it. It makes your brain happy and heaven knows you need more of that. 

You pick out another favourite then head over to new release. You’ve never heard Sabrina Carpenter. You’ll give it a try. 

You approach the counter and as you do, another sigh storms through the shop. The man’s behind you. Oh no, had you cut him off? 

“You want to go ahead of me?” You ask as you keep your haul in your arms. 

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, a single record in his hand; The Boswell Sisters. You’ve never heard of them but it really doesn’t look like heavy metal. You turn back to the cashier and smile, “hello, um, this is it.” 

You put your things up as the man returns your smile. He asks if you want a bag and you say, ‘yes, please’. Things might not be perfect but it doesn’t mean you can’t try to make them better. And if a smile and manners can brighten someone else’s day, that alone makes yours a little sunnier. 

🪢

The box for the player has a little plastic handle. You’re happy for that as it makes your journey to cafe a little easier. You stand in line with your paper bag and bulky box and move along until it’s your turn. You order the pumpkin spice but think better of double up with the pumpkin cream muffin; you instead opt for the apple cinnamon with the chunks you can see through the top. 

Patiently, you stand by the wall until your order comes up. You crinkle around the other customers and claim it, balancing it all delicately toward an empty table. You tuck the box underneath and lean the bag against it. 

You tear apart the muffin, dividing the bottom from the top. You peel back the liner and eat the former first, pinching morsels between your fingers. You don’t know why you do it that way, you just always have.  

You taste the pumpkin spice. It’s good. Not too spicy at all. It tastes like real pumpkin. Considering the place is local, it might very well be. You pop the lid off to reveal the mostly melted cream and have another sip. 

You wipe the dairy mustache from your upper lip with a napkin and your eyes flick up to meet another pair. Not far from you, that man stands with his hands in his pockets. He’s waiting by the order window for his own delight. Well, that’s great. Maybe it will cheer him up. 

He glowers until you look through the window. Or not. The baristas call out a black coffee as you chew on the brim of the paper cup. You stare out into New York traffic and feel yourself getting smaller. It’s easy to feel lost in the city. 

As you watch through the window, a dark figure passes before it. You lift your gaze and again find yourself at the mercy of that man’s grim snarl. You quickly turn back to your latte. He must’ve had that black coffee. He might do with a bit of sugar. 

You try not to think about it. You don’t know him. You don’t know his problems. Just like anyone else. People don’t know that you feel heavy when you wake up or that you spend your hours keeping your hands busy so you don’t have to think. They only know the woman with the smile and the chipper voice and just as swiftly forget about her. 

You pick away at the muffin, savouring in each bite. You’re thankful for that. For that moment. You have coffee and a nice dessert and you got your record player. It's best not to think about all the existential stuff you can’t change. It will come back later when you’re alone. It can wait until then. 

🪢

Your walk home sees the sun hiding behind the clouds. The downpour begins a block away from your building and soaks you through. You keep your head down against the sheets of rain and hurry up the walk as the front door comes in sight. 

The elevator is out of order. Again. You climb the stairs in your squeaky soles and finally reach your apartment. You push inside and kick off your sodden shoes and peel away your jacket. The turtleneck beneath is just as drenched. 

You don’t strip down right away. You’re more concerned with your prizes. The records are fine, the covers just a bit damp, and the player doesn’t seem to have taken too much water. You leave it all on the counter and go to change into your favourite fuzzy pajamas. 

You come back out to the front room and stop to admire the slake of rain pelleting against the large windows. It might be dreary but it’s beautiful in its own way. You let the tempo lull you as you unpack the player and set it up on the book shelf.  

You slide the Etta James record from its sleeve and lay it on the player, moving the needle into place. You let it play as you back up, the boisterous tones of the legend melding perfectly with the raindrops. You smile; not the put-upon smile you wear for strangers but a smile of nostalgia and calm. You miss your grandma terribly but the music doesn’t make you sad. 

You go to the table, still messy from last night’s work. It never is clear. You always have scraps and bits littered over it, your sewing machine a permanent fixture on the worn wood. You sit and pick up the felt clump and go back to needling it to a discernible shape. 

Your brows nearly meet in the middle for your focus and it isn’t until the record begins to skip that you sit up. That damn kink is back. Your own fault. Can’t be mad at anyone but yourself. 

You flip the record and let it play out. When it’s over, you shut off the player. You eat the leftovers you’ve been parsing out for the week and settle in for your favourite romcom. It’s cheesy and a little lame but you only have to keep yourself happy. Or try to. 

You leave your plate on the coffee table and hunker down to finish the movie. You’re tired when it’s over but know you won’t sleep. So you go back to the table and work as the rain slows to a lazy rhythm. Your eyelids droop, your shoulders too, but you persist. 

The windows grow dark and there is only the distant shine of streetlights and few windows in the neighbouring buildings. You stare out at the blurring haze and it fades to a deep grey. You wake leaning back in the chair, your head hanging off your neck. You groan as you sit up and curse your carelessness. 

It won’t make work any less intolerable. You check the time ticking away on the clock that came with the apartment. You can get another hour or two. You get up and trod off to bed, not bothering to shut off the lights. You don’t sleep well in the pitch black. 

You fall into bed and just as quickly find yourself unbearable awake. All those little doubts and fears rise up to the surface and have you drowning just below. This is why you end up sleeping upright or folded over. Trying never works for you. Not at anything. 

[alieinthemorning]

Deepest, Darkest, Purest Love [Sylus] 

Content: World Underneath: Sealed in Dust Spoilers, Sylus Story Speculation, Angst, Soft Sylus, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Sylus…was an enigma to you. After the Nest, the forced resonating, and being told that he wanted to achieve his goal, he needed you to like him in some capacity. Now, you’ve ended up here in one of his many safe houses, wrapped in his arms on the couch while some movie played. Domestic bliss as its finest, but how did you end up here? You knew that it wasn’t just him playing with your feelings while you hopelessly fell for it. No…you knew that his feelings for you were real. His actions and words, although not always obvious, were always clear in the intentions. 

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

Despite how you acted toward him, or tried to deceive yourself. You knew you loved him. You loved this man something fierce. And honestly? 

It scared you—terrified you.

You understood that you and Sylus shared a past. One of your many pasts, over your many deaths. Unfortunately, you couldn’t remember much (not that you think you ever could). Since EVER had gotten their hands on you and the Aether Core, memories come up spotty and painful. You want to remember, you really do, but it doesn’t seem like you have an actual say in the matter. But from what you can remember…you’ve both died…many, many times. Pitted against each other for some reason or other, then forced to become close—fall in love, just to do it all over again—Oh.

Oh.

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

You were pitted against each other for the Aether core. That’s what wants to devour him—this damned Aether Core. 

“Sweetie?” His thumb brushed against your under eye, catching the wetness there. “Why are you crying?” 

“I’m sorry!” You wail into his chest. “I’m so sorry for hurting you!”

“I’ve told you before that it was my fault for pushing you—” He grunted as you shoved away from him, shaking your head violently. 

“I’m talking about before! Way back when—I still don’t remember it all, but I know that I hurt you, so—” You looked up at him, tears caressing your waterline. “How can you love me so deeply?” 

“I’ve told you this once, and I’ll tell you as many times as you need.” He smiled, and you break. 

“You know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine.”

You know, and you hate yourself for selfishly enveloping yourself in that love. 

A love you do not deserve. 

I was trying to do Soft Sylus, which! for the two lines that he speaks, he is in fact soft, so I'm counting it! But it ended up as angst regardless lol.

Now, let's get into what might be his Myth or one of his many pasts with you. I think that the two of you were pitted against each other for the Aether Core. Whoever the hell had y'all fighting wanted to make one of you stronger, and having one kill the other for the core seemed a lot more fun than just choosing one. But! I don't think it worked, y'all got tired of fighting and choose not to take arms when it was time, which not the best idea because you'd be punished, but hey, it did eventually get the message through to them. However, they took another approach, which was getting the two of you closer, so when they did pit you two against each other again, one of you would have to throw your life down for the other, and in this case…it was Sylus.

At least! That's what I'm thinking lol. Just a little theory!

I'm on Bluesky btw~

Ko-Fi | Masterlist

[trafficblrpolyamshipbracket]

Welcome to TPSB!

Hello everyone! I have not seen a ship bracket dedicated to polyam ships, especially for ships in the Traffic Life Series / Empires / Hermitcraft sphere (and occasionally other adjacent smps) so I am creating one. Obviously, this is characters not creators and this is for fun/entertainment, so please keep this lighthearted! Now, may the most beloved polyam ship win!

Current Blog Activity: TPSB V3 Round 1 has started! Vote and create propaganda to help your polyam ship of choice advance to Round 2!

Both V1 and V2 Brackets are concluded, but I will still reblog old ship propaganda and etc. Feel free to make celebratory art of the winner and tag me! I will reblog with the TPSB propaganda tag! I don't mind promoting people for the creations they've worked on :p

TAGS

#tpsb polls

#tpsb info

#tpsb propaganda

#tpsb update

#tpsb other

INFO

Polls are set to one week and I'll post the next wave of polls soon after it ends.

If you tag this account with propaganda, I will reblog it. If it is nsfw propaganda, I will tag it with the #NSFW tag for minors/people who don't want to see it to filter out if they so choose. If it is not quite NSFW, but rather suggestive, I’ll take it #cw suggestive. Haven't run into this yet, but this is in place just in case.

Feel free to put propaganda in the ask box once the shipping starts and I will clear the queue as often as I can! I will also reblog literally anything people comment that aren't hidden in tags or whatever else, so keep that in mind.

No ship bashing/shaming please! I would like everyone to vote for a ship and not against a ship, for it's more fun that way. Not every ship is everyone’s cup of tea, but that just means you stay away from ships you don’t like. As long as it’s safe and legal, ship and let ship :D

I accept ship nominations as first come first serve, no matter how rare or bizarre it may seem to you. If you want to make sure your favorite polyam ship hits the bracket, throw it in the ask box :D

If there is a ship name attached to it, it is usually because the person who nominated the ship used that ship name. Not all ships have ship names that I know of/that I was given so they may be “wrong” or whatever else. Feel free to leave a reply or throw it in my ask box for me to add a ship name if one has it.

Once we get to the end, if all runs well and people enjoy this, there is a chance to run another bracket with a new set of submissions. New ships can be added and old ships who lost can make a comeback.

