#what did you expect

[tvgremlin]

He stared at her for a year straight- that’s how

sorry but how the fuck did carmy know sydney's measurements for the chef whites??

[hugeegosorry]

Marriage headcanons - James Wilson x Fem!Reader

He cheats on you

You divorce

[alexxuun]

Triknives 🔪🔪🔪

[the-damnable-fool]

"It'S WrEtChEd AnD vIle To CeLeBrAtE sOmEoNe'S dEaTh" Hey. Hey look at me. Listen to me. This guy that died was not some celebrity that said bad things and then got into a car accident. This is not some ex boyfriend of Taylor Swifts that people thought came across as a bit of a douche. This is a person who's choices quite literally shortened the lives of other human beings for the sake of profit. We are not being petty here. That guy was a vile bastard propagating a vile system and pretending otherwise is not the moral high ground you think it is. When a group of people start making healthcare oppressively inaccessible and rig the system so that making legitimate change is next to impossible you cannot be surprised when one of them gets shot. Yes, I agree with you that nobody *deserves* to die, but some people choose to do evil things and make it so that killing them is the only way to make them stop. I'm glad we had this talk.

[shynverlight]

Don't interrupt, they're flirting

You can find me on twi(x) : @shynverlight

[fluentisonus]

less serious post but extremely funny ovid writes a thing called the metamorphoses & people are like 'i can't believe he transformed these myths >:('

[beanghostprincess]

Everyone is so empathetic to the idea of Denji being a victim of sexual assault until he is actually, explicitly, sexually assaulted and suddenly it's disgusting and off-putting and reading csm is wrong.

[dalishious]

I swear to god this character is my perfectly crafted catnip.

[xx3bvvx]

I can't imagine how close the Soos were, to the point both of Soo Hyuk and Jung Soo chose to die instead of Rok soo.

I mean, my own blood related family wouldn't choose to die for me. Humans are selfish, but both Soo Hyuk and Jung Soo chose to die and save Rok Soo. They didn't want the man they considered as their little brother to die, so they chose to die for him.

That's my roman Empire ♡

[red-veril]

Very late but...

R'lyeh Miku 🐙🧜🏻

[sadlynotthevoid]

Okey, but, I feel like og!Cale is the type of person that, if someone tried to make fun of him for a crush, he would be like "ah, yeah, that's true" and openly admit it.

So, og AlbeCale AU where whenever someone tries to mock Cale about liking Alberu or asks him about it, he downright says the truth. Regardless of who is hearing him.

As in, maybe once someone asks if Rok Soo and Cale are dating because they seem close (in part because they're kind of close, and in part because Cale keeps knowing what he is thinking, but they don't know that's just a Cale thing). And Rok Soo is like:

Rok Soo: Nah. This guy's type are baker princes.

Cale: You got it wrong. I don't like any princes who bake, I like Alberu only.

And Alberu, who was drinking tea on the background, suddenly chokes on his cup. Which they notice, of course.

"Oh. Hey, Al. Are you okay?"

—Totally unfazed for having Alberu heard the whole conversation.

He's so shameless about it and it's completely unintentional.

He has no idea of how people treat their crushes normally nor is interested on doing the same. He knows that some people tend to get shy, but a decade purposefully acting as trash killed most of his shame— Well, at least when it is about others' opinions of him—. If he wants to do something, being laughed at is not what's going to stop him.

And what he wants is to say how adorable he thinks Alberu is, so that's what he does.

Rejection? He isn't proposing anything. He doesn't plan on dating or wooing Alberu either. It's not that he wouldn't like it, it's just that it hasn't occurred to him that that's even an option. For him, who had spent years hearing everyone say the worst of him, the idea of someone wanting him by their side is so far away that it has yet to form.

So he keeps making casual comments about how cute Alberu is when he's confused, or "his hair looks so soft, I bet it feels that way too", or "he looks so handsome when he's tricking people. I like it more when he doesn't have to, tho", while everyone else feels embarrased for it. Except Rosalyn, she thinks it's hilarious.

Of course, he's pretty much respectful about it, never crossing the line to sexual harassment. And he would stop if Alberu told him too, but he doesn't. He kinda didn't realize that was an option at the beginning and, at this point, he got used and actually enjoys it a bit (a lot).

Cale: oh, sweets! They're my fifth favorite thing in this cruel world.

Rosalyn, fully knowing what she's doing: what are the other four?

Cale, carefully choicing which cake eat first: Well— *rising a finger per item* my family, animals, Alberu and wine. In that order.

Alberu: *frowns* I'm only third?

