#where distance both intentional and unintentional

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Dew can't sleep, and he hasn't been talking to Ifrit. Doesn't mean Ifrit doesn't still care, though. I fucking love them what can I say.

It's too late for this shit, Dew thinks, as he lights another cigarette on the balcony, careful not to let the glowing tip brush up against any of Mountain's potted plants invading the already narrow space. Stems curl around the metal railing, leaves dripping down and swaying in the light breeze. It's somewhat of a hypnotizing sight, one that has Dew blinking sluggishly as he attempts to chainsmoke his thoughts away.

It's too late to be plagued by every thoughts and worries known to man, and yet here Dew is. He hasn't bothered to grab his jacket, hoping that the cold would give him something to focus on. So far, it's only making him shiver hard enough to make his back ache. He's unwilling to go back inside though, frozen in place like staying rooted to the spot might be the key to his peace of mind.

Smoke is exhaled toward the night sky, pinpricks of light blinking at Dew's sad little worries on their canva of deep blue. The burning in his lungs helps a bit, but there is no magical remedy to the whirlwind up in the fire ghoul's head, mercilessly keeping him from restful slumber.

Dew doesn't realize how tense his neck is until a warm hand presses against the back of it, thumb digging in stiff muscles. He barely jumps at the sudden presence.

"I figured you'd be the one here."

Ifrit's voice is gentler than usual in the quiet of the night, face soft and hair mussed when he shifts into Dew's peripherical vision, looking very much like he just woke up. The sheet imprint on his cheeks only confirms it, as well as making him look unbearably adorable. Eyes big and searching despite the slight glaze of tiredness still clinging to them, Ifrit has the good sense not to push for an answer, just shrugs his jacket off to wrap it around Dew's shoulders. It's warm and smells like cedar, so achingly familiar. Dew can't help sinking into it. So what if there's unsaid things trapped between them, arguments never quite settled, longing for something maybe past, maybe broken, maybe fixable, that they're too cowardly to attempt saving ?

Right now, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because Ifrit's arm is slung around Dew's shoulders, tugging him into the older fire ghoul's chest, until Ifrit's heartbeat echoes in Dew's ear and he can feel a kiss being pressed to the crown of his head.

Ifrit's throat glows orange when he accepts the half-finished cigarette Dew hands him, a fun quirk of his that Dew admittedly missed. It used to fascinate him, seeing Ifrit's body visibly react to the smoke curling inside his lungs. The longer the drag he takes, the further the glow spreads, sometimes reaching his broad chest in an abstract pattern of light splashed under his skin.

With the both of them sucking onto the filter, Dew quickly ends up stomping on the butt of the cigarette. He doesn't reach for another one. His thoughts are still racing, but tiredness is starting to take its toll, and it's hard to follow what goes on in his brain when his eyes start closing for longer period of times, leaning into Ifrit's warm body and the soft touch of his fingers drawing mindless forms on his shoulder.

Dew still doesn't want to go though.

That's when Ifrit starts to sing.

It's more of a soft hum at the begining, but then words start to flow out of his mouth, ableit softly to fit the late hour. Ifrit has always had a nice voice. Surprisingly versatile, a bit raspy on the edge but able to climb pretty high, just to fall to a low rumble in a steady whiplash of register. Dew has begged him to sing to him many times over the years they've known each other, and every instance where Ifrit complied with rosy cheeks and bashful smiles have a special place carved for them in Dew's mind.

Distantly, he notices Ifrit's not singing in english. Gaelic, his brain provides. To Dew's untrained ears, the pronounciation seems pretty good, which makes him wonder whether Chain taught him, or if it's part of Ifrit's hidden deck of random knowledges.

Either way, the tension in Dew's shoulders is slowly bleeding away. There's a tight ball of yearning in his lower stomach, but that he can withstand. Probably.

The sudden realization that if they don't breach the distance that settled between them ever since Ifrit retired, the older fire ghoul will become somebody Dew used to know, used to love, strikes him like a bolt of lightening, and his hand flies up to grip Ifrit's arm in a tight grasp. It cuts the singing short, which Dew takes half a second to mourn before he chokes out.

"Don't go."

It's not all he'd like to say, but the words stick in his throat, tongue heavy and useless in his mouth. Ifrit, sweet, darling Ifrit, tightens his hold on Dew, mouth moving in his hair as he shushes him gently.

"I'm right here, i'm right here."

You're not, Dew wants to say, I miss you, you're holding me and I miss you.

But of course, it's like Ifrit knows what goes on in Dew's overproductive brain, because he leans forward, really draping himself over the smaller ghoul, planting a kiss on his temple.

"I am here, Dew. I promise."

Dew let himself relax, takes a deep breath.

"Come to bed with me ?"

Ifrit hesitates. Doesn't pull away, barely stiffens, but he does hesitate.

"Isn't Aether-"

"Yeah, he's there already. Ifrit, he wouldn't mind. Actually, I think he would be thrilled. Unless, of course, if you were with Zeph, I wouldn't want to-"

Dew's rambling is cut short by Ifrit turning him in his hold, until they face each other, heart-wrenching fondness dancing in the older fire ghoul's eyes. Carefully, he cups Dew's face in his big hands, pressing a kiss square on his forehead.

"No, I was alone. Let's go then. Before you freeze to death."

For the first time in several hours, Dew smiles bright and wide.

(In the morning, Aether wakes up with Ifrit's arm slung over both his and Dew's waist, two pairs of legs tangled with his. A familiar sight he missed more than he realized.)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Realistic Injuries (pt. 4)

The Mechanism of Injury

Assists in establishing both the safety of the scene and guides the remainder of the primary survey.

The seriousness of the mechanism of injury is a significant clue as to the potential seriousness of the patient's actual injuries, be they external or internal.

Relaying the mechanism of injury to downstream care providers early in the course of transport helps them be better prepared and have the necessary resources available for when they are treating the patient in the near future.

A patient with a severe mechanism of injury (MOI) warns providers that they may have a patient who requires many hands/tools/teams for treatment.

Getting those people alerted and organized is a great head start for the patient.

MOIs can be divided into 2 broad categories:

Significant Injuries. Some examples:

Ejection from a vehicle.

Prolonged extrication time.

Multi-system trauma.

Motor vehicle-pedestrian/biker accidents.

Motor vehicle accidents where any occupant of the vehicle was killed.

Any fall over 3 times the patient's height.

Insignificant Injuries. Some examples:

Fights or physical altercations without loss of consciousness.

Minor injuries to isolated body parts.

Car accidents without injury or symptoms of injury to any occupant.

The division between these groups is nothing more than the likelihood that a patient with a certain MOI will present with trauma requiring intensive care. Not all patients with an insignificant MOI are free from severe injuries and vice versa.

More Mechanisms of Injury Categories used to Classify Narratives

Caught accidentally in or between objects

Drowning

Electric currents

Explosive material

Exposure to radiation

Fall

Firearm

Overexertion

Poisoning

Suffocation

Head-on collision frequently results in the rider ejecting or partially ejecting over the handlebars. Common injuries include:

Head and neck injury if no helmet in place

Thoracoabdominal injury from handlebar impact (common in children)

“Open book” pelvic fracture—a splaying open (like a book) of the anterior and posterior pelvis from striking the handlebars

Bilateral femur fracture

Skin abrasions, lacerations

Injuries are decreased when a helmet is in place in proper position and if protective clothing is worn.