The bracket is created at random. There is only intervention in round one if the ships pitted against each other are the same plus/minus a person or if the ships feel too unevenly weighted. If so, I dragged one ship and threw it up or down and left it where it landed if that was better than before. I am human, though, and will miss stuff/make mistakes, so don't be upset if something isn't quite how you want it. This will place popular ships against each other, but I can always run another bracket after this one to give your favorite polyam ship another chance against other ships :D

Winning ships do not get run again. They claim their spot in the Winners list and then get to rest to allow other ships to have a chance to shine :D

This account is run by @deityoftherain who uses they/fae/star pronouns. As one may expect, be as wonky and fun with your headcanons and such when doing propaganda :D

CURRENT BRACKET

WINNERS

V1: Mumbo/Scar/Grian aka Mumscarian

V2: Scott/Jimmy/Tango aka Flower Ranchers

V3: TBD

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

here to stay (Rhett Abbott x OC)

Summary: Once Rhett and Tessa are aware of each other, they can't seem to stop seeing each other everywhere.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x OC (Tessa Abernathy)

Word Count: 6583

Warnings: fluff, some cursing, supporting oc characters, drinking, the lead-up to a fight, throwing up mention

ONE | TWO | THREE

✎……likes are great but comments/reblogs are even better!

✎……ty @newlibrary for looking this over for me

✎……masterlist on pinned!

Three days was all it took before Rhett saw her again. It was nearly the end of the rodeo season, and he had barely managed to scrape his way into the next ride. He knew his chances of moving on after tonight were slim, especially with the lot of bulls present for the event. He finished with a higher score than everyone thought he would get, but it just wasn’t high enough.  

His season was over. At least he had no injuries and got a pat on the back from his father. He couldn’t say the same thing last year. 

He stuck around until the bulb lights strung overhead were about to get turned off. There was a bonfire getting started in the field around the east side of the rodeo grounds he could join. Or he could have gone straight to The Pit Bar along with all the other bull riders. But there he still was, leaning against the metal railing with his fingers laced together, looking out over the dirt riding pit and the stands just beyond. His mind lost in what went wrong, what he could have done differently — the ill-disguised disappointment in his dad’s eyes. 

That was when he saw her. Trailing behind what he assumed were her friends as they finally exited the stands. They were all giggling amongst themselves, but he could hear Tessa’s laugh over them all. Could see her smile even from where he stood. Hair like wheat ready to harvest swinging in a ponytail. 

She touched down on solid ground and looked out across the pit. Rhett straightened when they locked eyes, three fingers raising in a wave that he regretted the instant it happened. But that didn’t matter when she just smiled and waved back, gesturing for him to come over. 

Rhett smiled to himself as he picked up his bag and headed over. He didn’t know why she wanted to talk to him, but he was glad that she did. 

For mid-October in Wyoming, it was a cold night. Tessa’s cheeks and ears were pinked from the chill, but she dressed warm with her hands tucked into the sleeves of her worn Carharrt jacket.

Her friends were already far ahead, close to the exit. But she lingered behind, lips pulled between her teeth as she watched him approach. 

“Told ya I’d see ya again,” she said when he finally came to a stop before her, a knowing grin stretching her features.

Rhett snorted as he smiled down at her. “I swear, I’ve never seen ya at one of these things.”

“I don’t get the chance to come very often.” She shrugged, hands digging into her pockets. “So s’understandable. Just thought it was kinda funny how we met again the other day — knowin’ I was gonna be here tonight.”

“S’that cause of your job?” he asked. “You not gettin’ to come, I mean.” 

Tessa nodded with a sigh that spoke volumes. “Keeps me busy.”

“Well — “ Rhett groaned, rocking on his feet as he looked back over at the pit. “ — Sorry you had to see me ride like shit.”

“I thought you did great. Bones hasn’t been good ridin’ in years. You got screwed over.” She paused, lip caught between her teeth as he narrowed his eyes at her. Then she grinned. “I don’t know — that’s just what the old guy behind me was sayin’.”

Rhett laughed, really laughed for what felt like the first time in a long while. And she looked pleased with herself for getting him to do so. 

“But seriously,” she went on, pulling a hand beneath her nose as she sniffed. “You were good in high school and your standings the last few years have always been great. You’re better than that.”

“You’ve kept up with my standings?” he questioned, a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth. 

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, local boy Rhett Abbott I would look up your standing from time to time. Don’t flatter yourself.” 

Her eyebrows suddenly furrowed as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. She huffed as she used reddened fingers to type something up. 

Rhett licked his lips. “Everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah — yeah,” she replied, tucking the phone back away in her pocket. “I just…Need to head back to the home s’all. Coworker askin’ where I’m at.” 

The overhead lights finally turned off as the last of the cleanup crew started meandering their way towards the exit. 

“D’you drive?” he asked and she nodded. “I’ll walk ya to your car…If you want?”

Tessa looked around at the dark rodeo grounds, lips pulled back between her teeth before she clicked her tongue. “Yeah — I’d like that.” 

They walked together through the darkened grounds and out into the parking lot — chatting the whole way. About their days on the high school rodeo team. About how Tessa never left Wabang, got a degree online, and started working at the home just last year. She talked about the place with a warm smile. The kind Rhett had never seen anyone have about their line of work. It made him wish he had something like that. That made him that happy. 

When they got to her car, a beat-up rusted minivan, they said their goodbyes. And Rhett watched her drive out of the parking lot hoping he would see her again.

Why did they have to stock the dish soap on the top shelf? Tessa looked up at the product she so desired with disdain, hands on her hips. 

She already had everything else she needed — her cart filled to the brim. Just this one last thing. Determined, she pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and stepped up onto the bottom shelf. She reached with all her might, fingers stretched towards the soap. But it was no use. A huff escaped her as she stepped back away from the shelving. 

Maybe there was a stool lying around somewhere that she could use. Or she could just cave and ask Nancy working the cash register for help — but she wasn’t much taller than Tessa was. She was sure that would be a sight. Stepping back onto the bottom self, popped onto the tip of her toes, she reached for the soap again. Thinking maybe this time it would work, surely if she grunted in effort some kind of magic would happen. 

“D’you need help?” 

Tessa whipped her head to the side, the tip of her nose nearly knocking the sponges all lined up on the shelf in front of her face to the ground. Then she felt a heat rising in her cheeks — surely turning them a bright shade of pink. 

It wasn’t the magic she was expecting.

Rhett Abbott stood at the end of the aisle with a bag of dog food slung over his shoulder. That small little smile on his face and a ball cap on his head, dark curls peaking out the bottom. He looked even better than he did in high school. Gone was his little baby face, now he had defined cheekbones and stubble on his jaw. The long hair suited him better than the proper boy haircuts his mom forced him to get. But his eyes were still big and blue as the ocean — looking at her now like he had never done before. 

“Uh — “ She glanced back up at the soap just out of her reach, her stomach doing flips. “Potentially.” 

Rhett chuckled, boots thumping against the linoleum floors as he came closer. “Potentially?”

She hopped off the bottom shelf just as he came to stand behind her, arm reaching up and easily grabbing the soap above her head. He stood close. Close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off of him on her back as he handed the bottle to her wordlessly. 

“Thanks,” Tessa muttered as she looked over her shoulder at him. 

He smiled down at her, crooked and small. Then, blinking rapidly, he seemed to realize just how close he was and he backed away. Freeing her to turn to her cart and throw the soap inside. 

“H-How ya been?” Rhett asked in his quiet way as she took hold of the cart’s handle. 

It had been a week since the rodeo and the last time they saw each other. Tessa had to wonder what string of fate had been tugged for them to keep bumping into each other after six years of barely caught glimpses. Not that she minded. It was nice catching up with him. It was nice knowing this version of him instead of being stuck with the mental image of eighteen-year-old Rhett. And it was nice having him look at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out, but he wanted to. 

And she wanted him to, too. 

“Been alright,” she replied, leaning her elbows against the cart handle as she grinned. “Busy, with the boys back in school — but alright. You?”

“Yeah. M’okay.” He nodded at her shopping items. “What’s with the soil? S’kinda too late to be plantin’ stuff ain’t it?”

Tessa started pushing the cart down the aisle and Rhett fell into step beside her, bag of feed still perched on his shoulder. “We’ve got a fruit and veg garden out back — saves money and gives the boys somethin’ to do. It’s’on sale and it’ll keep till spring, so…” 

“Do they like it?”

“Not really,” she laughed, turning out into the main aisle. “But it gets ‘em using their hands and they can see progress on their work. Makes ‘em feel good about a job well done, even if they won’t admit it.” 

When they reached the checkout counter, Tessa insisted he go first since he only had one item. But once he paid he stuck around, lingering around the edge of the carpet in front of the door, fingers fiddling with his keys. As she put her items on the counter, the older woman gave her a look then shot her eyes over at Rhett. 

It was a look that screamed watch out for that one that Tessa didn’t understand. 

“What?” she questioned with a nervous chuckle as she glanced over in Rhett’s direction. 

“Just…Be careful with that one, sweetie,” Nancy replied quietly, making sure he didn’t hear. “Don’t wanna see you get hurt, now.” 

Tessa leveled her with a look. “He’s just a friend.” 

“That Abbott boy is never just friends with a girl he’s set his sights on.” 

Paying for her things, Tessa didn’t push the subject any further. Over the years, Rhett had come up in her friends’ shared rumors several times. About who he was dating, who he wasn’t seeing anymore, which bar he got caught making out with some buckle bunny behind and when. Tessa didn’t really believed most of them. From their few conversations, he seemed far too awkward and sweet and respectful to be the womanizer Wabang tried to paint him to be. If anything, he was just being nice the few times they even had spoken. It was all preconceived notions, and she would rather learn about the man he had become from the source. 

When she pushed her cart out onto the sidewalk, up to her minivan to put things away, Rhett was quick to step in and help her with the several heavy bags of soil she purchased.

“Thanks for the help,” she said as she closed the trunk on the van.

He flashed her a shy smile, “No problem.” And for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something more, a question brewing in those bright blue eyes. But then he shook his head, pulled at the bill of his hat. “See ya around.” 

“Yeah…See ya.” 

She wanted to know what that question was, even as she watched him walk back to his truck.

Rhett pulled up in front of the elementary school at three o’clock, just like Rebecca told him to. He parked in one of the designated spots along the curb. He must have been early, there weren’t many other vehicles, and none of the teachers who were on pickup duty were standing outside yet. 

Perry was working out in the north pasture on a line of fence that fell in the storm the other night, and Rebecca had a doctor’s appointment — leaving Rhett as the only adult available to pick Amy up from school.

He sighed as he cut the engine, long fingers pushing back the hairs that had fallen on his forehead. His dad tried to tell Rebecca to just let Amy take the bus like every other kid in Wabang. But she wouldn’t hear of it. She didn’t like that it dropped her off so far from the ranch and she had to walk the rest of the way. Rhett couldn’t blame her, he remembered that walk as a kid. It fucking sucked. So he didn’t mind the drive into town to pick up his niece. Especially since it got him away from the ranch for an hour. 

Picking his phone up from the bench seat beside him, he unlocked it to start mindlessly scrolling through old photos and text messages. Waiting for Amy to come bounding up to his passenger door. 

But then he looked back up — and he froze. 