Cale, picking a chocolate tart: Mm? I loved animals since before meeting you and, at this point, is a part of myself. The other day I saw a dog and spent two hours squatting at her side without realize. It was not a conscious decision, it was... a soul impulse, let's say.

Alberu, looking at his thighs because damn, that's a lot of time to stay in that position: Oh. Wait, you've also loved wine since before meeting me.

Cale: Yes, but drinking wine is a choice. I can live happily without it. You would be... more difficult to leave.

Alberu: *processing* (that means— can't be happy without me aksjdjsj) "blushes hard*

Rosalyn, looking at Alberu's silly fuming face: (don't laugh don't laugh) Pff—

Cale: cherry pie? *Holds a mini pie in front of Alberu*

The turn tables when Alberu realizes that Cale doesn't have resistaince against genuine compliments. He never takes fake glibbery words seriously, but if someone says the slightliest good thing about him and they mean it, he'll become a mess. He just— doesn't know how to react when someone believes anything good about him.

So, Alberu starts complimenting him seriously— as reprisal, of course ("that's just flirting, nephew. You two are flirting, stop calling it vengeance"). Small but real things, details most people doesn't notice, deeper things that he deserves to hear (because, honestly, someone should tell him how sweet he is. How considerate he is. How much he should be appreciated because he's precious. And it seems Alberu is that someone). It works everytime.

Alberu calls his smile cute once and Cale stops talking. Face red and eyes avoiding everything, he can't pronounce a single word.

He calls him kind after Cale subtly helped a strange for no reason (he's obviously doing it in a way others wouldn't notice unless they knew what to look for. Alberu wonders if this is other "Cale thing"). Cale trips and almost gets discovered. When Alberu looks at his face, he's pouting.

Curiously, he doesn't have the same reaction when he gets called smart. He just smiles a bit and sometimes puffs his chest. Huh. Still adorable, tho.

[ravenlikesbooks]

[painsandconfusion]

Nathan

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Forty-five

(tw [all only discussed, not on screen]: murder, death, staged suicide, dubcon impregnation, familial abuse) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]

No actual whump this one, just backstory and angst - sorry!

This house seemed to breathe, dragging in howling wind and exhaling out like a plume of smoke from a courtesan cigar. It was easier to hear at night. The life in this place.

Ethan could never quite decide if it was eerie or comforting, but either way, the soul was there. How many people had died in this house, he wondered? Maybe it wasn’t really the heads, but just the years themselves showing their footprints over the foundation. The way the rose-carved staircase creaked when your sole pressed against the grain. The house was more than strong enough to hold the weight, only offering a sigh at the effort it took to keep him up as he walked, pristine and honorable in its age. Or, maybe it was the ghosts trapped inside that made it seem so alive.

Either way, Ethan never felt alone at night - no matter how silent the echoes in the room nor how loudly the storm beat against the windows.

He slept with the curtains open now. He hadn’t at first, but after a while, the moon’s pale glow was comforting to him. No one was outside for miles to see him and the windows fell on either side of the king-sized bed, narrow enough that he couldn’t see outside from his pillow. He felt protected there, nestled in the blind spot while watching the shadows of oaks dancing in the starlight across the carpet. Climbing up the baseboards. Swirling and flashing in the darkness against the door of his closet.

Ethan’s closet. He hadn’t had one of those before. He didn’t know what to do with it at first besides stare at it and resist the urge to crawl inside and hide from the world in the cool, pressing safety of the small space. Maybe sleep would come easier in there. Ethan never tried it, not wanting to feel so helpless that he couldn’t sleep in the bed. That seemed weak and small. Like admitting defeat.

Tonight, Ethan was lying awake, watching lightning splatter shadows across the wall - counting the seconds before it grumbled through the base of the house. The bed seemed both too hot and too cold, blankets flipped over him only to be shoved aside again and again. Back and forth. Restless and unnerved by the empty night.

Through the echoes of the storm and the stillness of the house, footsteps wandered through the hall. Ethan’s head tilted to free both his ears from the pillow’s suffocation to listen. As they grew further away, it was harder to hear, but he did note the sound of the stairs before it was quiet again. Perhaps ten more minutes of storm and rain before a distant and muddy few piano chords wafted through the house.

Ethan often wondered if all rich people sent their kids to piano lessons, or just the stupidly rich like Nate’s family. Then again, this house wouldn’t suggest ‘stupidly rich’. It was on the higher end of upper middle class, but not unattainable. Nate’s car blended in as well. Yet, he’d bring home random pieces of art which cost several million dollars at auction, then set them somewhere in the house where they wouldn’t be in the way, letting them blend in with the rest of the decor.