Gunshot wounds (GSW) are usually intentional (suicide, homicide) but can be unintentional (hunting, gun not in holster, gun cleaning).

Some mechanisms at work with gunshots include:

Yaw: vertical and horizontal oscillation about the axis of the bullet; can result in a larger surface area on impact with the body depending on the position of the bullet on the axis at time of impact.

Tumbling: rotation of the bullet upon impact resulting in some parts of the cavity larger than others as the bullet rotates along the path.

Rifling: spiraling grooves within the barrel of the weapon put spin on the bullet as it exits the barrel; provides stability in flight along the axis.

Hollow-point bullets: deform on impact causing a larger surface area to inflict damage.

Shotgun: multiple pellets within the cartridge; also possible to have one large projectile, such as a “pumpkin ball,” both air resistance and gravity spread the pellets over distance; closer shotgun wounds result in serious large wounds as the pellets remain clumped together.

The bullet does not usually travel in a straight path. This results in the need for exploration as multiple injuries can occur although the path appears to be in a straight line. Intentional injuries may require either psychiatric support (suicide attempts) or safety (homicide attempts).

Stabbings are also usually intentional (suicide, homicide) but can be unintentional, (eg, a slip on wet floor and landing on open dishwasher with knives pointing upward). A stabbing most often:

follows a direct path,

is low velocity resulting mostly in damage along the line of the path itself, and

are of varying depth.

The type of blade affects the wound inflicted, such as straight blade versus a serrated edge.

From a forensic medicine perspective, a stab is deeper than it is long and a cut is longer than deep.

A cut differs from a blunt laceration in that the edges are clean and the direction of the wound inflicted indicates the direction of the force.

Stabs to the chest and abdomen are particularly important to investigate as the angle of the penetration may indicate that the wound crosses both cavities injuring the diaphragm in between the two.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ Part 1 ⚜ Part 2 ⚜ Part 3 ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[divineawakeningoracle]

Volatile Relationship Aspects 🫣

Of course all of the aspects include Mars ruler of Aries and the 1st house. Mars is how we fight, or deal with our anger, how we go after what we want, and our sex drive. So the following aspects not only cause a magnetic pull because of the "square" but also in some cases strong physical attraction. With these aspects there is a "thin" line between love (Venus) and hate (Mars). But let's be honest any connection where there is intentional or unintentional harm to someone mentally, physically, spiritually, and emotionally could be considered abusive and or toxic which results in negative relationship karma for one or both individuals involved. Just because you have these aspects in synastry does not mean that what is being shared will be your outcome. We never want to manifest negativity in our connections, but we also want to be aware of the energy that is possible. This is my observation from reading numerous charts and also my own personal experiences.

Mars square Chiron- Mars person's anger may trigger the Chiron person and or remind them of past situations or childhood buried subconscious trauma. Mars anger can cause the Chiron person to be traumatized or feel victimized all over again. Mars person is not doing this intentionally but Chiron's reaction may cause the Mars person to re-evaluate how their actions and words can hurt or trigger another person.

Mars square Mars- Strong physical and magnetic attraction but a connection where there are power struggles and ego battles. They have a different way of going about getting what they want, as Mars is the planet of assertion, and taking action, so they do not always agree and each feel like their way of doing things is the right course of action. This connection tends to be on again off again. Because they can't seem to stay away from one another, the way to mitigate this "square" is compromise and mutual respect for each other's differences.

Mars square Uranus- The Uranus person's erratic energy and outlook is exciting and stimulating for the Mars person in the beginning, but once the newness of the connection wears off and the energy does not stabilize, it is a cause for major frustration, anger and anxiety for the Mars person. This connection tends to be on again off again, as Mars anger is off putting and too much for the Uranus person, they do not understand it because they are just being themselves. The way to handle this "square" is for the Mars person to accept the Uranus person as they are and not try to control them or the connection. The Uranus person can stand to be more understanding that their unpredictable flighty nature is triggering for the Mars person. Communication about expectations is key at that start of this connection and during.

Mars square Ascendant- The Mars person is magnetically attracted to the Ascendant person's energy. There is a strong intense sexual attraction, and the Mars person is aggressive in their pursuit and approach. The Ascendant person may find Mars attractive but also at times can find Mars forwardness to be off putting and may begin to distance themselves or shut down which angers the Mars person. Or the Ascendant person may push back and assert their boundaries, which then causes power struggles and discord. The Ascendant person attracted this connection to learn how to speak up for themselves and not let anyone bully or intimidate them. I have had this aspect with two masculine's in the past who were very physically attracted to me but they could also be forceful and aggressive when it came to the bedroom. One masculine was very touchy feely from the start and did not respect the boundaries I put in place physically. As the Ascendant is the 1st house which is the physical body and Mars (Aries) rules the 1st House. I find that it does not matter what sign Mars is in, this aspect brings an aggressive energy towards the Ascendant, if there is other hard Pluto or Mars aspects in the chart like Mars square Mars, Sun square Mars, Sun square Pluto, Mars square Pluto, or Pluto square Ascendant, this can manifest as controlling behavior, jealousy, stalking, and verbal, physical and or ***ual abuse. Be careful and mindful.

Mars square Lilith- Mars is magnetically, and physically attracted to the Lilith person's energy and vice versa. Lilith is our raw, untamed feminine energy, she will not be controlled and will not bow down. This causes power struggles and discord between these two. Because of the volatile energy of both, there is a potential for things to get physical. This connection tends to be on again off again, this aspect is similar to Mars square Mars because of the ego battles and inability to stay away from one another, no matter how toxic it gets.

Mars square Mercury- This aspect causes constant miscommunications, misunderstandings, and verbal arguments. Verbal abuse and threats are not out of the ordinary for this aspect. Name calling and mind games can also be a thing. This aspect is highly toxic because communication is the back bone of all romantic connections. And the inability to not understand one another mentally, but also for it to cause such vitriol is unnerving.

Mars square Sun- The Sun is our ego, pride, and self esteem, while Mars is how we go after what we want and how we deal with our anger. These are two bold masculine energies with the same goal in mind. Winning. Initially this aspect seems like a match made in heaven, because there is a lot of energy being generated as well as attraction. If there is mutual respect, this couple can be a force to be reckoned with, a power couple. If there is competition between them instead of working together, this will result in back biting, sabotage, and volatile power struggles, where neither individual is willing to back down. This aspect can turn two people into enemies if there are not soft supporting aspects to the Moon, Venus and or Neptune.

Stay Lifted,

Madison 💕

🪷shop for synastry and or oracle readings🪷

©divineawakeningoracle 2025 all rights reserved🕊️✨

[starastrologyy]

Synastry & Composite Chart Observations

Please do not repost my work on any other social media platform even if you credit me :) Chart readings are still open but I will be closing them again at the end of a October :)

An Aquarius rising in a composite chart can show a couple who go against societal norms and expectations. They can seem like an “odd-pairing” or perhaps there is something unconventional or eccentric about how they appear to the world. Unless Venus or Mars is conjunct the composite ascendant they can seem like friends or a couple who has built a relationship that is strongly based on friendship. Interestingly, couples who have Aquarius on the descendent tend to be more open to long-distance or any other relationship patterns that are considered unconventional (an open relationship as an example).

A Sagittarius rising in a composite chart can indicate that the pair will travel together or learn a lot just by being together. They tend to expand each other’s world views and belief systems. Expansion, knowledge, and exploration are key themes here.

Mercury square Neptune in a composite chart can point to certain misunderstandings or miscommunications in a relationship. It is important for both people to be open and transparent to avoid intentional or unintentional deceit.