He should have recognized that beat up old van. Rust all along the bottom, green paint bleached in the sun, wood panneling around the outside that dated it back to the nineties. He was amazed that it even still ran. But there was no denying it was the right van though as Tessa stepped out of the driver’s side door and into the midafternoon sun. She was wearing a sweater and one of those zip up vests, brown hair done up in braids. Her grin only grew as she closed her eyes, leaning into the sun's rays like she was a cat as she closed the van door behind her. 

This was the third time he had seen her since running into her at the general store two weeks ago. He was beginning to feel a bit like a stalker, constantly seeing her around, but he also wondered if she had always been there and he was just now beginning to notice. 

He wished he would have noticed her sooner. 

With her seemingly unrelenting smiles and kindness. The joy with which she spoke about the things that she loved. He felt like a stalker but he couldn’t bring himself to care enough because all he wanted to do was talk to her. All the time. He wanted to know her in a way he never had with anyone else before. She was like fresh spring air after a long and hard winter. He wanted to live in that spring forever. 

Though he didn’t realize he was staring until she waved at him. A shy little wiggle of her fingers with a closed mouth smile. 

“Shit.” 

He ducked his head, as if that would make up for the fact that he just got caught gaping at her like a creep. When he looked back up, Tessa was walking up to his side of the truck with that same smile lighting up her face. Rhett grimaced to himself as he rolled down his window. 

“Are you following me, Abbott?” she questioned, a teasing lilt to her tone, as she hopped up onto the step bar of his truck and leaned into the window. 

“I — “ He chuckled nervously, licking his lips as he thought of what to say. “No?”

“No?” She tilted her head in that adorable way that was growing so familiar.

“I-I’m not. M’pickin’ my niece up, I swear,” he said. 

“Rhett, I’m kidding,” she laughed, her hand reaching out and giving his bicep a shake. “It’s been nice — seein’ you around.” 

He pushed a hand through his hair, trying not to focus on the electric feeling her touch left behind as she drew away. But he couldn’t help the smile that pulled on his lips as he looked out the window at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she laughed again, such a genuine look on her face he knew she was speaking the truth. 

“What’re, uh — What’re you here for?” He nudged his chin at her. 

Her face somehow lit up even more. “Jace. He’s our youngest right now. Third grade.” 

“Kinda young to be stayin’ at the home, ain’t he?” 

“His situation is a little different.” Tessa looked down at her hands, where she picked at one of her nails. “Little more permanent.” 

“Oh — tough luck.” 

“Yeah, they’ve all got tough luck. And I — I hope what I’m doin’ is makin’ it better. Easier, maybe. The world hasn’t been kind to any of them and I just…Just wanna give them a better chance.”

“You are.” 

He didn’t have to think about it. He didn’t even have to meet any of those boys to know that she was. He believed in her. In her joy, her kindness, her compassion. In the way she looked at him now with something unreadable in her expression that he hoped to one day understand. 

The doors to the school opened and the teachers on pickup duty came out, followed by a line of children with backpacks just a little too big and eager smiles on their faces. Tessa gave him one last smile before she stepped down from his truck and walked back to her van. 

She stood on the passenger side, nearly out of his view. But he watched with a small smile as a little boy ran up to her with a giant grin on his face and a drawing that he made that he just had to show her. Tessa took it with wonder and pride evident on her face, he could hear her exclaimatation from inside the truck and it made him chuckle. 

The passenger door of the truck opened as Amy greeted, “Uncle Rhett!”

“Hey, ladybug, how’s it goin’?” he replied as she climbed up onto the bench seat. 

“Good,” she giggled, then her big blue eyes caught on the view out the windshield. “Who’s that with Jace?”

“You know him?” Rhett questioned. 

“Yeah. He’s in my class. Is that his mom?”

“Uh, no. She’s not.” 

“Do you know her? She his aunt or something?”

“You ask…A lot of questions. Buckle your seatbelt.” He nodded his head at her as he started up the truck. “She’s uh — She’s a friend. And she’s Jace’s friend.” 

“Oh. That’s cool, I guess. So, today, Mrs. Passwater taught us about…”

Amy continued to ramble on about her day while Rhett pulled away from the curb. He drove around the old van as Tessa climbed into the driver’s seat. And he watched in the rearview mirror as she waved goodbye. 

He took some comfort in knowing that he would see her again. He just hoped it was soon.

“Riley, I don’t know…” Tessa sighed as she fiddled with the pages of her current read, set aside on her bed when she answered the phone five minutes ago. 

“Tess, it’s Saturday night. You have the night off. Come out with us,” her friend argued lightly. 

“Who all’s going?”

“Me, you — “ Tessa rolled her eyes. “ — Laney and Chessler.” 

“Oh, so s’everybody.” 

“Look, I love ya girl, and I love that you found a job that ya love doin’ — but you seriously need to let loose every once and a while. Get a lil’ tipsy, maybe get laid — “

“Riley!” she laughed. 

“You know it’s true!” 

Tessa looked out her darkened window with a sigh. Yeah, she did know it was true. It was her day off and she spent the entirety of it in her room, save for sneaking downstairs to get food every once and a while. Trying to avoid the boys and her coworker Linda as much as possible so she could try to relax. But it was hard when she lived full time in the place she was employed. And going to her parents’ house just made her feel pathetic.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Yay! Okay, I’ll pick you up in thirty. Be outside ready to go.” 

“Yeah, yeah yeah,” Tessa said as she got up from her bed and began rifling through her closet for something to wear. “Bye. Be safe. Love you.”

“Love you too, hon,” Riley replied before she hung up. 

It wasn’t until she started looking through her clothes that she realized it had been a long time since she had gone out. All of her dresses were pushed into the darkest crevice of her closet. She nearly worried they would all smell a bit musty it had been so long since she had worn them. Luckily they smelled fine, but that didn’t help her choose one in the slightest. Eventually, she just gave up and picked one at random. She ended up with a deep yellow sundress that came to her middle thigh and would leave her probably freezing for the rest of the night. But her fate had been chosen, and she wasn’t about to continue the debate when it didn’t really matter. 

It wasn’t like she was going to meet anyone anyway. 

No one wanted to be with the girl who had to cancel dates nine times out of ten. The girl who lived in a house full of teenage boys, who carried around the baggage of six people every day and chose that willingly. She and the work that she loved were too much for anyone to handle. And she knew that. Linda had been working for the home for twenty years, started when she was around Tessa’s age, and still to this day she was single. Tessa resigned herself to that same fate a long time ago.

She just hoped she turned out less bitter than Linda was. 

Riley picked her up an hour later, the usual Riley-time when she said thirty minutes, and they drove over to The Handsome Gambler downtown. 

The place was packed, not surprising for a Saturday night. Four walls filled with chatter, boisterous laughter, banging on tables, and country music blaring over it all. The atmosphere was warm, electric, and familiar. Tessa laughed as she looked around at all the people having a good time, feeling better than she had all day. 

Taking Riley’s hand, she dragged her friend over to the bar to order drinks. 

“Laney said they found a booth!” Riley relayed as she looked down at her text messages. 

“Nice!” Tessa called back before she turned to the bartender with a smile. “Hey! Can I get an aperol spritz, please?”

“Sure thing, Tess,” the bartender replied as he pulled out the right kind of glass. “Riley?”

“Uh, strawberry margarita, Frankie m’dear.” She flashed him a smile then looked back down at her phone with a furrowed brow. “Her boyfriend’s here.”

“Laney’s got a boyfriend?” 

“They’ve only been datin’ like two weeks, you’re not missin’ much. But this was supposed to be just girls,” Riley grumbled. 

“Who is it?” Tessa asked as she looked around the bar, trying to see if she could spot their friends. 

“Uh, Walker Browning.” Tessa gave her a look. “I know. But apparently he’s changed since high school. Got a job workin’ the Tillerson ranch — somethin’ honest.”

“I’ll start stockin’ up the ice cream for when they inevitably break up again.” 

Riley laughed, then looked back down at her phone. “Ugh, Walker brought friends. One for each of us apparently.” 

“Oh, great, can’t wait to meet ‘em,” Tessa chuckled drly. 

After getting their drinks and opening their tabs for the rest of the night, they weaved their way through the crowd to find this booth their friends said they occupied. It was in the far back corner of the bar, past the pool tables and the small dance floor. Laney and Chessler instantly rose to their feet with enthusiastic waves once they saw their friends approaching. Leaving behind four cowboys in stetsons sipping from green beer bottles. Once the girls had hugged, Laney sunk back down into Walker’s lap on one side of the booth — pressing lipstick-kisses into his cheek. The other three boys stood up from the booth to greet the newcomers with charming smiles. 

And one of them was definitely Rhett Abbott. 

Even in the dim light of the bar, he looked good. Still a little rough around the edges, with his white thermal shirt and ubuttoned flannel overtop, but good. His eyes shone with the neon lights, crinkled at the edges by his small smile. 

“Tess,” he greeted with a tip of his hat. 

“Rhett,” she replied with a grin.

“You two know each other?” Walker asked around the lip of his beer. 

“Yeah.” She looked up at Rhett again. “We were uh — we were on the high school rodeo team together.”

“Oh, my God, I forgot you even did that, Tess,” Riley exclaimed as she slid into the booth, followed by one of the boys. 

“Best barrel racer we had,” Rhett said, voice nothing but a low rumble as he gestured for her to sit next to Walker and Laney. 

She tried to stop the butterflies that erupted in her stomach as she moved past him, elbow brushing against his torso. As her mind lingered on the fact that he wanted to sit next to her. She tucked her lips between her teeth as he slid into the booth next to her — barely enough room with how Walker and Laney were sprawled all over each other. Forcing Rhett to press in close to her side so he had enough room. Tessa was just thankful for the warmth he was putting off, she had been correct when she guessed she was going to be freezing all night in that dress. 

“Y’cold?” Rhett asked on a chuckle as she sipped her drink, trying not to get a brainfreeze. 

Tessa pulled away from her straw with a shiver, teeth chattering. “Slightly.” 

“Here.” He made quick work of shrugging off his flannel and handing it to her. “Sorry it…Doesn’t really go with your pretty dress.” 

There were those butterflies again, now accompanied by a heat in her cheeks and a bit lip smile. She took the flannel gratefully, fingers brushing over his own and this time she noticed. This time it made her breath catch in her throat and she couldn’t even explain why. 

“You think my dress is pretty?” she asked quietly as she pulled on the shirt.

It was warm and smelled like him. Some cologne and a bit of whiskey. Her arms got swallowed completely by the sleeves and it nearly made her feel like a kid. She glanced over at him as she grabbed her drink, fingers barely peeking out from the plaid material and he laughed. She laughed too — some instinct drawing her to lean closer to his side. 

“I — “ He started, then he coughed. “Yeah. I do. Ya look nice.” 

“Well, thank you.” 

Tessa looked down into her lap for a moment, suddenly acutely aware of how his jean clad thigh pressed against her bare one, and the way his scent was filling her lungs. And when she looked back up, she made eyecontact with Riley — who was trying so hard not to laugh, hiding behind her nearly empty margarita glass. Tessa gave her a look, and it only seemed to make her laugh more. 