Regardless, Nate must have had a lot of piano lessons. Even muffled through the distance, Ethan could tell the instrument was being played beautifully. He used to lie on his cot in the basement, staring up at the ceiling and listening to that piano. From what he could tell, his little cell was directly under the conservatory where the piano rested. It was unsettlingly peaceful to know that his tormentor was so close, yet not touching him. Perhaps ten feet away - through boards and insulation and terra cotta tiles. Yet, as long as those fingers were pulling listless melodies from the keys, they couldn’t be touching Ethan. Nate may as well be a world away while he’s at the piano.

What scratched at Ethan’s mind the most, however, was the kind of music. Nate was an angry man. Furious, most of the time. It didn’t show very often. He kept himself pinned back and proper, even when he was abusing Ethan. He’d wear a smile and crack jokes - rarely lashing out when Ethan pushed too far. Ethan only really heard that fury in his music. Heated and clanging notes hit with precision would rapidfire scream through the house so often Ethan wondered how long a piano could possibly stay in tune when beaten like that on a daily basis. 

When Nate’s anger subsided - usually after spending time in the basement workshop - his music would soften into wailing melancholy. Ethan would pretend it was his own body singing the songs of the piano, lying in a puddle of blood and ache.

But Nate wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t too broken to even get up onto his cot. Why would his heart scream like that?

Either way, Ethan used to love listening to what Nate played. But tonight he was a free man. And free men can get out of bed, wander down the halls, move down the stairs, step through the darkness, and stand in the doorway, watching Nathaniel Arden Walker VI sway to the rhythm of the music - alone in the darkness and the storm outside the all-encompassing windows.

The notes fumbled to an abrupt stop as Nate flinched back - then melted into a laugh. “Jesus- fuck, E - how long have you been standing there-??”

“..just got here.” Ethan stepped inside, immediately wishing he’d have put on socks. The tile floor leeched away his warmth even more quickly than the cold night air. At least he had a hoodie for that, though.

“Good- announce yourself next time, ya’ fuckin’ creep.”

Ethan stepped to the wall, flicking on the light.

Nate groaned, hand shielding his eyes. “Ewww- gross, whyyyyyy-???”

“Do you always sit in the dark out here?”

Nate’s nose scrunched up. “Sometimes.”

“You can’t even see the music.”

Nate gestured to the spot on the piano that usually holds the music (Ethan made a mental note to look up what the word for that was). It was empty. “No music. I kinda just play.”

“..those aren’t even real songs?”

“Nah, I get bored trying to stick to one. It’s easier to just make it up as you go.”

Ethan…had a feeling that was a lie. It seemed impossibly difficult to him to play at all - much less write music as you go. “You don’t ever write it down?”

Nate shrugged, turning to face Ethan and criss-crossing his legs up on the bench. “Bold of you to assume I remember jack shit once I’ve played it. And composition is hard.”

“I can imagine.” Imagine that it’s hard, that is. Ethan couldn’t even begin to fathom what composing looked like.

“My mom used to, though. She’d write everything out in her head and put it on paper before she even played it. Then she’d go through and make changes and scribble out the notes - put in new ones. It never made any sense to me.” By the end of the sentence, his eyes had drifted to an ornately framed family photo that hung on the wall near the door.

Ethan’s eyes scanned it. A man in his 40s or so who looked so much like Nate stood in the back. A woman with soft eyes and black hair sitting in a chair - posed elegantly. To her side, a child with Nate’s blond waves and blue eyes stood with the father’s hand on his shoulder - not quite smiling for the camera. The three were posed in front of a wall of blooming ivy that Ethan recognized from the garden outside.

“You were a cute kid,” Ethan offered.

Nate blinked hard, looking at Ethan almost in confusion. “I-.....that’s n-....” He took a deep breath and nodded to the picture. “That’s…actually not me.”

Ethan frowned, looking up to the picture again. “Oh- sorry, it just looks l-”

“I know. I know, we… yeah.” He turned to the piano again, fingers finding keys and rolling through a few chords. 

Ethan’s frown pinched a bit tighter as he surveyed the photo - then Nate. “..that’s not your dad, right?”

“No- I mean, yeah - he’s in the-” SIGH. He turned to point. “The man’s my father. Nathaniel Arden Walker the Fifth. Aaand that’s my mom. Eden.” Ethan didn’t miss how his voice softened at her turn. “The kid… that would be my brother.” Back to piano.