Couples with Saturn in the 5th house of their composite chart may have trouble expressing affection towards each other unless there are other mitigating factors. Feelings of ‘fun’ and ‘pleasure’ in the relationship can be stifled with this placement, unless the couple are actively working towards incorporating frequent date nights, vacations, and creative hobbies into their relationship. Some couples with this placement choose not to have kids or have very few.

Many married couples either have a composite Libra rising or have their Sun, Moon, or Venus in the composite 7th house. Saturn on an angle in a composite chart tends to be present in long-term relationship composite charts.

Uranus in the 8th house of a composite chart can indicate financial uncertainty or instability in a relationship. As a couple, they can handle their shared resources and taxes in a manner that can be seen as “haphazard” by some. Their investments as a couple can also undergo many unexpected changes.

When someone’s Moon falls into your 4th house, you may find yourself telling them about your childhood, family life or just very personal/intimate things about yourself. When someone’s Moon is in your 12th house this can also happen. However, you may not always feel very comfortable with how vulnerable you feel around the Moon person (as the 12th house person). It’s almost as if they can see right through you with this overlay. It must be said that the Moon person can at times find the 12th house person to be emotionally elusive (even if the 12th house person feels as if the moon person intuitively understands them).

Composite charts with Venus or the ruler of the composite ascendant in the 12th house often indicates that the relationship is very private or has to be kept hidden for some reason. The composite Sun in the 12th house can also indicate a relationship that is not very public.

When someone’s Venus falls into to 8th house in synastry, they completely transform the way you view or even handle matters related to love, values, and finances. Relationships that are 8th house heavy can be difficult to let go of or forget but they often trigger major personal transformations.

If I were to assign a planet to ‘situationships’ I would definitely assign Neptune. Composite charts that are highly aspected by Neptune or have Neptune closely conjunct the Ascendant, descendent, or midheaven can indicate that the relationship is not always clearly defined or perhaps the two are not always on the same page regarding where the relationship is heading. I read a composite chart for a married couple with Neptune in the 10th house. For them, this just meant that they both had to make career sacrifices to make their relationship work at some point in their marriage. However, I’ve also read a composite chart where Neptune was exactly conjunct the descendent. In this case, the relationship was undefined as one partner refused to commit fully. Although Neptune can create feeling of confusion, it can also show you where the couple can each other immense compassion, selflessness, and grace.

[moonselune]

Would you ever consider doing an Astarion/f!reader/Gale love triangle Drabble or one shot? (Astarion endgame maybe oop?) if not dw!!!!✨

This is tooth rottingly sweet, I was a bit unsure about this one because my immediate instinct when there's a love triangle is to just let them all kiss lmao

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion x f!reader x Gale

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The camp was a place of tension, not just because of the ever-present threats lurking in the shadows, but also because of the complicated dynamics between its members. Amidst the flickering campfires and whispered conversations, a love triangle had quietly taken root, drawing you, Astarion, and Gale into its tangled web.

Gale had always been the romantic, the one to sweep you off your feet with his eloquence and charm. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he approached you with a gentle smile, his eyes twinkling with the promise of magic and wonder.

“May I have a moment of your time?” he asked, his voice as smooth as silk.

You nodded, curiosity piqued. Gale led you to a secluded spot by the river, where he conjured a shimmering illusion of stars and galaxies swirling above you. The sight was breathtaking, each twinkling light reflecting in his eyes as he recited a poem he had written just for you.

His words were like honey, sweet and mesmerizing. You felt yourself being drawn into the enchantment of the moment, the magic he wielded wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Gale’s ability to captivate and awe was unparalleled, and for a time, you were lost in the beauty of his world.

Astarion watched from a distance, his keen eyes taking in every detail. He had to admit, Gale was a formidable rival. The way he could charm with his words and dazzle with his magic was impressive. But Astarion knew that sweet words and illusions would not be enough to win your heart; he needed to show you something raw, something real. And it wasn't just because he had already played that card with you - definitely not.

The next day, as the group ventured out to face a band of marauding gnolls, Astarion saw his opportunity. The battle was fierce, with gnashing teeth and snarling beasts lunging at every turn. But Astarion was relentless, his movements swift and precise as he cut through the enemies with lethal grace.

He fought with a ferocity that took even the gnolls by surprise, his eyes never straying far from you. With each foe he felled, he moved closer, his intention clear. When the last of the gnolls lay defeated, their bodies formed an unintentional pattern on the ground—a shape that, with a bit of imagination, resembled a heart.

Breathing heavily, Astarion approached you, his expression softening as he took your hand. He pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks to you.”

Astarion’s lips curled into a smirk, but his eyes were serious. “I’d fight a thousand battles if it meant keeping you safe.”

As he led you back to camp, his hand never leaving yours, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his words. There was something undeniably real about the way he cared for you, something that went beyond mere words and magic.

Back at the camp, Gale watched your return with a resigned smile. He approached the two of you, his demeanor calm and gracious. “Astarion,” he began, his tone respectful, “I have to give credit where it’s due. Your bravery and skill today were remarkable.”

Astarion inclined his head, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Thank you, Gale.”

Gale turned to you, his expression gentle but resolute. “I can see where your heart lies, and I respect your choice. It seems Astarion is the one who truly holds your affections.”

You looked between the two men, feeling a swell of gratitude and affection for both. “Gale, you’ve been wonderful,” you said softly. “Your kindness and your magic have touched me deeply, I will never forget it.”

Gale smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I’m glad I could share those moments with you. But I think it’s clear who your heart belongs to.”

With that, he stepped back, conceding with grace. Astarion pulled you closer, his eyes shining with a mix of triumph and tenderness. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You’re mine, and I intend to cherish you every day.”

And in that moment, you knew that despite the complexities and the rivalries, you had found something genuine and profound in Astarion’s love—a love that would stand the test of time and adversity.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Poor Gale, maybe he should have mentioned his practiced tongue a bit more, hope you liked it! - Seluney

[a-random-foxperson]

How my android fox identity came to be

I first made my fursona as basically "me but android fox", which already put relatively small "distance" between it and me. This gave the process that followed a pretty good starting point, though that was not my intention, it could not have been. Back then i was not aware of alterhumanity or any of the identities under its umbrella.

I started presenting as my fursona online, used it as a pfp, used the same name for both me and it, shortly after started referring to myself as a fox. It started out as sort of a mask i wear online, but being seen as that started feeling right and it gradually felt less like a mask and more like me. By being referred to as a (android) fox (i was a bit inconsistent with including the android part, still am to a lesser degree), my brain got used to associating the concept of fox with myself more directly. At some point , i started to referring to pictures of my fursona as pictures of me, it felt like a logical next step and further reinforced the mental association. A sort of fake it til you make it thing.

At the same time, i also started to imagine myself as my fursona. First as a series of thought experiments. How would fur feel instead of my skin? How would my ears move? How would it feel to have a tail? I got to a point where it felt like those things were actually there in a way. I basically induced a sort of phantom shift, though knowing that terminology came later. Another thing was just imagining in my minds eye how it would look being in the same i was, doing the same things i did.

One might notice that this all focuses on the fox aspect, and indeed, this was what i was focused on back then, the robot bits lagged behind a bit in this process, though they too got there eventually. That is not to say i considered myself an organic fox for a time, more that the android part was comparatively less important. Being mostly organic-passing (think as close to organic anthro fox as Mr. Data to human) contributed to that i think.