But then she coughed, lowering her glass back down to the table. “So, Walker, how’s that new job goin’?”

Conversation amongst the eight of them picked up from there. Tessa had never seen Rhett in a social environment before. He was quiet, commented sparingly or only really spoke when he was spoken to. But he laughed quietly along to funny stories and added on when he had something to say. Nursed his beer and fiddled with the cap on the table top. When Tessa finished her drink, he offered to go get her another. And she let him despite the looks her friends were giving her. He looked a little funny carrying the dainty glass with the bright orange cocktail inside — but it warmed Tessa’s heart in the best way possible. 

Old, familiar feelings were starting to creep back in for the Abbott boy. And this time she wondered if he felt even anywhere close to the same.

While he was away, Laney and Walker spread out even more in the booth — forcing Tessa to move even closer to the edge of the bench. 

When he came back to their table, she smiled up at him sympathetically. “Sorry.” 

“S’alright” He slid her drink across the wood grain to her, then tapped the table twice with his knuckle. “Here, scooch over a lil’.”

She did the best she could with the way the couple was angled. Then Rhett sat back down on the bench beside her — only half of his ass able to fit on the bench. Tessa could only watch, a heat pooling in her chest like sunlight, as he hooked one big hand around the inside of her knee and lifted her leg up. His hands were rough, calloused, warm. A gasp slipped out of her when his thumb brushed across her knee. Then he put his thigh beneath her own and settled her leg back down across his own. 

Everyone else carried on with their conversation, but Tessa could no longer focus. Especially when Rhett didn’t move his hand, and he looked over at her with that shy little smile on his face. 

“This okay?” he asked. 

“Y-Yeah. S’okay.” 

There was a pink tint to his cheeks now as he looked away, reaching for his beer. But still his hand remained, thumb rubbing a soothing back and forth into the soft flesh of her lower thigh. 

He certainly had enough room now. 

“What’s, uh — What’s the name of the horse that you used to race with?” Rhett asked quietly, blue eyes focused on their stacked legs. “Was tryin’ to remember the other day but, uh…”

“Peaches,” she replied, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his flannel. “Peaches and Cream, if you wanna get technical.” 

He chuckled. “Peaches. That’s right. She’s a good lookin’ horse.” 

“She’s a sweet ole girl.”

“D’you still do any barrel racin’?”

“Nah, not really. I do demonstrations at my parent’s ranch sometimes for students but…That’s about it.” 

“S’shame. You were good.” He took a swig of his beer. 

“Not all of us can live the rodeo life forever, Rhett.” 

She regretted it as soon as the words came out of her mouth, saw the way he blinked and cocked his jaw to one side. She reached for the hand still curled around her knee, felt the tendons beneath his warm skin flex before she gripped it completely. 

“M’sorry. I don’t know why I said that,” she spoke quietly, eyebrows furrowed together as she watched his face. 

He shook his head. “Maybe cause it’s true? Bull ridin’s all m’ever gonna be good for.” 

“Hey, don’t say that about yourself.” Tessa gave his hand a squeeze. “What I meant was that…That I couldn’t stick with it because I’m not tough enough. Committed enough. You’ve got somethin’ special, Rhett. A fire. And it lights up when you’re ridin’. I can see it.” 

He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth ticked up as he looked down at her. And that was enough to know he heard her. Really heard her. Then his hand slid an inch up her thigh, and she jumped. 

Rhett’s eyes widened, hand retreating back to its former place instantly. “M’sorry. I — I don’t know why I thought — “

“Dance with me.” She blurted out. “Please.” 

“Okay.”

He slid out of the booth first, then offered her his hand. Tessa looked back at her friends one last time to see Riley mouthing oh my God at her. Her face felt burning hot as she took Rhett’s hand and let him lead her over to the small dance floor. She kept her gaze locked on his back, heart pounding in her chest like she just finished a race. His shoulders were broad, rounded with muscle built up over years of back breaking labor. The people parted before him like Moses and the sea. 

Tessa didn’t know what was happening, she just knew she didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want him to retreat in on himself. Didn’t want him to stop looking at her with those big blue eyes lit with neon. 

The dance floor was crowded with couples swinging around to George Strait and Dolly Parton. Rhett led the way through the people until he found a relatively empty spot, then he turned and pulled her into him. Both hands on her waist. Her hands naturally landed on his chest before sliding up to rest on those broad shoulders. 

“Can I be honest for a sec?” Rhett asked and she nodded. “I’m a shit dancer — I d’know why I agreed to this.” 

Tessa laughed, felt the rumble of his own chuckle beneath her palms. “You’re doin’ alright so far.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

He tugged her in just a little bit closer as they swayed to the beat of the song. One of his hands slipped beneath his flannel she still wore just to get that much closer to her. Out of her control, her own hand tangled into the hairs at the back of his neck. And she watched as his eyelids fluttered. 

Tessa didn’t want to hold out hope. She had been disappointed and heartbroken far too many times to think this time, this one might be different. But it was so hard to linger on that when Rhett made her feel like she hung the very stars in the sky. Like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Like he had been waiting all his life for her. 

Rhett leaned a little closer, eyes glancing down at her lips. Before she even realized, she was leaning too — gaze focused on the way his tongue poked out to wet his lips. Long fingers and wide palms squeezed her waist just a bit tighter. But then his eyes caught on something over her shoulder. 

“Ah, shit,” he hissed under his breath. “One second.”

Nudging her to the side, he stepped around her and marched towards the entrance to the bar. She followed his movements, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a little bit of hurt. Why did he just leave her standing in the middle of the dance floor? Didn’t he want to kiss her? Had she been reading everything wrong? 

But then she noticed, at the door to the bar, Trevor Tillerson was dragging Walker outside by the back of his shirt. And Rhett followed right after them. 

Ah, shit, indeed. 

Tessa pushed her way back through the crowd until she reached what was their booth. Only to find Laney with her face hidden in her folded arms, shoulders shaking with sobs. Chessler and Riley were on either side of her, giving comforting pats to her back and whispering words of encouragement. 

“What the hell happened?” Tessa asked 

Chessler looked up at her with a sigh. “Trevor bumped into Laney. Walker tried to make him apologize — he didn’t take too kindly to it. So now Walker’s gettin’ his drunken ass kicked.” 

“Rhett went out there after ‘em,” she mumbled, gaze drifting back towards the door. 

“Oh, so Walker stands a chance then,” Chessler replied in her dry way. 

“Speakin’ of which,” Riley said, “What the fuck is goin’ on between you and Rhett Abbott?” 

“I don’t know,” Tessa replied, distracted. Thoughts lingering on what could be happening outside. “We’ve been…Talking lately.”

“Talking? What does that even mean?” 

But Tessa was already moving towards the exit. “I’m gonna go check on ‘em — make sure they’re okay.”

“Tess, just let ‘em duke it out. You don’t have to mother hen — “ Chessler started, but she was already moving away from the table. 

The sounds of the bar were muted to her ears, like they were far away, as she picked her way through the people and out into the chilled October night air. She looked east and the street was deserted, but when she looked west, she spotted Rhett’s broad shoulders immediately. 

Him and Trevor were standing chest to chest, shoving one another. While Walker was leaned with one arm against the wall, puking his guts out. The two of them were about to start throwing punches, that much was certain from the way Trevor just wasn’t backing down. And was most certainly saying something that would push Rhett over the edge. What neither man noticed, however, was the sheriff's car parked across the street, and the deputy about to step in and break it up. Tessa could see it all play out. Deputy steps in, someone gets defensive, someone gets arrested. And it certainly wasn’t going to be the golden boy Tillerson. 

So she decided to step in instead. 

“Hey!” she called as she approached, heels clicking against the sidewalk. “Rhett, come on, let’s go back inside.” 

Both men turned to her instantly, just as Walker slumped against the wall with a groan. 

Trevor’s face split into a grin. “Oh, got your girl comin’ in to save your ass now, huh, Abbott?”

“Man, shut the fuck — “ Rhett started, but he stopped when Tessa wrapped her hand around his fingers and tugged. 

He went into her willingly, barely put up a fight. And it surprised her. He let her pull him away until she was between him and Trevor. Until she could look up into his face with her free hand on his waist. He stared over her shoulder at Trevor for a second more, eyes lit with fury and jaw clenched, but then he looked down at her and it all seemed to melt. Tessa shifted her eyes pointedly over at the sheriff’s car and he followed her line of sight — recognition flashing over his face.

“Let’s go back inside, cowboy,” she repeated, softer this time. 

Rhett nodded, hand moving to engulf hers completely. 

“Fine!” Trevor exclaimed, raising his hands in the air then slapping them down on his thighs. “Guess I’ll just beat the shit out of your barfly friend over here — just like I wanted to in the first place!”

Tessa turned and squared him with a look she reserved for the boys under her care, causing Trevor’s expression to drop immediately. “Why don’t you get over yourself and go back inside too, huh? Walker seems miserable enough.” 

As if to agree, Walker groaned again. 

Trevor scoffed, rolling his eyes. Then with a muttered whatever he pushed past the two of them and back inside the bar. His arm collided with Tessa roughly, shoving her further into Rhett’s chest. But he caught her easily with a hand on her waist.

“Y’okay?” he questioned softly. 

She smiled up at him. “I’m okay.”

“Walker?” Laney’s voice called out from the bar’s front door. “Oh, my God, Walker!”

She ran to her boyfriend, cheeks still red from crying, and knelt down beside him. 

“He’s fine,” Rhett assured, “Just needs soberin’ up.”

But Laney wasn’t listening, too busy holding her boyfriend’s face and yelling at him for being stupid. That should sober him up well enough.

Rhett and Tessa shared a look, then he led her back inside the bar by the hand.

“How can I thank ya for savin’ my ass?” he asked as they walked inside. 

“Buy me a drink?” she suggested with a smile. 

“I can do that.”

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[mad-scientist-showdown]

Information masterpost

The Mad Scientist Showdown is an interfandom tournament gathering the most iconic (and underrated) fictional mad scientists! ⚡️

32 competitors; polls last 24 hours.

This goes without saying, but although I understand and encourage getting invested for fun, please do not seriously get mad over this. Rather, get 'mad' in a silly way! Like our scientists.

Reminder! Before sending me an ask around the type “was x character submitted”, check if I haven’t answered your question already by searching the name of the media they come from on my blog! (if it’s a long title, try with the abbreviation too. ex. hlvrai)

Propaganda: Propaganda, fanart etc. is happily accepted. Either send it to me in an ask, or (preferably) make a post and tag me in it so I can see and reblog it :)

Useful tags (most are featured tags):

#mad scientist showdown -> every post regarding the competition in general (kinda gave up this. didn't expect to have so many posts)

#showdown info -> posts i made that give current info about the competition

#not scientist showdown -> posts that aren’t either info or the polls directly (=> mostly asks) (for filtering)

#mad scientist polls -> all polls; except the ones for round 1 because I hadn’t made that tag yet. you can therefore find them using the #round 1 tag

#[round x] -> polls that are part of a certain round x (ex. #round 2, #semi finals)

#showdown art -> art people made for the showdown (thank you <3)

#batshit scientist squad -> every post about the donatello/doofenshmirtz/megamind/bubblegum mad scientist found family

#mad scientist propaganda -> posts (reblogs or asks) that are propaganda for a certain character, by fans of that character

#mad scientist shoutout -> posts that are about — usually relatively niche or underrated — characters (and their media) who were not nominated enough times to get into the tournament

#other competitions -> reblogs of other competitions to promote them

“Why are there 3 PEOPLE against Donnie in the final???"

In this tournament, when there is a tie, both contestants advance to the next round as a duo. Megamind and Princess Bubblegum tied so they went on as a duo, and then they tied again with Doofenshmirtz in the semi-finals. The bracket's image in my pinned post should be a good visualization. This last tie was intentional as a joke about how teaming up would be the only way to defeat Donatello.

“Why are Henry Jekyll and Victor Frankenstein, the ogs, not here?”

After much thought, I decided not to include them, precisely because they are blueprints. It wouldn’t feel right to have them be pitted against characters who are inspired by or even based on them. They just don’t belong in the same category, and that’s not what I had in mind when I started this competition.

“[complaint about the matchups] >:(”

Seeding a bracket is… complicated. Putting the fan favorites against each other will obviously make people unhappy, but putting the fan favorites against obviously less popular characters will make it unfair to the latter. Do you see the problem. I tried to make it fair without thinking about it too much either. Please don’t be mad for real. There are tons of beloved characters, and half of the contestants are going to the shadow realm by the 1st round! I assure you I have nothing against your blorbo in particular.

(every masterpost is available from my pinned post)

[irlarcadegannon]

TIME TO DO YOUR CIVIC DUTY!

Help me rig an election! (i.e. give Siri the win she truly deserves) SIRI NATION, now is your time: Vote for Siri in this poll! I'm sorry Emily I love you too but Siri never gets the spotlight and for once in her life she deserves a win. Here's the thing. Siri may be a side character but with the few lines she has, it opens so much intrigue about her. She's been in Legion captivity for a few years but still shows gratitude towards a courier who helps her with the healing powder, even if they may be aligned with the Legion. Some of the lines she says, particularly to a female courier, are absolutely haunting, and every time it hits me right in the heart because here is this woman enslaved and appointed as the Legion's one medical.. provider? (the closest thing they'll agree to have to one, anyway) and given fuck all at her disposal to work with, and she still manages to do her damn best with *healing powder*. Siri is one of my top favorite fallout characters, and I so wish she got the spotlight sometimes, I NEED to know more about her, and I really wish she could be appreciated beyond being seen as Arcade's lesser and ultimately forgettable counterpart. Emily Ortal is a fantastic character too, and another one of my favorites, but in my eyes, this is a win that Siri deserves. Emily and Siri are not ENEMIES they would help each other in their hour of need (Source: I made it up. But I don't think that headcanon is too far fetched lul). Do not pit them against each other they should both win in my eyes but it's SIRI'S TIME TO SHINE! A vote for Siri is not a vote against Emily, it is a vote for justice and righteousness. Emily would want Siri to win, trust me, she told me personally. (Copied my reasoning from my original reblog of the poll but I’m putting it here because the reblog puts it below the poll, therefore some people may vote before even seeing my reasoning)

[mlynar-nearl]

@serufu​ i hope you don’t mind me peer reviewing your tags but i liked them a lot (like SO SO much) and didn’t wanna reblog the original long post again. i think everything you’re saying is exactly on the money. i also wanna point out as a footnote of sorts that i think it’s no coincidence that both mlynar and maria are the younger sibling to a (by all accounts, at least, on the part of schnitz nearl, since all we know about him is from his baby brother) a much more charismatic, confident sibling who has everything going for them and who they look/looked up to so sincerely. to mlynar, schnitz was everything that margaret is to maria, and the way they handle that pits them against each other not just as family members who are seeking themselves but love each other, but as characters in the narrative sense.

[radiowrites]

I posted 2,064 times in 2022

14 posts created (1%)

2,050 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@goneahead

@talesofsorrowandofruin

@distance-does-not-matter

@smittenbypoetry

@writerscreed

I tagged 2,057 of my posts in 2022

#writing - 1,290 posts

#lmao - 473 posts

#art - 211 posts

#fanfiction - 206 posts

#ghost hunt - 122 posts

#eye candy - 104 posts

#kpop - 85 posts

#fanart - 83 posts

#fma - 40 posts

#music - 35 posts

Longest Tag: 114 characters

#yeah i’ve learned if i want english language fanfic for a korean drama i’m probably going to have to write it haha

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Ten Random Lines

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

I was tagged by @radio-chatter! Thanks so much. This one looks fun!

Tagging: @writercorianarose @thedemoninthecorner @dreams-of-kalopsia @shesailsships @eyeliner-vampire @alonelyturtle @goneahead @csakuras and anyone else with fanfics they want to play this game with!

Ah, nothing like finding an error in a years old fic when doing a tag game...

Anyway, on to the lines. I jumped all around with the ages of the fics, and tried to do so with the fandoms, but if you are familiar with my works, you know that Ghost Hunt will dominate the list.

House of Memories / Fandom: Memorist (k-drama)

We’re not that close, she had told him, even if it had been slightly in jest. She had no right to watch over his restless slumber.

2. Day One / Fandom: Ghost Hunt (manga)

Only Mai could recognize the slight hitch of emotion in his voice.

3. Fix Me / Fandom: Ghost Hunt (manga)

“What do I need to do? Give over some blood, recite some spells?”

4. Unchained Melody / Fandom: Tale of the Nine Tailed (k-drama)

The moment broke when the music on her phone changed to something harsh and jarring.

5. The Last of the Real Ones / Fandom: Ghost Hunt (manga)

Luella told Eugene she believed him, of course. Mainly because she knew Oliver wouldn’t mess up his room for a prank. But no, she had not felt it.

6. Rebel Just For Kicks / Fandom: Final Fantasy XV (game)

Noctis pulled the truck to the side and went around the car. Ignis could see the fear-stricken faces of the passengers within.

7. A Noble Vow / Fandom: Pandora Hearts (manga)

She didn’t want to fall into another stupor and risk saying something stupid again.

8. Lost in the Echo / Fandom: Ghost Hunt (manga)

He dropped her off about a block from her home, and they never saw each other again.

See the full post

8 notes - Posted December 11, 2022

#4

2021 Fic in Review

Tagged by @radio-chatter! Thank you! ^^

Hi, I’m RaisedonRadio & FortressofmyPast on AO3 and FF.net. This is a tradition going on for years! Check out my prior year end posts: 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015.

Total Number Of Completed Works: 2

Total Word Count: 4729

Fandoms I’ve Written In: Ghost Hunt (Japanese anime/manga), Memorist (Korean drama).

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected?

Less. This past week I had hoped to finish another WIP, but instead I took the time to digitize a bunch of writing that had been trapped in notebooks. It was actually a lot of fun, there were so many stories I had forgotten about. But, do you know what this means? I ADDED SO MANY WIPs. -_-;; XD

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year?

I like them both for vastly different reasons.

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year?

I wrote for a fandom that only had two other fics in it - one in a language I don’t speak and one a crossover. It was fun because I had to know I was going into it with no anticipation of reader interaction. Truly had to write it because I wanted to.

Do You Have Any Fanfic Or Profic Goals For The New Year?

I’d definitely like to write more. Finish a few of these WIPs hanging around.

Most Popular Story Of The Year?

It’s not right to pit these two fics against each other, they are for very different fandoms, and I literally published the one on December 27th, so…

But I do like to compare the stats for AO3 and FF.net: Call You Mine had 6 reviews/29 favs on FF.net, and 6 comments/34 kudos/9 bookmarks on AO3. That’s a big deal, in the past years Ghost Hunt fics would get much more interaction on FF.net, now AO3 is breaking even.

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion:

I appreciate every comment, kudo, and fav. I know I say this every year, but it’s true. I write for relatively small fandoms and whenever a reader takes the time to say hi, my heart glows.

Most Fun Story To Write:

Call You Mine. I went into it with the desire to make something incredibly fluffy as a birthday gift and I think I succeeded.

See the full post

10 notes - Posted December 31, 2021

#3

First Lines Tag

Thanks for the tag, @talesofsorrowandofruin!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag some of your fellow authors!

I did a similar game to this a long time ago! It’ll be interesting to see if my opening style has changed any.

These are all fanfictions that can be found on my AO3. They were written from 2021 to 2017 are listed starting with the newest.

Some observations I found:

16 of the 20 are under 15 words long.

1 out of the 20 is in first person (but 3 of them could be, if just from the opening line.)

17 of the 20 introduce a character by name.

3 of the 20 open with dialogue.

My favorite? Probably from Rebel Just for Kicks.

Tagging!

@writercorianarose @thedemoninthecorner @dreams-of-kalopsia @radio-chatter @csakuras @scribblesandsorcery and anyone else that has first lines they want to share! Tag me!

1.

At first, Seon Mi didn’t give the last words of Jin Jae Gyu any weight.

- House of Memories, Memorist

2.

It was the weekend.

- Call You Mine, Ghost Hunt

3.

Masako Hara paused at the street corner.

- Waste It On Me, Ghost Hunt

See the full post

12 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

#2

I think I made like one post about Nanowrimo this month, but just wanted to say whoa! I hit 50k words! I had no idea what to expect going in when I had decided to start barely two weeks before November.

I definitely challenged my perfectionism when it comes to writing first drafts and just getting the words down, and that was my goal.

I’m ready to leave these characters alone for a bit and go dust off a few fanfictions starting in December, ha!

13 notes - Posted November 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

Oh interesting, I've never done this before!

Since 31 of my 45 fics are from the manga/anime Ghost Hunt, that's going to dominate the list, but I'll stick in one different fandom just to prove I do write occasionally for others!

Hello everyone, I am RaisedonRadio & FortressofmyPast on AO3 and FF.net. Here is five of my favorite works by yours truly.

Lin's List

A list of 25 things for Lin to refrain from - and keep Oliver from doing - during their stay in Japan. As suggested by Madoka Mori.

A humorous little oneshot under 1000 words. An oldie that has aged well.

The Last of the Real Ones

Being determined to expose them all as frauds might mean losing a piece of himself along the way.

I will admit, I am a oneshot writer. So here is one of like, two chaptered works in my portfolio (not including oneshot collections).

A piece that focuses on a young Oliver when his paranormal skills start to take over his life.

Same Old Lang Syne

Should old acquaintances be forgotten, and never brought to mind?

A post-series look at if the gang drifted apart. Yes, it's based after the Dan Fogelberg song.

Lost in the Echo

Can you call it a reunion if you’ve never met before?

A look into one of Ghost Hunt's biggest mysteries - the death of Eugene Davis.

And the honorary mention fandom, for a kdrama titled Tale of the Nine Tailed:

Unchained Melody

He’s teaching her to drive, why can’t he teach her to dance, too?

I don't normally fall for non canon couples, but I fell hard for Rang and Yu Ri.

Thanks for reading!

14 notes - Posted May 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 41

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: it's thursday and i'm thirsty.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You have no tears left. When you’re still and silent, standing in Odin’s arms, slumped against him, the birds sing a little louder and the sun shines a little bright. You feel almost cleansed despite the hollow at the pit of your stomach. You lift your head and wipe your damp cheeks as he slowly lets his embrace fall away from you.

You sniffle and peer back through the garden, towards the house. You’e not ready to face them all, not with puffy eyes and a heavy heart. Odin pats your shoulder gently, rubbing your arm as he coos your name.

“I have something else to show you,” he says and offers his hand.

You take it and gulp down the last of your grief. He turns you away from the great Odinson manse and leads you around the fountain. Leaves rustle softly and the water trickles soothingly. He guides you down a path hidden behind a cluster of bramble, overgrown with moss and ivy, littered with winged samara and sprouting blooms.

The noise of the fountain fades behind you as you enter an archway formed by outstretched maple branches, canopied in the spring leaves. There’s a small structure ahead shrouded in purple wisteria. A gazebo, smaller than that on Laufeyson’s property, forged in stone with rounded windows upon each side. Within, the walls have benches jutting out, another doorway opposite the entrance, looking out into a shadow swath of untrimmed foliage.

“It is old, a bit unkempt, much like myself,” he chuckles as he lets you go.

“It’s beautiful,” you preen as you admire the neat lines between each stone block, “wonderful… I… I love it.”

“It’s a perfect hiding place,” he muses, “a perfect place to have one’s breakfast without disturbance.”

You turn to him, a question stitches between your brows.

“I will fetch you tea? Yes? Perhaps some fruit and something more substantial?”

“I…”

“Dear, you think overly much of others and not enough of yourself. Sit, enjoy your solitude while you can, and I will return with all you need,” he insists.

“I can’t, Mr. Lauf–”

“You let me worry for my son,” he interjects. “I’ve no doubt his part in your despair.”

You don’t argue further. You wouldn’t dare. You lower your head and sit along the stone bench against the wall and turn to peer out the window. It is wonderful there. Like a little world of your own.

You glance over but he’s already gone. You barely even heard him with the buzz of insects and scratch of sneaky critters all around. You turn back to the long window and watch a dragonfly skim along the ground, whizzing up, down, and back and forth. It’s as if you escaped into a book you read as a girl, where everything was magical and spectacular. You don’t think you’ll get a happy ending though.

Your mind wanders through the greenery and back to the house. The bedroom, dark in the small hours of the night, laying awake, staring at the wall, Mr. Laufeyson’s warm breaths puffing into your neck. Those moments when he doesn’t seem so intimidating but remains perplexing. One moment, wrapped around you, the next toying with you like a puppet.

Your core tingles and you bend your legs on the bench, squeezing them together. The sensations swirl in your mind with the shower steam. As delightful as it all was, your heart rents with shame. The way he left you on the tile, the expectation you would get yourself up and go to him, ready to be used again. As always, you have a duty.

Mr. Laufeyson does not care for you as a person, you doubt you’ll ever be that in his eyes. You are just another possession, like his records on the shelf, or that telescope he polishes so vehemently. Just another number in his collection.

You hear a snap and blow away the anxiety as best you can. You can’t worry about it so deeply, you know what you agreed to. He has given what he’s promised; you’ve been fed, clothed, and housed. You need him more than he could ever need you.

You turn to the doorway as Odin appears again, a tray in his hands. He brings it to the next bench and sets it down. There’s a cup of tea and a stack of square waffles beneath a dusting of sugar and heaps of berries. It smells delicious as your mouth waters for a taste.

“I’ve brought this as well,” he stands straight and takes a book from under his arm, “I hope it will keep you entertained.”

“Oh?” You watch him set it down.

“Today is for you, dear, you won’t be disturbed, I will see to it,” he declares, “Walpurgisnacht approaches and we all must be ready for the spring. Lay the past behind so we can start again.”

You lower your eyes, “thank you, Odin.”

“No need for that,” he says, “I only ask that you do one thing for me,” he nears and pets your head. You peer up at him as you heart seizes. “You will be kind to yourself.”

“I… I’ll try.”

“You should take care of her,” he points to you, “I rather like her a lot and I hate to see those I care for suffer.”

You smile, “I will.”

“Better,” he grins and retreats, “I will be in to check on you periodically.”

“Thank you,” you call after him and he gives a half-salute before he’s off, whistling into the air.

You exhale and let the last of the tension slake away. You drag the tray close and cut into the fluffy stack. You remember how you always wanted a waffle maker. Instead, you always had the frozen waffles you slid into the old overheating toaster. These are much better, they’re sweet and oh so yummy.

Sitting there, in the small gazebo, amidst the wilderness, you feel like a bird in a nest. Safe, cozy, and alone.

✨

You lose yourself in the pages of the book. The sun shifts as you move with it, keeping the ink in its light as you imbibe every word like sweet nectar. It’s like staring in a mirror as you feed on the tale of one, Jane Eyre.

Your literary meditation is splintered by the sudden ripple of a shadow and the clearing of a throat; gentle, almost reluctant to tear through the serenity. You look up at Odin as he stands in the archway, a small curve amidst his thick white beard.

“Apologies,” he says as he comes forward to gather up the tray, “I’m afraid it’s time.”

You deflate and close the book. You stand and hold out the book, “I can get all that.”

“No, no, I can manage,” he assures you, “and that is for you, dear. Keep that as your own.”

“I couldn’t–”

“You have some to go, haven’t you?” He eyes the book, “please, I have enough books.”

You look down at the book and hug it. It’s like a new best friend. You just want to spend all your time amidst its pages.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever you need,” he backs out of the gazebo, “come with me now. Let us put our masks on.”

You giggle and follow him. He says it so well. It’s like slipping back into a costume. You feel the peace chipping away and the tension once more has you rigid. Back to the real world.

“Now, we cannot give ourselves away,” he halts just out of sight of the veranda, “I shall go ahead and you will follow that path,” he turns and nods behind the row of hedges, “follow it around the front and you may slip in.”

“Oh, uh…” You blink and look over your shoulder, “that way?”

“Yes, it will take you right around to the front door.”

“Right, thank you… again.”

He bows his head and steps forward. You turn off in your own escape as the slippers on your feet clap against the ground. You come out in the golden sunshine and tramp across the stonework of the arced drive. As you come up the steps, the door opens from within. You stop at the middle stare and gape up.

“There you are,” Mr. Laufeyson greets, almost an accusation, “where’ve you been off to?”

Your brows pop up and you peer around, “reading.”

“Reading? You couldn’t do so in your room?” He challenges.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson. I broke the rules.”

“You broke the rules– get inside,” he points you inside as he steps back. You obey and he snaps the door at your entrance, turning towards you with a finger in the air. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I’m very sorry.”

He sighs and drops his hand, gripping his hip, “where were you reading?”

“Outside.”

“Outside– be straight, where?”

“In the garden,” you say plainly, lips down turned, “I only wanted to watch the butterflies.”

You look up at him, a pout in your lower lip, and bat your lashes. You clutch the book tighter and his eyes fall to squint at it. He reaches and curls his fingers around the top, wiggling it free. He flips it over to read the spine.

“This is a first edition,” he states as he examines, “where did you find this?”

The disbelief in his voice makes you nervous. First edition? 

“Is it very old?” You ask.

He winces and looks at you, his green eyes lit, “1847… I’d say so.”

“Oh?” You bat your lashes.

“Not in its original form,” he turns it over, “it’s been rebound into a single volume. The first print was in three parts and this cover… it can’t possibly be so ancient.”

You gulp and purse your lips.

“So I have to wonder, where you found this,” he sneers at you.

“Well, I… your father gave it to me.”

“Gave it to you? To read? He lent it to you?”

“Um, he just said… to keep it as my own,” you shrug.

“Do you--keep it? A first edition Bronte?” He sounds ready to explode, “so that is where you’ve been? With my father?”

“I saw him, Mr. Laufeyson, but I was mostly alone,” you sniff, “I shouldn’t have gone out. I’m sorry. Again.”

“Is that all you’re going to say? Sorry, sorry, sorry?”

You nod, “sorry.”

He closes his eyes and pinches his nose, “you will stay close.” He offers the book back to you, “put this away and put on some proper shoes,” he looks down at the oversized slippers, “I’ve some errands to run for mother and you will come along. Do your duty.”

✨

Mr. Laufeyson is quiet throughout the drive. So are you. You accept your penance and roil in the thick silence, fingers twiddling and twining restlessly. His sighs make you flinch as you await further reprimand.

He pulls in before a shop front of white trimmed in red. He gets out without waiting and you follow after him. You trail him inside as he strolls across to the counter where women in red aprons and caps smile back at him. 

“Hello, I’ve come to pick up an order for Odinson,” he declares flatly.

“Frigga? Oh yes,” the shorter of the pair flits into the backroom.

“You don’t remember me?” The other woman asks. Laufeyson’s eyes shoot darts at her and his brows arch.

“I recall you spilled vodka on my wedding shoes, yes,” he scoffs.

“Oh,” she makes a face, “I thought maybe you’d forgotten that part.”

“Mm,” he hums and taps his fingers on the shining countertop.

The other woman returns and slides over a large white box, a red seal stuck along the corner to keep it firmly closed. Laufeyson takes out his wallet, “how much then?”

“Paid for,” the woman proclaims, “all yours.”

“Right,” he slides the box off and pivots smoothly. 

You peer back before you scurry ahead of him to the door, opening it as his hands are full. That woman was at his wedding? Did she know Sif? Was it a big event? Did everyone go? You don’t ask any of the questions that flood your head. You’d rather not know.

He balances the box in one hand and reaches into his pocket for his keys, unlocking the trunk. He tucks the box firmly against the emergency kit to keep it in place. 

“Whatever it is, it should be kept cool in here,” he shuts the lid, “though I wonder why mother couldn’t have it brought with tomorrow’s delivery.”

You don’t say a word. You wouldn’t know either. He strides back along the side of the car and dips into the driver seat. You mirror him as you get in on the passenger’s and he presses the button to turn the engine. He sighs and rests the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. He glances in the rear view.

“I’ve another stop to make.”

That’s all he says. It isn’t a question, just a statement. Though you wonder why he even made the declaration. You don’t need to know, you just go along.

He backs out and rolls out of the lot into the street. You distract yourself with the other storefronts and the veneers of city buildings. He drives onto an avenue and slows along the curb, shifting to a stop before he once more shuts off the engine.

Again, he gets out without instruction. You follow. That’s all you can do. He heads up to the grey brick house. Where are you? It isn’t until you’re at the front door that you notice the metal placard mounted on the wall; Bragi Skald, Antiques and Artifacts. 

Laufeyson clangs the large knocker on the door and checks his watch. You wait. It’s quiet. You see no light through the windows but the curtains are drawn flush to the windows, as if they’ve been sealed.

The hinges whine suddenly as the door swings inward, “Ah, Loki!” A blond man at least head shorter than his visitor greets, “wonderful to see you again. I did have it in my ear that you were about, I was curious as you when you should darken my doorway.”

“Bragi,” Laufeyson replies tersely.

“And who is this gorgeous creature,” the man’s crystal blue eyes surprise you as the bow in his lip deepens. He sends you a wink and offers his hand, “forgive me, sweetheart, I nearly missed you there, and how could I overlook such a ravishing woman.”

“Enough,” Laufeyson girds.

“I haven’t even introduced myself–”

“This is Bragi,” Laufeyson introduces the man then utters your name pointedly in return.

“Ah, beautiful name but that hardly answers my curiosity. Who is she? Oh, don’t tell me, you’re marrying again–”

“Hardly,” Laufeyson swipes away the thought with his hand, “I only need to be away from my family.”

“Yes, yes, of course. With Walpurgisnacht, I can only imagine–”

“Be glad you only have to imagine it,” Laufeyson scowls. “Are you going to welcome us in or shall we continue to stand on your porch like tramps?”

“Come, come,” Bragi opens the door wider, “Lady, please, don’t mind the clutter.”

Laufeyson waves you ahead of him. You enter and hold back your shock at the interior. You can hardly see the walls for the stacks of books all around, many with sheaths of paper jutting out. It smells like cinnamon and hint of dust.

“What are we in the mood for? Tea? Or something stronger? I’ve some absinthe–”

“Don’t be mad,” Laufeyson rebukes, “tea will do fine. Just tea, none of your tricks.”

“You speak to me of tricks?” Bragi hums, “is that a sense of humour I sense, oh, dour Loki.”

You lock your jaw to keep from gaping. You’ve never heard anyone talk to Mr. Laufeyson like that, not anyone outside his family, and even Thor did not mock him so lightly.

“Do you want tea?” Laufeyson looks over at you.

“If it isn’t any trouble.”

“Tea,” Laufeyson snaps his fingers at Bragi.

“Do you like scones, lady?” Bragi turns his attention to you.

“I’m not very hungry, thank you–”

“Lady!” A squawk makes you jump, drawing your attention to the flutter of blue feathers that descends to perch on the banister post. A great blue parrot tweaks its head and repeats the word.

“Oh, hush,” Bragi shoos away the bird but only receives a nip of its sharp beak, “don’t listen to Fossegrim. He talks too much.” Bragi shakes his head and retreats down the hallway, “tea, tea, tea…” he chants as if he might forget.

Laufeyson tuts, “he speaks of talking too much…”

You stare up at the blue parrot as it stares back at you. Around its eyes and mouth are bright yellow strips. It’s a pretty creature.

“Lady,” it bawks again and hops off the banister, winging around the space to land on your shoulder.

You gasp as Laufeyson takes a step back. He just sends a troubled look to the bird and glances around, “in here,” he points you through the doorway behind him.

“Um…” you move carefully, trying not to disturb the bird.

In the next room, a large harp stands in one corner, a piano the other, and a litter of various instruments on shelves mounted on the walls. There’s a twelve-string guitar on the sofa, leaned against the armrest as if it was left there haphazardly.

“Be very careful,” Laufeyson returns, “it bites.”

“Bite!” The parrot squawks and snaps in Mr. Laufeyson’s direction. He sighs and once more eludes the bird’s breadth.

“Wish he’d lock that thing up,” he mutters.

You stand like a statue, nervous. You turn your head slowly to look at the parrot. It leans in and nuzzles your hair. You stay as you are, paralysed as you fear it might snap at you too. A grating chitter rises from its throat, softer than its former screech. It continues the purrlike noise as it rocks on your shoulder.

“Is it singing?” You ask as Laufeyson stares with arms crossed.

“I have no idea. Let’s hope it’s not growling.”

You frown and clasp your hands tight. If the bird keeps Mr. Laufeyson away, it can’t be so bad.

[forh3r]

DARLING, DEAREST, DEAD. - indie, PRIVATE & EXTREMELY LOW ACTIVITY account for FELICIA from netflix ARCANE. mostly based on headcanons + personal interpretation. written by NINA. minors don't interact.

a study on: having a brilliant mind and very little resources, being the glue that keeps a trio together, fighting for a better future, unexpected motherhood and its uncertainties.

useful links: headcanons, about felicia, present day shenanigans, prompts, sideblog.

MOBILE RULES UNDER THE CUT.

SOURCE MATERIAL.

i'm caught up with the show but i haven't played or kept up with lol since middle school, so excuse me if my knowledge is a bit rusty. i'll make up for that!

we have very little information about felicia so i will mostly write her based on headcanons and my personal interpretation. i do however take some inspiration from characters belonging to other pieces of media as well.

SHIPPING.

you may find sexual content on this blog in the form of gifs, pictures or headcanons but will always be tagged and put under a read more when possible.

platonic ships ( friendships, familiar, coworkers, etc ) are something I want for felicia, so i'm always down to plot.

romantic ships need chemistry and a whole lot of plotting. please don't force ship. also, while i am biased about felicia / vander / silco, i will not push it on other writers. if you're interested in writing something about it please ask first.

INTERACTIONS.

due to my age being 25+ i'd rather not interact with anyone under 20+ for my own comfort. if your age isn't stated anywhere in your blog i won't follow / follow back.

memes can be sent by everyone, same as anons as long as they're polite. i'm too old to deal with tumblr toxic culture.

DNI.

this blog is meant to be a safe space for me and my mutuals. please don't interact if:

engage in racist, homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, islamophobic or antisemitic behaviour etc...

pit female characters against each other. in this household we love all women.

i'm not interest in callouts about petty stuff, but i do want to know if someone i might be mutual with has a history of being predatory and whatnot. follow this rule at your own discretion.

REPLIES.

if i follow you, i want to interact with you. please go on to send memes or whatever, they're always appreciated.

i don't mind multiple threads, but i will warn you ahead that i'm very slow with replies. i don't mind being asked at what point i'm at with your reply, but please don't pester me.

as you might have already noticed by now, english is not my first language. i have studied it for over two decades but i'm bound to make mistakes from time to time. don't hesitate to reach out if my replies are not making any sense!

i always reblog memes from the source but will send you something if i see it fit for our muses. i would like for you to do the same, or at least not use me as a meme source.

THE MUN.

hi, i'm nina and i'm 25+. i'm currently juggling between a part-time job and university so unfortunately my time on here will be quite limited. on the same note please don't hesitate to hit my ims if you ever want to chat or need anything, i'll get back to you asap!

i don’t need any trigger tagged personally, but I can assure you that despite that i’ll tag everything properly as tw trigger, so that everyone can have a safe time here. if you ever need anything in particular to be tagged let me know.

i love yapping about a lot of stuff, but i'm also so incredibly shy! please don't take it as an indication of my interest, and absolutely go on to ask for my discord if you'd like or reach out through ims!

this is not my primary blog, so if you don't find me here i'm probably at rescuefield, ak4rin, memoriescut.

[strunmah-mah]

I posted 899 times in 2022

That's 675 more posts than 2021!

131 posts created (15%)

768 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@oifaaa

@birdsbats-maddness

@theforceisstronginthegirl

@aalghul

@hadariwizard

I tagged 897 of my posts in 2022

#dc - 516 posts

#jason todd - 249 posts

#damian wayne - 130 posts

#bruce wayne - 99 posts

#dick grayson - 75 posts

#tmnt - 65 posts

#dc comics - 58 posts

#batman fandom - 57 posts

#tim drake - 53 posts

#artemis grace - 43 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#like i tottally thoughoh yeah everyone makes that joke because his main enenmies are the yellow lanterns and he's actually just weak to fear

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Hey, all the big networks and stuff are looking to make “the new Game of Thrones”, somebody should make an original tv series centered on the al Ghul family.

The League of Assassins has so many internal factions and conflicts you could probably make an entire season fro just that, two if you were clever about it.

The comics tend to focus on Talia, the Arrowverse preferred Nyssa, and I don’t a thing about Dusan. In this we could get all three, as a treat.

Exploring the childhood dynamic of Damian and Mara. I imagine it’s very similar to Gamora and Nebula, kids who kinda wanna be friends but can’t because of the way they are constantly pitted against each other. But maybe they aren’t, this way we could find out for certain.

Athanasia would not have to be in this, but if she was I wouldn’t complain.

Slade Wilson as a recurring antagonist. Maybe he has his own faction of the League, maybe Respawn exists in this universe and he’s mad about that. Both could be good.

This could be a chance to make Cassandra Cain a more mainstream name. I don’t like her but I’m sure someone would enjoy her inclusion.

Characters I do enjoy though are Thea Queen and Sara Lance. I’m pretty sure they’re both arrowverse originals. Don’t make this part of the arrowverse, but I want to see more of them.

I would love to see an adaptation of Catwoman: Soulstealer in this. Selina Kyle stealing the secrets of how to make an artificial Lazarus pit seems fun.

Because I’m a Jason fangirl I have to include this: Do a variation of Red Hood: Lost Days. Except Talia and Jason stay strictly mother-son and don’t sleep together. And after  his confrontation with Batman and the Joker goes bad, Jason returns as a permanent addition to the cast and takes his role as Damian’s big brother.

Speaking of Red Hood if the theoretical writer of this show would like to take on the ambitious task of having the All-Caste and The Untitled actually make sense I would be very interested. Maybe they also tie into the League of Lazarus somehow seems like The Well of Sin is supposed to the original source of that right?

Those are my ideas, somebody who knows comics better than me should add more.

88 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

#4

Okay, so I’m sure we’ll find out who this girl is in White Knight Presents: Red Hood, But I don’t want to wait that long. So, let’s play a game called, “Who was Jason’s Robin in the White Knight universe?”

Mia Dearden

The hair color is wrong but I just read the Green Arrow story where Jason kidnaps her and I think it would be very funny if she was his Robin in another universe

Artemis Crock

Again wrong hair color, but I really think Jason would get along with a version of her similar to her Young Justice self

Sasha aka Scarlet

Not an archer, but it would be interesting if Jason’s original sidekick was brought back like this.

Helena Bertinelli

Normally older than Jason and wielding a crossbow instead of recurve bow,  but de-aging her so she could be a murder Robin (it’s Jason, his Robin has probably killed people) would hardly be the weirdest thing to happen in comics.

Athanasia al Ghul

The al Ghul’s haven’t been brought up yet in this universe, but considering Jason’s main continuity background, the idea the al Ghul’s trained him and in return he trained one of their’s isn’t outlandish. Plus there’s the irony of Jason training Bruce’s daughter.

Mara al Ghul

Same reasoning as Athanasia minus the bits about her being Bruce’s kid and add in the fact that I think Mara actually does use a bow. I’m not sure Athansia does.

Lian Harper

Most of these suggestions have just been for funsies, this one actually seems likely. The girl has a habit of turning up in weird locations (she’s Catwoman’s sidekick in main canon?) But given the friendship between Roy and Jason, her turning up here would have some logic to it.

109 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

#3

[image description: It’s the inside of a monastery. There’s two lanterns lighting everything. Jason Todd, Cheshire, Onyx, and Sensei all sit in a circle meditating. In the background Talia al Ghul watches them while holding her baby, Damian /end descrition]

[image description: It is an indoor facility on Apokolips. From left to right stand Granny Goodness, Mary Marvel, Kara Zor-El and Big Barda /end descrition]

Next season are we getting both of these squads? ‘Cause if we are, that’s gonna be redemption arcs galore.

129 notes - Posted June 9, 2022

#2

Hey Can some one tell e what Roy Harper’s personality is actually supposed to be like? ‘Cause the three versions I’m familiar with are Arrow (tv series), Young Justice (cartoon), and RHATO (new 52). And those are just wildly different character. I don’t know what to do with this guy.

181 notes - Posted March 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

[Video transcript

Text box: Make Condiment King Scary; There’s your challenge.

Red Text: TW: Discussion of Murder

The Panda Redd: OK

The screen flashes and Panda is now dressed as Condiment king

Condiment King: You know, I always hated that name. The one that the press gave me. Condiment King. So patronizing. Like I’m trying to make some grand standing of what I do, I’m not. I’m not. Wanna know how I got that name? It’s a funny story actually. See a life time ago I was just another, another goon, another grunt on the street working for Falcone. And, uh, One day I found myself at this restaurant, some, some racket Falcone’s been running and the uh, the owner decided not to pay. So I was sent to, uh, relieve him of his station. Guy finishes up his meal, I follow him into the back, stick a gun in his face. “Hands up Fucker, Flacone sends his regards.” The bastard kicks it out of my fucking hand. So the part that nobody decided to fucking mention to me was the guy was a goddamn black belt in karate. who starts throwing me around. He slams me into the fucking walls. I’m getting stains from all the shit falling off of him all over by brand new sky blue suit that I’m wearing for this fucking occasion. That is, until I see the stove. I see they’re cooking up a special brew of uh, extra hot sauce on there. You know, that it only takes three pounds of ground up chilies, consumed in one sitting to kill a man, purely from the capsaicin. Well I’ll tell you what. He figured out what it’s like to inhale that shit. I grabbed his head and I just, I just fucking held it under, I held him there, until the fucking bubbles stopped coming up. And that was it, I thought. But you see a man kills a someone with a bowl of hot sauce, in a suit soaked in condiments, and well. Everyone in Gotham’s got a gimmick. See my problem isn’t with the name it’s self. It’s with the insult that is implied. People think that what I do is silly. But I’m going to ask you something. If the ketchup on your burger was too tangy would you stop eating it? Or, or if your hot sauce wings tingled your throat in a way you didn’t expect, would you all of a sudden stop? The thing is, apart from taking a shit, eating is when people are their most vulnerable. I ask you, do you know what poison tastes like? Are you sure?

Condiment King laughs and the video ends.]

Imma bee real honest here. My ideal sequel to The Batman would be Battinson vs. this very specific version of Condiment King. If The Panda Redd didn’t play him I wouldn’t watch it.

262 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ladywhistleupp]

You have put a lot of words in my mouth and made several assumptions. She wants biological kids which can’t happen in that time period with wlw relationships because IVF and surrogacy don’t exist yet. It would be like adding someone who was going through gender reassignment surgery, something that just didn’t exist and wasn’t possible during this time. Also it does take away representation by erasing the majority ofher story.

It also seems you just wanted to argue with me by your language instead of having a discussion which could have occurred in private. Many LGBTQ+ have agreed that they deserve their own representation not just a erasure of an important story. It also seems like one of your paragraphs seemed to wanna play the “well they made characters black so why can’t they be gay?” which is pitting two marginalized groups against each other. Yeah you may not have said it directly but one can read between the lines based on your wording and repeated use of “diversity”. As a black and arab woman who keeps seeing this argument it’s quite disappointing to hear it from a member of another marginalized group. Also race doesn’t change the ability for one to have biological children with their partner (something that unfortunately two women can’t do without IVF or surrogacy as previously stated).

Marina’s story is not at all the same because she had her children whereas Francesca lost hers and only rejoined the marriage mart to have biological kids which as stated earlier can’t happen with a woman. I have never seen women with infertility issues be represented in media or in Bridgerton but I have seen bisexual and gay relationships represented (Brimsley and Reynolds, Benedict discovering he may like men too). My mother lost my brother soon after his birth and I know she probably would have loved to see the original story because she’s never seen any close representation.

It’s also ridiculous for you to assume what I meant by Eloise being a better choice for a bi or lesbian relationship by claiming I think that because she’s outspoken…. if you met people who actually knew me you’d know I’m outspoken….doesn’t make one a lesbian so why would I ever assume such? If we’re watching the same show as I assume we are you’d know Eloise has never shown any interest in any men so it could make sense for her to end up falling for another woman.

Netflix has also been known to queerbait and add LGBTQ+ characters for a cash grab. This is something I’ve heard from a lot of members of the LGBTQ+ community and it’s been easy to tell. Netflix is a corporation that hasn’t even cared about the actors they hire (the actress who played Marina Thompson had two mental breakdowns during and after season 1 and Netflix provided her with absolutely no support).

Now I think it best to end this argument here because I don’t see us seeing eye to eye on this matter especially when things that were never said are being assumed. For someone saying at the beginning that they weren’t trying to accuse me before going on to do just that I think you should see things from the point of view of women who have miscarried. I don’t know if you’ve read Francesca’s book, but if not I think you should. I’d rather you not reblog this with another argument and instead message me with anything else you would like to add because I don’t know about you but I don’t come to tumblr to argue. There have been others who probably disagreed (and they have every right too) that just scrolled past instead of trying to paint me as a bad person while claiming they weren’t doing exactly that. I hope LGBTQ+ people get representation but I also believe this was a great chance at representation for women who resonate with Francesca’s story that haven’t read the books.

[contains Bridgerton book series spoilers]

I’m going to try to be careful with my words because my intentions are never to upset anyone especially members of a fellow marginalized community that I personally don’t belong too. I am disappointed in the rewriting of Francesca’s story. A big part of her book is her deep love for John Sterling and struggle with infertility. She loved John more than anything and when he died she mourned for yearsss and only rejoined the marriage market because she desperately wanted kids of her own after losing their child. I understand queer representation is important to those in the LGBTQ+ community, but there are many books about LGBTQ+ love that Netflix could adapt into a show or movie. Heartstopper is an example of one they’ve adapted and I’ve seen so many people who love and resonate with that show. Or an alternative would be to make Eloise lesbian/bi because it would make more sense. There’s very little representation in media for women who struggle with infertility and I’ve heard from many women whose favorite book was Francesca’s because of how they related to her struggle. Not only that, but they made her immediately develop a crush on Michaela when in the books it’s Michael who immediately falls for Francesca upon meeting her and he struggles with those feelings when before and especially after John dies. To make Francesca have feelings for Michaela completely diminishes her love for John that makes her mourning so strong. Michael also has a big internal conflict with inheriting the Kilmartin estate after John’s death. This also takes representation from women who have lost their husbands while pregnant with their child(ren). Majority of the people I know who are upset about it aren’t upset because of Francesca’s sexuality but because of how it throws away her whole story. One of my best friends is a black woman who is bi and has read all the books and before I even finished part 2 she was texting me upset because she herself has had a miscarriage and loved Francesca’s story.

[shiftingbetweenfandoms]

It’s the way I haven’t watched eastenders in so long because Ben and Callum just don’t feel like Ben and Callum anymore

They’re always pitted against each other and it just makes you wonder how they’re still married tbh let alone together

And don’t even get me started on the double standards for Ben and Callum

Callum struggles with ptsd, doesn’t tell Ben, everyone’s response: omg how can Ben not tell?! Callum’s clearly struggling! He’s such a bad husband!!!!

Ben struggles with ptsd, doesn’t tell Callum, everyone’s response: omg why is Ben being so toxic to Callum?! He’s acting out and I couldn’t possibly guess why!

And that’s just a brief summary of what I’ve seen and it’s just pissed me off

The EE writers keep reusing the trope of Ben acting out and being self destructive and yes it is warranted here, but it’s the response that pisses me off. Everyone just seems so desperate to make Ben the villain all the time.

If any other character struggles with mental health and acts out, they don’t get burned at the stake for it (Jean, Whitney, Mick)

I’m literally only still in the fandom for all the content creators in it, I still read the FanFiction and reblog gifs but I just think I’m done with the show tbh

[elfyourmother]

those comments are pissing me off the longer I sit on them and I need to vent. again please do not reblog this I am not here to start shit or debate people I am just expressing frustration in my own space

first of all Estinien’s attraction to WoL is just as ~instant~ as the other lads any damn way, if WoL isn’t a Dragoon he literally says “my blood fair sang” when he heard they were coming to that parley at Camp Dragonhead, the very first time they would have met (and let’s not forget the thirsty camera angles framing him like a femme fatale)

more importantly though like. one of the very best things about this corner of the fandom is just how multiship and polyship friendly it’s been. quite possibly the friendliest and most chill and welcoming of polyshipping I’ve ever encountered and it’s been such a balm and an encouragement for me as a poly person who primarily writes polyships, and with these specific Ishgardians. Even people who don’t ship these elves together have historically been very chill towards those of us who do. And a lot of us do!!! This is one time polyshipping is popular!!! And all three of The Lads(tm) are comfort characters to me, all of their relationships with Gisele and with each other (and Ysayle/Steph) mean so damn much to me, I refuse to choose a favorite one because I love and appreciate the differences in the dynamics sfm. And I have been so heartened by the response to my fics and gpose etc. Not one person has ever implied one is better than the other. Not one has ever denigrated folk for polyshipping them. this is the closest thing to a safe space for myself and my work as a poly person that I have had in literal years

So the idea that anybody would start up with the ship superiority complex, and try to disrupt that? isn’t just disheartening, it’s infuriating. I left the BW fandoms in large part because of that kind of shit, because of prescriptivists and deranged stans of various LIs who were convinced the only way to gas up their fave was to tear down others, folk who were not content unless LIs were pitted against each other and their fave was The Best. God forbid you or your OC should love more than one or ship them together.

Fam, all of us are just working with the ship tease given and our own interpretations of canon. One True Wayism is fucking absurd in every fandom but it’s extra fucking stupid in this one. there is no canonical romance in this game!!!

God!!!