“Oh. I.. didn’t know you have a brother.”

“Had,” Nate corrected gently, stepping through the chords again.

Well he walked right into that, didn’t he? Stupid. So fucking stupid. “..I’m sorry.”

Nate shrugged, still not looking at Ethan as he started a simpler melody. “It’s alright. I never knew him.”

So not as big of a fuckup as he expected that to have been. Nice!..? Probably. Still, it’s polite to stay solemn. “..what was his name?”

Nate breathed a laugh. “What a great question.”

“..what, you don’t know?”

Nate’s head shook dismissively. “Nah, that’s not it. It’s just- It’s incredibly stupid.”

“..his name is stupid?” It couldn’t be that bad.

“No- that’s not what I mean. He j- I’m-” He huffed some ‘Nate is frustrated’ air - Ethan was starting to learn all his little tells - and shifted the melody.

“His name was Nathan,” he eventually supplied.

..what the fuck was up with this family? “..but you’re Nathan.”

The music missed a beat before continuing. “I’m Nate. My brother was Nathan. My father was Nathaniel.”

“..they made you match?”

“No-” the music was speeding up slightly. “He died in a car accident when he was sixteen. But my dad wanted someone to carry on the family name. So they had me to replace him and gave me the same name. Like they’d just hit rewind or something and nothing ever happened.”

Ethan was..silent. Which wasn’t abnormal - but it was abnormal for him to simply not have any idea what to say.

Nate waited a few seconds, then evidently moved on. “It’s fucked up, I know.”

Ethan lowered himself into one of the wicker chairs. Not like he can walk out of the room after that bombshell. He’s an ass, but not that much of an ass. “..sixteen years is a big age gap.”

“Eighteen, technically. It took them a long time to get pregnant again. A lot of time, pills, and surgeries.” The music was picking up again.

“..how old were they?”

“What, when I was born?”

“Yeah.”

“Mom was forty-eight. So he must have been..fifty one? Yeah.”

“..that’s pretty late.”

“Yup,” He popped the p. “It broke her. All the pills and the stress. I don’t remember a time when she could walk. And each year she was alive, she just got.. Less. Weaker and smaller and more fatigued - because he just had to have Nathan back.”

“..that’s awful-”

“Yeah. He made it very clear how much of a disappointment I was compared to Nathan.” The music trilled to a stop, and Nate tucked his hands under his thighs. “..sorry. I’m trauma-dumping.”

Ethan shook his head, even though Nate couldn’t see it. “..it’s fine. Is your mom…?”

“...she passed away a few years ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. She- …was genuinely the only good thing about my family.”

“I wish I could have met her.”

Nate laughed, finally turning to look at Ethan again. “Yeah? Well I’m glad she didn’t meet you - not under these  circumstances, anyway. She wouldn’t exactly approve of my lifestyle.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Nate dragged in a long breath, looking to the picture one more time. “..what about you? Do you know anything about your parents?”

Nate had asked before - years ago - though Ethan wasn’t really in a state to give information. He always figured Nate would work it out of him eventually, but he escaped before that could happen. But this felt..different. He didn’t feel like entertainment or a clinical study subject right now.

“..you know those little baby boxes they put in the side of hospitals? So you can kinda just dump kids in there if you don’t want them?”

“..you were one of those, huh?”

“Yup. Didn’t get a name until I was like five months along.”

“..shit, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Eh, it’s fine. I just wish they’d have picked a better one.”

“Ever think of changing it?”

“Do you think about changing yours?”

Nate smirked over at him. “..no. I should want to, huh?”

“Maybe. I dunno. I just haven’t found something else that feels right, so I stuck with Ethan.”

“That’s as good as anything until you find something else you actively want. Better to run toward something than away from something, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Nate evidently didn’t have a response for that, so Ethan had to go and make it weird again like the idiot he was. “..is your father still alive..?”

“Oh fuck no. He survived for about a week after my mom passed. I shot him in the temple and typed up a suicide note for him.”

The rain seemed so loud when it was the only sound in the room. A clap of thunder helped it along.

“..sorry, I can’t tell if you’re j-”

“No,” Nate cut him off. “I’m actually completely serious about that.” He looked back to Ethan again. “You’re the first person I told, actually… that was kinda nice.”

“I’d imagine.” Ethan looked to the picture again. The man in the photo had the same punchable face as Nate but without the smile. He half expected to feel sorry for the murdered man, but he felt nothing. “Did he know about your basement activities?”