In both of the above mentioned ways i mentally applied fox aspects to myself and over time i absorbed those aspects into my sense of self. The ideas of "myself" and "my fursona" merged to become what i am today. This process was mostly complete by the time i discovered the alterhuman community. I questioned being otherkin for a while, but the identity being created like this didn't seem to fit. In the end i arrived at otherlink. That label presumes more intention about forming the identity, but it is the closest among the big labels, and adding quoiluntary to it communicates this being a bit complicated enough, i think (among other things why i find this addition useful).

@aestherians This is the post i was talking about working on earlier today about how my unintentional linktype formed.

[stcries]

@royalreef wrote: She is stepping on Liam's lap.

Maybe this would be more insulting, if Miranda weren't a merfolk. It's not like she's doing it with a shoe — her hand is extended, her claws turned upwards as carefully as she can to avoid unintentional slicing, and her weight is being shifted forward, onto where she's bearing it, on his opposite thigh. The weight is still a factor, she doesn't come bearing the fact that she's a large predator without also enduring that fact, but she's moving slowly as she slinks across, eyes turned to stare at Liam the entire time.

It would be harder to read her, if Liam was not Liam, if they did not already know each other as friends. Someone else might find her expression that of a blank intensity, pupils meeting his with alien intelligence and intention, something like a force of will trying to crash into his own, subdue him. Someone else might be more concerned with the last human dredges, the feeling of prey and understanding of what precious distance remains, how quickly it is vanishing.

But, Liam, not having endured this for the first nor last time, knows it more as the blank look of Miranda, absentmindedly, wanting attention and not particularly caring how she might obtain it.

Her other hand lands on his lap now. She's standing on him, head turned to the side to look at him, fins tilted forward. She has not laid down yet, though they both know this is what she wants, because she's Miranda, and she likes treating everyone else's personal space as her own.

"Liam," she starts, slow enough for someone else to miss, swift enough that Liam could notice the happy swish of her tail, moving from one side to the other. "You have been lapse in your payments to what I am owed, as princess! It is by formal decree that everyone must offer the Crown Princess of the Merkingdom full possession of your lap, and thus you must let me nap on top of you whenever I demand. Whyever have you not been following through? Do you question my ruling?"

the lavender skinned blood drinker found himself away from the crowd again, nose deep in a brand new book. where he'd discovered it? ah, nobody needs to know that. some place dark, dangerous, smelly and well, a place he'd rather not go again in a hurry. but just as liam's getting to the most interesting chapter yet-- there's a familiar presence that pressed onto his leg.

"oh, is that so?--" his expression is blank at first, perhaps looking a tad uninterested in the topic at hand, maybe even annoyed that his precious reading time was interrupted without warning. silence rings in the air for a few seconds longer, so thich that one may be able to slice through it with a thousand year old blade. and yet eventually...

"you're right-- how DARE i deny you your rightful privileges, your highness!" and there he goes. one hand thrown to his chest, and the other pressed against his forehead dramatically. "why, that's a crime punishable by death. please, spare me, i'm still so young, so frail!" yeah, he's at least a hundred years old, but that was young in a vampire's lifetime.

and now he's flopped back onto his back, both for the sake of dramatics, and also to give the merfolk more access if she wished to lay atop the rest of his body instead of simply just his lap. "i would never dare threaten your crown, you know this-- please, spare this pitiful blood sucker."

[the-owl-tree]

so I haven't read goosefeather's curse yet... how exactly does stormtail gr**m moonflower???? not denying it ofc, moreso morbidly curious

Nah all good! I have to add, the book in itself doesn't seem to have made this an intentional choice. The ire of their relationship comes from Stormtail and Goosefeather's hostility, that Stormtail is bad because of how he treats Goosfeather (which is valid) but not how that in turn affects Moonflower. You could make an interpretation of this where Goosefeather is too emotionally immature to recognize what's going on and that's why it isn't tackled....but seeing with multiple wonky age gaps under our belts by now, I reckon that this was an unintentional and irresponsible choice on part of the authors and editors.

I'm just gonna do snippets of their relationship, recapping all of GC wouldn't do much good lol

We're introduced to Stormpaw, an older apprentice, who has been visiting Moonkit in the nursery and teaching her fighting moves as well as bringing her gifts. WC ages are wonky, I know, but I think we can assume by this period that Stormpaw is a young adult while Moonkit is not even six moons old yet by the time he is named warrior (Goosepaw is named early).

^ This is a repeated pattern where he's earning her trust and is able to separate her from both her brother and her mother.

And here is the ceremony, Stormtail is now a full warrior and Moonkit is still a child (not even old enough to be an apprentice).

This relationship continues when she's an apprentice and he continues to actively pursue her.

We can also infer, even if it's not canonical, that he is distancing her from her brother. We see multiple scenes where Stormtail mocks Goosepaw and in turn Moonpaw is concerned that Goosepaw will embarrass her. This sort of isolation of victims is incredibly common and it's concerning how no one in the book seems to bat an eye - which lends to my belief that the authors saw nothing wrong with what was happening. Stormtail is bad because he's mean to Goosefeather but the fact he has been pursuing Moonflower since she was a baby is something the book hardly brings up.

[milleansxmort]

….i would like Celeste’s thoughts on Maurice’s death 😈

( @2kyears )

Celeste feels the very moment it happens.

If she is completely honest with herself in a way she so often is not, a part of her muted in the name of optimism and denial has felt this coming for years now. Ever since Maurice escaped the Council’s ire by faking his own death, Celeste has been well aware that she is closer to losing him than she has ever been before and with every passing event - Logan’s discovery of the truth, Reginald’s “wanton” turning, the whole situation with Annabel and the Thrill recipe, the way Maurice took the Council and the way he lost it, the angels and the Ring of Fire, the resulting conflict between vampires and humans and how it grows more violent every single day - the fear of it has only grown.

When Maurice races from the relative safety of their basement in order to save Reginald, Celeste wants so badly to follow after him. The call for aid resonates in her blood too, traveling indiscriminately down a bloodline they all share. She sees the blood memories as clearly as he does, and she sees Claude - a vampire just as old and far more ruthless than Maurice had ever been, even at his worst; a vampire who has the physical upper hand in any altercation; a vampire who wants nothing more than to watch his little brother burn. She does not have the luxury of seeing into her brother-in-law’s mind anymore than she can see into Reginald’s or Brian’s, unable to travel further than her own maker, but Celeste has no doubt this is either an intentional trap or an unintentional recipe for disaster that Claude would waste no time taking advantage of. He would know who Reginald was, of course, and he would know Maurice’s loving heart at least enough to see how willingly he would sacrifice himself to save him, angry and desperate enough to face his brother head-on where his mental advantages and quick wit become limited by speed and strength and distance.

But Celeste is needed here. She and Maurice are the only true line of defense their basement full of humans, children, and too-young vampires have against the war being waged above and there is no time to figure out and organize a way around it. They cannot both leave. And staying behind is strategic too. It keeps another bit of leverage out of Claude’s hands - herself. He knows all too well how Maurice’s biggest weakness is his wife and how he would not have to outsmart him if he could just get to her. It was a practice that had been used against them before and while Celeste is a dangerous woman in her own right, she would stand little chance against a vampire twice her age and size.

So she stays.

She doesn’t get the chance to warn him to be careful or tell him for the two billionth time how much she loves him or any of the other things she would have said if only she had known he wasn’t coming back….

Some vampires might have been able to watch the battle rage through their maker’s eyes but not Celeste. She has never been skilled with blood ties, or any of the other mental abilities vampires are gifted with, and age had yet to even make her decent with them. Everything may come in just fine but reaching back out..? That is something she can only manage when she is focused and in close enough proximity, though it remains a weak and feeble connection even at its best. Not even the adrenaline now coursing through her veins can give her the boost she needs. But blood calls to blood in an involuntary way the moment danger is evident, the moment the tides turn. The moment Maurice is outwitted and outmatched.

That alone lets her see. It lets her watch through the blood memories it shares as Claude lunges, stake in hand….

She would swear she can smell the sulfur as he burns and taste the ash in the wind on her tongue as though she stands right there. She cannot tell if the pain that rips through her chest, right to her very core, is her own or the echo of her husband’s. He does not get the time to send her everything he would say either but blood feeds her intention. Celeste feels that last I love you, that final embrace, as a ghost of all their precious, sacred moments. And then, all at once, it’s all gone. For the first time since he saved her life over a thousand years ago, she cannot feel Maurice in her blood. Not even in the muted, barely-there way she does when there is so much distance between them. For the first time in more than a thousand years, her blood falls completely silent. Empty. And it is the most irrefutable proof…

Maurice is gone. Her husband, her maker, her everything is gone.

Legs give way beneath her, hands stifling the cry that tears from her throat. Everything goes red as blood-tears fill her eyes. Celeste has known loss many times before but this is so much worse. It is worse than the memories of little sisters brutally murdered before her eyes a millennium ago, of her daughter’s life ended before it even began; worse than all the friends she had loved and lost over the long years; worse than even Daisy, who had fallen apart in her arms as she tried to desperately to comfort her in her last moments. At least after those losses, she still had something to live for, a purpose to being on this earth well past her time, a love to take solace in. Maurice has always been her one constant, even in their times apart. He was the one person who always came back to her, always stood by her side as the whole world changed around them and everyone else came and went too fast.

What even is a life without him, let alone an immortal one? One of them isn’t supposed to exist without the other. It feels wrong. It feels unnatural. It feels like having a piece of herself ripped from her body, only this would be a wound she would never heal from. In the vast span of a millennium, they have never been apart longer than a year at most. How she meant to face another thousand? Another two thousand? Eternity?

She wouldn’t find out. There was no part of her that wanted to. Had this not been established back at the very beginning? Celeste would not live in a world without Maurice.

Her resolve had been set years ago and it did not change now but she does not abandon the innocent lives she stayed behind to protect. Eventually, Reginald, Nikki, and Brian return. They do not need to confirm what she already knows but they do. There is only one thing left of her husband and she takes the sword in her hands as delicately as if it too will turn to ash if she applies even the slightest pressure. Her tears would later dry into the leather of its scabbard.

There are hours still to pass until morning and they pass excruciatingly slow. Tears fall and dry and fall and dry again. She doesn’t bother to clean the red from her cheeks or worry about the way they stain her clothes as they fall. Eventually, the sun begins to rise - Celeste knows it the way all vampires do even without seeing it - and she slips quietly from the basement to sit amongst the ruins of their home. It had stood for centuries before this. It had been taken down brick-by-brick and rebuilt in the same manner on American soil where they had believed it would collect centuries more shared memories. They would never rebuild it now. Let the Toussants fade from the minds of every goddamned bastard who brought them to this. Let them all witness a world where only the worst one survived. Or let Reginald, the only known living legacy Maurice would leave behind, save all their lives. She didn’t care anymore. She wouldn’t be around to see it. She wouldn’t even survive the morning.

Celeste watches her very last sunrise perched on what was once their bedroom’s outer wall and as the sun rises over the horizon, she takes her very last breath content with the thought that in moments, she will either be reunited with the love of her life once more or she will feel nothing at all. Either one would be a relief. Either one would be better than what she feels now. And when the moon rises in turn, Celeste Toussant is but ash forever filling the cracks and crevices of their ruined home.

[ratblazer]

John Constantine to me is a man shaped through hardships and circumstances, the Newcastle Incident left a very deep impact on him. John, while still being damned to hell, he tries to do some good despite being damned to hell. Sure people do die around him when it’s unintentional or intentional. He’s a good guy at heart but he’s hardened and closed off due to circumstances where the ones he loves most of them distance themselves or die. But despite all of this he still pushes through, still there trying to do good with what he knows best, things don’t always end up with a happy ending it’s not just rainbows and unicorns, sure people are safe, the world is safe, but there are always casualties. To me at least, John always focuses on the negative impacts that he causes, and often doesn’t see the positive impact he causes. People are alive because of him and people die because of him. Balance, and yet through all the hardships he faces and the negative impacts that he himself focuses on through his actions he is still pushing through, somewhere in him is that resilience to keep on going even if people die around him, always focusing on the negative impacts of his actions, etc, he still pushes through, sure there are moments when he’s down, and yet despite that he still keeps on going, because what I think is that, deep inside him he knows if it’s anyone else in his position they would most likely tap out and so he keeps on going. Sometimes I wished someone was there to at least show him what he doesn’t see and probably help him help himself to heal, even then even if he manages to heal, it doesn’t erase who he is, he’s still himself even if some parts of him change, we can still recognize who he is (unlike Yassintine who is he?!). That’s what I think John Constantine is. And I might go off topic but who else keeps on going on despite their negative impacts on people and the world as a whole? Wanda Maximoff aka The Scarlet Witch from Marvel. Sure they are entirely different in everything they are, but one thing they do have in common is that they keep on going, despite all the bad things they’ve done, people harmed or killed by them, they still try to do some good. And if in another universe if both of them exist, despite their differences and flaws, I think that both could teach the other valuable lessons and in turn help each other.

Yes I absolutely agree! Though I know very little about Marvel so I'll take your word for it in regards to her

[knownangels]

hang out

wc: 1.7k

Someone grabs him from behind.

Benji lifts from his body, eyes shuttering like they always do, and bursts into motion. 

He drops to a knee as he spins out of grasp, shrugging away the shoulder pawed by a stranger’s hand. And then in a series of movements, he has the unlucky bastard’s knee knocked to the side, spun off-balance. It gets Benji in range. Benji’s awful in range. Up-close.

But in the back of his mind, he’s prompted into harsh movements by something even worse than in-range training. 

Betrayed, a little voice hisses. Compromised.

It’s that special rage that pushes Benji back to his feet, the body of his attacker in tow. It’s that rage that spins it by the shoulders to face him, momentum throwing the person into rapid, desperate stumbles as Benji walks them both forward. Directly, and without much care for gentleness, further into the depths of the alley. Towards the brick.

As his back hits the wall, Xavier makes a cartoonish sort of ack! sound. It’s so absurd Benji immediately snaps from wherever his head had gone. Not knowing whether it’s unintentional or intentional (but, knowing this one: with a desperate need for Benji to agree with his humor). 

That thought, really, is what snaps him out of it. That it’s Xavier trying to make him laugh, even with a forearm to his throat.

“Dude,” Xavier wheezes, grinning even as his breath cuts short. It makes him sound funny, and he must agree, because he’s grinning like a lunatic while he says it. “I just wanted to hang out.” 

*

They do. A not-so-carefully organized rendezvous whose coordinates were delivered in code over an agreed frequency. How Xavier manages to get this deep behind lines, Benji isn’t sure — but he figures it has something to do with the arsenal of networking and connections Xavier has established for himself amongst his group. Or so he assumes, based on how much the bastard yaps. 

For twenty minutes. For twenty minutes, they converse. They joke. For twenty minutes, (Benji counts as discretely as he can with glances at his watch) they circle the outer path of the city. It’s mostly an entertainment and commercial distract; these days, it houses a quickly dwindling array of shops and venues. 

“It used to be cool.”

“It’s still pretty cool,” Xavier says. He can’t stop looking above them, through the great glass dome encapsulating the city. “I mean, we don’t have anything like this —oh fuck! Is that a whale?”

Benji nods, but he doesn’t have the attention for it. Xavier’s darted down a path, eyes wide with childish excitement as he watches the great, dark shape in the far distance traverse the ocean floor like a hawk in the sky. Slowly, inch by inch, it fades the same mottled black-blue of the horizon until its gone, swallowed up by the dark water beyond.

Maran hates this place. He’d been here exactly once, to the comic store around the corner from where Benji leads them now. And then he had sworn, as typical, to never ever fucking come back. 

“Is this what you wanted to show me?” 

Benji snaps out of his thoughts. He’d been walking with Xavier close behind, the enemy soldier at his back —

The enemy soldier, Benji thinks, grounding himself. At his back.

He slows until Xavier passes him. His brow furrows. He feels no apprehension or fear or adrenaline; he should have. Xavier is armed. And Xavier is — Xavier. Benji’s seen him in the midst of it. 

“Yes,” Benji confirms. He steps up to the shopfront, shoulder to chest with the other man. “You said you liked music.”

Xavier tilts to smile at him. “Fuck, dude. I meant like — I go to the club and like music.” He gestures broadly at the store. “Not, like, actual real music. Or making it.” 

Benji shrugs. “Club music’s still music, mate. Got a decent beat.” 

“Tell me about it.” Xavier adopts a strange stance, then lifts both arms in the air and drops his chin as he bounces in place, unce-unce-unce of his own bad synth impression serving as tempo. When he stops, his hair’s a bit of a mess and his cheeks are flushed.

Benji clears his throat. ��Ah, well. My bad. Can’t really recommend you clubs. Y’know. Considering. I, uh. Like this place,”

“Yeah? Can I guess?”

“Guess?” Benji asks, flustered. 

Xavier laughs. “Yeah, dude. What you play.” At Benjis surprised expression, his laughter bursts forth again. “Benji, come on. You’re totally obvious.”

“Alright, then, if I’m obvious. What?” 

“Hm.” Xavier says, eons of philosophers providing wisdom to that single, brief noise. “Saxophone.”

“Fuck yourself!” Benji splutters. He shoves Xavier, who stumbles a bit into the brick behind him. “Dickhead.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Xavier leans back into Benji’s space, as if forced by gravity. “Um. Bass?”

“Drums.” Benji holds up his hands, flexes them. “Couldn’t tell?” 

Xavier swallows. His eyes dart between Benji’s raised fingers, green finding brown in the gaps. “I was wondering.”

“Used shit sticks as a kid.” Benji says. He taps a finger against the window. “Like those.”

Xavier looks to where he points. “What’s that brand?”

“Why, you lookin’ to upstage me?”

Xavier smile stays turned toward him a split second longer than Benji thinks it ought to. Only after that lingering beat does his pale, freckled chin turn towards the store display. Brass and cherry-red candy paint acrylic guitars gleaming new behind an already glossy window. It looks like its cared after regularly and maybe even obsessively. There’s a bright yellow sale sticker in the bottom left, shaped like a star: voted best manufacturer by DRUM! four years in a row. 

“Never heard of this one. Don’t have it.” Xavier sways forward and taps the glass. “Amazon Basics. You can get, like, everything.” He frowns. “Uh, mostly because they like. Own...everything.”

Benji thinks back to his main supply pack, propped against the bottom of his cot on base. There’s a pair of worn and oil-darkened sticks tucked inside for luck. 

He frowns, staring at the laser-etched logo. “Mad.” He notes, drawing the vowel long. 

“What?”

“We’ve got a few — brands, I mean. Myself, m’kinda sentimental. Only used Yamaha growin’ up ‘cause they were cheap.” He looks up at Xavier. “Never heard of Amazon. Instrument company?”

“Dude.” 

Benji’s turn. “What?”

“Dude.” Xavier repeats, answering absolutely nothing. He takes Benji by the shoulders and shakes him. “You don’t have Amazon over there? Oh, fuck, that’s like…wicked inconvenient.” 

Benji blinks at him.

Xavier smiles wider. “Imagine overnight shipping. Same hour shipping. You guys got that?” 

Benji blinks at him again, then scoffs. “Mate, we’re lucky to get three weeks. You lot keep comin’ and pinchin’ the majority of our power source, remember?”

Xavier’s laugh is slightly delayed. Once it comes, it’s a big, bark of a sound. 

Then he sobers. Benji’s smile dies a bit, too. Suddenly the moment is too visceral, the conflict around them closing in less backdrop. 

It feels so different with you, Benji thinks. It feels slower. I forget. The fondness rolls his stomach with a knife-twist sharp like anxiety, serrated like fear. 

“Do you want me to break in and steal you the cool multidimensional drum sticks?” Xavier whispers. His voice is dead serious, pitched low. But there’s a little slippery twist to the words that lets Benji know he’s being…teased? 

He snorts. 

“Aw, you’re a right evil bastard, aren’t you?” Benji grins, spurned on by the shamed flush on Xavier’s face. “The family owned shop? I’d judge you.”

“I don’t want you judging me,” Xavier sing-songs. He tucks his hands in his pants pockets, swaying. “I just want you to like me.” 

Benji rolls his eyes. “You’re alright.”

Xavier takes a step. Benji has to tilt his chin up to keep their eyes level. 

“Just alright?” 

He lifts a gloved hand, pinches index and thumb together. “Fine. Bit better than alright.” 

Xavier must mean for his next look to be silly; outrageously flirty. But without trying, mostly because of how his eyes slip half-closed, he manages to land between coy and sultry. It, Benji thinks, is a dangerous place for him to be. 

“You gonna give it up any time soon?”

Xavier’s brows waggle. “Literally the second you say flip, I am fucking flipping.” 

“Can you?” 

“Fuck off.” Xavier laughs. His hands finally slip from Benji’s shoulders, although they don’t go without a friendly (friendly?) squeeze. “Maybe not, actually. Haven’t tried.” 

“I meant,” Benji laughs. “I meant if you’re gonna give up the act, Xavier.” 

“The act.” 

“The act.” Benji says.

“The…act.”

He throws his hands up in the air, laughing. “Fuckin’ hell. Got myself a shadow and a damn echo.”

But every light moment seems to catch wrong on the edges; when Benji tosses his head back, he sees not just the deep, sun-mottled blue of the ocean above, but each explosive orange burst of the battle outside the domed city’s safety.

He remembers, suddenly, that he stands in one of the most secure bastions of that — safety — left. Because of the man in front of him, smiling with his fingers tucked a millimeter beneath his sleeve. Benji glances down at that, and tries a hundred different ways not to romanticize the touch’s softness in direct comparison to the literal war being raged above. 

He tries, anyway. 

“When I found you in that alleyway,” Xavier starts, his fingers drawing circles on Benji’s skin, “I was going to kill you and loot you and sneak back home in your uniform.”

Benji wonders if he’ll ever tire of the up-downs of being around Xavier, the constant shifts in energy and tone — without the sensation of being yanked about, Benji likes being kept on his toes. 

“Now there’s a thing to admit,” Benji says wryly. “And of your own free will n’volition, too.” 

Xavier moves again. Another step. The smallest he seems capable of taking; he’s in Benji’s space, barely, and touching, but only just. Benji can’t figure out which side of the other soldier this is: purposeful or natural. 

“Shut up, I’m not done.” His hand trails up Benji’s forearm, squeezes. “When I got closer I was like, well no fucking shot. Right? You’re just —”

“Got a bit on you, hey?” Benji teases. His eyes feel heavy, but without exhaustion. “And you on me, suppose?”

Xavier blinks sluggishly at him. His mouth, lips slightly parted, splits into another wild grin. 

“Hah. That’s what she said.”

Benji gives him a quizzical look. “What?” 

“Wot?” Xavier shakes his head. “You don’t have The Office either? Man. This universe sucks.” He winks. “At least it has you.”

“Awful,” Benji amends, ducking his head slightly. “Amended to awful, not alright.” 

“Benji.” 

He glances up. Xavier cradles the side of his face like that means something. 

“We’re — I have to —” his eyes dart between Benji’s own. There’s an unreadable expression on his face. Xavier is not smiling. “I want — fuck. Can we kiss again?” 

Benji nods, tongue glued thick to the roof of his mouth. As Xavier leans forward, ducking down in the grim blue light, he catches one last glimpse of the fiery battle above. 

One they both should be fighting. 

[ghostinwinterfell]

While I definitely agree that it’s more than understandable why Valjean and Marius both did what they did, I have a few issues with how they went about it.

Valjean

You’re absolutely right, it’s simplistic of me to reduce Valjean’s actions down to wanting to treating Cosette like a “helpless little girl”. I can understand Valjean turning to Marius out of desperation and shame, rather than to Cosette.

However, my frustration with Cosette’s ending stems from her complete lack of awareness about her own past. Cosette was so ignorant about her own childhood that she didn’t even know Fantine’s name until Valjean was on his deathbed. She repeatedly asked him about her mother during her childhood, but Valjean was so overcome with guilt that he couldn’t bear to tell her anything. And of course, I deeply empathize with Valjean’s shame about the unintentional role he played in Fantine’s life and death, but Cosette absolutely had the right to know about her mother and her childhood in Montfermeil. But like you said, neither of them ever learned how to communicate with each other and Hugo is very much aware of that.

Marius

Where I get frustrated with Hugo is the section where he asks the reader not to blame Marius for wanting to protect Cosette and not to blame Cosette for instinctively obeying Marius’s will (“Let us not blame these poor children.”) Marius is her partner, not her parent. You don’t share secrets with your father-in-law before you share them with your wife. Should Valjean’s past have come from Marius? Probably not, but if he had no right to tell her l that, then he certainly had no right to insert aggressively himself into their relationship without consulting Cosette first. To passive-aggressively push Valjean out of Cosette’s life with absolutely no input from her is downright cruel.

As to Marius preserving Cosette’s image of Valjean right before he dies, Valjean wasn’t about to die anytime soon before Marius separated him from Cosette. He was healthy and wanted to continue visiting Cosette, even as he distanced himself from her new life. Valjean lost his will to live because Marius took it upon himself to decide what their relationship should look like based on his own personal trauma. This makes Marius a very human character, but I don’t think his desire to protect Cosette justifies him trying to control the deepest relationship she has outside of him (because he thinks he knows how to best protect her).

Hugo was right that Marius was doing what he thought was right, but he simultaneously glossed over how disrespectful that was to Cosette (even if that wasn’t Marius’s intention).

Cosette

As you said, Cosette would likely understand why her father and husband acted as they did, even if it unintentionally hurt her. However, I find it hard to believe that there wouldn’t be at least a bit of resentment built up once she understood the full scope of what had been hidden from her, regardless of their intentions.

In any case, your analysis of both Valjean and Marius’s actions was super insightful and made me want to go back and reread that whole section.

cosette’s “happy ending” is bullshit and she deserves a handwritten apology from victor hugo himself for excusing how marius indirectly led to her father’s death because both her father and husband insisted on treating her like a helpless little girl instead of telling her the truth about HER OWN PAST. HER OWN FAMILY. HER OWN TRAUMA.

I love valjean. I don’t (always) hate marius. they are complex characters and products of their time. but dear god. justice for cosette.

[ghostlynachopanda]

Third wheel

a/n: Posting will be slow after this cause break is over, thumbs down. I fell asleep while writing this. you can prob see where I lost motivation too. here's this one pals

pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader, platonic Enid

words: 1k

~~~

Enid considered you and Wednesday her best friends. She absolutely loved the two of you together! She was happy for the two of you! She was your number-one fan! Honestly, she was! It's just, the two of you were making her feel like a third wheel. Even if it was unintentional, it sucked!

Every time you three would hang out, you and Wednesday would unintentionally be more attentive to one another. It started with small glances at one another then gradually moved to just slight physical contact. Enid thought it was absolutely adorable. Seeing the ever-stoic Wednesday be soft with someone is not something Enid thought she needed.

At one point Enid thought she couldn’t ever get enough of seeing you so smitten with each other. The reddening cheeks and shy smiles from you sent her over the moon. The soft gazes and tender actions from Wednesday made her smile. All of it made her super happy! It was just so cute she wanted to squeal with happiness. She could die happy after seeing that!

Watching the both of you so obviously in love was starting to get annoying though. You two would get so wrapped up in one another that both of you would forget she was there. She did give you, specifically, some credit. Whenever she talked to you about it you did try to fix it and help her out. But things would just go back to the way things are.

It got to the point where Enid was forcing her way in between the two of you. Making the two of you move to make room for her body. But the deadly glares Wednesday sent her way were enough to stop her from doing that

That brings her to where she is now. Ready to call you both out on acting so love-struck.

You had come over to her and Wednesday's shared dorm to work on some homework together. You and Wednesday had started at a normal distance apart, all three of you working on homework as planned.

You always kept what Enid said in the back of your mind. You always tried your best to make her feel included. You just couldn't help but want to sit closer to Wednesday. To your credit, you stayed rooted in your spot. Keeping your attention on both roommates and on the homework. You're aware if you paid Wednesday too much attention you'd get sucked in.

Wednesday, on the other hand, had no intention of letting you sit so far away from her. She subtly made her way closer to you, hoping it wasn't too noticeable to you or Enid. She made your fingers 'unintentionally' graze each other. Already forgetting Enid was in the room.

You could feel your attention shifting. The warmth Wednesday radiated was almost always enough to divert your attention. Her gentle touches were not helping either. You were aware your body was angling its way towards Wednesday, unable to stop it.

Enid pointedly coughed, not liking where this was going. She had watched both of you for so long she knows both of your tells. She also knew you were trying to stay on task. Enid would have to buy you a coffee later as a 'thanks for trying',

Her cough startled both you and Wednesday. You sat up straighter and pointed yourself towards Enid and the homework, mumbling apologies as you did. Wednesday's eyes shot toward Enid, sending her a warning to not interrupt you two again. All Enid did was roll her eyes, knowing Wednesday wouldn't do anything while you were here.

Things went smoothly after that. The ridiculously long homework was almost done and Enid felt herself getting hopeful. This would be the one time she had to break you two up only once.

The peace and hopefulness Enid felt was disturbed, this time by you. You were completely unaware of what you were doing. This time you were the one pulling Wednesday's attention towards yourself. Enid was fed up with it.

"Alright, I get it!  Y'all are in love, we know. Everyone gets it! Now stop making me feel like a third wheel and help me with this homework," Enid exclaims.

You and Wednesday whip your heads towards her. Not expecting her to call you out like that. It made your cheeks heat with embarrassment. Wednesday could only stare in disbelief, not knowing she was so obvious about her advancements. You and Wednesday are silent for a moment too long.

"Goodness, we get it. Now, stop being embarrassing about it and help me finish this so I can leave you guys to make out or whatever."

Your cheeks heat up even more. Clearing your throat and nodding, you turn and direct your full attention to the task at hand. Wednesday does the same, sitting up straighter and turning toward her homework. You and Wednesday feel like a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

There were no hitches after that. All three of you are too embarrassed to focus on anything other than the homework in front of you. When the homework was finished all three of you stayed seated. Once again, let embarrassment take over.

Enid recovered first, "Sorry you guys. You both just throw your love in my face all the time, it was starting to get annoying. Anyways, I'll leave you two alone. I'll see you tomorrow!"

Enid packed her things and left in a rush. She prayed she hadn't angered Wednesday. At least to the point where Wednesday was going to smother Enid in her sleep.

You and Wednesday stayed absolutely still, barely moving a muscle. You glanced at each other before quickly averting your eyes. A humiliating feeling coursed through your veins. It was mortifying being called out like that. 

It took you a while to be able to look Enid in the eyes again. Wednesday would just send her halfhearted glares for calling her out. But all Enid had to do was raise an eyebrow and Wednesday would look away in embarrassment.

Yeah it sucks :,)

tags: @alexkolax @rainbow-love4ever @o638 @tundra1029 @greyscxle-is-taken

[kiekiecarrera]

since we're talking about s2, i dont know if thats a thing anyone's talked about but do u know in the episode where kie went in the sewer, i was just rewatching it and noticed how she rejected pope's hug but when jj went in for a hug (both of them) she hugged back. JS. Though i did feel bad for pope as well in s2, it was clear she wasnt into him.

Yep. It's funny because I always joke about how jiara-coded the pokie relationship was. Like, everything they set up between pokie just showed how much more compatible kie and jj were. It was unintentional in s1 for sure, but I think a lot of it was intentional in s2. The sewer scene is a perfect example because you can see JJ knowing exactly how to handle the situation and when to push and when to pull (which is their whole dynamic tbh), and then Pope being so overwhelmed by how relieved he was that he just forgets to take into consideration how Kiara's feeling in that moment and whether or not she actually wants to be touched. Meanwhile JJ keeps his distance until he feels that it's okay to approach - after she gives him a signal that she's feeling better by smiling at him and giving him the gun. It's just all the little things that make them work, and how much they understand each other in the shittiest of times and in the best of times.

[buttercupbuck]

im aware im not necessarily saying anything that hasn’t already been said, but i just...the writers taking us from buck being so happy and almost proud about not being a guest in eddie’s house and feeling so at home there to then placing him on the threshold of the diaz home after the shooting and the revelation about the will (even after an entire episode where we see him otherwise stepping into the diaz home and into the role that came with, but still only sleeping on the couch and never going into eddie’s room, and feeling so close to everything he wants but also maybe telling himself that it’s not his to have, not unless the worst thing happens).....taking us from buck not understanding why he had to bring cookies to eddie’s house when he’s not a guest to having eddie putting on an act around both buck and taylor and treating them like guests in his house (cooking a nice meal, baking a whole plate of decorated cupcakes and arranging them just so).....all for that to fail him spectacularly when he feels unsafe and scared and needs buck there, in his room......buck going from being on the outside looking in and knowing something’s wrong with eddie but not being allowed to help in any meaningful way to being let into eddie’s literal room, where eddie is sat on the floor gripping a baseball bat and sobbing, eddie’s room where we’ve never seen buck before...buck being allowed into eddie’s heart and his fears and everything he tries to so hard to hide from everyone including himself in this new and terrifying show of intimacy, after months of intentional and unintentional distance between them....carla telling eddie to follow his heart and a sniper shooting him down in the middle of the street and both of those things being so interconnected and subsequently repressed by eddie...and now his path to healing being so tied up in buck...in his room....i’m going insane

[misswritress]

Home

When your long-distance boyfriend surprises you

bokuto x reader

Fluff!!

Bokuto rang the doorbell to your shared apartment with a smile. He felt excitement flood his veins. When his coach had announced a 3 long week break from practice, he immediately booked the closest flight to you. You didn’t know that he flew out to see you or that he even had a break. He kept it a secret, which was extremely hard with the fact that he could almost never keep anything from you.

A minute passed by before the door flew open, revealing you, his beloved girlfriend.

“Kou!” Joy and surprise were evident on your face. Almost immediately, you threw yourself to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Bokuto fumbles backwards a bit but quickly finds his stepping. He drops his duffel bags and hugs you back with the same exact fervor. God, he missed you so much.

“Kou, you’re here.” Your voice was muffled from his neck. You pull away to cup his face in both hands.

Bokuto leans into your hands. Oh, how he missed your warmth. “As much as I missed you, we need to go inside. Our neighbors might be distrubed.” You giggled. Butterflies flutter inside his stomach. He missed your laugh. It always turned him into a puddle.

For a moment, he lets you go to pick up his bags from the floor. He enters your shared apartment, it almost looked just as the same as when he left to travel. As soon as the door closes, Bokuto picks you up in his arms once more. You let out a squeak, before wrapping your arms around your athlete.

He guides you both to the couch where he places you on his lap, caressing your cheek. “Let me look at you. I missed home.” You blushed at his words. You lean in and kiss him. The kiss was slow and sensual, pouring all of your emotions at that moment.

Bokuto feels your hands intertwine and tug on his silver hair. He smiled, he missed the way you would always tug on his hair every time you both kissed. He missed your habits. His arms pull you in closer, as to not have any distance between your bodies. His hands roam around, one on the small of your back, and the other on your waist.

"Welcome home, Kou." You murmured.

Bokuto didn't notice until now but a familiar black and white uniform with the number 4 etched on the front and back hung on your form.

"Is that my old Fukurodani uniform?"

"Yes." You replied, "I missed you."

Bokuto felt his heart bursting. You were just too much of a cutie — not that he was complaining. He pulled you to a tight hug, pink hue dusting his cheeks.

"Oh my baby is just too cute! I love you, Y/N." He pulls away before decorating your face and neck with thousands of kisses. Giggles erupted in the room as he continued his attack of kisses.

“How long are you staying?”

“3 weeks.” Bokuto mumbled between kisses. You cup his face and gently lift him from your skin. “Really?”

Bokuto beamed, “Really. I’m all yours for 3 weeks.” A massive beautiful smile appeared on your face. You both stay like that, staring into each other’s eyes. Bokuto loved getting lost in your doe-like eyes, he loved everything you do to him, intentional or unintentional. He quickly notices your eyes shimmer with tears, and suddenly worry fills his veins.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He wipes a tear that escapes your eye, rubbing small circles on your lower back. You shake your head, blinking the tears away.

“It’s just that I’ve missed you so much.” Bokuto felt his heart break a little, he hated seeing his baby cry. "Can we just stay like this for a while?”

Bokuto smiled, and nodded. He leans his forehead to yours, placing a kiss on your nose before rubbing it gently with his own.

“Like I said, I’m all yours for 3 weeks.” Your boyfriend hummed.