“..huh-? Oh, no- no, this shit didn’t start until after he was gone. He was my first, I guess. I was kinda hoping the urges would stop when he was dead - like it was tied to him or something? But nope. Didn’t change at all. So I kinda just let myself start having fun with it instead of shoving it all down.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, pushing up to standing. “You’re so fucked up.”

“Me??” Nate laughed, swiveling on the bench to watch Ethan go. “You’re the one who currently had a man beaten half to death in the basement.”

“Yeah.” Ethan stretched, willing the tired ache away from his muscles. “I can’t sleep so I think I’m gonna go finish him up now.” He took a step toward the door. “..do you wanna join?”

Nate perked up. “..for the death?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh fuck yeah, I want in on it~!” Nate hopped up, bouncing on his toes as he grabbed Ethan’s arm. As if he was escorting that motherfucker.

Ethan peeled Nate off his arm, pushing back the urge to laugh as he shoved Nate to walk in front of him. “I’m not walking you there - you know the way.”

Nate laughed, not stumbling as he moved forward and walked backward up the hall toward the basement door. “Oh come on, you love it~”

“It’d be so easy to stab you right now.”

“Would not-!”

“It’s pitch black and you’re running out of hallway.”

“Yeah? Then why haven’t you stabbed me yet.”

“Dreaming about it’s enough for now.”

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

tags:

@prisonerwhump

@whumpawink

@wormwriting

@distinctlywhumpthing

@whump-cafe

@jo-doe-seeking-inspo

@azayta

@batfacedliar-yetagain

@there-will-always-be-blood

@siren-of-agony

@whumpworld

@deltaxxk

@whumpasaurus101

@pickywhumpreader

@whumpberry-cookie

@morning-star-whump

@nailevislev

@throwawaywhumper

@the-mourning-star

@d-cs @pigeonwhump

@suspicious-whumping-egg

@snakebites-and-ink

@whumpedydump

@whumplr-reader

@rainbowsandwhumperflies

@starfields08000

@crystallizedme

@lumpofsand

@taterswhump

@starsick1979

@neverthelass

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

As always, lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

[shortbreadly]

i gasped, paused the episode and then potentially came. i think that they are. nice

[marigoldwriter]

WHY ARE THERE SO FEW SHŌGUN (Not just romance but any kind) FANFICS!?

Like, the series is incredible, I'm grateful that my stepfather introduced this wonderful series to me, and in my opinion, the main couple is great (and sad, very tragic), but it's scary how I had to struggle to find a Mariko x John fanfic relay (does anyone have a name for this ship? I thought of something related to the sea, but I'm not sure), and with the current four episodes, it is now possible for the fanfic writers's troubled minds to create a fanfic of at least two thousand words, seriously, they deserve it! I can think of possibilities, like, what if it was an alternate universe?

What if Mariko ended up in England for God knows what? I really don't know why I thought this, just that it would be a very sudden role reversal.

What if Toranaga had appointed her to be John's consort? I mean, the moment Buntaro died, a widow was born, in this case, Mariko!

What if she was married to someone other than Buntaro? I wish she wasn't married but knowing ancient Japan as it was...

What if Fuji's husband and baby hadn't died? I mean, damn that scene made me cry, it was a little baby, I wish I could change that.

What if Mariko's father hadn't died? I know we know almost nothing about him at the moment, but moments of reflection.

What if (again, alternate universe) there was magic involved in the story? I mean, it's ancient Japan, this is the perfect time to let your knowledge of Japanese legends run wild!

If John had done something and been able to recognize Mariko in the dim light of their night in their room?

What if Mariko ended up sleeping there and he woke up and confirmed it was her?

What if it took place in the modern world? I don't know about you, but I love fanfics that portray a modern setting, it's really cool, for me, Toranaga would almost end up being a politician!

What if (this one touches on the system of power, hierarchy and structural status of women in ancient Japanese society) Mariko had a higher position and was someone even more trustworthy than Toranaga?

What if John and Mariko had met before (through misfortune or any other factor of fate) and had some relationship? Like in a theater!

I literally developed an entire story from scratch just to make these two have a daughter (her name is Umi — I haven't decided if I'll keep that one yet — she has blue eyes, wavy hair and is completely Japanese, a Mariko's mini copy) and develop a whole material with this chaos! I know that the story is focused on politics, and not on romance, I know, but you can never dream too much and I like it when you know how to keep the fragile line of politics-romance well. I just hope there are more fanfics about them, I need fanfics about them!!

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

catra: gives a genocidal tyrant adora’s coordinates so he can track her down

catra when said genocidal tyrant tracks adora down so he could hurt her: